[DUNIA Book Club] Review of Jeongwoo Lee's Thai Democracy Through Interviews: Finding Common Ground Between Thai Youth and a Middle-Aged Korean After Election Season

By Goeun Jo (Translator, Administrative Specialist)

At this moment, both the people in Thailand who continue to hope for democracy and I, having just witnessed local elections in South Korea, find ourselves asking similar questions: How far can democracy grow through protests and elections? And if that growth is painfully slow, how long can we endure?

Thai Democracy Through Interviews, written by Thai politics researcher Jeongwoo Lee, brings together conversations conducted with Thai citizens between October and December 2024. The book offers vivid access to the voices of young people who are actively struggling for democracy in Thailand today. What makes the book especially compelling is the way Lee carefully situates each interview within the context of the encounter itself — how they first came to know one another, where they agreed to meet, what thoughts accompanied the journey, and how he felt afterward. Through these reflections, readers are able to engage more intimately with the stories shared by Thai youth.

Many of their concerns felt familiar to me, while others were surprising and refreshing. Between 2019 and 2024, Thai citizens repeatedly encountered the same obstacle: even when elections succeeded in bringing progressive parties to power — parties capable of challenging monarchical authoritarianism — those victories were repeatedly overturned by interventions from the monarchy and military establishment.

As is widely known, Thailand is a constitutional monarchy in which the royal institution, possessing immense wealth and influence, has historically maintained its position through alliances with the military. Coups have repeatedly been used to suppress political forces critical of the monarchy, while strict lèse-majesté laws have severely constrained political expression. Despite this, Thai citizens continued to protest and support reformist politicians and parties seeking constitutional change. Yet the coups of 2006 and 2014, along with the dissolution of political parties in 2020, repeatedly frustrated popular aspirations for democratic change. Parties that reemerged after dissolution often adopted more conciliatory positions than the younger generation desired.

The 2023 general election once again raised hopes. Voters, especially young people, enthusiastically supported the Move Forward Party, which advocated royal reform and amendments to lèse-majesté laws, making it the largest party in parliament. Yet the party was dissolved in 2024 following military-backed intervention. Unlike 2020, when citizens responded to injustice with nationwide demonstrations, no comparable wave of protests emerged in 2024. This shift became the central question that drove the author’s investigation.

The Enemies of Democracy: Defeat and Isolation

As people living within the constraints of everyday reality, our hopes are grounded less in imagination than in experience. When democratic aspirations are repeatedly thwarted, finding reasons for hope becomes difficult. State repression intensified, protests had already begun to decline after 2022, and many movement leaders were imprisoned or forced into exile. One interviewee in their twenties recalled finding genuine friendships through protest participation but admitted that attending demonstrations had become too dangerous to recommend to others. A politically articulate teenager, capable of explaining Thailand’s political landscape in remarkable detail, found themselves discussing relationship problems with the researcher rather than politics. The more people felt exhausted and unable to talk openly about political issues, the more isolation itself became a political reality.

Reading these stories felt deeply familiar. After the impeachment of an incompetent president in South Korea following the Sewol ferry disaster, accountability for the tragedy remained elusive. For years I participated in protests and elections whenever crises emerged, yet my doubts only grew: Could I really trust these institutions? Could I trust the people around me? Defeat and isolation are not uniquely Thai experiences.

Where, then, can we find a realistic basis for hope?

Yet Thai youth have not abandoned their belief in change. More strikingly, they continue to see themselves as capable of creating that change. This was perhaps the most refreshing aspect of the book. Asked how they would define their generation, interviewees repeatedly emphasized courage, refusal to tolerate injustice, and a proactive determination to pursue what they want. It was a stark contrast to narratives often heard in South Korea, where young people are frequently portrayed as politically apathetic or fragile.

While fully aware of Thailand’s worsening political and economic conditions, they also expressed confidence that new tools, particularly digital technologies, could create opportunities for breakthroughs. Despite years of struggle and limited visible progress, they did not simply blame older generations or retreat into cynicism. Instead, they regarded older activists as fellow participants in an ongoing democratic project, seeking to understand both their achievements and shortcomings.

Another striking aspect of the book was the way the interviews themselves seemed to energize the participants. In a society where political conversations with friends have become increasingly difficult, speaking with a researcher who had traveled from abroad specifically to listen appeared to offer a rare space for reflection, connection, and renewal. This also helps explain why many interviewees regarded social media as an indispensable political tool. Even under the restrictions imposed by lèse-majesté laws, online spaces allowed them to learn about democratic struggles elsewhere, draw inspiration from peers abroad, and receive affirmation that they were not alone.

These young activists are asked whether they believe Thailand will achieve full democracy within their lifetime. Their answers are cautious but hopeful. They do not necessarily expect perfection, but they believe a better democracy is possible. Some want to become protest leaders, others hope to enter politics or pursue academic research. Such conversations become a form of lived solidarity.

Through this book, readers in South Korea also encounter young people who insist that new possibilities continue to emerge and that the struggle remains worth pursuing. When people facing similar dilemmas discover one another, solidarity becomes something tangible. And from that solidarity, hope can once again take root.

After South Korea's recent local elections, my own assessment of Korean democracy has only become more uncertain. Political platforms often appeared ineffective and discriminatory, public institutions seemed dysfunctional, and citizens increasingly divided. How democratic is Korean society today? How far has it drifted toward the far right? Can citizens still communicate across differences? Or are we all retreating into isolated worlds where we see only what we want to see?

At the very moment these questions threatened to pull me toward despair, I encountered the voices of Thai youth. Their determination to find new tools, discover companions, and build reasons for hope amid darkness is deeply inspiring. Their example reminds me that hope is not something we passively possess. It is something we create together.

Goeun Jo has translated numerous works on feminism and queer theory and currently works as a certified translation and administrative specialist.