A drug kingpin's lawyer is the new poster child for Mexico's judiciary
In recent years, the Mexican government has done everything possible to change the narrative and demonstrate that America's main trading partner is also its main ally on immigration and the fight against illegal drug-trafficking. Despite these efforts, the country's recent judicial elections sent the wrong message, turning Joaquín 'El Chapo' Guzmán's iconic lawyer, Silvia Delgado García, into the new poster child for Mexico's judicial system.
In February, President Claudia Sheinbaum's administration handed over to the U.S. Rafael Caro Quintero, a drug lord linked to the 1985 murder of DEA agent Enrique 'Kiki' Camarena. It was no small feat. Former Presidents Ronald Reagan, George Bush (father and son), Bill Clinton, Barack Obama and Joe Biden all tried to convince Mexico to help them capture the person responsible for this crime. President Trump finally won this peace offering alongside the extradition of 28 heavyweight drug lords.
Mexico also sent 10,000 troops to the border with the U.S., with thousands spent on deploying military forces, transportation and other expenses for the sole purpose of telling America not to worry, we'll take care of the border. Mexico not only assumed border migration issues as a shared responsibility, but also agreed to receive expelled migrants from other countries.
Mexico has also made significant drug seizures to show the U.S. that there is no reason to impose new trade tariffs as a punishment. Earlier this month, 42 metric tons of methamphetamines and 2,300 gallons of chemical precursors were seized by Mexican authorities.
In short, Mexico has abruptly shifted from denying the very existence of fentanyl production to making the largest fentanyl seizure in its history.
The Mexican government, despite its usual anti-American rhetoric on security issues, has not objected to the deployment of at least three destroyers in seas near its territory, including the USS Spruance, the USS Gravely and, most recently, the USS Charleston.
But these security cooperation efforts have been weakened with Mexico's recent judicial elections.
Mexico has not only pulverized the stability of its own legal system, but the ruling party took complete control of all judicial bodies and opened the door to controversial figures linked to drug-trafficking organizations.
The judicial reforms and the recent election of judges, with only 13 percent popular participation, are already having a detrimental impact on Mexico's investment climate. Legal security was not just weakened but shattered. This not only affects investments from the U.S. but from all countries and even domestic Mexican investments.
Mexico has chosen party loyalty over professional quality, family DNA over prestigious credentials, and popularity and charisma over character and skills. Such decisions bring Mexico closer to a failed state than to a mature democracy, turning it into a risky partner, not a reliable friend.
Even though Mexico and the U.S. have tried to manage their differences in a diplomatic manner, it is clear that the illegitimate election of judges, which has transformed El Chapo's lawyer into a judicial authority, send the wrong message for investors, promotes a perception of criminal impunity and undermines trust and transparency.
Arturo McFields is an exiled journalist, former Nicaraguan ambassador to the Organization of American States, and a former member of the Norwegian Peace Corps. He is an alumnus of the National Defense University's Security and Defense Seminar and the Harvard Leadership course.
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Yahoo
5 minutes ago
- Yahoo
‘Feels like heaven': Iranians return to Tehran, uncertain of future
Tehran, Iran – The highways leading into Tehran are busy again, filled with cars carrying families, suitcases, and the cautious hope that home might finally be safe. After 12 days of war that killed more than 600 Iranians and displaced hundreds of thousands from the capital, a ceasefire announced on Monday has begun drawing residents back to a city still scarred by Israeli air strikes. For many returning to Tehran, the relief of sleeping in their own beds is tempered by the constant fear that the bombing could resume at any moment. 'Coming back home after all these days, even from a place where you had physical safety, feels like heaven,' said Nika, a 33-year-old graphic designer who spent nearly two weeks sheltering with her husband at their relatives' home in Zanjan, some 286 kilometres (177 miles) northwest of the capital. 'But I don't know if the ceasefire will last or not,' she said. The conflict that upended millions of lives began at dawn on June 13, when Israeli warplanes launched what Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu called a preemptive strike against Iran's nuclear facilities. What followed was an unprecedented exchange of fire between the two regional powers that brought direct warfare to the heart of Tehran for the first time in decades. As Israeli attacks on residential areas intensified and warnings from American and Israeli officials to evacuate Tehran grew louder, many residents, fearing for their lives, were forced to flee the capital for the relative safety of other cities and villages. For many of Tehran's inhabitants, abandoning their lives was a soul-crushing decision. 'I had an incredibly busy life before the war,' said Saba, a 26-year-old university student. 'I lived in Tehran, had a full-time job, was studying, and since I lived alone, I managed all my household chores. When the war started, for a few days, I couldn't believe this routine was coming to a halt. I still went to work, went out for shopping or to a cafe. But at some point, you couldn't deny reality anymore. Life was stopping.' By the fifth day, the war forced her to leave. 'First, my university exams were postponed, then my workplace told us to work remotely, and one by one, all my friends left Tehran. I felt a terrible loneliness,' she recalled. 'I kept myself busy during the day, but at night, when the sounds of bombing and air defences began, I couldn't fool myself any longer.' Unable to secure a car, her father drove from her hometown of Quchan, a city near Mashhad in northeastern Iran, to bring her to the family's house, where she stayed until the to the Iranian Ministry of Health and Medical Education, at least 610 people were killed and 1,481 wounded during the conflict, with more than 90 percent of the casualties being civilians. 'Initially, I had decided to stay in Tehran and keep the company running,' said Kamran, a businessman and CEO of a private firm in the capital, who requested anonymity due to security concerns. 'There was bombing and the sound of air defence, but life was manageable during the day. The nights, however, were truly unbearable,' said the father of two. Many fled the city in the very first days of the war. At that time, two major obstacles plagued their departure: long queues at petrol stations made it difficult to secure enough fuel for the journey, and the main exit routes from the city were choked with heavy traffic from the sheer volume of cars trying to get out. Now, since the ceasefire was declared, many who had abandoned Tehran have begun to make their way back. 'After 11 days of living in a place where there was no sign of war, but wasn't home – no privacy, no peace of mind – coming back to my own house felt like heaven,' explained Nika. 'After years of being accustomed to the silence of my own home, enduring life with 11 other people in an environment that was never quiet was incredibly difficult,' she said. She returned to her two-bedroom flat in Tehran as soon as the ceasefire was declared. 'I don't know if the ceasefire will last or not,' Nika admitted. 'But even if it doesn't, I don't think I want to leave my home again.'Not everyone was lucky enough to return to an intact home. Keyvan Saket, a renowned Iranian musician, had learned of his home being hit by an Israeli missile while sheltering with his family in a nearby town. Yet, his neighbour's call delivering the grim news did not keep him from rushing back after the ceasefire was declared. According to Saket, one of the bombs fired at his residence failed to detonate, a stroke of fortune that spared further destruction. But it barred him and his family from entering their home due to safety concerns. 'Once the issue was resolved and we were allowed inside, we faced an unsettling scene,' he said. 'The doors and windows were shattered, the building's facade was obliterated, and household appliances like the washing machine and refrigerator were severely damaged. The attack was so intense that even the iron doors of the building were mangled.' Saket's voice carried a deep sorrow as he reflected on the toll of the conflict. 'With every fibre of my being, I despise war and those who ignite it,' he said, lamenting the loss of a home he cherished. 'War is the ugliest of human creations.' Since the ceasefire took effect, both sides have accused each other of violations, and fear of renewed violence has been high. Iran has reported continued Israeli attacks for several hours after the agreement, while Israel claims to have intercepted Iranian missiles post-ceasefire. In the immediate aftermath of the ceasefire announcement, strikes continued on both sides, with Israeli forces hitting targets in Tehran, including the notorious Evin Prison, and Iranian missiles striking areas in Israel. Hamed, a political science student, believes the situation is precarious. 'This feels like a recurring nightmare to me,' he said. He had returned from the southeastern Iranian city of Kerman, where he was displaced to, on the day the ceasefire was announced, but was worried he might have to abandon his home and life all over again. 'I really don't want to have to pack my things and leave my home without knowing when, or if, I can come back.' Despite this underlying anxiety, the streets of Tehran are visibly busier than before the ceasefire. As companies end their remote work policies and recall employees, there is evidence of a cautious, determined return to life in the capital. Infrastructure damage across Tehran was significant, with attacks striking multiple provinces, including Alborz, East Azerbaijan, Isfahan, Fars, Kermanshah, and the capital itself. The Israeli military claimed to have struck more than 100 targets across Iran during the 12-day conflict. In the early mornings, the hum of traffic weaves through Tehran's wide boulevards once more. 'Seeing others return to the city alongside me, watching cafes and restaurants reopen, and feeling life flow back into the streets – it truly lifts my heart,' said Saba, her eyes bright with cautious optimism. Yet, as the city stirs back to life, the shadow of an uncertain ceasefire looms, a quiet reminder that this fragile revival could be tested at any moment. This piece was published in collaboration with Egab.
Yahoo
5 minutes ago
- Yahoo
Exclusive: Thai Princes Banished Again, Eldest Says ‘I Did Nothing Wrong'
The three eldest Vivacharawongse boys in the Royal Palace in Bangkok in the late 1980s. Credit - Courtesy Vivacharawongse Family By right of his birth, the immigration officials should have prostrated themselves before Juthavachara Vivacharawongse, eyes glued to the sunbaked earth, before offering jasmine garlands and shepherding him toward a waiting limousine. Instead, Juthavachara, who goes by the anglicized name Max, and his younger brother Vatchrawee, were ushered into a dingy interrogation room at the Thai-Malay border on May 28 and politely asked for their U.S. passports. It was a jarring moment for two sons of Thailand's king—estranged nobles returning to their homeland after decades in exile. After 45 minutes, a visibly uncomfortable official issued the verdict: the brothers were refused entry to Thailand, the country where their father reigns as King Maha Vajiralongkorn, Rama X of the Chakri Dynasty, the world's wealthiest monarch with a fortune estimated at some $60 billion. The rejection left Max 'physically and mentally crushed,' he tells TIME in an exclusive interview. 'Because I've missed my homeland every day of my life, and I've always dreamed of going back.' Aside from a fleeting 12-hour visit in January, during which the brothers were detained, interrogated, and harassed by security officials wherever they went, this would have been the first time they had set foot on Thai soil since being banished by their father in 1996, along with their mother and two other brothers, following their parents' high-profile divorce. The heartbreak at the border spurred Max, 45, and Vatchrawee, 40, to pen a Facebook post that pinned blame on 'a small yet powerful group of individuals, seeking to preserve their influence within the monarchy, legal system, and political sphere.' Max returned to his life as an aerospace engineer living in downtown San Diego, where his American wife was born and they recently moved with their three children to be closer to her family. But he agreed to speak exclusively to TIME about his family's ordeal since their banishment and his burning desire for reconciliation. 'I want to get word to my father that I want to go back to live and to work,' Max said in a Zoom interview. 'I have no other ambition other than to go back and be his loyal subject. But unfortunately, there seems to be some kind of misunderstanding that has prevented us from entering the country.' That misunderstanding has only metastasized in recent days. In August 2023, another brother, Vacharaesorn, 44, shocked the nation by suddenly returning to Thailand, the first time any of the Vivacharawongse family had visited Thailand for nearly three decades. He visited schools, made merit at temples, and lent his support to humanitarian projects, such as building houses for flood victims. He rode Bangkok's BTS Skytrain and gushed that it was cleaner than the New York subway. In late May, he shaved his head and donned the saffron robes of a Buddhist monk, as is common for royalty to demonstrate piety. Max's thwarted trip was ostensibly to offer support in this new endeavor. 'We were all novice monks when we were still in the palace, as every young male member of the royal family had to do,' Vacharaesorn told TIME last week. 'And I'm the first sibling to become an adult monk in Thailand for our family. So this was a very big deal for us, and we were all looking forward to celebrating together.' However, on June 23, Vacharaesorn's stay in Thailand was abruptly curtailed. Scores of Thai security officials swooped on Wat Pariwat Ratchasongkram, a picturesque temple where Vacharaesorn was staying perched on the bank of Bangkok's Chao Phraya river, and detained him. After a quick stop at his home to pick up his belongings, Vacharaesorn was escorted to Suvarnabhumi International Airport and ordered on a flight to New York City, accompanied onto American soil by Thai security officials, who handed him straight to State Department representatives. Another brother, Chakriwat, would be deported from Thailand the following day, Vacharaesorn was told, although his location is currently unknown. All four are U.S. citizens. 'The officer who came for Vach informed him that they don't want any Vivacharawongse in the country,' says Max, using a nickname for his brother. TIME requested comment from Thailand's Royal Household Bureau regarding the reasons for Vacharaesorn's deportation and the Vivacharawongse family's status in Thailand but has not received a response. Thailand's Immigration Police has not responded to similar inquiries. A spokesperson for the U.S. Embassy in Bangkok declined to comment since they 'do not share information with the media about private U.S. citizens absent their written consent.' Why the Vivacharawongse brothers were exiled and partially rehabilitated only to be excommunicated once again lies at the core of a succession crisis that is roiling Thailand's royal household just as younger citizens are demanding reform of the institution. Although King Maha Vajiralongkorn has seven children, only three have royal titles, and none have been identified as heir. 'If no one really understands what's going on, it's a source of instability, and it's a source of doubts,' says Paul Handley, a journalist and author of The King Never Smiles, an unofficial biography of King Bhumibol that has been banned in Thailand. Thailand is America's oldest ally in Asia whose revered palace historically served as a pillar of conservatism and permanence, as well as a bulwark against the communist fervor engulfing its Southeast Asian neighbors. Yet in the post-Cold War era, many young Thais feel alienated by the institution's opaque, hierarchical structures, and desire more accountability. In 2020, unprecedented public protests erupted across Thailand that shattered taboos by openly calling for royal reform. Ten listed demands included permitting criticism of the King, properly accounting for the crown's finances, banning the sovereign from expressing political opinions, and prohibiting the monarchy from endorsing coups. In rare public comments around the time, King Vajiralongkorn called Thailand 'the land of compromise' and said 'we love them all the same' of the demonstrators. Still, the lack of a clear succession plan is a cause of great anxiety in a country where the monarch has long served as a bastion of stability. The nation's 2014 coup d'etat was commonly ascribed to a desire by the nation's elites to micromanage the transition to King Vajiralongkorn. Yet he will turn 73 next month and nobody has a clue what the future of this paramount institution looks like. Although primogeniture would make Max first in line for the throne, he currently has no royal titles, and Thailand's constitution excludes any potential heir with a foreign spouse. He insists that he and his brothers only want to be reunited with their homeland to live a simple life as regular folk. Yet forces are conspiring to ensure this never happens. 'I just don't understand why this is such a problem,' says Max. 'It hurts me even more to think that I don't believe I did anything wrong in my life, and yet I feel like I'm being punished for things that I did not do.' It is, of course, a sadly common sentiment among the progeny of broken homes, though the fallout from Max's parents' split was anything but typical. King Vajiralongkorn inherited the throne following the death of his revered father, King Bhumibol Adulyadej, who was the world's longest-reigning monarch when he passed in 2016. The only son among Bhumibol's four children, then Crown Prince Vajiralongkorn, a former Royal Air Force pilot, was famed for his sybaritic lifestyle, spending much of his time in Germany, and has been married four times. In a 1981 interview with the Dallas Times Herald during an American tour, Vajiralongkorn's mother, Queen Sirikit, said: 'I have to be very frank. My son, the Crown Prince, is a little bit of a Don Juan. He is a good student, a good boy, but women find him interesting, and he finds women even more interesting. So his family life is not so smooth.' Vajiralongkorn's first wife bore him a daughter, Princess Bajrakitiyabha, but they divorced in 1991. His second wife, actress and dancer Sujarinee Vivacharawongse, gave birth to four sons and a daughter: Max, the eldest, followed by Vacharaesorn, Chakriwat, Vatchrawee, and Princess Sirivannavari. The siblings grew up in the lap of luxury, dressed in the finest silks, with doting courtiers catering to their every whim. Though life wasn't always easy. When Max was young and living in the palace, the royal garage was his refuge, where he could escape domestic strife by clambering through dozens of luxury and vintage cars. 'Because there were a lot of unhappy times.' Vajiralongkorn divorced their mother in 1996 after accusing her of being unfaithful, stripping her and their sons of their titles and forbidding their return to Thailand. The family were living in the U.K., where the eldest two boys attended the prestigious Harrow private school, when the Thai Ambassador suddenly appeared and demanded they relinquish their diplomatic passports. Instead, ordinary ones were issued valid for just one year. Without her mother's knowledge, Princess Sirivannavari was spirited away to Thailand to live with her father. 'My mother got on the phone with His Majesty and said, 'Okay, you already have the girl. Do you want the boys as well?'' recalls Max. 'According to my mother, he said, 'Not at this time.'' The brothers have not seen their sister since. Cast out from their homeland, Sujarinee and her sons moved to the U.S. as political refugees, settling in central Florida. 'I'm a diehard Tampa Bay Buccaneers fan,' laughs Max. Sujarinee was the quintessential 'tiger mom,' says Max, and ruled the household with an iron fist. 'She's a very, very tough woman, and she pushed us extremely hard from a very young age. Education was extremely important. She said, 'just because you are not in Thailand doesn't mean you have to lower yourself to the standards of commoner.'' Three brothers have law degrees; Chakriwat is a medical doctor. Every year, the brothers would write a letter to their father on his birthday, as well as to mark important family events such as graduations, appraising him of their health and progress. No reply ever arrived. On occasions, the family would post public statements expressing their devotion and desire to return to Thailand. Early in their banishment, when the pain was still raw, the tenor was rebukeful. In 1998, a letter co-signed by the brothers accused their father of 'trying to erase memories of us,' saying that he never loved their mother and would force them outside of their house 'every time he found another woman.' Asked about this missive, Max says early letters tended to be drafted by their mother and didn't necessarily reflect the sons' true sentiments. In 2003, the boys heard that their father was to visit the U.S., so they turned up unannounced at the Thai Consulate in Chicago to doorstop him. The 30-minute meeting, during which Max and his three brothers sat on the floor per royal protocol, was 'standoffish,' says Max. 'He didn't quite treat me as his child.' Still, the then-Crown Prince enquired after the brothers' health, education, and interests. 'Then he says, 'hey, you kids didn't do anything wrong,'' recalls Max. ''If you ever want to come back to Thailand, nobody's going to stop you.'' Max now regrets that the brothers didn't immediately seize that invitation, though he notes they were still young and didn't want to abandon their mother, who was still patently unwelcome. Over time, the brothers came to terms with their exile, different as it was from the pampering of the palace. Max tried to put Thailand out of his mind and immerse himself in American life. 'At the time, all anybody could ever talk about was Thailand, Thailand, Thailand,' says Max. 'I felt like it was holding us back. So I tried to go to school, get a job, move away from the family a little bit, and get my life going.' For nearly three decades, that's exactly what the family did. The brothers focused on school, worked casual jobs, and graduated college. As a young man, Vacharaesorn hawked hot dogs at sporting events and sold vacuums door-to-door. In 2013, Max married an American woman, Riya Gough, and the couple have a son and two daughters. When not traveling for work, he plays pickleball, shops at Costco, and drives his kids to soccer practice in his custom BMW, which he sometimes races at the track. Thailand faded into the background. That all changed in August 2023, when Vacharaesorn suddenly returned to the Kingdom. 'I literally found out he was in Thailand through the media,' says Max. 'He did not consult with me, my mother, or anybody in our family before going.' It was a lightning bolt that left Max 'hurt and then somewhat angry,' he says, 'because I thought that when it comes to Thailand, we're all in it together.' However, Max softened after it emerged that Vacharaesorn's return had been generally well-received: 'I saw that he was making headway.' Vacharaesorn's return to Thailand spoke to a succession crisis that is roiling the nation of 70 million. Although King Vajiralongkorn was named heir aged 20, he still has not named his own successor. The presumed favorite had been Princess Bajrakitiyabha, the daughter of his first wife, but she collapsed while training her dogs in December 2022 and has been in a coma ever since. Hopes of a recovery are slim. The King also has a son by his third wife, Prince Dipangkorn, although he is understood to have learning difficulties that could impede his ability to fulsomely discharge his royal duties. With few viable alternatives, Vacharaesorn's prodigal return has been seen by analysts as an attempt to road-test his suitability for the role. However, after a few months, the tone soured. It emerged that Vacharaesorn had married an American woman, Elisa Garafano, and the couple have two daughters, which would bar him from consideration, just like Max. Although Vacharaesorn has steadfastly denied any desire for the throne, his desperate scrambling to explain that he was getting a divorce appeared to betray his furtive ambitions. The perception among analysts was that Vacharaesorn was striving to thread the needle as a compromise candidate for succession, one who would appeal to progressives as a worldly, modernizing force, while still bearing blood blue enough to avoid alienating staunch royalists. But he may have misjudged just how precarious that tightrope had become, as the future of the institution was thrust to the center of political discourse. In May 2023, Move Forward, a political party that openly campaigned on curbing the monarchy's powers, won the most seats in Thailand's general elections but was blocked from forming a government by the military-appointed Senate. The party's subsequent disbandment by the Constitutional Court last August added grist to the perception among Move Forward's predominantly young voters that the nation's elites are conspiring to expunge their democratic will. Vacharaesorn appeared to align himself with reformers with veiled criticism of Thailand's draconian lèse-majesté royal defamation law, known as Article 112, which is the bedrock on which royal power is built. Under it, anyone who defames, insults or threatens the King, Queen, heir apparent, or regent faces three to 15 years in prison. Critics argue that far from protecting the dignity of the monarch, the law has been co-opted to silence all dissent. At least 276 people, including 20 under the age of 18, were charged under Article 112 in the four years until November, according to Thai Lawyers for Human Rights. Last June, former Thai Prime Minister Thaksin Shinawatra, who was ousted in a 2006 coup and is father to current Prime Minister Paetongtarn Shinawatra, was indicted for lèse-majesté for an interview he gave nearly a decade ago. 'Article 112 prosecutions are becoming more and more aggressive,' says Paul Chambers, a renowned American expert on Thailand, who fled the country in May following a lèse-majesté charge. In his recent Facebook post, Max lamented how his family had been harassed 'using surveillance, threats, and abuse of Article 112.' But asked by TIME to elaborate, he pointedly declines. 'Charlie, I'm going to stay away from that one,' he says. 'It's the palace's prerogative how that law is utilized.' Regarding Article 112, it's possible Vacharaesorn flew close to the sun. In September 2023, a month following his initial return to Thailand, he attended an exhibition titled Faces of Victims of 112 at New York's Columbia University curated by Thai dissident Pavin Chachavalpongpun, a prominent academic who himself faces lèse-majesté charges. Afterwards, Vacharaesorn posted on Facebook that 'I love and hold my loyalty to the monarchy, but I believe that 'knowing' is better than 'not knowing,' and each individual has their own opinion which is derived from their own experiences.' Against this backdrop, Vacharaesorn's efforts to find the middle ground between reformists and royalists may have simply alienated both camps. His cause certainly hasn't been helped by several missteps. Other than the secret American family, it emerged that he left the U.S. with $94,767.88 in credit card debt, which he later agreed to pay back. After arriving in Thailand, he set up a legal consulting firm, VVV Group, to help foreign companies come to Thailand, and has been working with brands from Chinese EV firm Zeekr to Hollywood actor Mark Wahlberg's tequila label. The VVV Group website originally listed its chairman as 'Prince Vacharaesorn,' despite his having been stripped of royal titles, but he has since removed the honorific. Still, the perception for many was that Vacharaesorn was attempting to cash in on his royal connections. He also reportedly had close contact with Thaksin, the former prime minister whose populist adulation has made him anathema to royalists. 'I think somehow he met up with the wrong people,' says Pavin. 'And this encouraged rightwing royalists to go after him.' Max still insists his father remains unaware he was blocked from returning to Thailand, nor of Vacharaesorn's forced departure, believing instead that some shadowy clique is working against his family to protect their own interests. 'His Majesty has no idea that I'm trying to get back in. I sincerely believe that,' he says. 'He would welcome me with open arms. Things would never be back the way they were, but he would definitely not tell me to go away.' Max suspects that a palace faction has been conspiring to temper any influence his family might generate, fearful that more returning brothers might form a stronger alternative power source that would be more difficult to tame. They would presumably be figures who are close to Prince Dipangkorn and would prefer him to take the throne. 'This is a zero sum game for them,' says Pavin. Some have suggested it could even be the brothers' estranged sister, Princess Sirivannavari, who having toiled by her father's side for decades now objects to being sidelined by her returning kin. 'That is certainly the rumor that I've heard,' says Max. 'But I don't know if I could ever substantiate it.' The opacity of the palace means no outsiders can know for sure. But the actions of King Vajiralongkorn following his rise to the apogee of Thai society don't suggest a monarch wanting for control. Since taking power, King Vajiralongkorn has taken personal command of the Crown Property Bureau, which handles the estimated $60 billion royal fortune, and brought several influential state offices under his direct supervision. In 2017, he ordered the transfer of two army units—the Bangkok-based 1st and 11th Infantry Regiments—from the military chain of command to the Royal Security Command under his direct supervision. The following year he established a new elite faction of the Thai Army—known as kho daeng, or red collar—whose members the palace nominates and from whom top leadership posts must be picked, including the Army Commander, Supreme Commander, and the Commander of the First Army Area, which covers central Thailand including Bangkok and has historically staged several coups. In addition, more than 1,600 police have been assigned to protect the King and his family. Also in 2017, King Vajiralongkorn changed the national constitution to allow him to rule from abroad. Months later he dismissed or reassigned 96 palace staff on charges such as being 'lazy' or 'arrogant,' according to official royal proclamations, and later dismissed six palace officials for 'extremely evil' conduct. When, in 2019, Vajiralongkorn's oldest sister Princess Ubolratana announced her candidacy for Prime Minister, Vajiralongkorn quickly blocked her, saying it would 'defy the nation's culture.' In July 2019, King Vajiralongkorn designated Sineenatha Wongvajirapakdi as his official consort—rekindling a position that hadn't been seen for almost a century—only to strip her of her title and rank three months later. After she disappeared for 10 months, Sineenatha reemerged in August 2020 suddenly restored to her former position as 'untainted,' though she briefly disappeared from public view again in late 2021. Today, other than his queen and official consort, Vajiralongkorn has increasingly been seen with two other minor consorts, who have even been charged with royal duties in his absence. In fact, the line of succession is the only aspect of palace life that King Vajiralongkorn has yet to exert a firm hand over—but it is the one that threatens to be most destabilizing. 'It's the king's prerogative; it's the palace's prerogative,' shrugs Max of the succession. 'I don't care because that is not my intent in life. 'The bottom line is that I love and respect His Majesty and want nothing more than to literally kiss his feet again. I just want to make people around him understand that there is absolutely no danger of any kind. I don't want anything. I respect the institution and just love my homeland.' Does his American family feel the same way? Max breaks into a weary grin. He reveals that he recently overheard a young friend of his 10-year-old son asking him what it was like being a part of a royal family. 'My son looked at his friend and says, 'Oh, it's crazy. There's nothing good about it.'' Write to Charlie Campbell at
Chicago Tribune
6 minutes ago
- Chicago Tribune
Bill Moyers, the former White House press secretary turned acclaimed TV journalist, dead at 91
NEW YORK — Bill Moyers, the former White House press secretary who became one of television's most honored journalists, masterfully using a visual medium to illuminate a world of ideas, died Thursday at age 91. Moyer died in a New York City hospital, according to longtime friend Tom Johnson, the former CEO of CNN and an assistant to Moyers during Lyndon B. Johnson's administration. He did not cite Moyers' cause of death. Moyer's career ranged from youthful Baptist minister to deputy director of the Peace Corps, from Johnson's press secretary to newspaper publisher, senior news analyst for 'The CBS Evening News' and chief correspondent for 'CBS Reports.' But it was for public television that Moyers produced some of TV's most cerebral and provocative series. In hundreds of hours of PBS programs, he proved at home with subjects ranging from government corruption to modern dance, from drug addiction to media consolidation, from religion to environmental abuse. In 1988, Moyers produced 'The Secret Government' about the Iran-Contra scandal during the Reagan administration and simultaneously published a book under the same name. Around that time, he galvanized viewers with 'Joseph Campbell and the Power of Myth,' a series of six one-hour interviews with the prominent religious scholar. The accompanying book became a best-seller. His televised chats with poet Robert Bly almost single-handedly launched the 1990s Men's Movement, and his 1993 series 'Healing and the Mind' had a profound impact on the medical community and on medical education. In a medium that supposedly abhors 'talking heads' — shots of subject and interviewer talking — Moyers came to specialize in just that. He once explained why: 'The question is, are the talking heads thinking minds and thinking people? Are they interesting to watch? I think the most fascinating production value is the human face.' Demonstrating what someone called 'a soft, probing style' in the native Texas accent he never lost, Moyers was a humanist who investigated the world with a calm, reasoned perspective, whatever the subject. From some quarters, he was blasted as a liberal thanks to his links with Johnson and public television, as well as his no-holds-barred approach to investigative journalism. It was a label he didn't necessarily deny. 'I'm an old-fashion liberal when it comes to being open and being interested in other people's ideas,' he said during a 2004 radio interview. But Moyers preferred to term himself a 'citizen journalist' operating independently, outside the establishment. Public television (and his self-financed production company) gave him free rein to throw 'the conversation of democracy open to all comers,' he said in a 2007 interview with The Associated Press. 'I think my peers in commercial television are talented and devoted journalists,' he said another time, 'but they've chosen to work in a corporate mainstream that trims their talent to fit the corporate nature of American life. And you do not get rewarded for telling the hard truths about America in a profit-seeking environment.' Over the years, Moyers was showered with honors, including more than 30 Emmys, 11 George Foster Peabody awards, three George Polks and, twice, the Alfred I. duPont-Columbia University Gold Baton Award for career excellence in broadcast journalism. In 1995, he was inducted into the Television Hall of Fame. Born in Hugo, Oklahoma, on June 5, 1934, Billy Don Moyers was the son of a dirt farmer-truck driver who soon moved his family to Marshall, Texas. High school led him into journalism. 'I wanted to play football, but I was too small. But I found that by writing sports in the school newspaper, the players were always waiting around at the newsstand to see what I wrote,' he recalled. He worked for the Marshall News Messenger at age 16. Deciding that Bill Moyers was a more appropriate byline for a sportswriter, he dropped the 'y' from his name. He graduated from the University of Texas and earned a master's in divinity from Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary. He was ordained and preached part time at two churches but later decided his call to the ministry 'was a wrong number.' His relationship with Johnson began when he was in college; he wrote the then-senator offering to work in his 1954 re-election campaign. Johnson was impressed and hired him for a summer job. He was back in Johnson's employ as a personal assistant in the early 1960s and for two years, he worked at the Peace Corps, eventually becoming deputy director. On the day John F. Kennedy was assassinated in Dallas, Moyers was in Austin helping with the presidential trip. He flew back to Washington on Air Force One with newly sworn-in President Johnson, for whom he held various jobs over the ensuing years, including press secretary. Moyers' stint as presidential press secretary was marked by efforts to mend the deteriorating relationship between Johnson and the media. But the Vietnam war took its toll and Moyers resigned in December 1966. Of his departure from the White House, he wrote later, 'We had become a war government, not a reform government, and there was no creative role left for me under those circumstances.' He conceded that he may have been 'too zealous in my defense of our policies' and said he regretted criticizing journalists such as Pulitzer Prize-winner Peter Arnett, then a special correspondent with the AP, and CBS's Morley Safer for their war coverage. In 1967, Moyers became publisher of Long Island-based Newsday and concentrated on adding news analyses, investigative pieces and lively features. Within three years, the suburban daily had won two Pulitzers. He left the paper in 1970 after the ownership changed. That summer, he traveled 13,000 miles around the country and wrote a best-selling account of his odyssey: 'Listening to America: a Traveler Rediscovers His Country.' His next venture was in public television and he won critical acclaim for 'Bill Moyers Journal,' a series in which interviews ranged from Gunnar Myrdal, the Swedish economist, to poet Maya Angelou. He was chief correspondent of 'CBS Reports' from 1976 to 1978, went back to PBS for three years, and then was senior news analyst for CBS from 1981 to 1986. When CBS cut back on documentaries, he returned to PBS for much less money. 'If you have a skill that you can fold with your tent and go wherever you feel you have to go, you can follow your heart's desire,' he once said. Then in 1986, he and his wife, Judith Davidson Moyers, became their own bosses by forming Public Affairs Television, an independent shop that has not only produced programs such as the 10-hour 'In Search of the Constitution,' but also paid for them through its own fundraising efforts. His projects in the 21st century included 'Now,' a weekly PBS public affairs program; a new edition of 'Bill Moyers Journal' and a podcast covering racism, voting rights and the rise of Donald Trump, among other subjects. Moyers married Judith Davidson, a college classmate, in 1954, and they raised three children, among them the author Suzanne Moyers and author-TV producer William Cope Moyers. Judith eventually became her husband's partner, creative collaborator and president of their production company.
