Thailand Power Grab

In Thailand, coups are almost routine. The country has survived 17 takeover bids since a constitutional government replaced its absolute monarchy in 1932. Last week Coup No. 18, apparently mounted by renegade military officers, took an unexpectedly violent turn. The rebellion was crushed within twelve hours, but it left five people dead and 60 injured. Worse, Thailand's image as an increasingly stable semidemocracy in Southeast Asia may have been tarnished. Said Prime Minister Prem Tinsulanonda, whose government withstood another military takeover attempt only four years ago: "I don't agree with this method of solving the country's problems."

The insurrection, avowedly mounted to protest Thailand's faltering economy, began shortly after midnight as rebel tanks rolled to strategic positions in Bangkok. By 5 a.m. the insurgents had captured Radio Thailand and at least one government television station. At 7:30 a.m. Bangkok residents heard an announcement on their radios that the "revolutionary party" had seized power. Nonetheless, the atmosphere in the capital was carnival-like. Soft- drink vendors hawked their wares as rebel soldiers slouched atop U.S.-made M- 41 tanks, idly awaiting victory. "This is easy," bragged one air force captain at rebel headquarters. "No fighting. No blood."

The insurgents' action was carefully timed to take place when both the Prime Minister and General Arthit Kamlang-ek, Thailand's Supreme Commander, were out of the country. Before his departure, however, Prem had been informed by Thai intelligence that a coup might occur and alerted loyalist military brass. By 10 a.m. on the day of the coup attempt, an estimated 500 rebels found themselves squaring off against more than 1,000 loyalist troops near First Division headquarters, which also houses the army's main radio station. Without warning, rebel tanks and machine gunners opened fire. The action killed NBC Cameraman Neil Davis, an Australian, and William Latch, his American sound man, who were standing in front of the building. The moment was captured for American television by Davis' still rolling camera: in a macabre example of cinema verite, the veteran journalist had filmed his own death. By early afternoon the loyalists had regained control, and an army spokesman warned the insurgents to surrender or "be crushed completely." Within an hour the rebels gave up.

By week's end some of the plotters still had not been identified. Thai military officials were certain, however, that one of the ringleaders was a former army colonel, Manoon Roopkachorn, leader of the so-called young Turks who mounted the 1981 effort to oust Prem. Although coup instigators are often treated leniently, the Prime Minister indicated that things would be different this time. At a press conference in Bangkok, the government announced the appointment of a three-member panel of police officers to conduct an investigation of the abortive coup. Still, there was reason to wonder how tough the Thai government planned to be. Only hours after the takeover try fizzled, Manoon and two of his aides fled to Singapore on a Royal Thai Air Force plane. Their safe-conduct out of the country was reportedly arranged in exchange for the release of a Thai air force commander held by the rebels.

By week's end, seven officers, 80 soldiers and five labor leaders were in custody. A state of emergency, declared when the coup attempt began, had yet to be lifted, and there were signs that Prem might shake up his Cabinet to give his government a needed boost of confidence. "This is and will be known as a tempest in a teapot," editorialized the Nation Review, an English- language daily in Bangkok. "But how other countries will view it is difficult to say."