At the risk of oversimplifying complex social and cultural topics, I have a few thoughts to share. In other words – read it as a travel blog.
I’m in Thailand for the next month or so. The first thing that comes to mind is a social hierarchy that is quite incomprehensible to the Western mind. We look at the wealth distribution with outrage and see exploitations of the lower class through a capitalist lens. Refusing to understand the differences in socialization, customs, and traditions is the crime of the modern liberal (cue colonialist guilt), yet I see something more positive in it.
In the West, we are fully committed to the grind mindset in one way or another. We value our work by how much it pays, and most working-class people feel almost embarrassed or ashamed of their profession. Simply accepting work as a means to an end—to pay for living expenses without defining ourselves by it—is not really the accepted norm.
Asian cultures have much more distinctive social classes that correlate with capital, but aren’t entirely defined by it. (Interestingly, you can see this in what right-wing populists consider issues; in the West, demagogues oppose immigration with something like “We need to protect our jobs,” meaning “Why should they reap the fruits of our labour?” Meanwhile, Eastern right-wing politicians rely more heavily on classic racism; look at Tokyo’s Governor Yuriko Koike and her stance on ethnic Koreans as a contemporary example in a developed country.) We used to have a different way of thinking about labour in the more socialist Yugoslavia. Even though I didn’t live it fully, I remember how occupations such as being a housekeeper, a bus driver, or a waiter were simply common jobs that gave you the means to provide for your family and live a fulfilling life. Workers had a sense of collectivism and felt that they were valued and crucial. Nowadays, these jobs are viewed more as “entering the workforce,” and young people see them as temporary stepping stones before becoming millionaires (this view is, I believe, at least partially universal and not just my subjective observation).
Here, service workers seem completely content with their occupations and proud of their labour. Work is simply part of life for the working class, and money is used to simplify the exchange of services and goods. This is a positive aspect of a system structure that has many, many obvious faults—which I won’t dig deeper into, as I don’t want this to turn into a political manifesto of class consciousness.
A great example is how massages are perceived in Thailand by locals versus how Western tourists look at massage parlors. Yesterday, I treated myself to a relaxing foot massage on the corner of a busy street. You sit there in a very public place, and one of the masseuses settles in and starts working. My masseur was an older woman with decades of experience, chatting with her colleagues. On her left was a woman of similar age, and on her right was a man in his late 20s. They talked and laughed among themselves like workers on an assembly line, waiting for their shift to end, and the only exchanges with customers were a quick “hi” and “thank you, bye.” It was an entirely normal service interaction—until you notice the faces of passing tourists.
Most tourists look at these massage parlors the way they’d look at a museum exhibit. Some walk by with pity on their faces, while others seem filled with horror or contempt. I distinctly remembered an American woman in her 30s recording the parlor on her phone with a look of sheer disgust; it seemed she was hoping to document and share her outrage at what she perceived as exploitation. It’s interesting how much you can read from a person’s expression and the tone of their voice. This experience makes it a bit easier to understand the wave of conservatism spreading through the West. Democratic liberals often believe their philosophy is the one true way to live, viewing everyone else as either deliberately exploitative or fully aware of being exploited and waiting for a revolution. Colonialist guilt pairs neatly with a saviour complex. Yet simply forcing our perspective on others brings nothing positive—no hope, no intention to change anything—like our aim is just to make everyone feel as bad as we think they should.
Turning to a more practical note that romanticizes foreign cultures a bit less: the standard VAT rate in Thailand is an astonishing 7%, while corporate income tax is set at 20%. It’s slightly cheaper to be a consumer here, but the wealth disparity is shocking to witness firsthand—a great reminder of what happens when a state doesn’t actively work raise the threshold of minimal living standards for the working class.
Many people (10% or more) in Bangkok earn wages comparable to Europe, while about 80% live on around ten dollars a day. Some workers—not just capital owners (yes, this is more common than you’d think)—earn serious money, especially in tech. As a result, you see premium skyscrapers with 500 or more housing units facing a street food stand selling lunch for two dollars in front of a makeshift barrack. For instance, when chatting with my favorite tuk-tuk driver, he told me that sending five dollars home per day is enough for his family of five to live comfortably while he works 500 km away.
Cars – most of the population is happy to own any mode of transportation, yet you see an absurd amount of really expensive vehicles (Lambo Urus, G-Class Mercedes, etc.), but they aren’t driven in a performative way as they are in Slovenia. People who buy an Urus here buy it because they like it, not because they want to flaunt their personal wealth.
Another interesting point is that the return on real estate here is roughly 1% yearly if you rent it out, so buying property as a growing capital investment is uncommon. Consequently, Airbnb isn’t really a thing here either.
I rented out a flat in one of the less touristy areas for the next few weeks. The local shopkeepers don’t speak english here. I’m really looking forward to sharing a slice of life’s experiences with them.
ToBeContinued