A One-Day Revolution Topples a Dictator

By Barry Hillenbrand

For decades the students of Thailand had been among the world's most serene somnambulists. Docile and shorthaired, they eschewed politics and activism in favor of a romantic tradition revering king and country. True, they had shown signs of stirring last December when they called a protest meeting against Japan's heavy involvement in Thailand's economy. To no one's surprise, the meeting fizzled. The reason, Thais joked, was that they had boycotted Japanese goods and could not get to the rallying point because so many of Bangkok's buses are Japanese-made.

No one is joking now. In one bloody day last week, the students toppled one of the toughest military cliques that have ruled the country since World War II. In the fighting, some 125 students were killed and at least 850 wounded.

TIME Correspondent Barry Hillenbrand, who was in Bangkok at the time of the revolt, sent this report:

The military dictatorship of Prime Minister Thanom Kittikachorn, 62, was inefficient, authoritarian and beset with economic problems. There was wide discontent because of the rising cost of rice and Thanom's police-state methods. The revolt that abruptly brought down his regime started when university students in Bangkok issued a list of mild demands that seemed to have goals more appropriate to Disraeli than Mao: a new constitution (the old one had been arbitrarily scrapped by the military government in 1971) and free elections. To the government, however, the demands amounted to near sedition. Twelve student demonstrators and professors were arrested and charged with "instigating public unrest and trying to overthrow the present government."

To the government's surprise, the students fought back. They flocked into Bangkok from all over Thailand. Huge protest rallies were held at the capital's prestigious Thammasat University demanding release of the prisoners and immediate adoption of a new constitution. To placate the students, the government began to backpedal on the constitution, announcing that a new one would be drawn up in three years, then 20 months, and finally, twelve months. The prisoners were ordered released on bail, but refused to leave until the constitutional issue was settled. They had to be evicted bodily from jail.

By last week the number of students flooding into Bangkok had swelled to several hundred thousand. They gathered in front of the Parliament building where police attacked them with tear gas, and the riot was on. Vehicles and government buildings were burned, including the offices of Thanom's son, Colonel Narong Kittikachorn, who was suspected by many students of maneuvering to be Thailand's next Prime Minister. I watched the modern office building that houses the national lottery being put to the torch. Explained one student: "It's good that we burn the lottery, because it only robs the poor people and makes the generals more rich."

Troops and tanks soon swept into the streets, firing M-16 rifles and machine guns at rock-throwing students. Hundreds were hit. Small white Volkswagen ambulances, their sides streaked with blood, screamed back and forth, loaded with wounded. One VW pulled up to a group of students, and the driver asked for blood donations. So many volunteered that a girl who was unable to get aboard looked as distressed as if she had just failed an important exam.

A helicopter circled over the rampaging students and dropped batches of leaflets, which were carried into the flames of the burning lottery building. Minutes later, the troops began to retreat. The tanks, their heavy treads chewing up the soft asphalt, followed, firing .30-cal. machine guns in a final act of defiance--and wounding more students.

Then word flashed through the crowd that Prime Minister Thanom had offered his resignation to King Bhumibol Adulyadej. On Thai television a little more than an hour later, the nation watched a tired but composed King announce that the government had resigned. Sanya Dharmaskti, 66, the scholarly, British-educated rector of Thammasat University, was named Prime Minister of a caretaker government.

The King, though relatively powerless, has great prestige with the people. With the support of key military officers, he used the revolt as a lever to pry the unpopular Thanom from office. The students clearly had won a stunning victory. Cheering and pounding on the sides of commandeered buses, they sped through Bangkok waving Thai flags and holding up portraits of the King.

The celebrations proved to be shortlived. A group of students, ignoring monitors who tried to keep them away, charged the headquarters of the metropolitan police. They were driven back by intense automatic-weapons fire. The students then began a strange siege. They simply put a watch on the building while police with rifles attempted to pick off those few who moved around on the debris-littered streets.

I huddled with three students behind a metal kiosk. Suddenly, a student dashed across the intersection and hurled a rock at a glaring mercury street lamp. A policeman fired a round at him; the bullet ripped through the kiosk and into the shoulder of the student to my left. Groaning, he slumped over in the arms of his friend, blood oozing through his starched white shirt.

Deserted Streets. The next day an eerie calm settled over Bangkok, a city whose traffic is worse than that of Los Angeles. The streets were practically deserted except for the hulks of burned-out vehicles. Students directed what traffic there was and then dutifully began clearing up the debris.

Prime Minister Sanya moved swiftly to restore order. He announced a new Cabinet made up mainly of civilians, many of whom had served in lesser posts in earlier governments. He said that a new constitution will be drawn up in six months and elections held soon after. But though he has the students' support, Sanya still faces an array of problems. The most serious one is the Thai military, which has sufficient strength for a countercoup if its officers become disenchanted with Sanya's civilian rule. For the moment, however, the military seemed content to side with the King and give civilian rule a chance.

Observers confidently expect to see major changes in Thailand's foreign relations, regardless of who eventually runs the country. Thais have traditionally sided with the nation that exerted the greatest influence in the region. During World War II, they first supported the Japanese, then the Allies. Now, with the U.S. in the process of reducing its military presence in Southeast Asia, the pragmatic Thais are expected to seek more cordial relations with China.

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