thenation--2020-10-28--‘Why Tell Me That We’re Safer Here?’

‘Why Tell Me That We’re Safer Here?’

errimack ounty , —Frost came early this year .
My tomatoes hung unripe on dead vines while it was still summer .
If you ’ re one for metaphor , this is 2020 : It gives , but it also takes .
The take will be swift , cold , and absolute .
It happens like this sometimes , my neighbors tell me about the frost .
They are resigned to the loss with a knowing headshake .
None seemed as devastated by the taking as I. I am new here , having moved to central New Hampshire a little @ @ @ @ @ @ @ in Northern New England with—what I ’ ll dare to describe as—a bang .
News of contagion in Wuhan had been consistent throughout the late winter , as had reports from Seattle in early March .
Then , overnight it seemed , New York began to turn part of Central Park into a makeshift morgue .
Manhattan is a little less than 300 miles from here .
The nonprofit where I work shut down temporarily .
I talked with coworkers remotely , and I was struck by the lack of concern for what @ @ @ @ @ @ @ inevitable progression northward .
I listened to the reasoning for a sense of security : We are too remote , too sparsely populated , too rural , too out of reach , to be susceptible to infection on a cataclysmic scale .
We aren ’ t at risk .
Merrimack County is located along the postindustrial zone of the Merrimack River north of Manchester , about an hour northwest of Portsmouth and the sea , and roughly an hour and half southeast of the Connecticut River Valley at White River Junction , Vt @ @ @ @ @ @ @ County had a population of 146,445 people in 955 square miles ( compared with Manhattan ’ s 1.58 million in 22.8 square miles ) .
It is reasonable to assume there would be fewer infections .
But I am not a doctor or mathematician .
I ’ m a folklorist .
I ’ m trained to listen , see , observe as an outsider , and note cultural and group patterns .
This is how I move through the world .
There is no off switch .
It was not census data or @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , I noticed a specific cultural response to a pandemic threat .
I listened to people in my small circle .
What emerged was a narrative of New Hampshire as able to weather the virus ’ s effects at the community and state level .
Sometimes thoughtful , sometimes brazen , the reasoning hovered at an intersection of geography , population density , and , largely , what I can identify as central New Hampshire Yankee culture .
From my perspective , this appears to be a shared sense of determined self-reliance born @ @ @ @ @ @ @ hill farms and interaction with the natural environment for everyday survival and joy .
People had absorbed scientific information .
That is not in question .
The governor held press conferences with the state epidemiologist , which streamed live , aired on local TV news stations , and were highlighted in print and on radio .
Safety guidelines were easily accessible online .
People knew , and continue to know , the science .
Whether or not it was accepted is not my point here .
Scientific facts existed alongside cultural perceptions of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ this idea appeared to be shared throughout my community in everyday conversation .
Labor , Land , and Legacy : What New Might We Grow in the Shell of the Old ?
On the Road During a Pandemic , From Austin , Texas , to Metro D.C. More in this series As an observer and cultural outsider , I see a disconnect between science and community response .
As a folklorist , I see parallels to research by Diane Goldstein , a folklorist at Indiana University , on AIDS narratives in the Canadian @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of telling AIDS legends—stories that distance the teller from populations identified as “ at risk ” —takes over and fills the gap where expert perceptions of health do not seem to make cultural sense in context .
Understanding community perceptions of risk , she writes , is essential for “ understanding attitudes toward risk at the very core of health care.
” Can we see the same pattern emerging with local Covid-19 responses ?
When a retired neighbor tells me we ’ re less likely to be exposed to the virus , does @ @ @ @ @ @ @ our houses ?
Or because neither of us works at a meat processing plant , or is in a nursing home ?
Our risk is certainly lower , but I do not believe that is the only reason motivating her idea of safety .
We both shop at the same gigantic supermarket , whose parking lot is consistently full .
We both encounter people who don ’ t wear masks .
My neighbor and I are not living on top of one another , but we are living in 2020 , and that @ @ @ @ @ @ @ exposure .
So , why tell me that we ’ re safer here ?
If articulating a belief about safety amidst a global pandemic fills a gap in perceptions of risk , what is the gap ?
Can it be explained by the trope of Yankee toughness—the dedication to self-reliance and prosperity by one ’ s own blistered hands ?
This is the “ Live Free or Die ” state ; can the gap be attributed to a cultural aversion to state intervention ?
The importance here is understanding that a gap exists @ @ @ @ @ @ @ may sound obvious when we consider the pushback to mask mandates and limits on large gatherings , but it is not .
We , collectively as a nation , will be forced to examine the overall cultural response to Covid-19 in the decades to come .
A loss of 225,000 people ( and counting ) will not be swept away without a demand for answers as to why and how this happened .
The lack of federal governance has ensured that the demand for answers will start at the family , community , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ understanding of culturally motivated actions , perceptions of risks , and the gap between community response and scientific fact will be crucial information for guiding future response to crisis .
American culture is not the monolith we often assume .
Our responses to Covid-19 exemplify this .
As of October 23 , 2020 , there have been 814 positive cases and 26 Covid-19-related deaths in Merrimack County , New Hampshire .
Scenes From a Pandemic is a collaboration between The Nation and Kopkind , a living memorial to radical journalist Andrew Kopkind , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ s chief political writer and analyst .
This series of dispatches from Kopkind ’ s far-flung network of participants , advisers , guests , and friends is edited by Nation contributor and Kopkind program director JoAnn Wypijewski , and appears weekly on thenation.com and kopkind.org .

M errimack C ounty, N.H. —Frost came early this year. My tomatoes hung unripe on dead vines while it was still summer. If you’re one for metaphor, this is 2020: It gives, but it also takes. The take will be swift, cold, and absolute. It happens like this sometimes, my neighbors tell me about the frost. They are resigned to the loss with a knowing headshake. None seemed as devastated by the taking as I.
I am new here, having moved to central New Hampshire a little over a year ago. Covid-19 arrived in Northern New England with—what I’ll dare to describe as—a bang. News of contagion in Wuhan had been consistent throughout the late winter, as had reports from Seattle in early March. Then, overnight it seemed, New York began to turn part of Central Park into a makeshift morgue. Manhattan is a little less than 300 miles from here. The nonprofit where I work shut down temporarily. I talked with coworkers remotely, and I was struck by the lack of concern for what I saw as the virus’s inevitable progression northward.
I listened to the reasoning for a sense of security: We are too remote, too sparsely populated, too rural, too out of reach, to be susceptible to infection on a cataclysmic scale. We aren’t at risk. Merrimack County is located along the postindustrial zone of the Merrimack River north of Manchester, about an hour northwest of Portsmouth and the sea, and roughly an hour and half southeast of the Connecticut River Valley at White River Junction, Vt. In the 2010 census, Merrimack County had a population of 146,445 people in 955 square miles (compared with Manhattan’s 1.58 million in 22.8 square miles). It is reasonable to assume there would be fewer infections. But I am not a doctor or mathematician. I’m a folklorist. I’m trained to listen, see, observe as an outsider, and note cultural and group patterns. This is how I move through the world. There is no off switch. It was not census data or infection modeling that struck me; rather, I noticed a specific cultural response to a pandemic threat.
I listened to people in my small circle. What emerged was a narrative of New Hampshire as able to weather the virus’s effects at the community and state level. Sometimes thoughtful, sometimes brazen, the reasoning hovered at an intersection of geography, population density, and, largely, what I can identify as central New Hampshire Yankee culture. From my perspective, this appears to be a shared sense of determined self-reliance born of generational survival on small, rugged hill farms and interaction with the natural environment for everyday survival and joy. People had absorbed scientific information. That is not in question. The governor held press conferences with the state epidemiologist, which streamed live, aired on local TV news stations, and were highlighted in print and on radio. Safety guidelines were easily accessible online. People knew, and continue to know, the science. Whether or not it was accepted is not my point here. Scientific facts existed alongside cultural perceptions of New Hampshire as somehow safer, and this idea appeared to be shared throughout my community in everyday conversation. Popular "swipe left below to view more authors"Swipe → The Evisceration of a Public University The Evisceration of a Public University Lisa M. Corrigan The Patronizing Moralism of David Brooks The Patronizing Moralism of David Brooks Chris Lehmann “The Blind Side” Was Always Trash “The Blind Side” Was Always Trash Dave Zirin How the “Brooks Brothers Riot” Set the Stage for Insurrection How the “Brooks Brothers Riot” Set the Stage for Insurrection Chris Lehmann Popular "swipe left below to view more authors"Swipe → The Evisceration of a Public University The Evisceration of a Public University Lisa M. Corrigan The Patronizing Moralism of David Brooks The Patronizing Moralism of David Brooks Chris Lehmann “The Blind Side” Was Always Trash “The Blind Side” Was Always Trash Dave Zirin How the “Brooks Brothers Riot” Set the Stage for Insurrection How the “Brooks Brothers Riot” Set the Stage for Insurrection Chris Lehmann Scenes From a Pandemic Untethered, or The Year of Living Virtually Patricia J. Williams The Art of the Meal Mary Lewis Maybe We Shouldn’t Go Back to Normal Bri M.
As an observer and cultural outsider, I see a disconnect between science and community response. As a folklorist, I see parallels to research by Diane Goldstein, a folklorist at Indiana University, on AIDS narratives in the Canadian Maritimes. She argues that the process of telling AIDS legends—stories that distance the teller from populations identified as “at risk”—takes over and fills the gap where expert perceptions of health do not seem to make cultural sense in context. Understanding community perceptions of risk, she writes, is essential for “understanding attitudes toward risk at the very core of health care.”
Can we see the same pattern emerging with local Covid-19 responses? When a retired neighbor tells me we’re less likely to be exposed to the virus, does she say that because a field separates our houses? Or because neither of us works at a meat processing plant, or is in a nursing home? Our risk is certainly lower, but I do not believe that is the only reason motivating her idea of safety. We both shop at the same gigantic supermarket, whose parking lot is consistently full. We both encounter people who don’t wear masks. My neighbor and I are not living on top of one another, but we are living in 2020, and that means living with the threat of viral exposure. Current Issue View our current issue
So, why tell me that we’re safer here? If articulating a belief about safety amidst a global pandemic fills a gap in perceptions of risk, what is the gap? Can it be explained by the trope of Yankee toughness—the dedication to self-reliance and prosperity by one’s own blistered hands? This is the “Live Free or Die” state; can the gap be attributed to a cultural aversion to state intervention?
The importance here is understanding that a gap exists, and varies by community. That may sound obvious when we consider the pushback to mask mandates and limits on large gatherings, but it is not.
We, collectively as a nation, will be forced to examine the overall cultural response to Covid-19 in the decades to come. A loss of 225,000 people (and counting) will not be swept away without a demand for answers as to why and how this happened. The lack of federal governance has ensured that the demand for answers will start at the family, community, and county level. Here, an understanding of culturally motivated actions, perceptions of risks, and the gap between community response and scientific fact will be crucial information for guiding future response to crisis. American culture is not the monolith we often assume. Our responses to Covid-19 exemplify this.
As of October 23, 2020, there have been 814 positive cases and 26 Covid-19-related deaths in Merrimack County, New Hampshire.
Scenes From a Pandemic is a collaboration between The Nation and Kopkind, a living memorial to radical journalist Andrew Kopkind, who from 1982–94 was the magazine’s chief political writer and analyst. This series of dispatches from Kopkind’s far-flung network of participants, advisers, guests, and friends is edited by Nation contributor and Kopkind program director JoAnn Wypijewski, and appears weekly on thenation.com and kopkind.org.


thenation--2020-10-28--We Need to Think About Xinjiang in Internationalist Terms

Recent media coverage has pushed the Chinese government-operated “ re-education camps ” in Xinjiang into mainstream consciousness in the United States .
Americans are increasingly learning how , over the last few years , Chinese state institutions have detained more than 1 million Uighur and Kazakh people and subjected these Turkic-speaking Muslim minority groups to a program of “ de-extremification , ” entailing political and religious indoctrination , compulsory language education , and industrial training .
In September , talking heads and politicians condemned Disney for thanking the security and publicity bureaus that administer the camps in the c redits @ @ @ @ @ @ @ as NBA center Rudy Gobert and several French soccer players have posted on social media in solidarity with the Uighurs .
And Netflix had to defend its decision to proceed with a production of science fiction writer Liu Cixin ’ s Three-Body Problem trilogy , despite Liu ’ s defense of China ’ s policies in Xinjiang .
I suspect many foreign observers are uncertain how to translate these headlines into political terms .
On the one hand , the details of the camps are horrifying .
By now , what is occurring @ @ @ @ @ @ @ largely corroborated by the Chinese state itself .
On the other , these facts often get slotted into a narrative that pits a freedom-defending United States against a nefarious Chinese state , a story that plays into the hands of odious right-wing US politicians and militaristic China hawks .
Missouri Senator Josh Hawley , for instance , capitalized on the Mulan debacle by declaring that Disney ’ s “ decision to put profit over principle , to not just ignore the CCP ’ s genocide and other atrocities but to aid and abet @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to American values.
” Debates over Xinjiang will only intensify , and I believe internationalist thinkers need to offer an alternative to reductive , pro-US stances such as Hawley ’ s .
The current dynamic is fostering extreme nationalist responses : either an anti-China fearmongering that is at best self-serving for politicians and at worst a pretext for violent confrontation , or a pro-China denialism of the Xinjiang camps , which has seduced some leftists on nominally anti-imperialist grounds .
On October 10 , for example , the socialist magazine Monthly Review republished @ @ @ @ @ @ @ s policies in the region .
Thus far , most discussions surrounding the Xinjiang camps have defaulted to one of two explanations : Either they are the result of a timeless ethnic conflict between Han and non-Han Chinese people , glossed by conservative pundits as “ Han supremacy , ” or they are attributed to the features of an Asian and communist despotism that is juxtaposed against a free and capitalist Western world .
Though plausible at a glance , such civilizational explanations are too static and lack historical analysis .
Darren Byler @ @ @ @ @ @ @ has written that an unnuanced charge of “ ethnic genocide simply allows [ one ] to argue in a culturalist mode that one or more groups of people are bad or evil and dominating another group .
It does not allow [ one ] to explain why.
” The “ why ” has much to do with political-economic developments set into motion during the 1990s , when the Chinese government encouraged domestic companies to develop infrastructure in Xinjiang and tap the region ’ s oil and natural gas fields in order to supply @ @ @ @ @ @ @ During that time , millions of ethnic Chinese people moved to Xinjiang , soaking up the region ’ s economic gains and sparking anti-colonial protests by Uighur locals .
Though there had been prior tensions between the Han and Uighur groups , the development projects raised them to new levels .
The government ’ s response to dissent has been to try to assimilate Uighur and other minority groups into a kind of “ mainstream ” ethnic Chinese society , prioritizing language , religious , and cultural education .
Immediately after the 9/11 @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the US ’ s own War on Terror rhetoric to demonize Islamic religious practices , as documented by University of Sydney historian David Brophy .
The turning point was an explosion in an Urumqi train station in May 2014 , after which Chinese Communist Party officials declared a “ People ’ s War on Terror.
” For Byler , the re-education camps are inseparable from a corporate and government-led drive to capitalize on Xinjiang ’ s resources and people .
The region supplies about 20 percent of the nation ’ s oil and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ world ’ s tomatoes and cotton .
State projects have included experiments in policing and cybersecurity technology , which Chinese companies are already exporting abroad ; securing the region for Belt and Road Initiative transportation infrastructure projects into Central Asia ; and , it was revealed recently , coercively moving Uighur workers to factories in both Xinjiang and in large eastern cities such as Hefei , Zhengzhou , and Qingdao , manufacturing for brands such as Nike , Apple , Gap , and Samsung .
It is therefore crucial to recognize that the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ deep-seated ethnic conflict or Asian autocracy but are linked to changes in Chinese and global capitalism .
They were made possible by processes dating back to the 1980s , when the Chinese government pivoted to market-driven growth and advertised its natural and human resources to foreign investors at cheap rates .
Those Shoes Were Made by a Uighur Detainee Export-led industrialization in China has meant profits for foreign companies , savings for foreign consumers , and cheaper credit for foreign borrowers .
It has also meant periodic revelations over terrible labor conditions in @ @ @ @ @ @ @ against clothing sweatshops , the 2010s uproar over worker suicides at Foxconn ’ s Shenzhen factory , and now reports about Uighur labor .
Such scandals never seem to get resolved , only quietly displaced when the next one arises .
The ultimate agency , of course , lies with Chinese companies and institutions .
But it is also impossible to understand why these problems are so endemic without looking at global economic dynamics .
For all the talk by US politicians of promoting human rights and decoupling from China , they know @ @ @ @ @ @ @ globalization and that separating the US economy from China ’ s will not happen anytime soon .
From this perspective , the re-education camps implicate more than just the Chinese state .
They have grown out of global capital and commodity flows and the attendant institutions designed to protect them .
This is why I am concerned that the most readily available framework for discussing the Xinjiang camps is a nationalistic one that pits US and Chinese values against each other .
Its cheerleaders are conservative US politicians , such as Hawley , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ eager to stoke nativist sentiments when expedient but unwilling to seriously look at the forces undergirding China ’ s policies .
Last year , President Donald Trump ignored calls to sanction China over the mistreatment of Uighur people because they would interfere with a trade deal with Beijing .
And though his administration has begun to denounce abuses in Xinjiang , this seems mostly a negotiating tactic to get concessions from China and an election strategy to deflect blame from mishandling the Covid-19 pandemic .
The most likely outcome of a nationalist rivalry @ @ @ @ @ @ @ not a principled commitment by the United States to improving the lives of those in Asia .
It is a tit-for-tat competition to punish innocent people as a form of political leverage , evidenced by the Trump administration ’ s visa policies targeting Chinese students and workers or the Chinese government ’ s passage this June of a National Security Law for Hong Kong and its expulsion and detention of foreign journalists .
So then how do we proceed ?
There are signs that international pressure pushed the Chinese state to at least @ @ @ @ @ @ @ though the reality is unclear ) .
Boycotting products linked to Uighur detention , whether Mulan or Apple accessories or H & M jeans , may send a message in the short term .
But in the long term , we need to learn to talk about the re-education camps and labor conditions in China in a more expansive way .
This means moving beyond nationalist and humanitarian explanations compatible with Cold War–style political theater .
Instead , analysts should foreground the historical and global economic forces that helped give rise to the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the camps as something alien to US society , a move that only legitimizes the United States as a global policeman .
Instead , we need to connect the dots .
We should oppose the Chinese state ’ s Islamophobia just as we opposed the bloody and oppressive policies of George W. Bush ’ s War on Terror that inspired it .
We should condemn Uighur forced labor in our global supply chains , just as we condemn the exploitation of the guest and prison labor in the same webs of cheap commodity @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the indiscriminate use of state power in China ’ s peripheries , because we denounce the violence of the Border Patrol and police forces at the edges of our own society .
Such internationalist framing resists cynical appropriation by the cold warriors and China apologists .
More crucially , it de-exoticizes the Xinjiang camps and enables a more self-reflective conversation about their truly modern and global causes .

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Recent media coverage has pushed the Chinese government-operated “re-education camps” in Xinjiang into mainstream consciousness in the United States. Americans are increasingly learning how, over the last few years, Chinese state institutions have detained more than 1 million Uighur and Kazakh people and subjected these Turkic-speaking Muslim minority groups to a program of “de-extremification,” entailing political and religious indoctrination, compulsory language education, and industrial training.
In September, talking heads and politicians condemned Disney for thanking the security and publicity bureaus that administer the camps in the credits of Mulan. Well-known professional athletes such as NBA center Rudy Gobert and several French soccer players have posted on social media in solidarity with the Uighurs. And Netflix had to defend its decision to proceed with a production of science fiction writer Liu Cixin’s Three-Body Problem trilogy, despite Liu’s defense of China’s policies in Xinjiang.
I suspect many foreign observers are uncertain how to translate these headlines into political terms. On the one hand, the details of the camps are horrifying. By now, what is occurring seems undeniable, with the basic details largely corroborated by the Chinese state itself. On the other, these facts often get slotted into a narrative that pits a freedom-defending United States against a nefarious Chinese state, a story that plays into the hands of odious right-wing US politicians and militaristic China hawks. Missouri Senator Josh Hawley, for instance, capitalized on the Mulan debacle by declaring that Disney’s “decision to put profit over principle, to not just ignore the CCP’s genocide and other atrocities but to aid and abet them, [was] an affront to American values.”
Debates over Xinjiang will only intensify, and I believe internationalist thinkers need to offer an alternative to reductive, pro-US stances such as Hawley’s. The current dynamic is fostering extreme nationalist responses: either an anti-China fearmongering that is at best self-serving for politicians and at worst a pretext for violent confrontation, or a pro-China denialism of the Xinjiang camps, which has seduced some leftists on nominally anti-imperialist grounds. On October 10, for example, the socialist magazine Monthly Review republished an egregious revisionist defense of China’s policies in the region. Popular "swipe left below to view more authors"Swipe → The Evisceration of a Public University The Evisceration of a Public University Lisa M. Corrigan The Patronizing Moralism of David Brooks The Patronizing Moralism of David Brooks Chris Lehmann “The Blind Side” Was Always Trash “The Blind Side” Was Always Trash Dave Zirin How the “Brooks Brothers Riot” Set the Stage for Insurrection How the “Brooks Brothers Riot” Set the Stage for Insurrection Chris Lehmann Popular "swipe left below to view more authors"Swipe → The Evisceration of a Public University The Evisceration of a Public University Lisa M. Corrigan The Patronizing Moralism of David Brooks The Patronizing Moralism of David Brooks Chris Lehmann “The Blind Side” Was Always Trash “The Blind Side” Was Always Trash Dave Zirin How the “Brooks Brothers Riot” Set the Stage for Insurrection How the “Brooks Brothers Riot” Set the Stage for Insurrection Chris Lehmann
Thus far, most discussions surrounding the Xinjiang camps have defaulted to one of two explanations: Either they are the result of a timeless ethnic conflict between Han and non-Han Chinese people, glossed by conservative pundits as “Han supremacy,” or they are attributed to the features of an Asian and communist despotism that is juxtaposed against a free and capitalist Western world.
Though plausible at a glance, such civilizational explanations are too static and lack historical analysis. Darren Byler, an anthropologist researching northwest China, has written that an unnuanced charge of “ethnic genocide simply allows [one] to argue in a culturalist mode that one or more groups of people are bad or evil and dominating another group. It does not allow [one] to explain why.”
The “why” has much to do with political-economic developments set into motion during the 1990s, when the Chinese government encouraged domestic companies to develop infrastructure in Xinjiang and tap the region’s oil and natural gas fields in order to supply energy to cities along the coast. During that time, millions of ethnic Chinese people moved to Xinjiang, soaking up the region’s economic gains and sparking anti-colonial protests by Uighur locals. Though there had been prior tensions between the Han and Uighur groups, the development projects raised them to new levels. Current Issue View our current issue
The government’s response to dissent has been to try to assimilate Uighur and other minority groups into a kind of “mainstream” ethnic Chinese society, prioritizing language, religious, and cultural education. Immediately after the 9/11 attacks, the Chinese state explicitly repurposed the US’s own War on Terror rhetoric to demonize Islamic religious practices, as documented by University of Sydney historian David Brophy. The turning point was an explosion in an Urumqi train station in May 2014, after which Chinese Communist Party officials declared a “People’s War on Terror.”
For Byler, the re-education camps are inseparable from a corporate and government-led drive to capitalize on Xinjiang’s resources and people. The region supplies about 20 percent of the nation’s oil and gas and about 20 percent of the world’s tomatoes and cotton. State projects have included experiments in policing and cybersecurity technology, which Chinese companies are already exporting abroad; securing the region for Belt and Road Initiative transportation infrastructure projects into Central Asia; and, it was revealed recently, coercively moving Uighur workers to factories in both Xinjiang and in large eastern cities such as Hefei, Zhengzhou, and Qingdao, manufacturing for brands such as Nike, Apple, Gap, and Samsung.
It is therefore crucial to recognize that the camps are not the inevitable result of deep-seated ethnic conflict or Asian autocracy but are linked to changes in Chinese and global capitalism. They were made possible by processes dating back to the 1980s, when the Chinese government pivoted to market-driven growth and advertised its natural and human resources to foreign investors at cheap rates. Related Article Those Shoes Were Made by a Uighur Detainee Jasmin Malik Chua
Export-led industrialization in China has meant profits for foreign companies, savings for foreign consumers, and cheaper credit for foreign borrowers. It has also meant periodic revelations over terrible labor conditions in China, such as the 1990s campaigns against clothing sweatshops, the 2010s uproar over worker suicides at Foxconn’s Shenzhen factory, and now reports about Uighur labor. Such scandals never seem to get resolved, only quietly displaced when the next one arises.
The ultimate agency, of course, lies with Chinese companies and institutions. But it is also impossible to understand why these problems are so endemic without looking at global economic dynamics.
For all the talk by US politicians of promoting human rights and decoupling from China, they know that US companies profit from this race-to-the-bottom globalization and that separating the US economy from China’s will not happen anytime soon. From this perspective, the re-education camps implicate more than just the Chinese state. They have grown out of global capital and commodity flows and the attendant institutions designed to protect them.
This is why I am concerned that the most readily available framework for discussing the Xinjiang camps is a nationalistic one that pits US and Chinese values against each other. Its cheerleaders are conservative US politicians, such as Hawley, Ted Cruz, and Marco Rubio, eager to stoke nativist sentiments when expedient but unwilling to seriously look at the forces undergirding China’s policies. Last year, President Donald Trump ignored calls to sanction China over the mistreatment of Uighur people because they would interfere with a trade deal with Beijing. And though his administration has begun to denounce abuses in Xinjiang, this seems mostly a negotiating tactic to get concessions from China and an election strategy to deflect blame from mishandling the Covid-19 pandemic.
The most likely outcome of a nationalist rivalry between the US and Chinese governments is not a principled commitment by the United States to improving the lives of those in Asia. It is a tit-for-tat competition to punish innocent people as a form of political leverage, evidenced by the Trump administration’s visa policies targeting Chinese students and workers or the Chinese government’s passage this June of a National Security Law for Hong Kong and its expulsion and detention of foreign journalists.
So then how do we proceed? There are signs that international pressure pushed the Chinese state to at least declare the closure of some camps (though the reality is unclear). Boycotting products linked to Uighur detention, whether Mulan or Apple accessories or H&M jeans, may send a message in the short term.
But in the long term, we need to learn to talk about the re-education camps and labor conditions in China in a more expansive way. This means moving beyond nationalist and humanitarian explanations compatible with Cold War–style political theater. Instead, analysts should foreground the historical and global economic forces that helped give rise to the camps.
American observers should resist framing the camps as something alien to US society, a move that only legitimizes the United States as a global policeman. Instead, we need to connect the dots. We should oppose the Chinese state’s Islamophobia just as we opposed the bloody and oppressive policies of George W. Bush’s War on Terror that inspired it. We should condemn Uighur forced labor in our global supply chains, just as we condemn the exploitation of the guest and prison labor in the same webs of cheap commodity production. And we ought to denounce the indiscriminate use of state power in China’s peripheries, because we denounce the violence of the Border Patrol and police forces at the edges of our own society.
Such internationalist framing resists cynical appropriation by the cold warriors and China apologists. More crucially, it de-exoticizes the Xinjiang camps and enables a more self-reflective conversation about their truly modern and global causes.


thenation--2020-10-28--The Unraveling of Thailand’s National Myth

When the uprising came , 27-year-old pro-democracy activist Chonthicha “ Lookkate ” Jangrew was ecstatic .
She found herself on the streets of Bangkok last week surrounded by tens of thousands of young protesters in hard hats and masks , giving the three-fingered Hunger Games salute that has become a symbol of Thailand ’ s anti-authoritarian resistance .
They were using social media and messaging apps to appear at landmarks and then vanish , a step ahead of the bewildered police .
Most strikingly , they were chanting slogans against the Thai king himself—crossing a line that no prior generation @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of pain and hopelessness , Chonthicha felt an awakening had finally arrived : “ I never thought it was going to happen.
” A revolution is never truly spontaneous .
It ’ s the moment a community is finally able to recognize itself in a way that was previously impossible .
For Thailand ’ s protesters , there is urgency to act before this moment is gone .
The nation ’ s new monarch is hated .
Its military ruler clings to control , remaking the law in his own favor .
Their @ @ @ @ @ @ @ has opened up a record wealth gap , and their deepening ties with China foreshadow a new era of violent repression .
With their options running out , young Thais are finding power in each other—and their demands could transform Southeast Asia .
Chonthicha ’ s own rebellion began , as it does for so many young activists , at home : in her case , against her father , a domineering military cop .
“ I didn ’ t see any future for myself , anything I could do in Thailand , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ May 2014 , right before her university graduation , when General Prayuth Chan-ocha seized control of the government in a coup d ’ état—the country ’ s 13th military takeover in less than a century—that she realized Thailand ’ s culture of authority was connected to her own life .
“ My family controlled me already .
Now the country wanted to control my future , too .
This is what I could not accept.
” She soon joined a handful of students to protest Prayuth ’ s regime , initially by silently @ @ @ @ @ @ @ s 1984 .
She went on to cofound the Democracy Restoration Group , a collective of student demonstrators determined to resist autocratic rule .
In 2015 , she was arrested for sedition , and still faces 11 criminal charges for her activism , which could land her in prison for up to 28 years .
Since then she has received death threats , and regular harassment at home from soldiers .
“ This is the price we have to pay to win the battle , ” she told me .
Thai activists have @ @ @ @ @ @ @ forms of state authority .
Even after 1932 , when a group of officials called the Khana Rhatsadon ( People ’ s Party ) stormed the royal palace and forced the king—who then held absolute power—to declare a constitutional monarchy , Thailand never had a genuine democracy .
For decades , power has been traded between Thailand ’ s military establishment and civilian oligarchs in an intermittently functioning electoral system , upon which the king has final say .
Thailand ’ s harsh lèse majesté legislation forbids any criticism of the monarch , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ laws to crush dissent .
Prayuth ’ s government has sentenced Thais to lengthy prison sentences for everything from text messages to Facebook posts deemed critical of the king .
Prayuth has warned current protesters that their demands to reform the monarchy have “ gone too far , ” and ominously told a reporter , “ Do not trifle with the powerful Grim Reaper .
Death may come today , or another day .
Everyone can die at any moment.
” But the story of how the Thai monarch avoided serious challenge for @ @ @ @ @ @ @ alone .
The previous king , Bhumipol Adulyadej , took power in 1946 and ruled for 70 years , elevating himself into the nation ’ s benevolent protector—and for many , a deity-like figure .
Bhumipol took well-publicized trips to Thailand ’ s impoverished countryside , where he would share meals with villagers , then announce projects to improve their living and working conditions .
He donated money to fight outbreaks of disease , and once fundraised to fight a cholera outbreak by playing the saxophone .
Otherwise , he insisted on a @ @ @ @ @ @ @ rare interview , “ We keep in the middle , neutral , in peaceful coexistence with everybody.
” Behind the scenes , however , Bhumipol wielded far-reaching power , operating through webs of loyal elites who could do his bidding in public while shielding him from explicit responsibility .
During his reign the palace accumulated an estimated $ 30 billion in an opaque , non-taxable royal fund .
His substantial holdings in real estate , finance , and industry effectively made him the country ’ s biggest landlord and the chief executive of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ return for the king ’ s blessing , the military provided the muscle for his royal designs .
Bhumipol was also backed by the United States , which saw the Massachusetts-born ruler as a reliable , savvy Cold War partner able to stave off insurgent communist movements and gladly funded a propaganda campaign in support of his rule .
At every juncture , the king was the final arbiter : By the time he died in 2016 , he had personally signed off on 10 military coups and even more constitutions , cementing @ @ @ @ @ @ @ through decades of political turmoil .
In especially bitter conflicts , Bhumipol would step in and provide a dramatic resolution .
In 1973 , his palace shielded leftist student protesters from being fired upon by the military ; the next day , the king ended the crisis by announcing that the country ’ s right-wing military dictator , Thanom Kittikachorn , would be exiled .
( Three years later , he would invite Thanom back to retake power in a bloody coup ) .
In 1992 , after deadly clashes between pro-democracy activists @ @ @ @ @ @ @ summoned the leaders of the two camps to crawl before him on a televised broadcast , chiding them : “ The nation belongs to everyone , not one or two specific people .
The problems exist because we don ’ t talk to each other and resolve them together.
” Thai royalists say Bhumipol ’ s rule unified Thailand , protecting it from the devastating 20th century civil wars of its neighbors Vietnam , Cambodia , and Laos .
But critical scholars argue Bhumipol ’ s interventions suppressed Thailand ’ s democratic development @ @ @ @ @ @ @ people who held their leaders to account .
In 2001 , Thaksin Shinawatra , a telecom billionaire , was elected prime minister with the support of rural Thais who favored his pro-farmer policies .
But Thaksin and his working-class followers raised the ire of Thailand ’ s urban royalist elites , who believed Thaksin was cultivating a power base that could upend the national order .
Like many stories in Thai politics , the truth of what happened next is impossible to know : Thaksin denies seeking to challenge the king ’ s @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Thaksin ’ s removal .
But in 2006 , shortly after Thaksin became the first Thai to be democratically re-elected prime minister , the military removed him in a coup , charging him with corruption and prompting what would become more than a decade of color-coded clashes between his red shirt-wearing supporters and the yellow shirt devotees to the royal-military establishment .
Three years after Thaksin ’ s younger sister , Yingluck Shinawatra , was elected prime minister in 2011 , Prayuth ’ s military removed her from power , too .
That @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Thais who believe democracy itself is in peril .
Unlike after previous coups , Prayuth did not promise a quick return to civilian rule ; instead , he delayed elections to shore up the military ’ s power amid the impending transition of the throne .
In 2017 , after the coronation of Bhumipol ’ s 68-year-old son , Maha Vajiralongkorn , Prayuth rewrote the Constitution to tilt the electoral system in his favor , replacing the country ’ s partially elected Senate with one appointed by the military .
He gerrymandered electoral @ @ @ @ @ @ @ opposition parties to organize .
In 2018 , he passed a National Strategy Act , a legally binding 20-year plan that seeks to preserve the military ’ s role .
And he continues a campaign of terror against political dissidents , who have gone missing or turned up dead .
Amid Prayuth ’ s political consolidation , Thailand ’ s economic inequality has deepened .
Rather than increase spending on social services , which amount to less than a tenth of Thailand ’ s GDP , Prayuth ’ s so-called Pracharath scheme , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ” mostly benefited the “ Five Families ” of Sino-Thai conglomerates that monopolize many of the country ’ s industries .
In turn , the oligarchic class poured money into Prayuth ’ s election campaign .
Simultaneously , Prayuth pivoted to China , pledging support for Chinese dams on the Mekong River that have dried up the crucial water source for Thai villagers and fishermen downstream .
In 2019 China became Thailand ’ s top source of foreign capital , throwing its support behind Prayuth ’ s authoritarian rule .
The most important @ @ @ @ @ @ @ throne—but the new king commands little respect .
Vajiralongkorn has filled tabloids for years with embarrassing headlines about his lavish habits in Germany , where he has resided with wives , consorts , and servants on the royal purse , and flaunted his love of crop tops .
A licensed pilot , he is said to own 38 planes , including fighter jets and commercial airliners ; he once made his poodle , Foo Foo , a senior air marshal .
To continue his lifestyle as king , he has brazenly expanded the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ with Prayuth as accomplice .
In 2017 , the military government changed the constitution to allow Vajiralongkorn to rule from abroad without appointing a regent .
In 2018 , the king took the crown ’ s massive fund under his personal control , making him one of the richest men in the world .
He has brought two army units under his personal command .
The excesses of Thailand ’ s unaccountable ruling class have never been more glaring .
It is no longer red shirts or yellow shirts who are incensed but @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to the old power structures .
When Prayuth finally called a general election last year , the establishment was stunned that an upstart progressive party called Future Forward grabbed 81 out of Thailand ’ s 500 parliamentary seats on a surge of youth support .
The party ’ s leader was Thanatorn Juangroongruangkit , a charismatic 40-year-old auto executive turned vocal critic of Thailand ’ s military and corporate oligarchy .
The new MPs included 28-year-old Rangsiman Rome , a former student activist who had organized with Chonthicha against the 2014 coup and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ After the elections , so many things changed , ” Chonthicha said .
“ The Future Forward Party gave us a lot of hope.
” But it was not to last : Immediately after getting sworn in , Thanatorn was disqualified from office for an alleged illegal donation that he made to his own campaign .
In February this year , the military-controlled Constitutional Court ordered Future Forward to disband altogether .
Rangsiman and Chonthicha discovered their legislative work stymied by the government , who have blocked their attempts to investigate human rights @ @ @ @ @ @ @ anything , ” she said .
“ That ’ s why young people have decided to go out onto the street.
” A brief surge in protests following Future Forward ’ s ban was quelled over the summer when Covid-19 hit—but the pandemic only made the pressure build .
Jasmine Chia , a journalist for the Thai Enquirer , told me that the virus revealed the scale of the country ’ s inequality : “ You had all these young people who were informally employed , who now had no recourse .
You @ @ @ @ @ @ @ been growing because the government hadn ’ t input in any plan to grow domestically oriented sectors—now suddenly hung out to dry .
And finally , you have these wealthy elites amassing even more wealth during this time .
Covid laid bare what a lot of people had known , but was suddenly , shockingly , visible.
” In July , the dam finally broke when Wanchalearm Satsaksit , an outspoken pro-democracy and queer rights activist in self-imposed exile in Cambodia , was “ disappeared ” and suspected to have been murdered for @ @ @ @ @ @ @ immediate response , a coalition of student activists called Free Youth drew thousands of angry demonstrators to Bangkok , listing three demands : dissolve the parliament , rewrite the constitution , and stop harassing critics of the regime .
Then , at a protest in August , human rights lawyer Anon Nampa did what had been almost unthinkable under Bhumipol : publicly call for reforming the monarchy .
Days later , a 22-year-old activist named Panusaya “ Roong ” Sithijirawattanakul read out a 10-point manifesto that called for slashing the monarchy ’ s @ @ @ @ @ @ @ banning the king from political participation .
She knew the risk she was taking : “ If I have to die—I ’ m prepared for anything , ” she told a journalist .
Both Aron and Roong have since been arrested .
The revolutionary spirit spread rapidly .
In September , protesters , including Chonthicha , installed a plaque declaring themselves the new Khana Ratsadon—a nod to the People ’ s Party that founded Thailand ’ s constitutional monarchy—though it was removed the next day .
Future Forward ’ s Thanatorn called for @ @ @ @ @ @ @ finances , saying that he was prepared to suffer any consequences for speaking out as well .
Then protesters crossed paths with the monarchy itself .
On October 14—as demonstrators gathered on Bangkok ’ s streets to mark the anniversary of Thailand ’ s 1973 student uprising—they were suddenly faced with the Thai Queen ’ s motorcade as it took an unexpected route through the protest .
Activists heckled the passing car before the police tackled them .
Some of those arrested now face decades in prison for supposedly endangering the queen .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ The Thai military appears increasingly desperate .
It has adopted tactics that are familiar to protesters in Hong Kong : an “ emergency ” law to ban gatherings , followed by tear gas , pepper spray , and blasts from water cannons marked with toxic blue dye .
It has rounded up protest leaders , attempted to ban the Telegram messaging app , and charged critical news outlets with committing “ computer crimes.
” But protesters are adapting , borrowing the “ Be Water ” ethos from Hong Kong ’ s mass movement @ @ @ @ @ @ @ every time we have a leader , our leader gets charged , with cases brought against them , ” said Chonthicha .
“ Now the protest is organic , leaderless .
When we looked at Hong Kong , we saw how it could be possible.
” Online , international solidarity is building under the hashtag “ Milk Tea Alliance ” —a cheeky reference to Thai , Hong Kong , and Taiwanese people ’ s shared love for the sweet beverage , while pointing to their mutual struggles against authoritarianism .
Chia told me @ @ @ @ @ @ @ has never existed in a purely global international system .
To Thailand , the question is , who are the regional hegemons ?
From the perspective of Southeast Asia , there is a new regional hegemon , and that is China .
It ’ s important to emphasize how much this feeling of wanting to resist this regional hegemon—one that has worked so closely with Thailand ’ s military government—has informed this protest as well.
” Netiwit Chotiphatphaisal , a Thai activist who calls Hong Kong ’ s Joshua Wong a personal friend @ @ @ @ @ @ @ a Southeast Asian movement , as more young people realize their common cause .
“ An ‘ ASEAN Spring ’ for me is possible , ” he told me , referring to the 10-member states of the Southeast Asian international organization .
“ Laos might be the next one , though it is difficult .
I think Cambodia , which is close to Thailand both in culture and potential oppositional forces , might also be in consideration.
” Ultimately , Chia believes Thailand ’ s uprising is a reflection of a new generation @ @ @ @ @ @ @ all forms of hierarchy .
“ It ’ s a reaction to Thai identity ’ s framing : that your goodness revolves around the nation , religion , and the monarchy , ” she said .
“ It ’ s about not wanting to be locked into a particular version of history .
Not wanting to chant the national anthem in front of your school .
It ’ s the unraveling of a national myth.
” Last Wednesday , protesters marched to Bangkok ’ s Government House and gave Prayuth a three-day deadline @ @ @ @ @ @ @ refused , instead calling for the crisis to be resolved within the parliament he largely controls .
Chonthicha believes he is lying : “ He said the government will step back and try to solve the conflict .
But authorities are still using the law as a tool against activists .
Many of us have been prosecuted and have warrants for our arrest from the recent protests.
” Either way , she said , the cause can not be so easily slowed .
“ If tomorrow they don ’ t have me , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ it doesn ’ t matter—because the people can run the movement by themselves .
”

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When the uprising came, 27-year-old pro-democracy activist Chonthicha “Lookkate” Jangrew was ecstatic. She found herself on the streets of Bangkok last week surrounded by tens of thousands of young protesters in hard hats and masks, giving the three-fingered Hunger Games salute that has become a symbol of Thailand’s anti-authoritarian resistance. They were using social media and messaging apps to appear at landmarks and then vanish, a step ahead of the bewildered police. Most strikingly, they were chanting slogans against the Thai king himself—crossing a line that no prior generation of protesters had dared. After years of pain and hopelessness, Chonthicha felt an awakening had finally arrived: “I never thought it was going to happen.”
A revolution is never truly spontaneous. It’s the moment a community is finally able to recognize itself in a way that was previously impossible. For Thailand’s protesters, there is urgency to act before this moment is gone. The nation’s new monarch is hated. Its military ruler clings to control, remaking the law in his own favor. Their collusion with the country’s oligarchs has opened up a record wealth gap, and their deepening ties with China foreshadow a new era of violent repression. With their options running out, young Thais are finding power in each other—and their demands could transform Southeast Asia.
Chonthicha’s own rebellion began, as it does for so many young activists, at home: in her case, against her father, a domineering military cop. “I didn’t see any future for myself, anything I could do in Thailand,” she said. It was in May 2014, right before her university graduation, when General Prayuth Chan-ocha seized control of the government in a coup d’état—the country’s 13th military takeover in less than a century—that she realized Thailand’s culture of authority was connected to her own life. “My family controlled me already. Now the country wanted to control my future, too. This is what I could not accept.”
She soon joined a handful of students to protest Prayuth’s regime, initially by silently eating sandwiches while reading George Orwell’s 1984. She went on to cofound the Democracy Restoration Group, a collective of student demonstrators determined to resist autocratic rule. In 2015, she was arrested for sedition, and still faces 11 criminal charges for her activism, which could land her in prison for up to 28 years. Since then she has received death threats, and regular harassment at home from soldiers. “This is the price we have to pay to win the battle,” she told me.
Thai activists have long struggled to break free from overlapping forms of state authority. Even after 1932, when a group of officials called the Khana Rhatsadon (People’s Party) stormed the royal palace and forced the king—who then held absolute power—to declare a constitutional monarchy, Thailand never had a genuine democracy. For decades, power has been traded between Thailand’s military establishment and civilian oligarchs in an intermittently functioning electoral system, upon which the king has final say. Thailand’s harsh lèse majesté legislation forbids any criticism of the monarch, and the palace-backed military has used these laws to crush dissent. Prayuth’s government has sentenced Thais to lengthy prison sentences for everything from text messages to Facebook posts deemed critical of the king. Prayuth has warned current protesters that their demands to reform the monarchy have “gone too far,” and ominously told a reporter, “Do not trifle with the powerful Grim Reaper. Death may come today, or another day. Everyone can die at any moment.” Popular "swipe left below to view more authors"Swipe → The Evisceration of a Public University The Evisceration of a Public University Lisa M. Corrigan The Patronizing Moralism of David Brooks The Patronizing Moralism of David Brooks Chris Lehmann “The Blind Side” Was Always Trash “The Blind Side” Was Always Trash Dave Zirin How the “Brooks Brothers Riot” Set the Stage for Insurrection How the “Brooks Brothers Riot” Set the Stage for Insurrection Chris Lehmann Popular "swipe left below to view more authors"Swipe → The Evisceration of a Public University The Evisceration of a Public University Lisa M. Corrigan The Patronizing Moralism of David Brooks The Patronizing Moralism of David Brooks Chris Lehmann “The Blind Side” Was Always Trash “The Blind Side” Was Always Trash Dave Zirin How the “Brooks Brothers Riot” Set the Stage for Insurrection How the “Brooks Brothers Riot” Set the Stage for Insurrection Chris Lehmann
But the story of how the Thai monarch avoided serious challenge for decades cannot be explained by fear alone. The previous king, Bhumipol Adulyadej, took power in 1946 and ruled for 70 years, elevating himself into the nation’s benevolent protector—and for many, a deity-like figure. Bhumipol took well-publicized trips to Thailand’s impoverished countryside, where he would share meals with villagers, then announce projects to improve their living and working conditions. He donated money to fight outbreaks of disease, and once fundraised to fight a cholera outbreak by playing the saxophone. Otherwise, he insisted on a disdain for politics, claiming in a rare interview, “We keep in the middle, neutral, in peaceful coexistence with everybody.”
Behind the scenes, however, Bhumipol wielded far-reaching power, operating through webs of loyal elites who could do his bidding in public while shielding him from explicit responsibility. During his reign the palace accumulated an estimated $30 billion in an opaque, non-taxable royal fund. His substantial holdings in real estate, finance, and industry effectively made him the country’s biggest landlord and the chief executive of the largest corporate group. And in return for the king’s blessing, the military provided the muscle for his royal designs. Bhumipol was also backed by the United States, which saw the Massachusetts-born ruler as a reliable, savvy Cold War partner able to stave off insurgent communist movements and gladly funded a propaganda campaign in support of his rule. Current Issue View our current issue
At every juncture, the king was the final arbiter: By the time he died in 2016, he had personally signed off on 10 military coups and even more constitutions, cementing himself as Thailand’s sole constant through decades of political turmoil.
In especially bitter conflicts, Bhumipol would step in and provide a dramatic resolution. In 1973, his palace shielded leftist student protesters from being fired upon by the military; the next day, the king ended the crisis by announcing that the country’s right-wing military dictator, Thanom Kittikachorn, would be exiled. (Three years later, he would invite Thanom back to retake power in a bloody coup). In 1992, after deadly clashes between pro-democracy activists and Thai armed forces, the king summoned the leaders of the two camps to crawl before him on a televised broadcast, chiding them: “The nation belongs to everyone, not one or two specific people. The problems exist because we don’t talk to each other and resolve them together.”
Thai royalists say Bhumipol’s rule unified Thailand, protecting it from the devastating 20th century civil wars of its neighbors Vietnam, Cambodia, and Laos. But critical scholars argue Bhumipol’s interventions suppressed Thailand’s democratic development, because ultimately it was not the people who held their leaders to account.
In 2001, Thaksin Shinawatra, a telecom billionaire, was elected prime minister with the support of rural Thais who favored his pro-farmer policies. But Thaksin and his working-class followers raised the ire of Thailand’s urban royalist elites, who believed Thaksin was cultivating a power base that could upend the national order. Like many stories in Thai politics, the truth of what happened next is impossible to know: Thaksin denies seeking to challenge the king’s power; likewise the king denies ordering Thaksin’s removal. But in 2006, shortly after Thaksin became the first Thai to be democratically re-elected prime minister, the military removed him in a coup, charging him with corruption and prompting what would become more than a decade of color-coded clashes between his red shirt-wearing supporters and the yellow shirt devotees to the royal-military establishment. Three years after Thaksin’s younger sister, Yingluck Shinawatra, was elected prime minister in 2011, Prayuth’s military removed her from power, too. That sparked a new generation of resistance by Thais who believe democracy itself is in peril. Related Article The Infinite Heartbreak of Loving Hong Kong Wilfred Chan
Unlike after previous coups, Prayuth did not promise a quick return to civilian rule; instead, he delayed elections to shore up the military’s power amid the impending transition of the throne. In 2017, after the coronation of Bhumipol’s 68-year-old son, Maha Vajiralongkorn, Prayuth rewrote the Constitution to tilt the electoral system in his favor, replacing the country’s partially elected Senate with one appointed by the military. He gerrymandered electoral districts and set up legal barriers for opposition parties to organize. In 2018, he passed a National Strategy Act, a legally binding 20-year plan that seeks to preserve the military’s role. And he continues a campaign of terror against political dissidents, who have gone missing or turned up dead.
Amid Prayuth’s political consolidation, Thailand’s economic inequality has deepened. Rather than increase spending on social services, which amount to less than a tenth of Thailand’s GDP, Prayuth’s so-called Pracharath scheme, or “people’s state,” mostly benefited the “Five Families” of Sino-Thai conglomerates that monopolize many of the country’s industries. In turn, the oligarchic class poured money into Prayuth’s election campaign. Simultaneously, Prayuth pivoted to China, pledging support for Chinese dams on the Mekong River that have dried up the crucial water source for Thai villagers and fishermen downstream. In 2019 China became Thailand’s top source of foreign capital, throwing its support behind Prayuth’s authoritarian rule.
The most important source of power behind Prayuth remains the throne—but the new king commands little respect. Vajiralongkorn has filled tabloids for years with embarrassing headlines about his lavish habits in Germany, where he has resided with wives, consorts, and servants on the royal purse, and flaunted his love of crop tops. A licensed pilot, he is said to own 38 planes, including fighter jets and commercial airliners; he once made his poodle, Foo Foo, a senior air marshal. To continue his lifestyle as king, he has brazenly expanded the royal prerogative to his own benefit, with Prayuth as accomplice. In 2017, the military government changed the constitution to allow Vajiralongkorn to rule from abroad without appointing a regent. In 2018, the king took the crown’s massive fund under his personal control, making him one of the richest men in the world. He has brought two army units under his personal command.
The excesses of Thailand’s unaccountable ruling class have never been more glaring. It is no longer red shirts or yellow shirts who are incensed but young people, who feel little attachment to the old power structures. When Prayuth finally called a general election last year, the establishment was stunned that an upstart progressive party called Future Forward grabbed 81 out of Thailand’s 500 parliamentary seats on a surge of youth support. The party’s leader was Thanatorn Juangroongruangkit, a charismatic 40-year-old auto executive turned vocal critic of Thailand’s military and corporate oligarchy. The new MPs included 28-year-old Rangsiman Rome, a former student activist who had organized with Chonthicha against the 2014 coup and brought her onto his staff. “After the elections, so many things changed,” Chonthicha said. “The Future Forward Party gave us a lot of hope.”
But it was not to last: Immediately after getting sworn in, Thanatorn was disqualified from office for an alleged illegal donation that he made to his own campaign. In February this year, the military-controlled Constitutional Court ordered Future Forward to disband altogether. Rangsiman and Chonthicha discovered their legislative work stymied by the government, who have blocked their attempts to investigate human rights violations. “We cannot do anything,” she said. “That’s why young people have decided to go out onto the street.”
A brief surge in protests following Future Forward’s ban was quelled over the summer when Covid-19 hit—but the pandemic only made the pressure build. Jasmine Chia, a journalist for the Thai Enquirer, told me that the virus revealed the scale of the country’s inequality: “You had all these young people who were informally employed, who now had no recourse. You had this huge tourism sector that had been growing because the government hadn’t input in any plan to grow domestically oriented sectors—now suddenly hung out to dry. And finally, you have these wealthy elites amassing even more wealth during this time. Covid laid bare what a lot of people had known, but was suddenly, shockingly, visible.”
In July, the dam finally broke when Wanchalearm Satsaksit, an outspoken pro-democracy and queer rights activist in self-imposed exile in Cambodia, was “disappeared” and suspected to have been murdered for his criticism of the government. In immediate response, a coalition of student activists called Free Youth drew thousands of angry demonstrators to Bangkok, listing three demands: dissolve the parliament, rewrite the constitution, and stop harassing critics of the regime.
Then, at a protest in August, human rights lawyer Anon Nampa did what had been almost unthinkable under Bhumipol: publicly call for reforming the monarchy. Days later, a 22-year-old activist named Panusaya “Roong” Sithijirawattanakul read out a 10-point manifesto that called for slashing the monarchy’s budget, auditing its finances, and banning the king from political participation. She knew the risk she was taking: “If I have to die—I’m prepared for anything,” she told a journalist. Both Aron and Roong have since been arrested.
The revolutionary spirit spread rapidly. In September, protesters, including Chonthicha, installed a plaque declaring themselves the new Khana Ratsadon—a nod to the People’s Party that founded Thailand’s constitutional monarchy—though it was removed the next day. Future Forward’s Thanatorn called for an investigation into the king’s finances, saying that he was prepared to suffer any consequences for speaking out as well.
Then protesters crossed paths with the monarchy itself. On October 14—as demonstrators gathered on Bangkok’s streets to mark the anniversary of Thailand’s 1973 student uprising—they were suddenly faced with the Thai Queen’s motorcade as it took an unexpected route through the protest. Activists heckled the passing car before the police tackled them. Some of those arrested now face decades in prison for supposedly endangering the queen. Yet they have refused to apologize.
The Thai military appears increasingly desperate. It has adopted tactics that are familiar to protesters in Hong Kong: an “emergency” law to ban gatherings, followed by tear gas, pepper spray, and blasts from water cannons marked with toxic blue dye. It has rounded up protest leaders, attempted to ban the Telegram messaging app, and charged critical news outlets with committing “computer crimes.” But protesters are adapting, borrowing the “Be Water” ethos from Hong Kong’s mass movement. “We learned the lesson that every time we have a leader, our leader gets charged, with cases brought against them,” said Chonthicha. “Now the protest is organic, leaderless. When we looked at Hong Kong, we saw how it could be possible.” Related Article What’s Next for Asia’s Social Movements? Nithin Coca
Online, international solidarity is building under the hashtag “Milk Tea Alliance”—a cheeky reference to Thai, Hong Kong, and Taiwanese people’s shared love for the sweet beverage, while pointing to their mutual struggles against authoritarianism. Chia told me this solidarity is important because “Thailand has never existed in a purely global international system. To Thailand, the question is, who are the regional hegemons? From the perspective of Southeast Asia, there is a new regional hegemon, and that is China. It’s important to emphasize how much this feeling of wanting to resist this regional hegemon—one that has worked so closely with Thailand’s military government—has informed this protest as well.”
Netiwit Chotiphatphaisal, a Thai activist who calls Hong Kong’s Joshua Wong a personal friend, said the alliance could even become a Southeast Asian movement, as more young people realize their common cause. “An ‘ASEAN Spring’ for me is possible,” he told me, referring to the 10-member states of the Southeast Asian international organization. “Laos might be the next one, though it is difficult. I think Cambodia, which is close to Thailand both in culture and potential oppositional forces, might also be in consideration.”
Ultimately, Chia believes Thailand’s uprising is a reflection of a new generation’s “unstoppable anger” against all forms of hierarchy. “It’s a reaction to Thai identity’s framing: that your goodness revolves around the nation, religion, and the monarchy,” she said. “It’s about not wanting to be locked into a particular version of history. Not wanting to chant the national anthem in front of your school. It’s the unraveling of a national myth.”
Last Wednesday, protesters marched to Bangkok’s Government House and gave Prayuth a three-day deadline to resign. The prime minister has refused, instead calling for the crisis to be resolved within the parliament he largely controls. Chonthicha believes he is lying: “He said the government will step back and try to solve the conflict. But authorities are still using the law as a tool against activists. Many of us have been prosecuted and have warrants for our arrest from the recent protests.”
Either way, she said, the cause cannot be so easily slowed. “If tomorrow they don’t have me, if tomorrow I go to prison, it doesn’t matter—because the people can run the movement by themselves.”


thenation--2020-10-28--Covid Takes Center Stage at the World Series

Let ’ s start with everything we should be talking about today in that narrow , rapidly collapsing space of escape from the political golems beating down our doors .
We should be talking about the Los Angeles Dodgers—one of the great historic franchises in all of sports—winning their first World Series in 32 seasons , after years of devastating near-misses .
We should be talking about Mookie Betts , the Dodgers ’ right fielder and a player who—if MLB knew how to market anything beyond the building of a stadium on public money—could be a global superstar of swag @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Angeles , a place that has had a hell of a hard year even by 2020 standards , now a city of champions , with the Dodgers ’ following the Lakers ’ victory in the NBA Finals .
We should be talking about the greatest baseball announcer in history , Vin Scully , who at age 92 was able to celebrate another Dodgers World Series win and tweet his joy .
Instead , as with everything in 2020 , we are talking about Covid .
The only way this could be a more @ @ @ @ @ @ @ would be if Trump himself gave a speech at game ’ s end praising himself for the Dodgers ’ victory .
Baseball has always , even more than other sports , reflected the times in which we live .
Last night the national pastime , in this regard , did not disappoint .
Dodgers third baseman , the man with the fire-red hair and firebrand personality , Justin Turner—recognized as the heart of the team—has entered the realm of infamy after being pulled from the game in the eighth inning on orders from @ @ @ @ @ @ @ for the coronavirus .
But that wasn ’ t the worst of it .
After being told to self-isolate , Turner insisted on being on the field for the postgame celebration .
And so there he was—unmasked , kissing his wife , and commingling with his teammates .
He sat for commemorative photos next to his beloved manager , Dave Roberts , who 10 years ago was diagnosed with Hodgkin ’ s lymphoma , putting him at an exceptionally high risk if he ends up contracting the virus .
Turner should have never @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
His initial test came back “ inconclusive.
” The Dodgers and MLB let him play anyway , at least until his sample—tested and retested—came back positive .
Turner expressed no regret in the aftermath , tweeting , But it ’ s difficult to throw the blame on Turner .
Whether we are talking about concussions in football or Covid in baseball , protocols exist to protect players from themselves—and in the case of Covid , from each other .
Players have devoted damn near every day of their lives to make it @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Of course Justin Turner—hair figuratively on fire—needed with every fiber of his being to be on that field to celebrate with his teammates .
Of course his team was going to welcome him with open arms , no matter the microbes that would pass between them .
Mookie Betts himself said of Turner , “ He ’ s part of the team .
We ’ re not excluding him from anything.
” Commissioner Rob Manfred should have shown some modicum of leadership .
He should have stepped in and made sure that Turner @ @ @ @ @ @ @ start of the game until there was certainty about his test .
Then , after finding out he was positive , there should have been a Greg Luzinski–sized wall between Turner and that celebration .
That there was not is an incredible indictment of Major League Baseball , the Dodgers organization , and the ways that this country has miseducated people about the deadly seriousness of what we face .
As this pandemic drama was playing out , thousands of Trump supporters were finding themselves stranded in the freezing cold in Omaha , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
The two events are mirror images of why the United States has seen 230,000 people die from this virus , with almost 9 million infected .
It didn ’ t have to be this bad : The curses of ego , entitlement , and ignorance have overcome this country and infected the innocent from the White House to the World Series .
As we now wring our hands—and people on each side of Covid barricades scream their case about whether the Dodgers were grossly irresponsible or if people like myself are just @ @ @ @ @ @ @ like the national pastime .

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Let’s start with everything we should be talking about today in that narrow, rapidly collapsing space of escape from the political golems beating down our doors. We should be talking about the Los Angeles Dodgers—one of the great historic franchises in all of sports—winning their first World Series in 32 seasons, after years of devastating near-misses. We should be talking about Mookie Betts, the Dodgers’ right fielder and a player who—if MLB knew how to market anything beyond the building of a stadium on public money—could be a global superstar of swag. We should be talking about Los Angeles, a place that has had a hell of a hard year even by 2020 standards, now a city of champions, with the Dodgers’ following the Lakers’ victory in the NBA Finals. We should be talking about the greatest baseball announcer in history, Vin Scully, who at age 92 was able to celebrate another Dodgers World Series win and tweet his joy.
Instead, as with everything in 2020, we are talking about Covid. The only way this could be a more depressing coda to a thrilling World Series would be if Trump himself gave a speech at game’s end praising himself for the Dodgers’ victory.
Baseball has always, even more than other sports, reflected the times in which we live. Last night the national pastime, in this regard, did not disappoint. Dodgers third baseman, the man with the fire-red hair and firebrand personality, Justin Turner—recognized as the heart of the team—has entered the realm of infamy after being pulled from the game in the eighth inning on orders from Major League Baseball for having tested positive for the coronavirus.
But that wasn’t the worst of it. After being told to self-isolate, Turner insisted on being on the field for the postgame celebration. And so there he was—unmasked, kissing his wife, and commingling with his teammates. He sat for commemorative photos next to his beloved manager, Dave Roberts, who 10 years ago was diagnosed with Hodgkin’s lymphoma, putting him at an exceptionally high risk if he ends up contracting the virus.
Turner should have never taken the field in the first place. His initial test came back “inconclusive.” The Dodgers and MLB let him play anyway, at least until his sample—tested and retested—came back positive.
Turner expressed no regret in the aftermath, tweeting,
Thanks to everyone reaching out! I feel great, no symptoms at all. Just experienced every emotion you can possibly imagine. Can’t believe I couldn’t be out there to celebrate with my guys! So proud of this team & unbelievably happy for the City of LA. Current Issue View our current issue
But it’s difficult to throw the blame on Turner. Whether we are talking about concussions in football or Covid in baseball, protocols exist to protect players from themselves—and in the case of Covid, from each other. Players have devoted damn near every day of their lives to make it to the apex of their sports. Of course Justin Turner—hair figuratively on fire—needed with every fiber of his being to be on that field to celebrate with his teammates. Of course his team was going to welcome him with open arms, no matter the microbes that would pass between them. Mookie Betts himself said of Turner, “He’s part of the team. We’re not excluding him from anything.”
Commissioner Rob Manfred should have shown some modicum of leadership. He should have stepped in and made sure that Turner was nowhere near that field at the start of the game until there was certainty about his test. Then, after finding out he was positive, there should have been a Greg Luzinski–sized wall between Turner and that celebration. That there was not is an incredible indictment of Major League Baseball, the Dodgers organization, and the ways that this country has miseducated people about the deadly seriousness of what we face.
As this pandemic drama was playing out, thousands of Trump supporters were finding themselves stranded in the freezing cold in Omaha, Neb., after yet another super-spreader rally. The two events are mirror images of why the United States has seen 230,000 people die from this virus, with almost 9 million infected. It didn’t have to be this bad: The curses of ego, entitlement, and ignorance have overcome this country and infected the innocent from the White House to the World Series. As we now wring our hands—and people on each side of Covid barricades scream their case about whether the Dodgers were grossly irresponsible or if people like myself are just pandemic hysterics—baseball has truly never felt more like the national pastime.


thenation--2020-10-28--Palestinian Maher Al-Akhras Demands: Freedom or Death

Under the cover of chaos from the coronavirus crisis , Palestinian Maher Al-Akhras is on the brink of death in an Israeli hospital , on hunger strike to protest his administrative detention in Israeli prison .
Would you like to know why he ’ s in prison ?
So would he .
In fact , he decided to give the Israeli Security Agency ( Shabak ) and military a choice : his freedom , or his death .
While Israeli citizens and residents are also theoretically subject to administrative detention , the measure is used far more often to detain @ @ @ @ @ @ @ is considered one of the most extreme practices of the Israeli occupation regime .
Under administrative detention , a person can be held without trial and without even being accused of having committed an offense , merely as a preventive mechanism .
And with no fixed time limit , administrative detention can last months and sometimes years .
According to B ’ tselem , the Israeli Information Center for Human Rights in the Occupied Territories , there are currently 355 Palestinian administrative detainees , two of whom are minors .
Over the years @ @ @ @ @ @ @ under this provision .
Maher al-Akhras , a 49-year-old father of six from the Palestinian village of Silat a-Dhahr in the occupied West Bank , started his hunger strike on the day he was detained : July 27 .
With no formal charge against him , Al-Akhras appealed to Israel ’ s supreme court for his release .
On September 23 , his detention was suspended by the court on the grounds that his deteriorating health rendered him no longer a threat .
This allowed Al-Akras to finally see his wife and children @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , though still in critical condition , the Shabak and the IDF ordered him moved back to prison health facilities ; this decision was later revoked following an emergency appeal , and his arrest remains suspended as long as his health does not improve .
Maher ’ s torment represents one extreme of a spectrum of imprisonment and lack of control that all Palestinians experience .
Millions of Palestinians have been in refugee camps since the Nakba , without citizenship or a state .
Other millions of Palestinains are currently being held captive @ @ @ @ @ @ @ open prison ” in Gaza , or under a military regime in the West Bank .
Then there are the Palestinian citizens of Israel , like me , who suffer from a different type of imprisonment—discrimination in looking for a job or finding an apartment , police violence , the possibility of displacement ( as under the Trump “ peace ” plan ) , and a culture that constantly treats you as an unwanted guest in your own home .
Nearly every Palestinian family has a member that is currently imprisoned or was @ @ @ @ @ @ @ expecting prison to be a part of our lifeline somehow .
With subordination coming at us from every angle , a hunger strike offers a rare opportunity to take back control .
It is a paradoxical move , asserting the essence of your freedom by denying your oppressor control over your body .
The prisoner resists measures meant to keep him alive in order to force his oppressors to choose : either grant my freedom , or bear the responsibility for my death .
Most of the time , the death of a @ @ @ @ @ @ @ on the radar screen of Israeli or world consciousness .
Maher Al-Akhras is using hunger to demand that change , that his life must mean something .
Charged without cause , he is risking his life for a very clear one .

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Under the cover of chaos from the coronavirus crisis, Palestinian Maher Al-Akhras is on the brink of death in an Israeli hospital, on hunger strike to protest his administrative detention in Israeli prison.
Would you like to know why he’s in prison? So would he. In fact, he decided to give the Israeli Security Agency (Shabak) and military a choice: his freedom, or his death.
While Israeli citizens and residents are also theoretically subject to administrative detention, the measure is used far more often to detain Palestinians in the West Bank, and is considered one of the most extreme practices of the Israeli occupation regime. Under administrative detention, a person can be held without trial and without even being accused of having committed an offense, merely as a preventive mechanism. And with no fixed time limit, administrative detention can last months and sometimes years. According to B’tselem, the Israeli Information Center for Human Rights in the Occupied Territories, there are currently 355 Palestinian administrative detainees, two of whom are minors. Over the years, thousands of Palestinians have been detained under this provision.
Maher al-Akhras, a 49-year-old father of six from the Palestinian village of Silat a-Dhahr in the occupied West Bank, started his hunger strike on the day he was detained: July 27. With no formal charge against him, Al-Akhras appealed to Israel’s supreme court for his release. On September 23, his detention was suspended by the court on the grounds that his deteriorating health rendered him no longer a threat. This allowed Al-Akras to finally see his wife and children and receive visitors. But last Friday, though still in critical condition, the Shabak and the IDF ordered him moved back to prison health facilities; this decision was later revoked following an emergency appeal, and his arrest remains suspended as long as his health does not improve.
Maher’s torment represents one extreme of a spectrum of imprisonment and lack of control that all Palestinians experience. Millions of Palestinians have been in refugee camps since the Nakba, without citizenship or a state. Other millions of Palestinains are currently being held captive in the “world’s largest open prison” in Gaza, or under a military regime in the West Bank. Then there are the Palestinian citizens of Israel, like me, who suffer from a different type of imprisonment—discrimination in looking for a job or finding an apartment, police violence, the possibility of displacement (as under the Trump “peace” plan), and a culture that constantly treats you as an unwanted guest in your own home. Nearly every Palestinian family has a member that is currently imprisoned or was in the past. We grow up expecting prison to be a part of our lifeline somehow.
With subordination coming at us from every angle, a hunger strike offers a rare opportunity to take back control. It is a paradoxical move, asserting the essence of your freedom by denying your oppressor control over your body. The prisoner resists measures meant to keep him alive in order to force his oppressors to choose: either grant my freedom, or bear the responsibility for my death. Most of the time, the death of a single Palestinian prisoner does not show up on the radar screen of Israeli or world consciousness. Maher Al-Akhras is using hunger to demand that change, that his life must mean something. Charged without cause, he is risking his life for a very clear one.