ress over the arrest of a Western man on charges of insulting the country's King Bhumibol Adulyadej. According to reports published in the Western media, the arrest of Swiss national Oliver Jufer in Chiang Mai last December demonstrates how Thailand's lese majeste statute, which imposes stiff penalties for insults to the monarchy, is "draconian" and out of step with the times.
While we agree that it may be the right time for Thailand to re-examine its lese majeste statute, we also believe it should remain fully up to the Thai people to decide when and how to make any changes.
While Thailand has had its share of political turmoil over the years, Thailand has a long and glorious history of tolerance and kindness toward foreign visitors.
We are confident that the Thai people will make the right decision by acting through their own democratic processes.
We were especially pleased to learn that the king graciously decided to pardon Jufer and have him deported in lieu of serving the 10 years in prison he was sentenced to last month.
Once again, King Bhumibol has made a wise decision that will undoubtedly have a positive impact on his country's political development, as well as Thailand's otherwise good image abroad.
The statute, which provides a maximum 75-year prison term for a conviction, dates back to Thailand's first criminal code promulgated in 1908.
Jufer had lived in Thailand for more than a decade before he was caught in the act of defacing portraits of the king on Dec. 5, which is the monarch's birthday and a national holiday.
The Swiss man was drunk and apparently angered because he was not able to buy more alcohol due to a law forbidding such sales on the holiday.
Now that he is to be deported, the dilemma over Jufer's fate has ended in a "win-win" situation.
While the Thai monarch commands tremendous respect and reverence among his people, he has wisely played a rather detached role in his country's politics since coming to power in 1946.
Over the decades since he came to the throne, King Bhumibol has occasionally stepped in to restore order amid crises.
But each time he has stepped into the fray, King Bhumibol has consistently steered his country back on the path of representative democracy and quietly returned to the background.
In many ways, the lese majeste statute in Thailand, where the news media carefully avoids criticism of the revered monarch, is a remnant of a long-gone era.
However, even the law's sharpest critics agree its enforcement reflects genuine respect for the King Bhumibol among his subjects.
In a recent speech, King Bhumibol himself informed the Thai people that he was ready to face criticism. "I am not afraid if the criticism concerns what I do wrong, because then I know," the king said. "If you say the king cannot be criticized, it means that the king is not human." We are pleased to see that the king himself advocates a policy of openness and reform, even at a time when his country is undergoing major political changes.
Even though the Thai law has come under the spotlight, we should also point out that aside from their special treatment of the monarchy, Thais have long exercised the freedom to criticize other political leaders at will, including the prime ministers who actually run the Thai government.
It is heartening to see that even Thailand's king, who enjoys a status comparable to a deity in his own country, is open-minded about facing criticism from his compatriots and foreign guests alike.
This stands in stark contrast to our President Chen Shui-bian, who routinely accuses his critics of being traitors, communist sympathizers and Beijing's fellow travelers.
We have grown tired of hearing President Chen denounce his critics for "bringing down Taiwan," rather than face up to the genuine problems often pointed out by his critics.
It is also unsettling to hear our government officials blame foreign criticism on ineffective lobbying, rather than addressing the real reasons why foreign friends have criticized us.
While our Thai friends may be pondering what to do with a legal legacy that dates back to the turn of the 20th century, our own government is constantly coming up with new ways to punish its critics, such as prosecuting newspaper reporters for leaks of state secrets, demanding the closure of a cable television network, and pursuing libel actions against reporters. We hope that political leaders of all stripes in Taiwan will eventually realize the futility of attempting to silence their critics, as well as the greater benefits that come along with freedom of speech and the press.
