Human rights activists are expressing fears about the new government’s plans to revive the War on Drugs that the Thaksin administration waged in 2003.  According to the preliminary report of the Independent Committee for the Investigation, Study and Analysis of the Formulation and Implementation of Narcotic Suppression Policy (ICID), headed by Khanit na Nakhon, 2,873 murders occurred in the three months from February to April of that year.  This compares to an average monthly murder rate in adjacent years of 454. 

Suspicions that a similar upsurge in murders could occur in the new campaign have been strengthened by statements of Interior Minister Chalerm Yoobamrung that an even larger number of deaths can be expected.  But something may be forgotten in the debate on whether the murders were crimes committed by government agents and how Thai society should respond to that. 

The War on Drugs was, by its own stated objectives, a failure.

The object of the war was not to litter the country with corpses, even if this was more or less explicitly the preferred method.  The real objective was to rid the country of drugs.

At its height, the War on Drugs curtailed supply and, by the strict rules of the market, raised prices.  As time passed, supplies were restored, distribution networks were rebuilt, and prices came back down.  So it is still possible, as Thaksin complained at the time, to order drugs like you order pizza.

And it didn’t work, as many other government projects don’t work, because it was based on lists of names. 

You have to start with the understanding that, like the War on Drugs, almost all government projects start from someone’s desk in Bangkok.  The project may be well-intentioned or an excuse for corruption; it may be based on a proper analysis of the problem or the idle thoughts of a brain that should have been doing something else; it could be properly thought through or rigged up in a slapdash manner. 

But as soon as the project leaves Bangkok it becomes an order.  It is something government officials will do, not because it makes sense, not because it might help the Thai population, not even because it might be an enjoyable or rewarding experience.  It gets done because it is an order.  From above.  Someone else’s idea.  Nothing you need have any commitment to.

So when the official at the local level, the one that actually has to deal with real people and not just other civil servants, sets to work, the task is obvious.  Do what you’re told. 

So if the plan says they must draw up lists of illiterates, or gunmen before elections, or teachers with debts worth more than their annual income, they do just that.  They don’t ask if it makes sense, or if it’s the best way to go about things. 

And the easiest way of making lists is copy a few names from house registrations.  Which they do, all properly signed, in the same handwriting, using the same pen.  They’re betting that the plan will never go any farther.  No one is likely to come back and check.

One of the first projects that did go back was a national literacy campaign of 20 years ago.  The Ministry of Education asked for a list of every illiterate over school age and under 50, put the data onto a computer and sent the print-outs back to the localities with instructions on what to do next.  Many found their names on the lists and were outraged at the insult to their ability to read.  There were even some illiterates who were upset that their names were not included.  Or so they’d been told. 

There then started an unseemly race among the governors to declare their provinces illiteracy-free.  The first such claim came from an unlikely northeastern province.  The governor called a press conference in the Provincial Hall; the reporters promptly trooped out and proved him wrong by sticking a newspaper under the noses of the uncomprehending vendors on the street outside.  Such a temporary phenomenon, literacy.

Much the same motivations set the War on Drugs off on its disastrous course.  Thaksin praised Kalasin for being drugs-free and held it up as an example for others to follow.  Or else.

So if any new War on Drugs is going to run on the same lines, we have to set some strict criteria for listing people.  Letting local officials choose names more or less at random will again risk failure. 

One suggestion has been to include only the names of people who display signs of being under the influence of drugs.  Such symptoms might include loss of memory (such as forgetting the number of people killed on Oct 6), inability to perceive reality (such as thinking Burma is peaceful because the generals meditate), sudden outbursts of irritation (such as when reporters ask questions you don’t want to answer), and delusions of grandeur (such as thinking people voted for you and not as someone else’s proxy). 

Such a list may be short but the results would be interesting