https://asia.nikkei.com/Editor-s-Pi...10&pub_date=20210804150000&seq_num=7&si=44594
Bangkok's streets expose Southeast Asia's new divides
Throughout the region, the pandemic is causing suicides, widening inequality and growing unrest
People line up for free food at a slum area following the COVID-19 outbreak, in Bangkok in April 2020. © Reuters
MICHAEL VATIKIOTISAugust 4, 2021 11:06 JST
The young woman stared blankly into the middle distance. At 6:30 a.m. there was no particular reason to be sitting on the steps of a shuttered shop house along Bangkok's Sukhumvit Road, her arms draped over a few belongings in shopping bags, except that she was homeless.
Unlike the beggars I usually see in dirt-streaked rags by the side of one of Bangkok's busiest streets, this woman looked as if she had only recently lost her home. There was a flash of shock and trauma, instead of despair, in her eyes.
This is the fate of many Thais -- no one is sure how many -- who until recently had jobs that paid enough to live in the city. She might have worked at a hair salon or as a waitress or a store assistant. Then the pandemic suddenly closed businesses, and for those who can't return to their provinces or have no family to take them in, the only option is the street.
Some economists have argued that despite lockdowns imposed across Southeast Asia since March 2020 there has been remarkable economic resilience and even some upside. Exports have increased because of growing demand as the vaccinated developed world recovers from the pandemic. Investment is rebounding and equity markets are healthy due to excess liquidity.
But the macroeconomic figures tell only part of the story.
Suicide rates in the region have soared as young people have seen their aspirations evaporate. The problem is worst in Thailand, where the World Health Organization estimates that someone attempts suicide every 10 minutes. In one high-profile instance, a young Thai singer, out of work for more than a year, threw herself off a building. In mid-July, a pair of street food vendors hanged themselves after being chased by loan sharks.
Thais are not good at working from home. They are intensely social beings: The workplace is for mingling and eating fruit on sticks or slurping noodles. With these small social pleasures denied, they huddle in small, airless apartments, often in unhappy or abusive relationships from which there is no escape, worrying at the same time about older family members.
Migrant construction workers, some wearing face masks, travel in the back of a crew cab in Bangkok in May 2020. © AP
Fai, the young singer who died by suicide, wrote a song about hanging out at 7-Eleven stores. To the accompaniment of the familiar ding-dong sound of their automatic sliding-doors, I often see small groups of young people mingling with the Grab drivers who populate street corners, drinking beer and eating instant noodles astride their parked motorcycles.
Another prominent group of victims are migrant workers, who for the most part fall between the cracks because they are the first to be laid off and mostly don't qualify for government health schemes. In Singapore, where 300,000 mostly Chinese and South Asian migrant workers live in dormitories, COVID-19 meant an effective prison sentence as they were locked down for weeks. Movement controls remained in place even as infection rates came under control.
In Bangkok, some 80,000 construction workers, mostly migrants, are confined, relying on food and water distributed by local charities because their employers and government agencies do little or nothing to support them.
Across Southeast Asia, the pandemic has exposed class divisions. Until recently, air-conditioned shopping malls in Bangkok stayed open to cater to mainly middle-class shoppers. Meanwhile, in the lobby of my condominium, a recent notice warned residents to avoid contact with people from a nearby slum area. In Malaysia, the authorities installed barbed wire on the staircases of low-cost housing units to prevent residents from leaving until a public outcry forced their removal.
A woman wearing a face mask uses her phone at a shopping mall that is getting ready to reopen amid the outbreak of the COVID-19 in Bangkok in May 2020. © Reuters
In a region plagued by endemic inequality, there's a pronounced vaccine divide: The rich manage either to import Western vaccines (which is not supposed to be possible in most countries) or travel to the U.S. and Europe to get their jabs. Some have collected a cocktail of different vaccines -- just to make sure. Meanwhile, the average Thai must queue overnight to get a free COVID-19 test, needed if he or she wants to return to a workplace, because the alternative is a test at a private hospital that costs $100 or more.
In Malaysia, which has been particularly hard hit by rising infection rates and an extended lockdown, people have taken to flying white flags outside their homes to signify they need support -- mostly food. An app has been created by students to identify those in need and connect them to sources of help. Food banks have sprung up, and businesses and citizens have responded by contributing whatever they can. A recent government survey indicated that up to 7 million Malaysians working in the small business sector could lose their jobs because of the pandemic.
Leaving aside the question of employment, basic survival is now a priority in some parts of the region. My social media feed is filled with horrifying scenes of people queuing for oxygen in downtown Yangon, where friends tell me there are no doctors, no hospitals and no escape from the virus.
The question I ask myself is whether there will be a political price to pay. Will mass protests ensue and governments fall? I lived through Thailand's financial crisis in 1997, which fueled popular anger, forced the elected government to resign, ushered in a controversial populist leader and seeded subsequent years of street protests and two military coups. All that has resulted in a deeply divided society. By the end of June there were fresh stirrings of protest -- long lines of cars carrying signs demanding that the military-backed government resign. (It is illegal and risky to march.)
From a practical viewpoint, it is more important for the public to push governments to accelerate vaccinations, since ousting their leaders would only slow the process. Many people have no time for anger as they scan social media for news about the sick and dying. In Indonesia, Facebook has become an obituary, with an average of more than 900 people dying every day in July. There will be a time for retribution later.
Along Sukhumvit Road, I notice that the roadside stalls that used to do a brisk trade in street food have started to diversify, selling masks or fresh vegetables since people are no longer allowed to eat there. Bangkok is quiet by early evening as the traffic dies down in a city that once never slept. Even the dogs have no interest in howling.
Michael Vatikiotis is the author of "Blood and Silk: Power and Conflict in Modern Southeast Asia" (2017).