Thailand: Why the Reds Are in Revolt

Red-shirt leaders know their popularity depends on fanning the flames of class rage. Even though some of their supporters are rich entrepreneurs who profited during Thaksin's rule, they have reached into the language of Thailand's feudal past and characterized the current political crisis as pitting the phrai against the amataya. Roughly translated, that's a conflict between the serfs and the aristocracy. Abhisit struck back on local TV: "Thailand no longer has [such] social classes. People are equal under the constitution, although they have unequal opportunities." But the underclass isn't convinced. "The poor work hard and contribute to society," says Pasuk Phongpaichit, an economist at Chulalongkorn University in Bangkok, "but they are waiting for a crowded bus while the rich drive by in their air-conditioned limos."

Out of Exile
A telecom billionaire who has spent much of his self-exile in Dubai, Thaksin is an unlikely savior for a legion of bus commuters. He is everything a Thai farmer or construction worker is not: a pale-complexioned ethnic Chinese with nary a callus on his palms. (Abhisit fits that category too.) But Thaksin knew how to tap into a voter base long underexploited by traditional Thai politicians. His populist policies, which included heavily subsidized health care and microfinancing schemes, delighted the lower classes and helped Thaksin win the largest electoral mandate in Thai history. Economists have critiqued the loan projects, pointing out that much of the money was spent on satisfying consumption cravings, as opposed to building businesses, thereby creating unsustainable debt loads. Long-term reality mattered less, however, than short-term perception. At last, Thailand's downtrodden felt like they mattered — until the 2006 coup ousted their chosen man. (Read the interview with Thailand's former PM Thaksin Shinawatra.)

Abhisit surely recognizes how wounding class divisions can be if left to fester. Currently, the richest 20% in Thailand controls two-thirds of the nation's wealth. "In many [Bangkok] districts, the richest and poorest have been living side by side for years and people feel these income gaps," says the PM's spokesman Panitan. "We may not see confrontations like in Latin America but, if not managed, this could be a big problem in Thailand, and demonstrations will be the order of the day for years to come."

It's unlikely that Abhisit will heed the protesters' demand for a snap election, not least because every election since the 2001 ballot that swept in Thaksin has favored the reds. At any rate, the Prime Minister has until 2011 to hold polls and doing so right now — in the wake of a global financial crisis and before his own populist reforms have had time to take full effect — would likely mean career suicide. Meantime, his reluctance to travel widely in Isaan — the impoverished northeastern farm belt where Thaksin's support is strongest — because of safety concerns makes Abhisit look even further removed from the very commoners he vowed to protect when taking office. On March 21, red-shirt protestors used gallons of their own blood to inscribe 70 meters of canvas in a gruesome display of protest art. One oft-repeated message: "The land is burning," a reference to the swidden fires up-country but also a clear warning to the urban élite. (Read "Thailand Braces For Anti-Government Protest.")

Still, as much class resentment as the reds have harnessed, it's not clear how Thailand will move forward from a seemingly never-ending cycle of red and yellow protest. "It's a deadlocked situation," says Sompop Manarungsan, another Chulalongkorn economist. Plenty of Thais are fed up with both political factions and just want a government that isn't constantly stuck in crisis mode. Abhisit has offered dialogue with the red shirts' leaders, but no amount of talking over the past four years has resulted in any political conciliation. Equally distressing for Thais, King Bhumibol Adulyadej, often considered an arbiter of last resort in Thai politics, has been hospitalized since last September. The 82-year-old monarch stepped in during key crises in Thai history, like in 1992 when soldiers gunned down dozens of democracy activists. Millions of Thais have been waiting for their beloved monarch to weigh in on the recent demonstrations. So far, he hasn't said a word.

About the only commonality between Thailand's two factions is a shared taste for political voodoo. In mid-March, thousands of red shirts lined up to donate their blood, which was then splashed by the bucketful at the Prime Minister's office and private residence. Brahmin priests attended the bloodletting, casting hexes on the government amid swirls of incense. Such black magic, which dates back to Thailand's pre-Buddhist past, might seem like the domain of superstitious peasants. But last year, yellow-shirt leader and media mogul Sondhi Limthongkul placed sanitary napkins soaked with menstrual blood around a Bangkok monument as part of a spell designed to vanquish Thaksin. Many locals seem to believe that witchcraft will be just as influential in driving the course of Thai politics as good governance or normal political dissent. In the end, that may be the true curse of Thailand's politics.

—with reporting by Robert Horn / Bangkok

See TIME's Pictures of the Week.

See the Cartoons of the Week.