The recent plea by Banthat Thong Road restaurateurs for urgent assistance from the government should serve as a wake-up call, not a rallying cry for rescue packages. Their predicament, while unfortunate for individual operators, epitomises the unsustainable practices of building businesses on social media spectacle rather than culinary excellence.
The lesson applies not only to food-and-beverage ventures but also to Thailand's broader, government-funded "soft power" agenda. Up until a few years ago, the 2.5km-long Banthat Thong Road, which runs behind Chulalongkorn University and the National Stadium, had been a quiet neighbourhood known for sporting goods and second-hand machinery shops.
From 2020, however, this uninspiring strip experienced a dramatic transformation as hundreds of modern-looking restaurants and cafes offering a "unique food experience" replaced the run-down shophouses of the past.
Heavy promotion quickly modified Banthat Thong into a "street food paradise"-- ranked as the world's 14th best street by Time Out and hailed by food bloggers as a "second Yaowarat" for Asian foodies. The manufactured fame, apparently built on Instagram-worthy aesthetics and marketing blitz rather than authentic culinary heritage, has now proven too fragile.
Early this month, a group representing restaurateurs in the Banthat Thong area warned their food paradise could collapse within six months, bringing down more than 300 business operators and an investment worth billions of baht, unless the government gives them help.
Among their requests are for Banthat Thong to be given special creative business area status and for the Bangkok Metropolitan Administration (BMA) to allow vendors exemptions to set up stalls on the pavement. It is clear these demands are short-term window dressing, which will fail to address the fundamental flaw of the Banthat Thong business model in the long run.
Unlike Bangkok's enduring food districts that evolved over time around genuine tastes and community needs, Banthat Thong was essentially "made" by marketing strategies heavily reliant on tales of extreme satisfaction concocted by social media influencers. Many restaurants focus more on Instagrammable decorations and compelling social media "stories" than exceptional food, with the result being ever pricier bills for visitors.
As Banthat Thong was tailored to appeal to Asian, especially Chinese, tourists, the area saw a sharp drop as soon as tourism faltered. The high prices, which do not always come with consistently great tastes as usually experienced in more genuine establishments, exacerbate the downward shift. In their appeal for help, the restaurateurs also asked for more frequent garbage collections, as rats have become a big problem. It seems that in their rush to set up shops and cash in on the booming area, restaurateurs failed to take care of basic hygiene and ensure that an efficient disposal system was in place before offering food to customers.
The meteoric rise and apparent decline of the Banthat Thong food street should serve as a cautionary tale of how style is often misplaced over substance. Cultural promotion, whether in food, fashion, films or sports, should be based on genuine traditions and artistic talents more than marketing exercises designed for international consumption. As the hype wanes, the Banthat Thong operators should refocus on what truly matters -- providing a genuinely fantastic culinary experience that will not fade even when the social media spotlight has passed.