Lunch with the FT: Abhisit Vejjajiv= a = &nb= sp; =

By Gideon Rachman

Published: February 13 2009 22:30 | Last updated: February 14 2009 02:06

3D"http://media.ft.com/cms/7f7f3674-f982-11dd-90c1-000077b07658.jpg" Thailand never used to have an image problem. Put to one side the occasional negative story about sex tourism and heroin-trafficking and the country has been successfully marketed as the idealised Oriental paradise: exotic, beautiful, warm, welcoming and unthreatening.

But lately things have gone wrong. In November, polit= ical protesters occupied and closed Bangkok airport, turning Thailand from the “land of smiles” of tourist brochures into a vale of tears for stranded holidaymakers. International human rights groups are criticising t= he country for its treatment of refugees and for its use of lèse-majesté laws to harass and imprison critics of the Thai monarchy. And now, to top it all, there is an economic crisis.

And so it was that, last month, Abhisit Vejjajiva, 44, the country’s brilliant and boyish new leader, arrived at the World Economic Forum in Davos, Switzerland, to do some emergency marketing for his country.

Abhisit became prime minister in December. Since he i= s young, good-looking and well-educated, he has inevitably been called “Thailand’s Barack Obama”. But unlike the US president, Abhisit has not emerged from virtually nowhere.

I lived in Thailand from 1992-1995, when Abhisit, the= n a newly elected Bangkok MP, was already in the high-profile post of Democrat party spokesman and was being talked of as a future national leader.

In fact, Abhisit’s cv makes him sound mo= re like a potential prime minister of Britain than of Thailand. He was born in 1964 in Newcastle-upon-Tyne in northern England and sighs that “this = has condemned me to supporting Newcastle United”, a chronically unsuccess= ful football team. He comes from a prominent family of Thai-Chinese origin and = his father, who later became a health minister in Thailand, studied medicine at Guy’s Hospital in London. Abhisit was sent to Eton College, Britain&#= 8217;s poshest school and a traditional breeding ground for prime ministers.<= /o:p>

Abhisit then went on to Oxford University, where he g= ot a first-class degree in politics, philosophy and economics, before going on t= o do a masters in economics. He returned to Thailand and lectured in economics a= t an elite Thai university before going into politics full-time. He became Democ= rat party leader in 2005.

It would have been nice to share a dish of phad Thai = with Abhisit in the local Thai restaurant in Davos, which was celebrating his pr= esence at the forum by draping itself in the red, white and blue flag of Thailand = and putting out a large banner, proclaiming, “Welcome to our prime minister.”

But prime ministers work on tight schedules and so it= is our fate to share a snack in an antiseptic basement room in the resort̵= 7;s Congress Centre. The forum’s harassed media staff have done their bes= t to jolly up the place. They have provided us with two cream-coloured leather chairs, a potted plant and a coffee table, with some snacks on it.

3D"กล่องข้อคŪ= Abhisit, immaculately dressed in a grey suit and waistcoat, with a pale blue shirt and black tie with white stripes, looks slightly doubtful at the array of lurid pastries and curled sandwiches plac= ed before him. I explain that our conversation is meant to take place against a background of eating and drinking. “OK. I will comply,” he says. But he makes no movement towards the food.

Married with two children, Abhisit is regarded as a “housewife’s favourite” in Thailand. Slight and fine-feat= ured with large eyes, he looks a bit like the lead singer in a boy band. And, indeed, when his mobile phone goes off, the ringtone is an expansive guitar chord. It sounds a bit like U2 but the prime minister puts me right. “= ;Prince,” he says firmly.

Thai politics can seem farcical and sinister, by turn= s. On the farcical side, one of Abhisit’s recent predecessors as prime minister, Samak Sundaravej, was forced to resign after accepting payments f= or guest appearances on a TV cookery show. On the sinister side, Abhisit’= ;s biggest political rival, Thaksin Shinawatra, a telecoms mogul who became pr= ime minister, stands accused by human rights groups of licensing widespread extra-judicial killing as part of a “war on drugs” in 2003. (Ha= ving been ousted in a 2006 coup, Thaksin again came to prominence when he bought Manchester City football club in 2007 and sold it a year later).

Abhisit has long campaigned for cleaner and more lawf= ul politics in Thailand. In the late 1990s, he oversaw the government’s counter-corruption commission. But he has come to power in difficult and ambiguous circumstances. A group called the People’s Alliance for Democracy (Pad) accuses the previous government of being controlled by prox= ies for Thaksin, and it was Pad supporters who unleashed chaos in November by occupying Bangkok airport and government offices.

Abhisit condemned the demonstrators but they effectiv= ely paralysed the government and created the conditions for Abhisit to be voted= in as prime minister by parliament. Critics also pointed to the role of the Th= ai military in manipulating events to ease Abhisit’s way to the top. The whole episode tarnished his democratic credentials.

Thailand is also attracting international condemnation for its treatment of Rohingya refugees, a Muslim minority group from neighbouring Burma, hundreds of whom make the dangerous journey to Thailand= in rickety boats. The Thai military has been accused of forcing them back to s= ea, without engines or adequate supplies, possibly causing hundreds of deaths. Although many of the incidents took place before Abhisit came to power, the most recent group was picked up at sea last month. Abhisit has promised a f= ull investigation, but the publicity has been damaging. Sitting in my briefcase= is an editorial from that day’s Economist magazine, accusing Thailand of “astoundingly callous” behaviour.

To top it all, Abhisit has come to power during a big economic crisis. Since we are meeting at the World Economic Forum, I start = with that. The prime minister makes no attempt to play down the gravity of the situation. “The last few financial crises the world has faced we̵= 7;ve seen in particular regions, in particular countries, which means that you c= an tap into the resources of the other major economies to help smooth the cris= is and get the world economy through. Now who do you look to?”

Thailand, he says, is facing a “twin crisisR= 21;. The country has been “consumed with the political crisis that has been ongoing for two or three years. And now this economic crisis”.

No stranger to economic turmoil, the country was one = of the original Asian economic tigers, regularly notching up growth of 8 to 9 = per cent a year in the 1980s and early 1990s. But in 1997, investors lost confidence, there was a run on the Thai currency and the country became the first victim of the Asian economic crisis.

Abhisit, who had done his Oxford thesis on IMF rescue programmes, now had to witness the IMF being called in to save the Thai economy. As part of the government that had to implement the rescue, he was= not particularly impressed by the fund’s performance. His thesis had argu= ed that the fund tended to insist on interest rates that were too high and he feels his criticism was amply borne out. “We went through a lot of unnecessary pain,” he says sorrowfully.

So now that there is a global financial crisis, can t= he world learn from what happened in Thailand?

“Sure. I think a few lessons are absolutely vit= al. The first is that you need to move fast and I know it’s always politi= cally difficult when you have to decide to use taxpayers’ money. But if you= do it slow, you won’t get the job done, and you’ll be asked to do = it again. And as you go to the second and third and fourth rounds, it’s = even more politically difficult.”

Speaking softly and urgently, the prime minister is warming to his theme. Despite his promise to eat a World Economic Forum pas= try, he has still made no move towards the food. In an effort to encourage him, I take a bite of a cheese sandwich. Frowning with concentration, Abhisit move= s on to his second point about the economy.

“So much focus will be on how to clean up the financial system and it’s no use cleaning up everything only to find = that the real economy has gone down. And another lesson is that even if you clea= n up the banks they won’t necessarily resume lending. So you need addition= al mechanisms and measures to make sure that there is liquidity for what are, essentially, good businesses. But if you cut off liquidity, almost all good businesses become bad ones.”

All this talk of liquidity prompts me to pour myself a coffee. I gesture weakly towards the silver-plated Thermos flask but Abhisi= t is not to be deflected.

“[It’s] very important not to lose sight = of the developing world. All developing economies are now being affected. And I know the major economies have to look after their own economies first. But = if they forget about doing things for the developing world, you’re likel= y to see political and social tensions rising. That’s very dangerous.̶= 1;

He is talking fast and seems strangely indifferent to= the apricot Danish that I have nudged in his direction. I ask him about the urban-rural divide in Thailand and about his great rival, Thaksin, who is a favourite of the rural majority, although hated by much of the urban elite = who form the core of Democrat Party support. “You must have known him for many, many years?” I muse. “Is there anything good to say about him?”

Abhisit’s eyes do not exactly stand out on stal= ks but he looks incredulous and slightly amused. It occurs to me that it is a = long time since I have lived in Thailand. Perhaps this is a very silly question – a bit like asking George W Bush to list some of Saddam Hussein̵= 7;s better qualities.

Still, the question has the effect of temporarily disturbing Abhisit’s composure. For the first time, he glances down at the food. “Let me have some coffee,” he says. He takes a sip, before gamely attempting an answer. “Well, he has a modern outlook, s= o he gives a sense that he is modern, and with him being in the communications a= nd the IT business gives that feel. And he moves quickly ... But I’ve al= ways said that despite that modern outlook he certainly doesn’t appreciate= the true values of these times, which is all about human rights, participation, true democracy, transparency and good governance.”<= /p>

I change the subject to a politician who is more congenial, his old school friend from Eton, Boris Johnson, who is now mayor= of London. Johnson stayed with Abhisit in Thailand, in their year off between school and university, and the two have remained close. I ask whether they = had both always harboured political ambitions. Abhisit says: “I had expec= ted Boris to go into politics but he’s a character so it was never going = to be a smooth ride for him. But all credit to him that he’s used his character and is sticking to being his true self and getting to where he is today.” Johnson has boasted that he is the only British politician who knows how to spell “Vejjajiva”. At Eton, the future prime minis= ter was frequently referred to as “Veggie” for short.

Whatever the difficulties of running London, it seems fair to say that Abhisit’s political challenges are considerably more daunting than those facing his old school pal. As we speak, the PM’s aides are monitoring the progress of anti-government demonstrations in Bang= kok.

Abhisit must somehow find a way to remain true to his beliefs in democracy and the rule of law, without antagonising the powerful forces that stand behind him or plunging Thailand into a new political cris= is. When pressed on military power in Thailand, he treads carefully.=

And when I ask about the treatment of refugees, a hin= t of steel comes into his voice for the first time. “Let’s get that straight – they’re not refugees, they’re just illegal migrants.” He insists, however, that human rights abuses cannot be tolerated, adding: “The army chief has said that if any of the office= rs are involved in these things, they should be punished. I think that’s quite a significant change.” When I ask whether he thinks Thailand st= ill has work to do, in reducing the power of the military in politics, he repli= es quietly. “Yes, I do. And every time my party [the Democrats] have bee= n in power, we’ve tried to do that.”

He is also firm in his defence of Thailand’s ri= ght to prosecute critics of the monarchy, comparing the lèse-majest&eacu= te; laws to contempt of court laws in Britain, which are designed to protect an institution that is “politically neutral and supposed to be above conflict”. But there is also a note of qualification. Abhisit says: “I recognise sometimes the law is abused. And there may also be press= ure for the law to be liberally interpreted. I will try to find ways of fixing that.” He says that he has already spoken to the relevant authorities about his concerns. It is not clear, however, that the “relevant authorities” will listen to the new prime minister, posing an early t= est to his authority.

Our lunch is coming to a close and I have failed in p= art of my mission. Abhisit has not touched his sandwiches. But his aides are ke= en to hurry him on. There are further interviews to do, world leaders to meet = and that night he will fly back to Bangkok – and into the maelstrom of Th= ai politics.

Gideon Rachman is the FT’s chief foreign affairs columnist=

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