In a Bangkok penthouse apartment overlooking the Chao Payara River, two former fraternity brothers, Way Yuhl and Moo, from Sonoma State University recently sat down to discuss the stark differences between Thai and American culture. Their conversation revealed unexpected insights about both societies, challenging common perceptions about Thai friendliness and American openness.
"Thai people are too shy," explains Moo, a successful Thai businessman who studied in the United States. But this observation quickly gives way to a more nuanced reality. Thai people, he suggests, are like chameleons – adaptable, but not always genuine. While the culture is famous for its friendliness, Moo candidly admits that this warmth often masks different underlying thoughts and intentions.
This dynamic played out in Thailand's World War II strategy, which Moo cites as a telling example of Thai pragmatism. The country aligned with Japan and Germany declared war on the United States and its allies, then smoothly switched sides when the war ended. It's this flexibility – or "shrewdness," as Moo terms it – that he sees as quintessentially Thai.
The conversation turns to a crucial distinction: while Thai people are universally friendly, their helpfulness often depends on status. "Maybe if you are superior to them," Moo responds when asked if Thai people are as helpful with each other as they are with foreigners. This superiority, he clarifies, is measured in "money, higher potential."
When the discussion shifts to American politics, Moo's analysis is both incisive and unsparing. For Thai people, he says, Trump represents a dangrous figure: "He is a demagogue, he hates foreigners." Moo points out a stark urban-rural divide in American voting patterns, noting that major cities like Atlanta and Houston consistently vote Democratic. The real challenge, he suggests, lies in the rural areas and suburbs where voters "just want to hear the good words, the good things. Even they know that Trump could not deliver it, but they just want to believe it."
He uses the automotive industry as an example of political manipulation. "Trump tries to stick with combustion engine, you know, not EV. But you know, the world goes to EV. It had to go to EV eventually." He observes how Trump appeals to Midwest swing states with automobile industries, despite global trends toward electric vehicles. Moo, who owns two Chinese-made EVs himself, notes the irony of America falling behind China in this sector. Way confirms this stating, “The president of Ford just came back from China and said they're so far ahead of us we can't compete.”
Perhaps most striking is Moo's observation about Thai immigrants in America. "I have a lot of Thai friends who are living in the United States now. They stay like 30 years. ... Like 90% of them vote for Trump." These long-term immigrants, he explains, justify their position by claiming they "worked a lot harder than many immigrants now." This pattern of successful immigrants opposing new immigration is, as Way notes, a recurring theme "since the 1800s."
The source of American power, in Moo's analysis, comes down to a unique economic advantage: "You (America) can print the money... any country when they want to print a bank note or money they have to have gold or something to back up. But not American. That's why you're a superpower."
Despite America's proclaimed commitment to equality, Moo's two-and-a-half years in the United States revealed a darker reality. "I felt I was second class. I felt it," he states emphatically, describing his experience as an Asian student. His story illuminates the persistent racial hierarchies that exist beneath America's egalitarian surface. Even more telling is the experience of his friend Sudo, a Japanese-American born in the United States, who still didn't feel fully accepted. "Even though he was born in the US, he didn't feel like one of your guys," Moo recalls.
The fraternity experience becomes a microcosm of these racial dynamics. Sudo "wouldn't join the fraternity" until he saw Moo, who "couldn't speak English" well, successfully become a member. Moo's presence inadvertently became a catalyst for other students who had previously felt excluded from such spaces. "That's what happened," he explains, revealing how his simple act of joining on registration day – "I joined all the clubs" – “I didn't even know what a fraternity was. But I joined.” This simple act helped break down barriers for others.
His strategy during this time was deliberate: "I don't want to stay with Thai people because I want to speak English." Despite feeling like a second-class citizen, Moo was determined to make the most of his American experience, even though he "never want[ed] to stay in the US."
Conversely, the American university system earns Moo's praise for fostering innovation and accepting talented people from around the world – a strength Way fears will be eliminated by Trump's restrictive immigration policies. Moo’s daughter's achievement of earning a Master's degree in Economics from Columbia University stands as a testament to the opportunities American education can provide.
These insights, shared over cocktails between old friends, paint a picture of two nations grappling with their ideals and realities. Thailand's famous friendliness comes with complex social calculations, while America's promise of equality remains a distant dream. As Moo puts it, regarding American ideals, "Well, at least the goal is that all men are created equal. Maybe not exactly true, but a lot better than other countries or Thailand."
Perhaps what emerges most powerfully from this riverside conversation is that meaningful cultural understanding requires us to look beyond comfortable assumptions. While Thailand may present a facade of universal friendliness and America may trumpet its democratic ideals, the reality in both nations demands deeper examination.
Moo's candid observations remind us that genuine cross-cultural insight begins when we dare to ask uncomfortable questions, spend time with people different from ourselves, and challenge our own deeply held beliefs about both our home culture and others.
The next time you encounter someone from a different cultural background, resist the urge to accept surface-level explanations. Instead, engage in genuine dialogue about the complexities and contradictions within both societies—you might be surprised by what you learn about their culture, and your own.
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