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The Lao National Stadium at Kilometer 16 in Vientiane.
Clashes at a recent match between Thailand and Vietnam highlight historical rivalries and nationalist violence.
Nationalism does not “finish.” It must continually reassert itself as long as nation-states remain the world’s hegemonic political unit.
This self-reassertion often takes the form of contestation–defining the nation by who is inside and outside of it–which generally results in violence.
I was viscerally reminded of this on 4 September, when my Facebook news feed was flooded by videos of the violence that broke out at the Asian Football Federation U19 Championships in Vientiane, Laos.
Thailand was in the process of blowing out Vietnam, with a final result of six nil. In celebration, the Thai supporters began lighting and waving signal flares. A team of Lao police went into the stands, presumably to make sure that nobody got hurt, and were met with a violent backlash from the Thai supporters.
Chaos erupted, and a gunshot was fired, as you can see from the most widely circulated video of the event.
It is likely obvious to the viewer that the men in green and beige uniforms are Lao police; likewise, it is safe to assume that the other people in the filmed area are mostly Thailand supporters. As the Lao cops enter the crowd, the Thailand fans create a kind of “human wall” to prevent the authorities from accessing the Thai supporters’ space.
The violence escalates dramatically once one of the Lao police officers damages the Thai flagpole that is dropped on him, around 1:07 in the above video. At 1:21, one of the Lao police officers fires a shot into the air, and the stands clear out rapidly.
Many of the Thailand fans never stop cheering or clapping, throughout the whole fracas. As the clip ends, bottles begin to rain down from higher levels of the stands; according to many in the Lao Facebook-sphere, the bottles were coming from the Vietnam supporters’ section.
This football match and the ensuing violence are microcosms of the ongoing nationalist contestations between Thailand, Laos, and Vietnam. To begin, one could construct a metaphor between the football match and the production of Lao national space.
S├╕ren Ivarsson argues in Creating Laos that the emergence of the Lao nation state and Lao geo-body were the result of contestations between expansionist Siam and a French Indochinese government that wished to encourage Vietnamese expansionism. The link between sports–especially soccer–and nationalism is well documented; sports teams represent a form of safe, sanctioned, and regulated nationalist violence.
In this match, a Lao nationalist space (the Kilometer 16 National Sports Stadium) is host to a battle between the embodied nationalisms of Thailand and Vietnam. Thailand wins the soccer match by a landslide; Thailand’s cultural sway in Laos is apparent to anyone who visits the country.
We should be suspicious of this metaphor: although it is coherent, it is overly simplistic and does not take into account the extraordinarily complex and nationalistic violence occurring in the stands. To understand what the violence in the stands has to do with nationalism, it is necessary to consider the genesis of Lao communist nationalism in more detail–and, particularly, how Lao nationalism intersects with Thai and Vietnamese nationalisms.
As noted by Grant Evans in his Short History of Laos, one of the primary tasks of Lao nationalism has generally been to differentiate itself from all things Thai. The political structure of Laos in comparison to Thailand is one of the main axes along which this differentiation has occurred. Laos is a communist state, with a long-deposed monarchy; in Thailand, the monarchy is the backbone of nationalism.
In spite of the close linguistic and cultural ties between Thailand and Laos, the current incarnation of Lao nationalism is linked much more closely with communist nationalism in Vietnam than with Thai monarchic nationalism.
While I was living in Vientiane, I occasionally heard my friends refer to Vietnam as the “elder brother” of Laos; the political connection between Vietnamese communism and Lao nationalism begins with Souphanouvong and Kaysone and continues to the present leadership of the Lao People’s Revolutionary Party.
The front cover of Siam Mapped.
In Thailand, communism in all its forms has been demonised for decades. A 1970s political cartoon–now famous as the cover illustration to Thongchai Winichikul’s Siam Mapped–nicely illustrates anti-communist feeling in the context of Thai nationalist politics: Vietnam, Laos, and Cambodia are lumped together and anthropomorphised as an angry communist insurgent, taking a big bite out of the Thai geo-body.
In this cartoon, communism is a visceral threat; the caption above the cartoon exhorts, “Wake up, Thai people!”
The hooligans at the soccer match may not have had this cartoon in mind, but it is certainly plausible that the Thai nationalist sentiments expressed in “Wake up, Thai people!” were at play in last week’s violence.
The Lao police officers, in their beige and olive-green uniforms–which are nearly identical to those used by the Vietnamese police, and utterly different from Thai police uniforms–represent a threatening communist nationalism, historically foregrounded in the aforementioned political cartoon.
It is significant that the violence at the soccer match escalated considerably after the Lao police damaged a Thai flag.
Flags and national soccer teams are signs of nationalism par excellence; so are national police forces. By attempting to dampen the celebrations in the Thai supporters section of the stands, the Lao police were tacitly joining the side of the battered Vietnamese team.
By damaging a flag, the Lao police in their communist regalia damaged the sanctity of one of the most powerful symbols of the Thai state, thereby affronting the Thai nationalist cause–perhaps, in the eyes of the Thai soccer fans, aligning Lao nationalism with Vietnamese nationalism against Thailand.
The bottle salvos that came at the end of the violence are less visually intelligible as nationalistic, but it is telling that many on the Internet have been quick to identify the bottle throwers as Vietnamese.
It is possible that the Lao police were provoking certain spectators, or making unreasonable demands. It is also certainly possible that the Thai fans assaulting the Lao police were a small and heavily intoxicated subsection of the total number of Thai spectators at the event, most of whom were likely peacefully celebrating their team’s well-deserved victory over the Vietnamese side.
Nevertheless, the nationalist connotations of international soccer matches have been well documented, and I think it would be erroneous to ignore this aspect of the violence in the bleachers at the AFF Championships.
This is not the first time that nationalist violence has erupted off the field at an international soccer match in Southeast Asia; the riots that occurred after Myanmar’s loss to Indonesia in the 2013 Southeast Asia Games should come immediately to mind.
Still, I do not think that these incidents of nationalist hooliganism should be cause to end the practice of international soccer matches. Instead, they should be understood as a call to critique the violence that is inherent in nationalist sentiment. These critiques are already occurring in the Lao Facebook-sphere, and I hope that they continue.
Ultimately, 25 Thai spectators were arrested, and the Thai embassy in Vientiane issued a formal apology.
To my knowledge, no public words have yet been heard from the purportedly Vietnamese bottle-throwers. Knowing that the Lao police officers were carrying loaded firearms and were obviously ready to deploy them, I am grateful for their composure. There have been no reports of anyone being shot or seriously injured.
Nationalist events such as Asia’s U19 Championships and the multiple forms of violence that accompany them will continue for the foreseeable future, in ASEAN and elsewhere.
My hope is that nationalist violence as displayed in the above video is recognised as such, and that this particular strain of violent nationalism does not go unquestioned in the nation-states that produce it.
Mike Dunford is an MA candidate in Southeast Asian Studies at the University of Wisconsin-Madison, and a former resident of Vientiane.
Mike as a fan of soccer but more so rugby football, I find your analysis pretty interesting. It is correct that the greatest rivalry in SE Asian soccer is between Thailand and Vietnam and yes competing images of nationalism have much to do with this. But the Communist/non-Communist dualism you present is probably less important than it used to be. Thais might think Vietnamese are still Communists for what that is worth but few Vietnamese look upon themselves as Communists.
As I have observed sport-induced nationalism rivalry or is it nationalism-induced sporting rivalry does not simply apply to Vietnamese-Thai rivalry but also to Thai-Indonesian rivalry or indeed other major players in the SE Asian soccer league (Malaysia and Singapore). Even outside this sub-group when the Philippines (which is not really a soccer playing country but there has always been rivalry between Thailand and Philippines in boxing) beat Vietnam the latter’s fans were visibly upset. In both Hanoi and Ho Chi Minh (Saigon) – and also many other towns and cities of Vietnam – when Vietnam wins there is an amazing outpouring of exuberance on the streets that often lasts all night.
As you know soccer wars are not the preserve of Southeast Asia. Indeed elsewhere in the world – and especially Europe – soccer wars have often spilled over as rival fans have fought one another. In the US nationalist rivalry over sport is less of an issue (no-one apart from the Americans really play American Gridiron although basketball if it involves matches with Cuba or ice hockey with Canada can I suppose fire up nationalist sentiment.
Anyone familiar with sporting rivalry between Australia and New Zealand (All Blacks must defeat the Wallabies at all costs) or between Australia and England (Australians love to beat the English at their own game) will understand ideological differences alone do not explain this nationalist rivalry.
That to one side, in both Vietnam and Thailand (and even in lesser soccer able countries such as the Lao PDR) nationalist rivalry per se takes a back seat to the weekly gaming on the outcome of soccer matches elsewhere in the world. I think this shared affinity, even if not explicitly articulated, is more powerful than any violence by rival football fans.
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Thanks for the insightful and carefully reasoned comment! I’m also a fan of rugby (union, we don’t really have league in the USA, although I’m curious about it), and I have often thought about the interplay between nationalism and what I guess I would call “rugby-ism:” the unending superiority of the commonwealth countries and the sub-nationalisms that pop up within them (e.g., for the purpose of the Rugby World Cup, Wales is considered the same “type” of political thing as France or Argentina, an assertion that is fascinating and totally arguable). I remember in the 2007 RWC when one of the announcers referred to Portugal as a “rugby minnow…exploding with histrionics at their first try” during a match Scotland. That comment struck me as kind of hilarious and more than a little insulting to Portugal! Far more work is needed on rugby. There’s some great work by a woman called Toni Bruce on masculinity and nationalism in NZ rugby, but I would love to read the monograph that tries to ethnographically wrestle with rugby union in the UK through the lens of nationalism. But, I’m getting off track from the present discussion.
To respond more directly to your post, I want to argue with the statement that “ideological differences alone do not explain this nationalist rivalry.” In my reading, nationalism is itself an extremely compelling ideology; to a certain extent, nationalism itself is “ideology alone.”
The rivalries you bring up (e.g., Wallabies vs All-Blacks) are only allowed to exist as far as Aussies and Kiwis insist that they are fundamentally different from one another in some way. Despite all of the commonalities between Aus and NZ culture, this differentiation is a relatively easy ideological task: the existence of the term “sheep f*r” to refer to a Kiwi in Aus English is an easy piece of evidence for this, although I’ve only ever heard that employed in good-natured jokes.
I think it should follow, then, that where there are massive historical differences in political ideology–and where those political ideologies are extended as aesthetic ideologies (the hammer and sickle is omnipresent in Laos, on flags, on uniforms, on banners surrounding the National Stadium)–the nationalist ideologies will “follow suit,” so to speak. You’re probably right inasmuch as the Thais weren’t consciously/literally decrying “Lao commies” as such, but I do still argue that the aesthetic differences that stem from the political differences between the two states were very much at play in the above violence.
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Mike,
I think your sentence: “By attempting to dampen the celebrations in the Thai supporters section of the stands, the Lao police were tacitly joining the side of the battered Vietnamese team” is rather ill chosen. Of course that certainly was the perception of the Thai supporters – but police everywhere surely have a duty to keep order and control the risk of harm to the public. Isn’t that a much better explanation of their motive in moving into the stand than that they were somehow attempting to redress the balance of the score?
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Yes–as a matter of fact, I wrote the following sentences in the above piece to make exactly the point that you’re telling me I should have made:
“A team of Lao police went into the stands, presumably to make sure that nobody got hurt, and were met with a violent backlash from the Thai supporters.”
“By damaging a flag, the Lao police in their communist regalia damaged the sanctity of one of the most powerful symbols of the Thai state, thereby affronting the Thai nationalist cause–perhaps, in the eyes of the Thai soccer fans, aligning Lao nationalism with Vietnamese nationalism against Thailand.”
Hope that clarifies things! I don’t mean to sound cheeky, but there’s no other way to address this.
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Given the author’s attention to the dress of the Lao police and trying to draw significance from their attire, I am somewhat surprised that he doesn’t notice the rather obvious red shirted supporters of the Ultras group (motto: “unity and passion”) who instigated the fracas, and give some recognition to their particular dynamic in Thai soccer hooliganism, of which they have a history. The Ultras are hardcore supporters of the Muangthong United FC.
This may have as much explanatory weight than focusing mostly on nationalism considerations. Sub-national group tribalism can be as powerful motivator of violent action as nationalism, as any Bangkok technical college student would appreciate, and arguably, the same old phenomenon has now shifted to the realm of football.
A detailed study of domestic Thai soccer violence is long overdue, I would contend, especially as wealthy elites pump vast sums of money into their chosen teams and the game gets more politicised and commodified. (e.g.Newin Chidchob’s Buriram FC is apparently the wealthiest club in Thailand). I wonder how many rules of the Ultras own voluntary code of conduct were broken in Vientiane? See:
http://muangthongunitedfc.blogspot.co.uk/2011/02/mtu-fans-code-of-conduct.html
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This is fascinating–I know effectively nothing about the politics of hooliganism/regionalism in Thai soccer fandom, so you’re right to call out this gap in my analysis. Thanks for your comment.
Let me see if I understand the point you’re making. You’re arguing that the folks who started this mess in Vientiane are not Thai nationalists, but rather are known football troublemakers in Thailand who have crossed the river for some reason, right?
I definitely don’t know the dynamics of football hooliganism within Thailand. However, I’m skeptical that the red shirts (which, as far as I can tell, have the Thai national team logo on them, not the MTU logo) and the use of the term “ultras” mean that this violence was mainly an issue of tribalism within Thailand. As I’m sure you’re aware, the term “ultras” has long been used by a massive array of militant/violent soccer supporters groups–as a youth, I sometimes would cheer with the so-called “98 Ultras” at Chicago matches, a notoriously loud and unruly (but fun) bunch. Thus, I was assuming the “Thailand Ultras” signs and shirts were showing ardent support for Thailand in general, not for a specific team within Thailand. Please correct me if this is wrong.
Am I still missing something? Is Muangthong United famously anti-Lao or anti-Vietnamese? If this is about intra-Thai factionalism as much as nationalism, what’s the opposing faction (in addition to the MTU supporters)?
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To clarify, I was not arguing that the troublemakers seen in the video are not nationalists per se, but was merely suggesting that it may have been too simplistic to cast this event as down to nationalism alone, but wondered whether there may have been other dynamics at play, such as an expression of loyalty to a particular club, which I was aware had spawned its own distinct sub-group in domestic Thai football.
For an example of the Muangthong Thani Ultras involvement in post-match street violence, which included guns, see following article from last year when they beat Singtharua FC 3-1:
http://www.nationmultimedia.com/opinion/Football-hooliganism-must-not-take-root-30245988.html
Thus, I merely raised the possibility that this incident may have portrayed elements of domestic team tribalism and nationalism playing out simultaneously. However, prompted by this uncertainty, I did a quick search through the Net and concede there now exists a national group of Ultras (formed since 2012 apparently, with a series of local groups around the country), who appear to be ones on the terraces in VTE, as this and other Youtube videos of some of their former match day exploits would indicate:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FS1RQ2q41Bs
Who is the figures appearing on their flags and regalia I wonder? One seems to be Taksin the Great, with a loudspeaker replacing his sword, but I may be mistaken? Another interesting question would be whether Lao TV showed this incident, or whether it was considered best thrown in the Orwellian memory hole and erased from local consciousness?
However, the rise of pan-Thai nationalist Ultras aside, it does not detract from the recent rise of domestic football hooliganism in Thailand, which may be traced to the much greater sums of money being pumped into the sport through particular wealthy families (e.g. Chidchobs, Shinawatras, etc) or corporations (e.g. SCG, Singha, KTB, etc.), in turn linked to political dynasties and networks. It is here in the realm of domestic sport, commerce and politics that I sense a potentially rich vein of social science research could be opened up, which as yet does not seem to be tapped.
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This was a very interesting read and I appreciate your analysis. I know nothing about sporting culture in S.E. Asia but am not at all surprised the various nationalisms and regionalisms are in the mix. I’m curious what you think about more recent Lao attempts to somewhat dissociate Lao nationalism from Vietnamese-style socialist nationalism. I’m talking about the tendency in the early to mid 2000s (and today?) to dust off royal figures from the distant Lao past, e.g. the massive Fa Ngum and other statues in Vientiane, in order to create a parallel with Thai-style royalist nationalism. What might that add to the picture in this case?
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This is not the first time that Thai football fans have behaved poorly in Vientiane. I was in Vientiane in December 2009 when the Thais were surprisingly eliminated before the knockout rounds from the men’s football competition at the Southeast Asian Games. The Vietnamese were advancing, as were the Lao, and it was interesting that many people on the streets in Vientiane were sincerely cheering for the Vietnamese. Moreover, many regular people were glad that the Thais had been eliminated. The Thais were not happy, and apparently left a bad mess at some of their accommodations, including smearing human feces in one or more rooms. They fled across the border to Thailand before they could be held accountable for their bad behavior.
Hopefully this sort of thing will not happen in the future.
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What an interesting insight of the soccer match among the South-Asian countries.
I see the same level during the India-Pakistan cricket series. It’s not less than a battle.
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