Thai cabinet approves state bank CEO as next central bank chief
YUICHI NITTA
BANGKOK -- The Thai cabinet on Tuesday approved Vitai Ratanakorn, who currently runs a state-owned bank, as the next governor of the Bank of Thailand, taking office on Oct. 1.
Vitai will take over the reins from current Gov. Sethaput Suthiwartnarueput, who is stepping down as his five-year term ends in September. The formal appointment of the new governor requires royal approval.
Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles
The Diplomat
2 hours ago
- The Diplomat
China's Joint Patrols on the Mekong River: Much Less Than Meets the Eye
On October 5, 2011, thirteen Chinese sailors were found bound, blindfolded, and executed, their bodies dumped in the Mekong River near northern Thailand. The scene was grisly. Two Chinese cargo ships, the Hua Ping and Yu Xing 8, were later discovered with nearly a million methamphetamine tablets onboard. Within days, Chinese authorities blamed the massacre on Naw Kham, a drug lord operating in the Golden Triangle, launching a full-scale manhunt. Authorities captured Kham, brought him to China, tried him, and then executed him by lethal injection in 2013. The state broadcast the execution on national television. A murkier truth is buried under that official story. Thai investigators – and eventually, Chinese ones, too – uncovered that nine Thai soldiers from an elite anti-narcotics unit carried out the killings. They orchestrated the massacre after a protection racket went sideways, then allegedly tried to frame Kham by planting the drugs. And yet the Thai soldiers faced no charges. They walked free. The Chinese public got the closure of televised justice, but the men who pulled the triggers? Nothing. Why would China, a country famously assertive about protecting its citizens overseas, allow the real perpetrators to go unpunished? Following the murders, China halted all shipping on the Mekong and scrambled to reassert control. Within weeks, it convened an emergency summit with Thailand, Laos, and Myanmar (the three countries touching the Golden Triangle) and rolled out a bold new initiative: joint river patrols. The plan, as Beijing envisioned it, would have Chinese boats and personnel operating across borders, patrolling shoulder-to-shoulder with forces from neighboring countries. However, that did not happen. Instead of combined patrols, the countries agreed to coordinate separate national patrols – each country sticking to its own waters, handing off responsibility at the border like a security relay race. Why was China willing to accept a watered-down arrangement that falls far short of the sweeping authority it initially sought? The answer lies in the politics of perception. Beijing did not need full operational control to declare victory. It needed a story to tell: one that showed the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) responding swiftly to threats, protecting its citizens, and exerting regional leadership. The joint patrols delivered that narrative, even if they didn't deliver much in the way of actual security. This is not just a story about the Mekong. It's about how China manages its image as a rising power: balancing ambition with optics and pressure with pragmatism. It is about how smaller states resist by leaning on sovereignty and domestic legal barriers and how the CCP turns even partial wins into full-blown victories for domestic consumption. It also touches on the limits of performative security: what happens when symbolism outweighs substance and whether those symbols can evolve into something more. How the Patrols Work Launched in December 2011, the Chinese presented the patrols as a breakthrough in regional security cooperation. But what followed was far less integrated or muscular than the headlines suggested. The joint patrols are merely a cooperative effort among the four countries. The 'jointness' of the operation lies primarily in branding, and in a Combined Operations Center in Guanlei, China, which facilitates limited intelligence sharing. The patrols occur roughly once a month. The 155th joint patrol was held from July 22 to 25, 2025, according to China's official media. 'Seven vessels and more than 100 law enforcement personnel from the four countries traveled over 700 kilometers during the patrol, which lasted four days and three nights,' Xinhua, China's state news agency, reported. The scale can vary; at times these operations involve thousands of personnel and hundreds of boats. According to Chinese state media, the latest joint patrol involved three Chinese law enforcement vessels traveling south from Yunnan, while boats from Laos and Myanmar also departed separately from local ports, 'bound for a pre-determined area.' There was no mention of Thailand sending a boat to participate in the patrol itself, although it hosted 'an information exchange meeting' in Chiang Saen during the operation. A 2021 People's Daily article reported that over the past decade, law enforcement agencies from China, Laos, Myanmar, and Thailand have conducted over 180 joint missions, cracking down on more than 36,000 drug-related crimes and seizing nearly 137 metric tons of drugs. However, this reporting appears to aggregate all enforcement actions across the four countries, not just those actions conducted during the official joint patrols. For example, other official press coverage indicated that, as of July 2022, only 119 joint patrols had occurred, suggesting that the larger figure of 'over 180' joint missions includes separate operations. These numbers are subject to scrutiny. One report in People's Daily claimed that police vessels patrol the Mekong for 25 days a month, contradicting other reports that suggest typical Chinese patrols only last for approximately four days. These discrepancies suggest that Chinese press reports conflate individual countries' achievements with those of the joint operations, potentially overstating the level of multilateral coordination and the effectiveness of the patrols themselves. Most of the publicly available figures come from Chinese government sources or state-run media with little independent verification of the patrols' impact. The persistence of issues like meth smuggling, armed gangs, and illegal border crossings in Golden Triangle suggests that the patrols have done more to showcase regional cooperation than to deliver security. Understanding the political and institutional context of these patrols further complicates the picture. The joint patrols have primarily used China Coast Guard (CCG) vessels, which historically operated under the Ministry of Public Security (MPS). In 2013, however, the CCG was unified as a national force, and in 2018, the CCP transferred it under the command of the People's Armed Police, which now reports directly to the Central Military Commission (CMC), reflecting broader trends toward militarization and centralized control under Xi Jinping. In 2024, China introduced a new class of fourth generation ('Gen-4') patrol vessels specifically designed for Mekong River operations. These vessels were commissioned by the Yunnan provincial public security department, but it remains unclear whether the MPS directly operates them, or if they fall under the CMC command structure. All of this raises a question: If these patrols are not clearly effective, why are they still happening? The answer may lie less in security strategy than in storytelling: who these patrols are meant to reassure and what narrative they are meant to sustain. Bargaining on the River When the CCP first proposed joint Mekong patrols after the 2011 massacre, it did not envision the compartmentalized structure that exists today. Beijing wanted full combined operations: Chinese boats patrolling seamlessly across borders. This would have extended Chinese operational reach throughout a huge portion of mainland Southeast Asia – an unprecedented level of regional access under the banner of public safety. But China didn't get that. Thailand pushed back first, citing a constitutional requirement that any foreign military or law enforcement presence in Thai waters requires parliamentary approval. More importantly, it invoked sovereignty. Allowing armed Chinese vessels into Thai territory, even as part of a cooperative patrol, was a step too far. Laos and Myanmar, while less assertive, followed Thailand's lead. The result was the diluted arrangement. It is telling that China accepted this outcome despite its regional and global power. In theory, Beijing had the economic and political leverage to press harder. Why didn't it? For Chinese domestic audiences, the appearance of CCP action was more important than actual operational control. Beijing could still frame the patrols as a win: Chinese law enforcement was now patrolling the Mekong, coordinating with neighbors, and 'making the river safe again.' Regionally, China could appear as a cooperative partner, not an aggressive bully. In a diplomatic environment where China constantly claims to respect sovereignty, strong-arming its neighbors into accepting cross-border patrols would have undercut that messaging. Importantly, the smaller states demonstrated that they were not entirely powerless. By invoking legal barriers and sovereignty norms, they forced China to scale back its ambitions without directly confronting it. In doing so, they revealed an important truth: that even asymmetric relationships allow for resistance. Security as Spectacle The Mekong River patrols may not have much operational impact, but that doesn't mean they're unimportant. They serve a different purpose entirely: to showcase China as a capable and responsible regional leader without demanding much in the way of actual risk, cost, or power-sharing. This is hardly an isolated case. Across a range of domains, China has leaned heavily on symbolic or low-stakes forms of international cooperation to reinforce its status. One of the clearest parallels is China's naval deployment to the Gulf of Aden. These missions signal China's willingness to contribute to global security, but they have involved minimal risk, little operational coordination with other navies, and almost no combat engagement. Still, Chinese state media celebrates these deployments as a sign of national prestige, showing off the navy's blue-water capabilities and broadcasting its arrival as a global maritime power. The Mekong patrols fit neatly into this pattern. Their very structure – sequential, national, heavily publicized – prioritizes optics over integration. China's message is clear: we are here, we are active, and we are leading. And for the CCP's domestic audience, that message matters more than the fine print. Southeast Asian countries seem to understand and participate in this performance. By allowing just enough cooperation to help China craft its narrative, they can extract benefits – be it economic aid, diplomatic goodwill, or stability – without surrendering too much autonomy. Playing Along If the Mekong patrols are largely symbolic, why do Southeast Asian states participate at all? The answer isn't blind obedience or passive acceptance. It's strategy. For the other countries involved, the patrols offer a way to manage China's ambitions, access economic and diplomatic benefits, and maintain the illusion of cooperation on their own terms. Thailand, for example, walks a tightrope between its U.S. alliance and its deepening economic ties with China. Bangkok gets the best of both worlds by participating in the patrols while blocking Chinese boats from entering Thai waters. It avoids confrontation, earns diplomatic goodwill, and limits Chinese intrusion. The patrols become a form of controlled cooperation: just enough to keep China satisfied, not enough to surrender sovereignty. At times, Thailand chooses not to send a boat at all, as evidenced by the July 2025 patrol – apparently with no consequences. Laos, which is far more dependent on Beijing, faces different incentives. With Chinese-backed railways, hydropower dams, and debt financing shaping its economy, Vientiane has little leverage to resist Chinese overtures outright. Participating in joint patrols, however modest, offers a way to stay in Beijing's good graces and ensure continued investment. For Laos, the patrols are less about security and more about signaling alignment with its most important benefactor. Myanmar's calculus is unclear, especially after the 2021 coup, but it follows a similar logic. The junta's isolation from the West makes China one of the few partners it can still count on. Security cooperation, including on the Mekong, helps reinforce that relationship. Even amid domestic turmoil, Myanmar's participation buys a degree of diplomatic protection (and possibly arms or infrastructure deals) without ceding meaningful control. In short, each country has its own reason for supporting China's performance. And they all understand the same thing: letting China look like a leader costs less than letting China act like one. Conclusion: Substance by Other Means? The Mekong joint patrols appear to be little more than a symbolic gesture – a meticulously staged pageant with limited operational depth. In that way, it's the decade-long version of the Naw Kham execution. The Thai soldiers truly responsible for the 2011 massacre were never held accountable, but by executing Kham Beijing walked away with a win it could sell at home. That is the real currency here: not enforcement capability, but narrative. For domestic audiences, the CCP showed swift state action. For the region, they symbolized Chinese leadership in a 'win-win' security framework. For China, that was enough. And for the Mekong states, cooperating – just enough – helped unlock economic partnerships, avoid direct confrontation, and maintain sovereignty. In this way, the patrols became a kind of regional theater in which each actor plays a part. China performs leadership. Its neighbors perform an alignment. Together, they sustain the illusion of progress. In an international order where hard power looms large but outright conflict remains costly, symbolic gestures can do real diplomatic work. The Mekong patrols may never stop the drug trade. But they've already succeeded in something else: offering all parties a way to act out stability without having to achieve it. In a region where form often trumps substance, that may be the most effective outcome of all.
The Diplomat
4 hours ago
- The Diplomat
Why Doesn't Cambodia Offer to Sell Disputed Land To Thailand?
I started writing this column a few weeks ago, and am still slightly ambivalent whether I should have submitted it for publication it or not. On Thursday, the months-long escalation of tensions between Thailand and Cambodia exploded into open conflict when both sides exchanged fire, including air strikes. As I write, at least four Thai civilians have been confirmed dead and dozens more injured. Around 40,000 Thais have been evacuated from border areas. Both countries have recalled their ambassadors and downgraded diplomatic relations, requested their compatriots to leave the other country, and are now blaming each other for the dramatic escalation. Phnom Penh says that the Thai military launched an 'invasion'; Bangkok says that Cambodian troops opened fire first and Thailand had legitimate grounds for 'military retaliation.' This column, written in an antebellum spirit, was supposed to consider a counterintuitive (and, obviously, ridiculous) solution to the crisis. Why didn't the Cambodian government ask Bangkok what it would pay for Phnom Penh ending its claims to the disputed territory? (It feels rather fatuous saying this now, but hear me out.) If the Thai government had rejected the idea outright, Phnom Penh could have run with the narrative that Bangkok actually doesn't care about the territory they're squabbling over and that Phnom Penh is the only party interested in a peaceful solution. On the other hand, if Bangkok had come back with an offer, it would have been to Phnom Penh's advantage. Suppose the Thai government had said $1 billion. At less than 0.2 percent of Thailand's GDP, it's a miserly sum. So miserly that it would almost certainly send the Thai people into a tantrum. Aware of these domestic political dangers of low-balling the offer, Bangkok would have likely responded with a high figure. At this point, Phnom Penh would have had an interesting decision to make. Hypothetically, imagine that Bangkok offered to pay $20 billion for Cambodia to abandon its claims. That's half of Cambodia's GDP. If the estimated cost of the Funan Techo Canal is correct (and it's not), the Hun family could carve ten canals through Cambodia with that money. Of course, anyone other than an economist would retort that this is a ridiculous suggestion. But it's helpful to consider why it's silly. After all, what situation would be better for the average utility-maximizing, self-interested Cambodian now and in a few years? That tensions escalated into an actual conflict, as they have done? Or that the average Cambodian accepted the loss of a few historic temples (which aren't much visited, anyway) in return for their country receiving a substantial injection of money that could have been invested in a sovereign wealth fund, used to pay for necessary infrastructure projects, or distributed as cash to every citizen. At the very least, Phnom Penh could have put it in its ledger and claimed record economic growth this year. The first reason why my suggestion is ridiculous is that, as critics would rush to say, not everything can be reduced to economic gain. This seems obvious, yet almost everything else the Cambodian government (and most governments) does is justified on the equation that GDP growth equals correct decision. That some value may exist beyond financial is commonsensical these days, only when it comes to territorial disputes between countries. What about the legion of Special Economic Zones (SEZs) that dot Southeast Asia? Aren't these enclaves testament to how some national sovereignty can be justifiably sold off as long as it's to foreign companies, not foreign states? Just ask the Lao Revolutionary People's Party how much sovereignty the Lao state has over what happens inside the Golden Triangle SEZ. Similarly, it's an everyday occurrence that people are paid (or, mostly, underpaid or not paid) to relocate from their homes and for their villages to be razed so that a company can build a road, railway, factory, etc., on their land, yet the same logic is fundamentally against common sense when it comes to states. Yet, until the 20th century, it was common for states to sell parts of their territory to other countries. For some reason, it was decided early in the last century that this was somewhat uncouth and that territorial acquisition could only be done through military invasion or ethnic cleansing. The second reason it's silly is that the Cambodian government could never justify to the masses the sale of its territorial claims. Imagine the scenes if Prime Minister Hun Manet had announced that Bangkok would be willing to pay $20 billion for the territory and that Phnom Penh was considering the offer. Likewise, could you picture what would happen if the Chinese Communist Party were to proclaim that it would accept a certain sum from Japan to end its claims over the Senkaku Islands or if Manila were to say it would take payment from Beijing for giving up its claims in the South China Sea? However much repressive and coercive power an authoritarian government might have, it's still weak at the knees before popular nationalism.
NHK
10 hours ago
- NHK
Cambodia says Thailand attacked World Heritage temple site
Cambodia says Thailand has attacked and damaged part of an ancient temple complex designated as a World Heritage site. The Cambodian government said on Thursday that Thai forces struck the Preah Vihear Temple with shells and bombs. It condemned the attack, calling it a serious crime against a world heritage. Armed clashes that erupted in the two countries' disputed border region on Thursday appeared to continue on Friday at several locations. Thailand's military says 13 civilians and one soldier have died and more than 40 people have been wounded on the Thai side. More than 100,000 residents are said to have evacuated. The Cambodian government has not disclosed any information on casualties. Malaysian Prime Minister Anwar Ibrahim wrote on social media that he called the leaders of both countries on Thursday and appealed for an immediate ceasefire. Malaysia currently holds the rotating chairmanship of the Association of Southeast Asian Nations. Both Thailand and Cambodia are members of the regional group.
