Thailand's Prime Minister is set to enact an amnesty for guerillas involved in the deadly insurgency in the country's southern provinces. But in the restive south, there is little appetite for surrender, or forgiveness. ''We are in the light, they are in the dark. They will never come out, [they] stay in the shadows.'' Arware speaks of his unenviable task, standing alone behind a makeshift parapet, guarding his Buddhist village, Ko Kachim, in Thailand's deep south against attack by Muslim separatist guerillas. But his words, too, reflect his thoughts on the chances of those guerillas laying down their arms and walking out of the jungle in peace.
Arware is a village defence volunteer, one of 40,000 in the region. Men, and increasingly women, who, because the government can't protect them, are given a couple of days' training by the army, a rifle, and the hope the insurgents choose a softer target this night. ''People have been killed here. Too many people. So we stay here to guard every night, every night, to keep our village safe.''
For more than half a decade, this part of Thailand has been torn apart by an insurgency fought by Islamic extremists who want independence, or some form of autonomy, for the three southern provinces Pattani, Yala and Narathiwat. Eighty-five per cent of people here are not ethnic Thais, but Malayu-speaking Muslims. Few, however, claim the insurgents fight for them. This insurgency is a shadowy, splintered force. There are at least a dozen groups and factions, of varying strength, but rarely is credit claimed for any attack, and never has an explicit list of demands articulated. The violence, however, is real.
Beheadings, drive-by shootings and burning of bodies are so commonplace as to barely be news. Teachers at government schools, a favourite target of insurgents, are taken to school under army guard. They teach behind concrete walls ringed with razor wire. Army roadblocks populate the cities and the villages. Deep scars in the roads mark where bombs have been set off.
Some 30,000 troops, 45 per cent of Thailand's army, are stationed in the three southern provinces, home to 2 million people. Security is also provided by corps of rangers - black-clad paramilitary units - the police, and defence volunteers, such as Arware. But in many instances, these ''security forces'' are part of the problem. Reports of abuses are widespread, with insurgent suspects beaten, tortured with electric shocks, forced to dig holes and told they will be buried in them if they don't confess. In many cases, people simply disappear.
Since the long-standing disaffection of Muslims in Thailand's south reignited into conflict with the theft of government weapons in January 2004, the insurgency has claimed, according to various counts, between 3800 and 4100 lives. More than 6000 have been injured. Regarded one of the most violent insurgencies on the planet - the Australian government has issued a ''do not travel'' warning for the three provinces - the deep south of Thailand, according to the US military, had the third-highest number of terrorist bomb attacks in the world last year.
Now, with the violence past its sixth anniversary, and with no sign of abatement, Thai Prime Minister Abhisit Vejjajiva has proposed an amnesty for anyone involved in the conflict, which is claiming on average nearly two lives each day.
Abhisit announced he would take to the meeting of the National Security Council this month a proposal to implement Article 21 of Thailand's Internal Security Act. ''Article 21, if implemented, would grant an amnesty to insurgents in the south, so they could voluntarily turn themselves in to the authorities, who in turn would not impose any charges against them,'' the Prime Minister said in a statement.
Details of exactly who would be granted immunity from prosecution, and under what conditions are still unknown. Government spokesman Panitan Wattanayagorn told The Age the National Security Council would devise a framework for assessing claims for immunity, but, ultimately, a court would rule on who is granted amnesty and who is not. The requirement to have people declare themselves insurgents before they know if they will be pardoned is the most obvious of many practical difficulties.
Standing in the darkness, on the front line of defence, Arware is doubtful any form of amnesty will be accepted by insurgents or by the communities they terrorise. ''If it is true, then maybe it can work. If they [the insurgents] can believe they will have immunity, then the situation here might be peaceful. But they will not believe, they will not surrender. And [there] cannot [be] immunity for everyone. The murderers must be punished.''
In a Muslim village in the nearby Yalan district, three village elders are equally sceptical. ''The last time the state officials ask for people to surrender, when they go back home to their village, they are shot dead. It is the soldiers killing them. People don't trust the government. I think it is impossible now. There is too much fear.''
This village too, has a defence corp. The Muslim enclaves are not immune from violence, from revenge attacks, political power struggles, or army brutality. Mosques have been attacked by gunmen. But the civilian volunteer defenders here have no guns. Twice, their government-supplied weapons have been stolen. They are now in the hands of insurgents. The army is, understandably, reluctant to offer them more guns. And anyway, there is no money for more.
The government has committed a massive 54 billion baht to the southern region, but has earmarked the money for ''development'' projects such as housing and programs to boost the fishing and rubber industries, arguing that lifting one of Thailand's poorest region out of poverty will help quell the unrest. The three village leaders like the idea, in theory at least. ''But policy and operation are very different. What the government in Bangkok says it will do and what happens in the south are always different,'' they say.