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Open Door. When Sarit seized power, Thailand had a stable currency and healthy dollar reserves, but had just suffered a 30% drop in its rice exports—an ominous warning that unless it diversified, its economy might be in trouble. To attract foreign capital, Sarit offered terms that U.S. economists found "unparalleled." There is now no duty on machinery or spare parts, no corporation taxes for five years, no obstacles put in the way of foreign experts coming in or foreign profits going out. At the same time, U.S. aid—$160 million in the past eight years—does its work unhindered by the customary Asian complex that to take advice is to lose face; unlike its neighbors, Thailand (formerly Siam) has been an independent nation for 600 years, and is not touchily sensitive that foreign aid might bring back colonialism. U.S. aid has improved rice seed and livestock, built roads and reservoirs, put up 31 hospitals, 500 bridges, 750 health centers.
With a stern eye cocked on familiar habits among his own countrymen, Sarit has decreed new penalties for corruption, ranging from five years in prison to death. Vigilant against Communists, Sarit last month personally questioned a captured Communist guerrilla, then ordered him machine-gunned. Just about any Thai politician or journalist who ever set foot in Red China has been arrested.
Some of Sarit's admirers fear that, having once nearly played himself to death, he may now work himself to death. The idea seems to occur to the strongman too. Recently fishermen asked the Agriculture Department whether the ban on Communist imports meant that grown fish in their nurseries, originally imported from Red China, were now illegal. The bureaucrats, afraid to rule, sought out Sarit, resting on a beach outside Bangkok. He told them to leave the fish alone, then rolled crankily over in the sun. "Isn't there anyone else." he grumbled, "who can make a decision around here?"