The death of the expose

Newspaper readers and TV viewers are used to Thepchai Yong - the group editor of the Nation Group - roaring his opinions. Now they can get used to him being a literary lion as well. The launch of his "Awasan iTV" ("The End of iTV") at the Bangkok International Book Fair this week drew a hefty crowd.

The tale of how iTV came about, the disturbing changes that occurred there, and its unseemly metamorphosis into TITV just weeks ago provides the backdrop for an analysis of the till unanswered need for an independent television station in Thailand.

Thepchai was the director of iTV's news department in its early years, so his take on recent developments was of interest to the book-fair browsers. They knew they were going to get straightforward answers, not equivocation born of political caution.

"We were glad that our mission in the early years of iTV made the public more conscious of the quality of Thai politics, by exposing several irregularities that other TV stations didn't dare to report on,'' said Thepchai.

Such verbal punches quickly swelled the audience. Thepchai began with recollections of the station's early successes, which earned iTV a reputation for fearlessness as well as thoroughness.

He said the station was initially blessed with highly experienced journalists from the print media, including Prajak Mawongsak, Korkhet Chantharalertlak, Karuna Bua-khamsri and Phattaraporn Sangphuangthong. They ensured that iTV became a medium on which the public could rely.

"We were given a free hand to do stories that we cared about. There was no interference from above,'' Thepchai said.

His book highlights the station's efforts to expose the black sheep in the police department - a series of investigative reports on officers taking bribes from the drivers of overloaded lorries. Viewers were glued to their sets, while the police accused Thepchai of tarnishing careers.

A mob of 50 traffic cops turned up at the TV station - but not to protest. Thepchai couldn't believe it: The junior officers where there to express their support for the coverage. They even offered the names of higher-ups who had authorised bribe taking.

"The traffic police had to meet a monthly target set by their bosses, so they had no choice but to continue collecting bribes," Thepchai writes.

"Society would never know this unless these officers told their side of story. The report brought some positive results in the police department: The commander of the traffic police division was fired."

With such disclosures, iTV became a trusted entity, even for some a refuge. Thepchai was bewildered on February 19, 1997, when alleged drug dealer Buncherd Pholwaree appeared in the editorial department on the 22nd floor of the SCB Park Tower.

He'd come there straight from his home, where he'd shot a police colonel during a raid by plainclothes police. Denying that he was a trafficker, he fled to iTV fearing that the police would gun him down on sight.

While Thepchai was at the helm, the station investigated Wat Dhammakaya's donations scheme and a municipal election rigging in Samut Prakan, and got a spirit medium to spill the beans on the trickery used in his profession.

At the book launch, Thepchai praised the station's revelations on the extra-judicial killing of drug suspects who had been handcuffed and shot one by one.

"You know why?" he said. "These suspects had links to the some high-ranking police officers."

Thaksin Shinawatra and the Thai Rak Thai party took a dim view of iTV, even though Thepchai points out that, "Every time I met Thaksin he would always praise the news team and the station's management."

In May 2000 Shin Corp's interest in iTV became clear. The Shinawatra family business became the station's major shareholder following a debt restructuring. It was a watershed moment, leading ultimately to Thepchai's departure and, as he sees it, the spiritual death of a noble experiment in independent television.

"I knew what Shin Corp wanted. It's a fact that anyone who is prime minister can control all five major television channels. In Thailand, a phone call from a ministry can stop the broadcast of any given news story. These phone calls came to my office too."

Thepchai struggled with the station's new management, repeatedly ignoring their requests to drop certain reports in deference to politicians, commercial groups and major advertisers.

"The day I walked out of the station, I pitied the station's loss of opportunities to expose truths in the interest of the underprivileged, the disadvantaged,'' he said.

"I believe our news programmes educated the people at the grassroots so that they became better aware of politicians' tricks."

The most sordid chapter was still to come. Thepchai had prepared a report for air on a TV ad whose content had been deemed inappropriate. Management told him to hold off, because the advertiser in question, a major battery manufacturer, did Bt15 million worth of business annually with iTV.

"We ignored the request and went ahead with the story. The management was unhappy, but then we got some unexpected feedback from the battery maker. They particularly liked the report because we'd played fair with them. It was unexpected, but it made the management unhappy."

Thepchai expressed pity for the many broadcast media that continue to be under the thumb of the government and corporate Thailand, forced to axe reports that are critical of politicians or advertisers. Many worthwhile stories will remain buried unless Thailand secures definitively independent television, he said.

"Look at what Thai television has to offer during prime time," Thepchai said, "mostly game shows and soap operas. How are these programmes supposed to advance our understanding of society? Only a television free of official control could make viewers more intelligent and better aware of irregularities in our society and politics."