the odd compliment or query from the few friends who knew he was the author, it never occurred to him it would have any local consequences or be read in Thailand. It was just a personal outlet. He felt better once he had untangled the thoughts swirling through his head; and there was always the thought that maybe one day it might all fall into a place as a book, a record of a decade, something.
Unfortunately the story showed up readily on internet searches and led to a series of events he had no desire or intention of provoking, attracting the attention of some of Bangkok’s nastiest elements.
Bars such as Bangkok’s Night Boys, which are by no means unique in a country where poverty is endemic amongst the rural sections of the population and in the provinces boys as young as 12 or 13 can be bought for ten dollars or so, are in direct contravention with the United Nations Conventions on the Rights of the Child and the UN's campaigns to eradicate child prostitution in the region. Thailand is a signatory to the Convention.
He opened it with a quote from Dies Irae (Day of Wrath), a famous thirteenth century Latin hymn thought to be written by Thomas of Celano. The poem describes the end of the world and the Day of Judgment. At the time he often played it at home as it suited his mood.
The hymn read in part:
“Day of wrath! O day of mourning!
See fulfilled the prophets' warning, Heaven and earth in ashes burning!
The day of wrath, that day Will dissolve the world in ashes
Lo! the book, exactly worded, wherein all hath been recorded: thence shall judgment be awarded…
When therefore the judge will sit, whatever hides will appear: nothing will remain unpublished.”
The author's attempts to repair the damage he had done, bring a stop to the propaganda war directed against him return some semblance of normality to his life all failed.
Firstly, in Aek's company and in what he hoped was a conspicuous display, he withdrew the complaint he had made to X-Size. It made no difference. He also took the material which had offended some of the city’s most dangerous people off the internet.
The author also talked to the bar’s owner, explaining what had happened and how he had no wish to take on the gay mafia of Bangkok, something beyond the capacity of any individual. He just wanted to live a peaceful life. But his attempts to fix the mistakes and the powerful enemies he had inadvertently created made no difference to the level of attacks against him.
So out of frustration he opted to go in the other direction; and tell the whole story, including admitting his own mistakes.
The repeated death threats he began to receive induced him to place the evolving document onto the internet each day for his own protection, an action no author would normally take. His thinking was that the higher a person’s profile the harder it was to kill them. The more obvious his enemies became, the more likely they were to come under surveillance or suspicion themselves.
Later he came to wonder: would the Thais really care whether one of Australia's better known journalists was killed or not? Just like Americans, much of the rest of the world holds little interest for Thais.
In any case the government moved quickly to block the website, not just in Thailand but around the world; thereby using tax payer funds to protect criminals.
Another difficulty involved with the writing of The Twilight Soi was that the author had become accustomed to having the backing of a multi-billion media company whenever he strayed from the often routine stories of general news reporter into more controversial areas.
Most of his professional life when Michael ventured into disputed or confrontational arenas he was hidden behind a computer screen, a byline, a microphone or a multi-billion dollar media company. If someone didn’t like what he had to say, they were perfectly welcome to write a letter or complain to the management, under whose instructions he was usually operating anyway.
Since leaving News Limited he no longer had the resources of a multi-billion company to back investigations which strayed into more controversial areas.
The author was used to being crazy brave, all for the sake of telling someone else's story. If they threatened to take legal action he had one simple response: "If you want to sue an eighty billion dollar company go right ahead."
He missed the first rate security expertise, the legal advice, the guidance and the physical protection that would have been automatically offered any of the journalists working for the world’s leading news organization, if News Limited decided this was a story they wanted to back or throw resources at.
Whether The Twilight Soi would have attracted such support amongst his former place of employment and the present hierarchy for their publication’s largely public service, legal or business oriented readership was a moot point.
Of course there were worst stories happening to people every day of the week than the one the author tells here. People were starving to death or being killed in war zones in various parts of the world. Michael wasn’t lying in bed dying of cancer. He hadn’t lost all of his money and assets.
But nearing 60 after a lifetime of hard work and after having just brought up two children on his own, this was a time he thought belonged to him, to enjoy himself. It was not to be.
At first the vilification, ridicule and outright hatred directed at him from people he had tried to befriend and to understand was both hurtful and hard to understand.
At the same time the public support for Aek, deliberately rubbed in his face, was difficult to deal with emotionally.
People cat called him, labeling him a buffalo and a farmer, two of the Thai words for stupid or unsophisticated. It was true enough that having come from the relative backwater of Sydney he was completely unfamiliar with the ways of Bangkok’s infamous go-go bars.
But nor are many of those who visit Bangkok.
Many of those busy labeling him a fool had no university degrees, had never had their work published on the front pages of newspapers, had never travelled around the world, had never written books and were on the whole working for miserable wages.
But the mob is a powerful thing and nothing was going to stand in the way of their ridicule.
In the old fashioned world of journalism he had first entered in what came to seem like the profession’s hay days of high principle, way back in the 1970s, attention to detail and the importance of getting “the first draft of history’’ correct were seen as fundamental and noble goals.
You can attempt to blacken and discredit a journalist as often as you like for their misfit natures and lack of conformity to normal social mores. It was the story itself that mattered.
Back then, journalism was a world full of unusual and colorful characters. Reporters were better known for their dissolute ways than their saintliness. From his experience, the public, fascinated by the inner-workings of a media they might all have personal views about but could only observe from the outside, were disappointed if the journalists they met were not eccentric in one way or another. In truth the peculiarities of his own personality meant it was doubtful he could have survived, much less thrived, in any other profession.
Traditionally reporters liked to think they were writing the truth in a fearless way for the public good, making journalism an admired profession. In Australia many thousands of aspirants
