This recent conflict between Thailand and Cambodia has made me understand the meaning of the term “ivory tower.”

Many people in academia appear completely detached from international politics, grassroots politics, and the inner workings of Cambodian domestic politics. They seem unaware that Cambodian nationalism has posed a challenge to Thailand for many years, including through forms of chauvinism, jingoism, and irredentism—the persistent desire to reclaim territory.

These characteristics are clear manifestations of nationalism, yet they are often overlooked when discussing Cambodia while being readily attributed to Thailand.

Cambodia has challenged Thailand through these forms of nationalism for years. Thais have often attempted to reason with and explain the situation calmly, but with little success. This has contributed to tensions at the grassroots level for some time, until the government deployed troops along the Thai-Cambodian border, making what many Thais perceived as a “Cambodian threat” tangible.

Yet instead of sympathizing with their fellow Thais or acknowledging the concerns surrounding Cambodia, some Thai academics have chosen to label Thais themselves as “nationalistic.”

This distortion is not new. It reflects a long-standing tendency within parts of academia to interpret Thailand through a particular ideological framework—one that often places greater sympathy on other nations while viewing Thailand as the more powerful party that inevitably bears greater responsibility.

According to this perspective, “Thailand bullies smaller nations,” while what is considered authentically Thai is dismissed as a social construct created to maintain political power.

This can become little more than academic wordplay, clinging to philosophical principles developed decades ago without sufficiently considering how the world has changed.

Many academics remain heavily influenced by textbooks and theories popular from the 1980s through the 2000s, particularly postmodernist thinking, which challenged many of the assumptions of modernism.

One important concept associated with modernity is nation-state construction.

Nation-state construction can be understood as the process through which historically diverse populations were consolidated into modern political states, often through shared language, culture, political institutions, territorial boundaries, and a common sense of identity.

In its most simplified form, it is about creating a sense of unity among people who perceive themselves as belonging to the same political community.

The modern concept of a “nation” therefore seeks to transform individuals into members of a larger community bound by a shared identity, history, culture, and—sometimes—perceptions of common ancestry.

But in the postmodern era, thinkers began challenging this concept, arguing that nation-states can marginalize minorities and, in some cases, become fanatical because they assume their nation is superior to others.

This led to increasingly strong criticism of the very concept of nationhood, sometimes reaching the argument that “nations do not really exist” or that “borders do not really exist” because they are relatively recent constructions of modern history and, therefore, should ultimately be dismantled.

Philosophically speaking, there is truth in this argument.

But in reality, no one seriously behaves as though borders do not exist. Crossing into another country's territory without permission can have serious—and potentially fatal—consequences.

Likewise, saying that nations do not “really exist” because they are constructed from various historical, social, and political factors may be philosophically valid. But if you were to tell another country, “Our nation does not really exist,” that country would hardly respond with a philosophical discussion. It could simply take advantage of your weakness.

This distinction resembles the Buddhist concept of conventional truth and ultimate truth.

Consider a house. A house consists of beams, pillars, doors, windows, a roof, and countless other components. From the perspective of ultimate reality, the “house” does not exist as an independent, permanent entity; it is merely a combination of causes and conditions.

A nation is similar.

But Buddhism also recognizes that, within the conventional world, we still have to operate according to conventional designations. A house may ultimately be nothing more than a collection of components, but we still call it a house—and we must also recognize whose house it is.

This is because ordinary human beings live in the world of conventional reality. Ultimate truth may be relevant to those who have transcended attachment, but ordinary societies still have to deal with territory, sovereignty, security, identity, and political power.

Simply put, believing that “the nation does not exist” may be an interesting philosophical proposition. But for ordinary people living among neighboring states with competing interests, applying that principle literally could put the survival of the nation at risk.

Thai academics who focus exclusively on the “non-existence” of the nation while criticizing their fellow citizens for being “nationalistic” sometimes appear to be adopting the perspective of enlightened beings while continuing to live in the conventional world.

They elevate themselves to the level of ultimate truth while failing to fully understand the political reality in which they live.

Such philosophical rhetoric may be entertaining in academic debates. In the real world, however, applying it without pragmatism can be dangerous.

The Failure of Postnationalism

Going back to the period when postmodernism was flourishing, nationalism was increasingly challenged by ideas such as postnationalism—the vision that humanity could eventually move beyond nations, borders, and traditional national identities.

Canada, for example, was once described by former Prime Minister Justin Trudeau as the world's first “postnational” state, reflecting an approach that emphasized immigration, multiculturalism, and diversity over a narrowly defined national identity.

But the consequences of such policies have also generated political tensions.

Large-scale immigration has changed Canadian society, while debates over integration, cultural identity, immigration levels, and the preservation of traditional Canadian values have fueled resistance among parts of the population.

As concerns about national identity have grown, nationalist and right-wing political movements have gained strength—not only in Canada but across the United States and Europe.

The broader lesson is that attempts to move beyond nationalism do not necessarily eliminate nationalism. In some cases, they can provoke its resurgence.

And this is exactly what we are witnessing around the world today.

The world appears to have moved away from the optimism of postnationalism and toward a renewed emphasis on national identity. Nationalist and right-wing movements are emerging across continents.

Thailand is no exception.

After being confronted with tensions involving Cambodia, nationalist sentiment has resurfaced in Thailand, accompanied by demands for stronger military action and, in some cases, even calls for a coup.

Some of these reactions may indeed be considered far-right.

But the broader phenomenon is a normal response to perceived external threats.

When people feel threatened, their attachment to their own community, shared values, culture, and national identity naturally becomes stronger.

Simply put, patriotism can function as a form of collective defense. It does not automatically constitute fanaticism.

This is where some academics fundamentally misunderstand Thai society.

They cling to ideological frameworks without sufficient pragmatism. They criticize Thai people for becoming more nationalistic without adequately considering the threats, fears, and circumstances that have contributed to that reaction.

Worse, some appear more sympathetic toward those perceived as threatening Thailand than toward the Thai people themselves.

This creates an intellectual imbalance: fellow Thais are viewed as intellectually or morally inferior, while neighboring societies are granted greater understanding and sympathy.

They fail to recognize that nationalism exists on all sides—and that neighboring countries may also possess powerful forms of national identity, historical grievance, territorial consciousness, and chauvinism.

Instead, they continue to point the finger at their fellow citizens.

When Nationalism Becomes a “Sin”

The study of political philosophy in Thailand appears to have reached a troubling point. Since the coup, there has been a lack of political frameworks capable of systematically explaining the complexities of contemporary Thai politics.

This is already disappointing.

What is even more disappointing is seeing thinkers and educators struggle to understand the political dynamics between Thailand and its neighbors while continuing to rely on outdated ideological assumptions.

When intellectuals repeatedly use theories that devalue national identity, it becomes difficult not to question whether academia has become disconnected from the society it is supposed to understand.

It sometimes feels as though being a nationalist—or even simply viewing one's own country positively—is treated as a “sin” in certain academic circles.

Conversely, being anti-nationalist can appear to function as a kind of unofficial certification of intellectual sophistication.

But in today's world, one of the most important questions should be:

Why are Thailand's neighbors so strongly nationalistic, and why does the same criticism not appear to be applied equally to them?

Instead, we often see the opposite: neighboring nationalism is explained, contextualized, and sympathized with, while Thai nationalism is condemned as uniquely dangerous.

For more than three decades, Thai nationalism and the concept of Thainess have been continuously questioned, criticized, and deconstructed by sections of the intellectual establishment.

Perhaps that is not inherently wrong.

A society should be capable of questioning its own identity.

But there is a difference between questioning nationalism and completely dismantling a society's sense of national identity.

When a nation is confronted by another nation that possesses a powerful sense of nationalism, the question is no longer purely philosophical.

It becomes a question of survival.

And that is precisely where the ivory tower becomes dangerous: when intellectual theories become so detached from reality that those who live outside the tower can no longer recognize themselves in the theories being used to describe them.

Article by Kornkit Disthan, Assistant Managing Editor and Foreign News Editor, The Better

Photo by MANAN VATSYAYANA / AFP