An unprecedent movement of rural working-class Thais challenges the Bangkok establishment’s hold on power.

The political standoff in Bangkok in April had been slowly building for four years, since the 2006 military coup that ousted former premier Thaksin Shinawatra. The 28 dead and hundreds of injured on the streets of the capital in late April harken back to the politically dark days of Thailand’s decades-long legacy of coups, bloody street protests, rewritten constitutions, and a musical-chairs series of prime ministers—none of whom before Thaksin ever completed their full term in office.

Slide Show (View)

Current Prime Minister Abhisit Vejjajiva’s Democrat-led government is the latest to reap the wrath of street protests pitting the army against the people. His government is struggling to survive a violent phase that has paralyzed the body politic, shocked the international community and sent the economy and tourism into a tailspin— in harsh contrast to the Thai people’s renowned peaceful nature and love of compromise.

With the current unrest, the country has entered a new chapter in its democratic development, challenged by the rise of the Redshirts, a fiercly dedicated—mainly rural—working-class political movement that has brought a new factor into the chemistry of Thai politics. The Redshirt leaders, for the first time in Thai history, have found a rhetoric that articulates working-class grievances, pitting the have-nots against the establishment’s haves.

Further complicating Abhisit’s position is the current government’s tenuous relations with the military’s top brass, who themselves seem divided. Top general Anupong Paochinda has publically urged the government to seek a political compromise. On top of it all, the Democrat party has been charged with election code violations by the Election Commission, which, if proven in court, could lead to its dissolution.

The question analysts are now asking is how far is Abhisit, an Oxford-educated member of Thailand’s elite, willing to go? The potential answers: bloody repression, another coup, a sleight-of-hand political compromise that steps back from the brink or some combination of them all are possible, with the answer expected in the days or weeks ahead.

The political stakes have been raised by a new brand of violence that crept from the city into the countryside through sporadic acts of political terrorism and open defiance in the form of the bombing of a key high-voltage electrical power line, the blockade of a cargo train transporting military equipment to Bangkok, roadblocks preventing police from sending reinforcements to Bangkok and grenade attacks on police offices in Chiang Mai and other establishment locations.

A sign of how far things have changed is that throughout April the rhetoric has shifted—ever so slightly—away from former premier Thaksin and towards the Redshirt grass-root grievances, which raise broader questions about the maturity of Thai culture and its ability to accommodate a populist movement. The 2006 coup and the dissolution of two previous democratically elected pro-Thaksin governments—for election code violations—were the factors that ignited the Redshirt movement, but it is now its populist, power-sharing concerns that have become the focus of debate, although the violence threatens to overshadow them.

Thaksin has recently lowered his own profile, shifting the focus to the Redshirt street protest leaders who have successfully prolonged the standoff. Part of the reason for their success may be that there is some truth in Thaksin’s claim that many soldiers, generals and police are “watermelons,” suggesting that they are “green” on the outside, but “red” on the inside.