Bangkok Post : Two times a rebel, three times a writer

BOOK REVIEW

In 1932 a bloodless coup ended the Kingdom's absolute monarchy. In 1933 Prince Boworadej led a short-lived and ill-fated rebellion against the new People's Party government, put down by Phibun Songkhram. MR Nimitmongkol Navarat was an aristocratic fighter pilot caught in the crossfire. Despite the lack of evidence against him, Nimitmongkol was convicted and sentenced to nine years in Bang Khwang prison. He was pardoned in 1937 and released, but arrested again in 1939 on similarly spurious charges. Fifty-two people thought tied to the insurrection were tried in a "Special Court", and 18 of his co-defendants were executed. While in prison he wrote the three manuscripts that make up this collection: Dreams of an Idealist, first written in English to escape the prison guards, then in Thai upon his release; A Victim of Two Political Purges, a memoir; and The Emerald's Cleavage, a four-act play, written in English.

Hat fashion during the Phibun government.

While the other two pieces were successfully smuggled out of prison, a copy of Dreams of an Idealist in English was discovered by the prison guards and as punishment Nimitmongkol was sent to the brutal, malaria-ridden penal colony on Koh Tao. Today the island is a tropical paradise, but many of his fellow convicts died there of disease. After his pardon and release, Nimitmongkol's health never fully recovered and he died at the young age of 39, having spent nearly half his adult life as a political prisoner.

This is a fascinating volume, translated and annotated by David Smyth, that sheds some light on a poorly understood episode of Thai history and demonstrates the formidable literary talents of one of the victims of Phibun's political purges and heavily politicised trials.

Dreams of an Idealist, the novel that begins the volume, follows the exploits of Rung, a pardoned political prisoner who seeks to re-enter society. Rung is a biology professor working as an unpaid clerk, someone who sees himself as extraordinary living in the shell of an ordinary man as he struggles for status, respect, honour and love.

Rung works without pay at an Indian stationer's so that he doesn't have to suffer the ignominy of a 30-baht-a-month salary, though he has fewer qualms with letting a wealthy aunt cover his living expenses.

The politics can seem dated at times, as for example the pros and cons of fascism are pondered, and at others it can still seem very current. Thailand, then as now, is beset by class struggle, a nation of haves and have-nots in a dichotomy that may not forever be sustainable.

Rung is obviously well read; the text is sprinkled with references to Louis XIV and Shakespeare, to Siddhartha Gautama and Hindu goddesses, to Karl Marx and Hitler, to writers (H.G. Wells), political economists (Adam Smith), linguists (C.K. Ogden), behaviourist psychologists (John Watson), popular culture figures (Tarzan's Johnny Weissmuller) and historical figures such as Cleopatra. Despite this, Rung would seem rather politically naive by today's standards. One of his utopian visions is using McDougall's square to numerically measure the intro- or extroversion of citizens, information which could then be used by the state to fit people into appropriate careers. Thank God we don't live under such "idealism" today; it resembles more the vision of an elitist laid low and seeking to reclaim his former status as a right.

THE DREAMS OF AN IDEALIST MR Nimitmongkol Navarat, translated by David Smyth Silkworm Books, 360 pp, 550 baht ISBN 978-9749511619

More interesting than his politics is the character of Rung himself. His prison sentence interrupts his courtship with a woman, Somsuan, who later dies of tuberculosis. After that, Rung isn't interested in Somsuan's beautiful sister, who loves him, but falls madly for Uraiwan, a daughter of an aristocratic friend. Rung's romanticism wavers between the lyrical ("She trembled like a young bird caught in a hunter's net, startled even though it was the net of love") and the pragmatic ("Rung was forced by nature to recognize the urge to procreate"). His character likewise shifts from gullible to calculating, forgiving to bitter, which perhaps mirrors the shifts of the author, who became openly antagonistic to the government only after his conviction as a rebel.

Uraiwan rejects him initially, but by the time his arguments have convinced her, he no longer wants to marry her. Instead he plans a journey of self-discovery, which is cut short before it begins when he is arrested on his way to Ayutthaya.

The middle piece of the collection, A Victim of Two Political Purges, is perhaps the most compelling. It is a memoir of Nimitmongkol's trial and spell in prison, and provides the political background necessary for a modern reader to understand the context of the other two pieces. It is fascinatingly Kafkaesque, in the sense that the author doesn't know the charges against him, can't call on a lawyer, and every 15 days gets hit with a new confinement order. The trial likewise reaches ever greater levels of absurdity, as paid witnesses forget the stories they are meant to utter, contradict themselves and at times even agree with the cross-questioning defendants. The legally ignorant defendants struggle to understand the system, which seems entirely set against them. They are given a five-year period during which they must account for their whereabouts, and only the prosecutors know the charges and can call witnesses. Dark humour enters the descriptions as judges and prosecutors venture to the club together after a hard day's work in the court. During the long belaboured sentencing defendants aren't allowed a toilet break and Nimitmongkol is forced to urinate into his shoes.

Thai officials of the period.

By Nimitmongkol's account, Prince Boworadej wasn't interested in restoring the absolute monarchy in 1933. He was piqued into insurrection by an order from the government not to interfere with the nation's politics. His followers distrusted the People's Party, fearing corruption or a descent into authoritarian communism or fascism.

On the day of the sentencing most of the defendants feel positive about their prospects for release, as there is little in the way of concrete evidence that they were involved in the abortive coup. Yet of 52 defendants, 18 are sentenced to death, many others - including the author and the Prince of Chainat, one of King Chulalongkorn's sons - to life sentences.

Nimitmongkol describes his situation convincingly and seemingly faithfully, with attention to detail and excerpts from the court's verdict, delivered in chilling Orwellian language. This memoir is also the author's voice at its least adulterated, without pretension or hyperbole - extraordinary considering the judicial farce unfolding around him.

Field Marshal Phibun Songkhram and his personal effects.

The third piece in the volume, The Emerald's Cleavage, is a short, Oscar Wilde-influenced four-act play originally written in English. It demonstrates Nimitmongkol's command of the language and literary versatility. The play treats with flippancy the fate of a man - probably innocent - condemned to death for treason. The minister of the interior, who has the power to release him, is blackmailed to do so by a woman with information about his sordid past. The minister's wife, however, threatens to leave him if the prisoner - regardless of whether he is guilty or innocent - is released, because that would diminish the minister's honour, and she could never love a man without honour.

As every emerald has a blemish or cleavage, so every man has his faults: this seems to be the moral of the play. That another man must die here to preserve the honour of the man with the greater faults seems irrelevant to the story, and it is this irony that gives the play its black humour and its lingering power.

This volume is a strong reminder of Thailand's post-constitution history, and of the talents of a thinker, political theorist and eventual rebel. As Nimitmongkol says in the foreword, the "1933 rebellion was fabricated slander and ... the execution of eighteen people was murder masquerading behind the name of the law". Phibun's Special Courts and political purges, far from consolidating government power, only served to erode its moral credibility. That Phibun had his enemies is clear - he survived two assassination attempts and numerous small rebellions among the ranks. That his purges took out many innocents is tragic; that we have this set of literary gems from one of his victims to remember and reassess the period by is our lasting gain.