[GA] 1st Plenary Meeting of the 11th Session

[Global Assembly]

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ASSEMBLY GLOBAL ASSEMBLY

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	CONVOCATION
Body:	Plenary
Chair:	Deputy Secretary-General Shashi Tharoor
Activity: Date:	Debate September 2005 | (20/12/2024)
Subject: Agenda item:	Opening of the 11th Session of the Assembly TEXT

Agenda item:	Opening statement by the Secretary-General of the Global Assembly
Agenda item:	General Debate
Agenda item:	Closing statement by the Deputy Secretary-General of the Global Assembly

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[Global Assembly]

ASSEMBLY CHAMBER | CALL TO ORDER

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Deputy Secretary-General Shashi Tharoor entered the Assembly Chamber. A low hum of voices filling the hall as delegates prepared for the opening of the 11th Assembly session. He took his seat, raised the gavel high, and brought it down with a sharp crack, his amplified voice cutting through the chamber: "I hereby call this meeting to order."

"Excellencies, distinguished delegates, and honored guests, I hereby declare the 1st plenary meeting of the 11th session of the Assembly officially open. Today marks more than just the beginning of another session; it is a turning point in the history of this institution. This session represents the rebirth of this hallowed hall—a renewal of purpose, of vision, and of commitment to the ideals upon which the Global Assembly was founded."

"This Assembly stands firmly on the collective strength and commitment of its Member States. Only through unity and collaboration can forge a path toward a future founded on justice, equality, and lasting peace. Let this session be etched in history as the moment we embraced our shared responsibility and rose to meet the challenges of our time."

"It is my privilege to invite the Secretary-General to deliver the opening statement. The floor is now yours, Madam Secretary-General."

ASSEMBLY CHAMBER | OPENING STATEMENT BY THE SECRETARY-GENERAL

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The Secretary-General rose and approached the lectern, carefully placing her speech on its surface. Her eyes swept across the gathered delegations, taking in the weight of the moment. After a steadying breath, she began to speak.

"Mr. President of the Assembly,

Excellencies,

Ladies and gentlemen,

I am deeply grateful for the trust the Assembly has placed in me by electing me as the second Secretary-General of this Organisation. The challenges before us are formidable—climate change, inequality, finance, and peacekeeping, to name a few. Significant action must be taken across these critical areas.

However, it is the unwavering determination of the Member States to address these challenges that will propel us forward. Together, we can rise to meet the demands of our time and make meaningful progress toward a more sustainable, just, and peaceful world.

Excellencies,

As we convene today in this esteemed Assembly, we are reminded of its unparalleled role as the ultimate forum for international dialogue. Here, the principles of multilateralism are at the forefront, guiding our collective efforts towards a better, more cooperative world.
However, we must also recognize the immense and complex challenges facing the world today—challenges that cannot be addressed by the plenary alone. To meet the demands of our time and to rise to these challenges, the Assembly must enhance its capacity to act swiftly and effectively.

I therefore call upon this Assembly to take bold, decisive steps toward institutional reform. In my forthcoming report on the functioning of the Assembly, I will strongly advocate for the creation of an International Security Committee, dedicated to deliberating matters concerning the maintenance of international peace and security.

Additionally, I will recommend the establishment of an Administrative and Budgetary Committee to streamline and strengthen the internal operations of this Organisation, ensuring that it remains efficient and responsive to the needs of its Member States.
Let us seize this critical moment to reinforce and revitalize the foundations of our multilateral system, ensuring that it remains fit to confront the challenges of today and tomorrow.

Excellencies,

As the Assembly continues to expand the activities of the Organisation, it is crucial that we also acknowledge the financial costs that come with this growth. I call upon all Member States to remain open to contributing the necessary funds to support the work of this Organisation.

At the same time, we must ensure that the distribution of these responsibilities is fair and balanced, taking into account the varying economic capacities of Member States. It is vital that we recognize the diverse circumstances of each nation, so that no one is unduly burdened.

Let us all remember that we do not live in a zero-sum world. The investments we make in international cooperation will not only strengthen the Organisation but will also contribute to broader global economic development. Through collective action, we can build a more prosperous future for all.

Excellencies,

One of the most significant threats to global peace is the proliferation of strategic weapons. These weapons, with their immense destructive power, make no distinction between combatants and civilians, endangering the lives of innocent people worldwide.

I fully support the growing global calls for action on this issue and urge the Assembly to not only recognize the severity of the situation but to actively foster and facilitate a thorough debate on how we can prevent the spread of such weapons. It is critical that the international community unite in addressing this urgent challenge, taking decisive steps to safeguard the future of humanity.

Excellencies,

One of the core principles upon which this Organisation was founded is the commitment to maintaining international peace and security. To fullfil this mandate effectively, we must continuously adapt to the evolving nature of global conflicts. A critical aspect of this is ensuring that peacekeeping operations are not only responsive but also capable of rapid deployment when the need arises.

In this regard, it is essential that we re-examine and refine the procedures related to the establishment of peacekeeping missions. The ability to act swiftly and decisively in moments of crisis is paramount, and this requires not only strategic planning but also the readiness of personnel and resources.

The responsibility to provide the necessary personnel, assets, and logistical support ultimately rests with the Member States. It is they who must ensure that their contributions are readily available when needed, facilitating timely responses to emerging threats to peace and security.

I therefore call upon the Member States to fully embrace their responsibilities and actively engage with the Secretariat to negotiate agreements that will ensure the availability of stand-by forces for rapid deployment. These agreements will be crucial for enabling us to respond effectively to future peacekeeping operations, ensuring that we can act without delay in situations where lives, stability, and peace are at stake. By committing to this readiness, we will enhance the Organisation’s capacity to address global crises swiftly, making a significant step toward strengthening international peace and security.

Excellencies,

We stand at the threshold of a new era for this Organisation, and I am honoured to lead the Secretariat as we embark on this journey. The role of each Member State will be vital in shaping our path forward, and I look forward to working closely with all of you to address the many challenges ahead.

Let us use the 11th session of the Assembly as an opportunity to put aside past differences and unite in pursuit of a future defined by peace, cooperation, and shared prosperity. Together, we can build a stronger, more resilient Global Assembly capable of meeting the needs of our time.

I thank you."

ASSEMBLY CHAMBER | GENERAL DEBATE

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The Deputy Secretary-General stood, joining the applause at the conclusion of the opening statement. As the room quieted, he spoke: "Thank you, Madam Secretary-General for your opening statement."

"I now invite the Heads of State and Government, Ministers, and Permanent Representatives of the respective nations to take the floor and address the Assembly."

 

[Bossza007]

Content Warning: This narrative contains themes of political revolution, class conflict, and social transformation. It includes commentary on religion, discussions of systemic violence, and criticism of existing power structures. The content presents strong ideological positions and may challenge established beliefs about governance, economics, and social order. Reader discretion is advised.​

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Thai Delegation to the Global Assembly​

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Prelude​

Temple of Dawn of Wat Arun, seen from across the river amidst the night of September 10, 2005​

It was Saturday evening, September 10, 2005, when Prime Minister Thaksin Shinawatra turned off the television in his modest public housing unit near the Government House of Thailand. The dim silence that followed felt oddly comforting. For the past week, he had retreated from the rigors of governance, savoring a rare moment of solitude before duty called once more. Tonight, he would leave for Suvarnabhumi Airport to lead the Thai delegation at the Global Assembly’s 11th session.

He leaned back, gazing at the blank television screen as if searching for answers in its emptiness. The weight of the impending general debate loomed large, promising both challenge and significance. Slowly, he reached into his wallet and withdrew a photograph of his family. His fingers lingered on its edges as he studied their smiling faces, a flicker of gratitude warming his expression. How fortunate, he thought, to live in a society that cherished equality—a fragile yet steadfast ideal.

Setting the photo aside, Thaksin rose from the couch. The scuffed floors creaked beneath his steps as he moved about the apartment, straightening small items and tidying with the deliberation of someone unwilling to leave anything out of place. Finally, he stood at the threshold, his brown luggage waiting at his side. With one last glance at his quiet sanctuary, he stepped into the night, ready to leave the comfort of home and face the world once again.

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Across the city, Foreign Minister Surakiart Sathirathai sat quietly on a nearly empty electric bus as its service neared its end for the night. His black suit and light blue tie, crisp and unassuming, marked him as a figure of diplomacy. Known for his meticulous attention to detail, Surakiart had an almost instinctive habit of dissecting every moment. Yet, as twilight deepened outside the bus’s windows, a strange unease settled over him, as if the world itself was bracing for something imminent.

His gaze drifted to a young man seated among a lively group of teenagers. The young man kept glancing at the route screen, his tension unmistakable. Surakiart observed him closely, sensing a story hidden beneath the surface. When one of the young man’s friends finally spoke up, the minister leaned in unconsciously, catching the exchange. “Hey, comrade, are you okay? You’ve been glued to that screen all night.” The young man exhaled a shaky laugh, his voice barely steady. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just… uneasy about heading to that bar my ex used to love. Didn’t think it’d hit me this hard.”

The group fell silent, their initial shock giving way to a chorus of empathetic murmurs. They quickly began tossing out alternative places to go, their camaraderie a quiet reassurance. Surakiart allowed a faint smile to cross his face. Despite their youth, these were individuals who had learned to navigate life’s complexities with a sense of solidarity. For a moment, his apprehension eased, buoyed by the hope that this generation might continue to build a stronger, more connected society.

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Inside a coach of a public electric monorail train bound for Suvarnabhumi Airport, General Secretary and Industry Minister Thanathorn Juangroongruangkit rose from his seat, offering it to an older man who wished to sit beside his pregnant daughter. At just 27, Thanathorn stood out—not only as the youngest democratically elected leader in Thai history but as a figure who radiated a quiet charisma. His sharp black suit and orange tie blended seamlessly into the setting, but his presence drew attention nonetheless. As the train hummed along, Thanathorn’s eyes moved across the carriage, his mind effortlessly linking the small, spontaneous acts of kindness he witnessed to the larger, shifting dynamics of Thai society. Yet, such thoughts rarely lingered for long. The faces around him reflected both curiosity and admiration, and he was acutely aware of the fine line he walked—representing the people’s trust while avoiding the trappings of undue idolization.

A young woman approached from another car, her steps tentative yet determined. “Excuse me,” she began, her voice steady but warm, “I just wanted to say how much your work inspires us.” Before he could respond, a nearby parent leaned over, coaxing their children forward. “Go on, take a photo,” the parent urged with a grin. Thanathorn smiled, obliging as cameras flashed. The moment was both endearing and bittersweet. While he cherished these connections, he couldn’t ignore the weight of responsibility they carried. As the train slowed at the next station, he turned to the window, his reflection superimposed against the city skyline—a reminder of the balance he sought to preserve in a society striving for equality.​

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The Journey​

An Airbus A350-900 of the Thai Airway Cooperatives​

Aboard the Thai Airway Cooperatives’ A350-900, Thaksin, Surakiart, and Thanathorn shared a cabin with Thai tourists abuzz with excitement. The upcoming 1st plenary session of the Global Assembly’s 11th session had sparked a collective fervor, with many eager to document their presence near the historic gathering of world leaders on social media. The cabin’s dim lighting cast an almost theatrical haze, a fitting backdrop for the trio’s subdued yet spirited conversation. Their goal? To shape the gathering into a landmark moment of global governance. The irony wasn’t lost on anyone observing this scene. Here they were—Thailand’s head of state, head of government, and foreign minister—traveling to the GA Headquarters in The Hague like a group of casual tourists. Even their travel arrangements felt oddly reckless, a blend of ingenuity and improvisation that might raise eyebrows abroad. Yet beneath this seemingly relaxed veneer lay meticulous intent. They planned to spend a day unwinding in The Hague before taking the stage at the general debate. The weight of their mission was clear, even as they indulged in this fleeting moment of calm amid the chaos.

Breaking the silence, Surakiart leaned forward, his voice measured but weighted with concern beneath his acceptance of the inevitable. “Comrade Thaksin, I still can’t endorse your draft speech. It’s—how shall I put it?—a bit too… socially provocative.” His words lingered, as if testing their impact. Thaksin met his gaze with unwavering calm, a faint smile playing at the corners of his mouth—a man unapologetically sure of his convictions. “There’s no harm in drafting a speech that echoes the public’s sentiments,” Surakiart continued, “but stirring outrage in such a sacred chamber? Questionable at best.” He hesitated, his diplomat’s instincts visibly wrestling with irritation. “As a career envoy, which Comrade Thanathorn will confirm, I’ve learned a thing or two about navigating sensitivities. But to bluntly challenge the entire foundation of international relations since the Peace of Westphalia?” His tone sharpened, unexpectedly cutting. “You’re reckless.” And yet, his words betrayed a grudging admiration. “You bastard,” he muttered, shaking his head. The insult, delivered without malice, carried the weight of reluctant respect—a quiet acknowledgment of Thaksin’s audacious brilliance.

Thanathorn leaned forward, his words measured but laced with mischief. “I understand the sentiment, Comrade Surakiart, and the provocative flair Comrade Thaksin is aiming for. It’s a beautiful draft, really—reading it feels like watching my favorite comedian perform.” His laugh was soft but deliberate, drawing amused glances around the room. “But I must ask, Comrade Thaksin, does it go far enough to champion us environmentalists? Our renewable transition—an impressive 90%, by global standards—is a feat to celebrate. Yet isn’t this the perfect stage to introduce the world to bioregionalism? Or does Thai Rak Thai prefer its perch on the right of the Eco-Socialist Alliance?” He paused, his question hanging in the air as Thaksin, unfazed, turned to his laptop. Thanathorn's gaze shifted, catching the image on Thaksin’s screen. “Ah, a lovely family photo,” he noted warmly. Then, with a grin, he added, “My wife and I are still planning our own. We’ve decided four children would be ideal, given how well-prepared our country is for the next generation.” His pride was palpable, a spark in his voice as he leaned back, letting the implications of his words linger.

Thaksin chuckled softly, a sound like a father lost in memories of his toddlers’ mischievous days. “Thank you both for the feedback,” he began, his tone light but resolute, “but the draft has a deeply personal meaning, even if Comrade Surakiart’s Ministry isn’t thrilled about it. I promise I’m not exploiting this historic moment just for fun—there was a democratic process behind the speech, after all. But for me, this is more than politics.” He leaned back, a twinkle of mischief in his eye. “This is the chance of a lifetime—not in my political career, mind you. No, this is for my comedic career. After two years of sneaking onto the Bangkok Comedy Club stage on weekends, I finally get to perform a stand-up routine in front of world leaders and billions of people!” His grin widened, a flicker of pure passion illuminating his face.

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Understatement​

As the airplane continued to travel toward The Hauge, Thaksin took the opportunity to draft messages to his counterparts in friendly nations to precaution them of his impending performance.​

Message to France

Thailand Electronic Mail Service
Official Correspondence

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Encryption: NSST 1.0 Architecture | Secret and Encrypted
Recipient: Her Imperial Majesty Thérèse Chloe Amélie, Empress of the Empire of France Alexander
Sender: Thaksin Shinawatra, Prime Minister of the Socialist Republic of Thailand
Subject: A Friendly Heads-Up Before the Global Assembly Speech

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Your Imperial Majesty,

I hope this message finds you well and in high spirits. It is always a pleasure to correspond with you, and I must begin by expressing my profound respect for the enduring friendship and strategic partnership between our nations. France and Thailand share a history of mutual understanding that has weathered the tests of time, and I treasure the bond our peoples continue to nurture.

With this in mind, I feel it is both a duty and a courtesy to share something with you in advance of the upcoming General Debate at the Global Assembly. Whether or not you plan to attend personally, I want to ensure you are aware of certain aspects of the speech I will be delivering—a speech that has been crafted with passion, conviction, and, admittedly, a touch of provocation. My aim in writing to you now is simple: to offer transparency and to reassure you of the goodwill that underpins my intentions.

As you may know, I have taken to moonlighting as a stand-up comedian at the Bangkok Comedy Club over the past two years. It has been an unexpected yet deeply rewarding journey, giving me a chance to connect with audiences in a way that is refreshingly candid and often delightfully irreverent. Humor, I’ve learned, is not just a form of expression but a means to challenge norms and spark conversation. That said, I must confess: the speech I am about to deliver might very well be the most ambitious “performance” of my comedic career to date.

Your Imperial Majesty, let me be frank: the speech is designed to provoke. It will pull no punches and spare no sacred cows. It is as much a rallying cry for change as it is a critique of entrenched systems that perpetuate inequality and injustice. In the spirit of candor, I must tell you that parts of it might come across as brazen—even insulting—to those who hold steadfast beliefs in certain ideologies, economic principles, or religious doctrines. While none of my words are aimed directly at France or her people, I recognize that the global implications of my arguments may resonate uneasily with some within your borders.

However, I must emphasize this: my intent is not to alienate or offend, but to inspire and challenge. The Thai people’s respect for the French people remains unwavering, and nothing in my address should be interpreted as a reflection of anything but the highest regard we hold for your nation and its rich cultural heritage. Our ties are strong, and I am confident they will remain so, no matter how spirited the rhetoric may be on the Assembly floor.

To further ease any potential concerns, I assure you that much of the speech is colored by my own experiences as a comedian—infused with humor and hyperbole meant to entertain as much as to enlighten. For instance, while I will speak passionately about Thailand’s achievements and our vision for the future, I will also deliver jabs that may appear directed at entrenched global systems, including some that France, like many nations, has historically upheld. Please understand that these jabs are not personal but rather part of a broader critique aimed at inspiring dialogue and reflection.

Beyond the jokes and provocations, there are serious elements to the speech, such as Thailand’s commitment to renewable energy and our growing partnership with Vietnam under the Socialist International framework. These are genuine policy declarations reflecting our aspirations for a more sustainable and equitable future—goals I hope align with many of the values we share.

In closing, Your Imperial Majesty, I thank you for taking the time to read this note. It is never easy for a comedian to explain their jokes in advance, particularly to someone as esteemed and influential as yourself. Yet, I felt it was important to offer this preamble, not out of obligation but out of the deep respect I hold for you and the friendship between our nations.

With the warmest regards and the highest hopes for continued cooperation,

Prime Minister of Thailand
(and part-time comedian, as fate would have it)

P.S. If you come back to this message after my speech, here is further clarification:

1. No, I am not declaring ideological warfare against France (as this can be interpreted as such given how many analysts will have already interpreted my speech as a clear declaration of ideological warfare against every non-socialist state)
2. No, I don’t believe that there will be any immediate worker uprising (50-year scope) in France, like how it will not happen in India, Italy, Japan, and Australia
3. No, I am half-serious when I say people should rise up. Some public speaker pressure groups just managed to persuade the majority of the population to vote for that concluding section. I take no responsibility in it.
4. Yes, according to Classical Marxism, socialist-communist in your country is most likely to be well aware that France simply does not meet any condition for a transition to socialism.
5. Yes, a socialist revolution is not proactive but rather reactive. I can guarantee that, given the welfare of your people, normal human beings simply don’t care about socialism if they are fine with their life (and how capitalism in France is significantly less developed than what is seen in Thailand leading up to our revolution in 1998).
6. Lastly, I just want to inform you that community assemblies here are deciding whether we should designate French as a language that Thai students should be capable to use in daily life upon their high school graduation. Cheers.

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Digital Electronic Mail​

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Arrival​

Schiphol Airport control tower​

The Thai airplane touched down smoothly at Amsterdam Airport Schiphol, the early morning darkness cloaking the tarmac in a quiet hush. Coordinated seamlessly with the Royal Schiphol Group, their arrival felt almost choreographed. The airport’s famed one-terminal design welcomed them with its understated elegance—a concept unchanged since their last visit a decade ago. As Thaksin, Surakiart, and Thanathorn mingled with other passengers, their presence was indistinguishable from the throngs of eager tourists. This was no charade but a reflection of their homeland’s deep-rooted egalitarian ethos, where leaders walked among their people without pretense. Around them, the hum of Dutch voices and the warmth of a city just stirring to life echoed the vibrant authenticity they remembered, a timeless testament to a shared humanity.

After exchanging their Thai Baht for Euros, Thaksin glanced at his comrades, his expression turning mischievous as he adopted a mock-capitalist tone. “Look at me! I’ve got 650 Euros—plenty to live like a king for a week. And hey, I’m already richer than some poor souls on the streets.” He chuckled, then turned to Thanathorn, feigning incredulity. “But how on earth did you manage 700 Euros? We started saving on the same day! Is it the perks of being both a minister and General Secretary of the People’s Front? Clearly, I need a promotion.” His grin widened, but the teasing was good-natured, a subtle nod to the egalitarian ethos they shared.

Thanathorn chuckled as the clock struck four-thirty in the morning. “Comrade Thaksin, I don’t believe I deserve more rewards than you for our contributions. But let’s face it—Comrade Korn and the Labor Token Exchange folks clearly prioritize party politics over a symbolic Head of State.” His tone was teasing but measured. “Then again,” he added with a mock shrug, “this is a democracy. Maybe there was a whole deliberation about how to value our work hours.” He paused, tapping his chin in mock contemplation. “The truth? We probably earn the same tokens per hour. The difference is, you took a week-long holiday. Paid leave got you 30 tokens at best. Meanwhile, I logged overtime preparing for the Global Assembly. You can’t really claim you prepped for this visit off-hours on vacation. That’s just the rules, comrade.” He ended with a knowing smile, his humor cutting but good-natured.

Surakiart nudged the others as they arrived at the inter-city train station. “The first train leaves at five,” he said, glancing at the timetable. “We’re heading to Den Haag Centraal, right in the heart of The Hague.” Pausing to scan the Dutch text on the screens, he added with a small smile, “Leave the language to me. I’m fluent in Dutch—and don’t forget, our ambassador, Kantathi Suphamongkhon, is no stranger to it either.” He led them to a quiet spot to rest their luggage, his eyes darting around to observe the crowd. Passersby barely seemed to notice the three high-ranking Thai officials. Nearby, Thanathorn was already deep in conversation with Thai tourists from their flight. Surakiart turned to Thaksin, his voice low but playful. “In case you’re curious, I managed to get 600 Euros. Not as much as you or Comrade Thanathorn, but,” he smirked, “let’s just say I’ve traveled enough to know how to make artificial currencies stretch.”

After deliberating their plans for the day, whether to explore together or go their separate ways, the sleek yellow electric train pulled into the station, its polished exterior gleaming under the early light. Passengers mingled on the platform—foreign tourists, businesspeople, local commuters, and the Thai leaders themselves—blurring into a single stream of humanity. In that moment, as footsteps echoed and luggage rolled, the leaders observed the quiet symmetry of it all. The shared routines of travel seemed to dissolve barriers, hinting at a fragile but undeniable truth: no matter the distances or divisions, humanity moved beneath the same vast sky of shared existence.​

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The Ride​

An NS Intercity Materieel electric multiple unit train​

Onboard the sleek Dutch intercity train, Surakiart and Thanathorn settled into the blue seats, their laptops balanced precariously as they connected to a private, encrypted video call with Thai GA Ambassador Kantathi Suphamongkhon. The hum of the train blended with the rhythmic clatter of tracks, creating a calm yet charged atmosphere. Across the aisle, Thaksin occupied a window seat beside a local Dutch woman, his relaxed posture contrasting with the quiet intensity of the call. “Well, Comrade Surakiart and Comrade Thanathorn,” Kantathi began after polite formalities, his voice steady but tinged with urgency. “I’ve reviewed the draft speech from the Foreign Minister outlining Comrade Thaksin’s planned address to the Global Assembly. We’re aiming to secure the first speaking slot, correct?” Both men nodded in unison. “With no procedural rule book in place, the new leadership’s approach to the general debate remains uncertain,” he continued. “At least we’ve managed to secure the election of former French Socialist Prime Minister Édith Cresson into the Secretary General office, though I doubt she’s a unifying figure among global socialists or social democrats. Her controversial stances and scandals linger.” Kantathi paused, the faint sound of a mouse clicking as he reopened the document on Thaksin’s speech.

Surakiart broke the silence with a wry smile. “Yes, that’s the plan—or at least how Comrade Thaksin envisions his ‘stand-up routine.’ The Ministry tells me the citizen review boards approved the draft, and apparently, they find it both funny and resonant. Still, the balancing act between representing democracy and justifying the speech’s inflammatory tone feels… precarious.” He paused, glancing out the window as the train sped past a vibrant field of flowers. With a quick click, he captured the scene on his phone. “What a beautiful country, Comrade Kantathi. It must be rewarding to work here, surrounded by such serenity. Meanwhile, I can’t help but feel a bit conservative in comparison to Comrade Thaksin’s boldness.” His voice softened, laced with self-awareness. “The Ministry’s damage control schemes are underway, but steering the narrative after this speech? That’s no small challenge.” He leaned back, momentarily lost in the contrast between the tranquil landscape and the storm brewing in his mind.

Thanathorn nudged Surakiart gently, a smile playing on his lips. “Feeling conservative is natural, Comrade. It shows you care deeply about the subject. There’s no need to feel guilt or shame—it’s a testament to the vibrancy of our democracy that diverse viewpoints aren’t just tolerated but celebrated.” He leaned back, his tone warm yet thoughtful. “You and Comrade Thaksin are from the same party—the supposed archetype of Thai Socialism—and yet here we are, seeing the spectrum of thought within it. If I recall, you were quite the radical when you campaigned for General Secretary against me and the others.” His smile broadened, tinged with reassurance. “You’ve been Foreign Minister for six years now, with consistently high approval ratings. In the presence of a bold visionary, there’s always a need for a pragmatic dreamer. Like you’ve said time and again: foreign policy must be guided by pragmatic idealism.” He tapped the armrest lightly, his voice steady. “You embody that principle, Surakiart. And our democracy is stronger for it.”

Kantathi chuckled softly, cutting through the rising emotion. “Let’s not get carried away, comrades.” His smile was calm, reassuring. “I have no objections to the speech as it stands. As much as I might have opinions, I wouldn’t presume to rewrite a democratic document without first engaging in the same democratic process.” He paused, a glimmer of humor in his eyes. “Besides, Comrade Thaksin will deliver it tomorrow, regardless.” He leaned slightly forward, his tone turning thoughtful. “Be warned, though—the headquarters is grand in every sense of the word. It’s not just the scale; there’s a strange, almost haunting charm to it. As if the builders themselves left behind whispers in its walls. It’s easy to lose oneself there, not just physically, but in thought.” Kantathi’s smile returned, this time wry. “And speaking of losing oneself, we’ll be stirring quite a pot with this speech. Let’s see if Comrade Thaksin can send people to hell with such finesse that they ask him for directions. Isn’t that what diplomacy is all about?” The call ended with a click, leaving only the steady hum of the train to fill the silence.​

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Entrance​

Peace Palace, seating place of the International Court of Justice, The Hague​

After a Sunday spent wandering the Hague—savoring breakfast by the Mauritshuis, lunch near the Binnenhof, relaxing on Scheveningen Beach, and dining at the lively Grote Markt—the Thai delegation indulged in the joy of discovery. Cameras clicked endlessly, their snapshots destined for the burgeoning Thai social media networks, a hallmark of Thaksin’s administration since 2003. These indigenous platforms had seamlessly woven themselves into the nation’s daily life, a testament to Thai innovation. As their bus pulled up to the Global Assembly headquarters, conversation gave way to silence, their eyes drawn to the building’s imposing architecture. Its soaring spires and sweeping arcs seemed to hold the weight of the world’s ambitions. Diplomats, scholars, and leaders strode with purpose across its grounds, their movements almost cinematic. The Thai delegation stepped out, their modest travel arrangements contrasting sharply with the surrounding opulence. But there was no hesitation. Their egalitarian ethos dictated that such simplicity was not just appropriate but emblematic of their identity. Awe lingered in their expressions, but pride anchored their steps as they walked into the heart of global diplomacy.

Adopting his usual diplomatic composure, Surakiart shifted seamlessly into his foreign minister persona. As they stepped into the grand entrance hall, he glanced around with measured curiosity. “Neo-Renaissance architecture, if I’m not mistaken,” he remarked, his tone thoughtful. “A style born from an era obsessed with resurrecting the past. Quite fitting, don’t you think, for a building funded by the bourgeoisie? Money built on artificial scarcity now hosts debates on humanity’s future. The irony is almost poetic.” He paused, letting his gaze sweep over the ornate details before a quiet chuckle escaped him. “It’s magnificent, of course—losing oneself in these halls is a pleasure in itself. But I can’t help wondering: how many here, proclaiming to represent the poor, ever notice the opulence in their voices when they do so in a place like this?” His lips curved into a wry smile. “A touch of contradiction—perhaps that’s exactly what politics needs. Still,” he added, almost wistfully, “the Japanese Imperial Palace? That was more my style.”

Thaksin suppressed a chuckle as he replied to his colleague. “Ah, I remember when you, Comrade Sutin, and I were received in Japan at the height of its imperial prominence. Still so young, yet she bore the weight of immense expectations. I won’t say I legitimize her rule—unlike the French imperial family—but there’s humanity in all of us. She was honest, direct, and driven. Qualities that make a true leader, regardless of circumstance.” As they neared the office of the Thai ambassador, their pace slowed. Thaksin gestured toward the door, his tone shifting slightly. “Our ambassador—he’s from the Libertarian Socialist Front, isn’t he? I haven’t had the chance to get to know him personally, but his performance during the Global Assembly elections was remarkable. Let’s see what he has to say.” He rapped three times on the door, his expression calm but expectant.

The door swung open, revealing the middle-aged Thai ambassador in formal attire, his face lighting up with delight. “Ah, Comrade Thaksin, Comrade Surakiart, Comrade Thanathorn! I’ve been expecting you.” He offered a graceful Wai before stepping aside to let them in. “As you can see,” he began, gesturing around the neatly arranged room, “being a diplomat in a building our government doesn’t own comes with perks—like this 24/7 personal space. Quite a shift from the communal offices back home or our other missions, where everyone works shoulder to shoulder. Here, though, individual status still holds sway. That’s why I have this room all to myself.” He moved to a small table and poured them each a cup of traditional Thai tea, the fragrant steam curling into the air. “But we won’t linger here too long,” he continued with a chuckle. “The assembly will convene soon. Honestly, I don’t have much reason to sit through the whole session outside of protocol, so feel free to ask me to grab some snacks during the meeting.” His laugh was warm, his demeanor relaxed, as he set the cups before them and took his own seat.

Afterward, they lingered briefly, savoring the delicate aroma and warmth of traditional Thai tea as light conversation flowed, their camaraderie deepening with each exchange. Time passed swiftly, and it was Thanathorn who eventually reminded them of the impending meeting. Rising together, the group left the ambassador’s office, their focus shifting toward the task ahead. The Thai delegation was among the first to arrive at the hallowed chamber of the Global Assembly. They exchanged polite pleasantries with the organization’s clerks, exuding the calm composure befitting their roles. At every opportunity, they expressed a measured hope to deliver their speech after the Secretary-General’s opening address, emphasizing its ‘comprehensive and forward-looking’ nature. As the session began, they remained attentive, adhering meticulously to protocol. When the time came, the Thai Prime Minister rose with quiet determination, his footsteps steady as he approached the podium to deliver his country’s carefully crafted vision.

---

Speech​

Prime Minister of Thailand, Thaksin Shinawatra, Addressing the Global Assembly, September 12, 2005​

"Mr. President, distinguished delegates, and esteemed representatives of humanity's grand experiment—planet Earth—it is a profound honor to stand before you today. The year 2005 marks a truly extraordinary chapter in the history of the Thai people. Today, I am privileged to announce, with both joy and perhaps a touch of disbelief, that the Socialist Republic of Thailand has achieved what some might have considered the economic equivalent of alchemy: we have eradicated poverty within our borders. This achievement is not merely a triumph for our nation; it is a victory for the enduring spirit of humanity—a testament to what can be accomplished when idealism dares to meet action. It is as if we have climbed a mountain long thought to be unclimbable, only to discover that someone left a note at the summit reading, “About time!” Indeed, this milestone proves that love, compassion, and generosity are not abstract ideals but forces capable of shaping societies. It is our conviction that such progress is only possible in a world that values democratic principles, the free exchange of ideas, and the unyielding respect for human rights. In Thailand, we like to think of these values not just as policies, but as the ultimate antidotes to despair—a cocktail so potent, it should probably come with a government health warning."

After a brief pause, Thaksin would continue the speech. "However, it is with a mix of genuine concern and bemused resignation that I acknowledge a predictable response from certain quarters. There will undoubtedly be those who meet our declaration not with applause, but with skepticism—and perhaps even a faint sense of existential dread. These are the architects of inequality, those who have grown so comfortable profiting at the expense of the many that the idea of a fairer world strikes them as profoundly inconvenient. As Thailand celebrates what is arguably one of humanity's greatest achievements—not, I should note, the moon landing, which some still insist is a hoax, but something far more grounded and indisputable—the resistance will be fierce. Some, perched precariously atop their towers of privilege, will attempt to dismiss our victory as an illusion. They will whisper that it is propaganda, even as our borders remain as open as our aspirations. They will proclaim that our ideals are impractical, despite the tangible proof of their success—a feat that must feel as disorienting to them as discovering that gravity, alas, applies equally to everyone. What I describe is not mere conjecture but a well-rehearsed playbook: a parade of denial and obfuscation, built upon the crumbling foundations of a system that is not only immoral and inefficient but, if we are honest, an outright contradiction to its own claims of superiority. These attempts to discredit us will be as predictable as they are absurd, a fact that provides both a challenge and, dare I say, a small measure of comic relief."

He smiled faintly, as if suppressing genuine amusement. "Now, before anyone feels compelled to stand up and dramatically shout ‘communist destabilizer of the international order,’ let us take a moment to reflect—contextually and politely—on what this liberal order actually entails, shall we?" He turned ever so slightly and offered the camera a deliberate, knowing wink. "In my country, we believe in recognizing and rewarding individuals who contribute meaningfully to the greater good of society—those who champion social justice, economic equity, and human dignity. I realize, of course, that this must sound rather bizarre to some of you here. After all, in the ‘free world,’ one is more likely to be rewarded for the promotion of unchecked greed, exploitation, and the uncanny ability to profit from the suffering of others. The so-called Liberal International Order, or LIO for short—an acronym that I find tragically apt—is often nothing more than a system designed to overlook people for profit, communities for power, and sustainability for destruction.

It is liberal, yes, but only in its liberality toward corruption and its order, it seems, is reserved only for the privileged few." He paused, his tone steady, his gaze unwavering. "If pointing this out makes me—and the entire 71 million people of Thailand—devoted destabilizers of the international order, then by all means, slap that label on us with pride. For it tells us one thing: we are on the right path. The path to a society that is not just efficient, but morally righteous. A path where principles are not compromised for the comfort of the powerful." He allowed a small, sardonic smile to return. "No offense intended, of course. I’m merely spilling the facts—served, as promised, with just a hint of comedy to make it more palatable. After all, the truth, like medicine, sometimes goes down easier when sweetened with a touch of humor. I trust it resonates with you."

With a light chuckle, he continues. "It is no secret that Thailand, once affectionately known as the 'Land of Smiles' and celebrated for its verdant fields and gentle hospitality, now holds the distinction of being the world’s first nation to fully embrace and operate under a socialist mode of production. I suspect that Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels would be both immensely proud and perhaps slightly bemused to see their theories vindicated—not in industrialized Germany, nor in agrarian Russia, but in smiling Thailand, where the only thing more abundant than rice paddies is our collective sense of purpose. Standing here today in the heart of this august assembly, I am acutely aware that many of you view our ideological transformation with curiosity, skepticism, or perhaps even outright disagreement. Yet, it is my deepest conviction that we share a common reality: we are living through a moment when the international order is shifting, and the old system, burdened by its own contradictions, teeters under the weight of unsustainability. As Marx aptly noted in The Communist Manifesto—and allow me to paraphrase in a manner perhaps more digestible than his usual prose—capitalism’s ultimate flaw lies in its uncanny ability to empower the very forces destined to dismantle it. To some, this may sound like a paradox; to us, it is simply history fulfilling its promise. And if this statement seems unsettling to some in the audience, may I offer a piece of advice: consider it less a critique and more a friendly reminder from the Land of Smiles that sometimes, it’s worth rethinking the status quo."

He smiled mischievously before continuing. "But surely, comrades, it would be uncomfortably self-congratulatory of me—a representative of a functioning egalitarian nation—to stand here extolling humanity without actually speaking about humans, wouldn’t it? Let us be honest for a moment. This is, after all, the first general debate of the Global Assembly since its founding in 1995, following the dramatic demise of the United Nations. Many of you watching or listening from afar have likely jumped through no small number of technological hoops just to witness this historic gathering—only to discover, rather predictably, that most people here scarcely acknowledge your existence. But allow me to correct that oversight by sharing a story that might resonate with you. There was once a nation subjugated by a foreign imperial power for a century, only to later serve the interests of the wealthy elite from another land. The people of this nation endured an unrelenting cycle of exploitation—an arrangement rewarding only those perched comfortably on top of a mountain built from the labor of others. Why, you might ask? Because the world, as we know it, is not fair. It was not built for you to succeed—it was built for the convenience of a select few. But one day—seven years ago, if this tale begins to sound suspiciously familiar—those people decided they would no longer tolerate being slaves to systems that thrived on their suffering. They rose against their oppressors, seizing a victory that would become the bedrock of a society dedicated to genuine democracy, social justice, economic equity, and human dignity. Idealistic? Certainly. Ambitious? Without question. But as I stand before you today, let me assure you of one thing: the impossible only stays impossible until it isn’t."

He stared into the camera for a moment just long enough to be unsettling, before continuing. "Thailand remains steadfastly committed to the principles that have guided us since our rebirth—a consistency that, I might add, makes us one of the most predictable players on the international stage. Predictability, in diplomacy, is not just a virtue; it is an art form. As a humble representative of the Thai people, I assure you that our commitment to embedding democracy into every fiber of our society has not wavered in the slightest since our foundation seven years ago. We remain as resolute today in dismantling the edifice of world capitalism and confronting the excesses of global elites as we were when we decisively ended the rule of our own tyrannical class. Speaking of them, let me take this moment to offer a prayer—to that well-known fictional character named God from a bestselling fantasy series called the Bible—that none of you in this chamber meet a fate similar to theirs. Of course, we do not suggest that history will repeat itself here; we simply observe that it has an uncanny habit of rhyming. And while I speak with the utmost respect for this assembly, let us be clear: the path toward a just and equitable world spares neither sacred cow nor gilded throne. But take heart—progress need not be feared, so long as one is not standing squarely in its way."

He took a deliberate pause, drawing in a breath as if to prepare for the weight of his words. Then, he continued. "As the 11th session of the Global Assembly begins, Thailand brings with it a clear and ambitious vision—one that is both domestic in scope and global in spirit. First, having successfully eradicated poverty, our next monumental goal is to achieve a full transition to renewable energy by 2008. As of this moment, over 90% of our energy production and consumption is derived from renewable sources. This reflects not just Thailand’s commitment to sustainability but also our collective desire to save the planet from extinction—an outcome that, I regret to note, some nations seem disturbingly indifferent about, if not quietly rooting for.

Second, Thailand will continue to strengthen the Socialist International, the political and economic union we have proudly established with Vietnam, complete with a joint military command. Let us be honest: the vanity of nations clinging to borders as if they were eternal truths is as outdated as the fax machine. We are committed to deconstructing these imaginary lines, for the time of the nation-state will come to its natural conclusion.

Third, we must unite as one species under a single race: the human race. There will be no black or white, Asian or European, African or Latino—for these distinctions are but the outward expressions of diverse cultures, not divisions of humanity. The dream of the Internationale is no longer a distant ideal but a looming inevitability. And while some may scoff at this vision as impractical or overly ambitious, let us remember: the same was once said of walking on the moon, splitting the atom, or, in our case, building a nation where no one sleeps hungry. To those who doubt, I say only this: history has never been kind to those who stood in the way of progress."

He took a long, contemplative pause, his posture shifting as the weight of his thoughts filled the chamber. “Mr. President, I have a dream. A dream that, I dare say, is beginning to take root in Thailand while the rest of the world lags woefully behind. It’s a bit of a utopian dream, I admit—the kind a child might imagine before growing up and realizing how the world actually works. Or, in our case, how it refuses to work.” He clasped his hands together, as if steadying himself for the weight of the words to come. “Mr. President, I dream of a world where true people’s democracy thrives—a democracy that is direct, meaningful, and unapologetically dedicated to the common good. It is a vision where authority flows upward, from the people, like a mighty river—not downward in the usual trickle, where it evaporates somewhere near the top before ever reaching the ground. I dream of a judiciary with courage—one that does not cower in the face of entrenched power but dares to issue verdicts that challenge the status quo and mend the cracks in our systems. I dream of an economy that places cooperation above competition—an economy built on shared ownership, where wealth is not hoarded like a dragon’s gold but distributed as a foundation for collective prosperity.

I dream of a culture that is radically inclusive, where egalitarian values sweep away the suffocating hierarchies that prevent us from truly connecting as humans. I dream of an education system that fosters critical thinking and curiosity, instead of teaching our children how to regurgitate facts like well-trained parrots. And I dream of free and accessible healthcare—healthcare that honors itself as a fundamental right, not as a commodity sold to the highest bidder, or worse, denied to the lowest.” He paused again, his gaze sweeping across the chamber, as if daring each delegate to confront these ideals. “Mr. President, these dreams stand as living critiques of systems that prize profit over people, power over community, and destruction over sustainability. They are not just aspirations—they are indictments. And while I believe in the possibility of these dreams, I confess: it is a cruel irony that dreaming of such a world feels revolutionary, when it should merely feel... human.” He sighed, the sound reverberating through the room, lingering like an unspoken challenge.

"Esteemed delegates of the world’s nations," he began, the faintest trace of humor glimmering before yielding to the gravity in his eyes. "In comparison to the positions you hold within your respective states, I am, at best, the dirt beneath the nail of your collective authority. You, representatives of nations led by leaders capable of imposing swift, top-down resolutions, tower above me. I am but a humble Pharaoh ant beside the commanding aura you bring into any room—a presence so magnificent it feels as though the room itself has been waiting to stand at attention. As for myself, I am merely the symbolic figurehead of a radically democratic nation so obsessed with equality that no single individual wields executive authority. I am everything that defines humility: a person whose position is no more exalted than that of any other human being in Thailand. My record in history will not show me implementing policies that satisfy my people, for I lack the authority to initiate such policies. Nor will it show me implementing policies that displease my people, for every ill-conceived idea I propose is democratically deliberated and, with great relief, rejected as unfit for the collective good. I stand here today not as a leader in the traditional sense, but as one voice among many—a voice my comrades believed could help connect the diverse, beautiful, and often discordant voices of our nation. In this, I am no more than a servant of the people—a title I hold not with shame, but with the deepest humility." He paused, allowing the solemnity of his words to sink into silence.

"Coming from a nation that treasures social justice and equality so deeply that it often causes liberal democracies to clutch their pearls and question our 'humanity,' the people within the borders of the Thai State have always held one enduring, audacious aspiration." He looked up at the vaulted ceiling of the chamber as if seeking divine confirmation before lowering his gaze again. "We have this outrageous idea—so outlandish it feels almost impolite to mention—that, hypothetically, the world could be united under a single banner, as one nation. We have this scandalously radical notion that, perhaps, all people should actually be equal in status, with the same unfettered access to the highest quality of education, healthcare, and opportunity. We even harbor the downright heretical belief that democracy should extend to our workplaces, as it does to the offices of our political leaders—a space where, just imagine, every voice matters equally. And then there’s the real kicker, the one that might truly scandalize this chamber: we think that every human being—yes, every single one—should be free. Free to express their true selves in any form of gender, free to speak their mind on any matter as long as it does not infringe upon the rights of others, and free to live authentically without fear of exploitation or prejudice." He paused, letting the weight of these words settle in the room like a quiet storm. "It is... astonishing, isn’t it? That these ideas—so basic, so inherent to the very concept of humanity—are condemned as destabilizing, extreme, or, heaven forbid, not moderate enough. What a dystopia this world has become, where principles like equality, justice, and freedom are endlessly extolled in speeches but rarely, if ever, realized. And yet, somehow, in Thailand, we dared to turn these ideals into reality. Imagine that."

Offering a cryptic but meaningful smile, Thaksin continued, his voice steady yet resolute. "Indeed, as John F. Kennedy, one of humanity’s most eloquent visionaries, once said, ‘Those who make peaceful revolution impossible will make violent revolution inevitable.’ The world of oligarchy, a relic stubbornly clinging to power, is now shuffling toward its inevitable graveyard, making way for truly democratic, just, and equitable societies. On behalf of Thailand, I extend not an invitation to world leaders—they have had their chance—but to the ordinary people across the globe. Rise to claim your inviolable rights: the right to unionize, to assemble, to speak freely, and to live a life of dignity, free from exploitation. Let us reject the tired elite narrative that failure is a matter of individual inadequacy, when we all know it is the product of systemic inequality—a rigged game where the dice always roll in favor of the few.

The world, as it stands, has not been fair to us. It has been cruel, indifferent, and profoundly unjust. So yes, it is more than acceptable—it is your right—to look at the system that exploits you and say, ‘Fuck you.’ But let us also remember: you are not powerless. Never think for a moment that you possess nothing, for the world has always belonged to us—the many. So, to every worker, every farmer, every student, every dreamer—join us. Join us in the pursuit of a fairer world, a freer world, a world where humanity can thrive in unity, dignity, and peace. A world, I might add, that the Thai people are already beginning to savor."

He paused, his passion evident, then raised his fist high and firm. "Long live the people's revolution!"​

---

Thaksin descended from the podium with measured strides, his expression calm yet radiating satisfaction. In front of him, Surakiart, Thanathorn, and Kantathi stood as one, fists raised high, their voices ringing out: “Long live the people’s revolution!” The words reverberated across the hall, their fervor underscored by the sharp clarity of their gestures. Aware that he had just delivered a speech that would ripple across the world’s consciousness, Thaksin moved with the assurance of a man who had meticulously orchestrated his moment. Reaching his seat, he lowered himself deliberately, prompting his comrades to drop their fists in unison, their solidarity palpable. He glanced at them, a sly smile tugging at his lips. “Quite the revolutionary act, wouldn’t you say? Damn, the adrenaline up there—I haven’t felt this alive since my previous performance at the Bangkok Comedian Club. They’ll be dissecting this performance for weeks.” He leaned back, his tone shifting to one of quiet certainty. “But the show’s not over yet. This was just the opening act.”

Surakiart nodded, his agreement tempered by the weight of pragmatism. “Of course, you would say so. The general debate is far from over.” He paused, his shoulders rising in a reluctant shrug. “And they’ll accuse you of ‘lecturing them.’ Predictable, isn’t it? As your speech suggests, those who lack education and moral clarity often feel threatened by the power of truth and humanity.” He allowed a faint, sardonic smile to flicker. “Some still cling to the belief in a fictional, authoritarian deity deserving of reverence. Malevolent and omnipotent? The contradiction is laughable.” He replaced his interpreting device with a quiet, measured motion.​

​

 

[Owen]

​

Caroline Millar would enter the hall and take her seat with the placard "Australia" in front of it. She would sit there and listen to the Secretary-General speak. As the floor was opened, she would let out a small sigh/grunt as the first person to take the stage was the Thai representative, notorious for giving very long and convoluted speeches that were steeped more in politics and ideology rather than anything substantially useful to the assembly. She would sit there listening to it, struggling to keep her eyes open. She would be texting on her phone occassionally. She would perk up when the Thai representative decided to use an expletive towards the end of his speech. She would raise her eyebrows at the complete lack of decorum by the Thai representative and then the other Thai delegates chanting "Long live the people's revolution". It was clear to her that Thailand had become a complete looney-bin of the world. She would sit there waiting for the next speaker, not actually planning on speaking herself.

 

[Global Assembly]

At the abrupt disruption of decorum, the Deputy Secretary-General, acting in his capacity as President of the Assembly, struck his gavel sharply. Fixing a stern gaze on the Thai delegation, he declared, “The Assembly must uphold the decorum it deserves. Any further disturbances from any delegation will result in removal from the chamber. Delegations shall limit themselves to applause at the conclusion of each statement.”

 

[Bossza007]

At the firm, dismissive strike of the gavel against the platform, the Thai delegation met the Deputy Secretary-General’s stern glare with an even sharper, unflinching gaze. It was a look that carried the weight of disdain so profound it bordered on contempt, as if the very presence of the Indian representative was an affront. To the Thai delegates, the Deputy Secretary-General was merely human—no more entitled to wield authority than any other mortal. Yet here stood a person presuming the right to dictate, cloaked in an air of undeserved superiority. The charade was clear. This Global Assembly wasn’t the bastion of democracy it claimed to be. Its actions revealed a body intent on top-down mandates, silencing the marginalized voice of its members. The Thai delegation felt the sting of this farce acutely, their position summarily dismissed without the genuine deliberation a true democratic process would demand. The gap between the Assembly’s promises and its reality loomed, stark and oppressive, like a shadow over the chamber.

The Thai delegation, unwavering, refused to lower their fists until Prime Minister Thaksin Shinawatra reclaimed his seat. Their voices carried on, resolute. The Global Assembly’s professed stand against global suffering—a world where over a billion people go hungry nightly—rang hollow to them, a mockery of true justice. To the delegation, it was an affront that a mere mortal, no different from any other, dared preach about decorum while obstructing the path to a free, equitable, and dignified world. For a figure like Thaksin, the irony was almost too perfect. The Deputy Secretary-General, in their sanctimonious display, had embodied the elitism Thaksin had just lambasted in his speech. It was comedy of the highest order. Yet, despite the absurdity, Foreign Minister Surakiart insisted on adhering to protocol, a position he carried to successful effect. Ambassador Kantathi, however, had little interest in such formalities—his focus was elsewhere, his defiance palpable as he observed the unfolding farce.​