'The tears were obviously theatrics. They're political tears. Stop crying and stop trying to fool the people. Stop using the same trick over and over for your political gains."
Said who?
Said the man who cries political tears, who loves theatrics, who plays politics like a cardsharp at the blackjack table and yet claimed that he would quit politics.
Political tears, political tongue? Crocodile tears, serpentine tongue?
That priceless quote at the top was uttered by Suthep Thaugsuban, in a booming voice with a contorted face, as he scolded the tearful Yingluck Shinawatra nearly five years ago, back when Mr Suthep was leading a mass protest against the former PM, deafening us with those whistles and rallying cries that, eventually, came to nothing. The whistles that were meant to exorcise the demon of Yingluck's "parliamentary dictatorship" but were, in fact, a snake charmer's flute summoning a far more sinister species of the practice -- military dictatorship.
Last Sunday, Mr Suthep cried on stage at the inaugural event of his new party. At the sight of those tears, we remembered what he said so disdainfully four years ago about political tears and political gains. At the event, Mr Suthep also publicly performed the swallowing of his own words with the sudden breaking of his promise: Once vowing to quit politics to prove that his protest against the former PM was a selfless act, the veteran politician has now said he will return to politics. Kleenex at the ready.
"I don't care about any criticism or insults," he said tearfully, "[With this new party] I'm volunteering to be a servant of the people."
Barack Obama cried seven times in public during his eight years of presidency ("fake!" screamed his opponents). Justin Trudeau has sobbed on camera quite a number of times as well, such as when he met a Syrian refugee ("phoney!" bayed his opponents). Maybe, maybe not. Still, we can all agree that it's not fair to compare Mr Obama with Mr Suthep or Yingluck (not fair to Mr Obama, I mean). But when those who accused others of fake tears and phoney sobs for political sympathy have tears streaming down their faces at a political gathering as they ask for sympathy themselves, it's more than just being unfair. It's hypocritical. And hypocrisy -- conscious or incidental -- is what we'll see a lot more of from all sides when the promised election finally approaches.
When a female politician cries -- even Hilary Clinton got this -- her rivals are quick to accuse her of weakness, theatrics and emotional blackmail. When a male politician cries, his rivals would say the same, sure, but male tears, whether in the spotlight of the political arena or movie screen, are easier to attribute to a narrative that's more romantic, more genuine, more "human". Female politicians are expected not just to be strong, but stronger than their male colleagues (think Margaret Thatcher). And yet, ironically, the definition of strength is defined by cultural impositions long set by men.
Mr Suthep is known to have cried on a rally stage before. I was there at his rally in Ratchaprasong in 2011 when he became lachrymose as he pleaded to the crowd: "No one died at the hand of the officials at Ratchaprasong in May 2010", referring to the crackdown on the red shirts that year that left nearly 100 people dead. Naturally, that part drew loud cheers. In January 2014, during the mass protests by the now-defunct People's Democratic Reform Committee (PDRC), Mr Suthep took off his glasses and cried on stage, lamenting the incident when assailants threw bombs at the protesters on Banthat Thong Road, leaving many injured.
I assume all those tears were authentic. He's human, and he has feelings when he sees someone hurt or when emotions run high. But then, Mr Suthep should understand very well that his genuine tears, the tears that make him human, aren't more precious than the tears of others. That he calls other people's tears fake and his own sincere is equivalent to saying that he's more human than them. In fact, isn't that the narrative his "movement", the PDRC, always championed after they came out to disrupt the election in 2014?
Since Yingluck is now busily shopping at Covent Garden or Kurfurstendamm, blithely leaving her troubles (ours) behind, there will be no more female tears in the coming months. What's left is Mr Suthep's new party, set up tearfully to back the old guard and the military. A party with not even one woman on its roll call; a party formed by the man who once did everything to block an election and now wants to run in an election. It's a cheap sob story, and it's us who're crying now.
Kong Rithdee is Life Editor, Bangkok Post.
