COMMENTARY
VASANA CHINVARAKORN
This is a very urgent agenda - it might save or break our beloved nation. Considering that starting from Aug 23, every Thai citizen will be able to enjoy the country's first "standard time," which includes the playing of the national anthem at exactly the same time across the entire Kingdom, I would like to propose that we spend precisely one minute on free-form laughing before proceeding to our public singing duty, twice a day even.
I am serious. In the same edition yesterday which reported the upcoming resetting of all official clocks in Thailand to become nationally punctual, a short piece on the merits of laughing was mentioned on page two of the Outlook section ("Morning exercises start with a laugh").
Thousands, if not millions, of elderly Chinese have been relishing great health despite their advanced age, the article says, thanks to the ancient pearls of wisdom like "Heeee!" and "Ho!" and "Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!."
I reckon that it might even be the key to the success of the Chinese Communist Party in their manoeuvre to host the Olympics this summer (while laughing all the way to Lhasa).
But the benefits are far more than personal. At this particular juncture in time, we Thais are beginning to lose the ability to flash our trademark Siamese smile, let alone blurting out a hee-haw. We are becoming too serious a nation.
Every simple act, deliberate or not, could be interpreted as dangerous and land us in hot water. It's a contagion that spreads from the top to the lowest echelons. Wearing a shirt with a particular message could make us lose our job. Waiting for a certain big shot in front of the public loo could elicit a long string of unpleasant words from that somebody. Expressing our desire to go or not to go to a political rally might make us a hero to some and be condemned as a villain by others.
That is certainly a sinister prospect, a threat to our national sense of (mental) security and freedom. The detrimental effects have already been manifest - confrontations between people who can't agree with one another which often end in a bloody melee, a multitude of lawsuits and counter-lawsuits shuffling back and forth, the paranoia of making blunders over otherwise trivial matters...
But laughter can be our saviour. And the more who join in, the merrier. Imagine a scene where two broiling factions (both of whom loudly proclaim their unswerving love for the nation, religion and monarchy) are just about to clash. If there was a mandatory rule that they had to laugh together for a few minutes, would there be the same degree of anger and violence expressed against one another? Would the combative people not realise the absurdity, the folly of their own actions?
Laughter is also unique for the very reason that the ways to express it are so diverse. Some like to giggle, others just roar. You can't force people to burst out in the same fashion. It is also the stepping stone to creativity - and to the realisation that underneath the differences, the colours of our shirts, the badge of our political alliance, every one of us is human (even though we may not be able to resist thinking that someone's laughter sounds more like a hyena's).
So, if twice a day, for just one minute before 8am and 6pm sharp, all the Thais could stand up and laugh outright in unison, I bet a few national crises would be resolved in due course.
To begin with, we would look forward to the time to sing the anthem (and not try to scuttle away at the first note of the nationalist song). It would then set the rest of our day in a positive mood. We would be able to go into convulsions every time we heard outrageous news, be it about a corrupt politician, an incompetent officer, or a disastrous development project that has never been resolved - or the ridiculous fine of 100,000 to 500,000 baht to be slapped on those whose clocks are not set to the standard time.
We would be able to keep our heads afloat amid this sea of insanity. A few months ago, Ripley's organised an unusual contest in Thailand: a marathon laughing session. I cannot remember who earned the trophy at the end of the day, and his or her record. But the organisers seemed visionary. The sense of humour has nowadays become such a rare commodity here. Unless we laugh now - together.
Vasana Chinvarakorn is a senior writer for Outlook, Bangkok Post.
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