Why does Thai society often assume the role of a vigilante court online, ready to judge someone within the blink of an eye, even though many times we barely know the person’s identity, context, or the full facts surrounding those stories?
An intriguing question is: when society becomes addicted to anger and turns violence into daily entertainment, how should the true justice system function?
This issue was addressed in the panel discussion “After the Verdict,” organized by Amnesty International Thailand on 1 Sep 2026, with Pharaoh Techaphon Kamsikaew from The Common Thread channel hosting. The discussion delved into wounds, opportunities, and humanity through the lives of individuals previously judged by the system and society.
The story of Daniel Wiwatwong Duwa, a former youth from Baan Kanchanaphisek who became third runner-up in the Golden Mic singing contest, clearly reflects repeated judgment by the media and society. His childhood case began with family violence—his grandfather often drank heavily and became violent toward family members, a blind spot the police at the time dismissed as a 'private matter' and declined to intervene.
When the law could not guarantee daily safety, the pressure forced a child to solve problems alone, escalating into fights and tragedy. At that time, the media headlines sensationalized the story, neglecting to investigate and present the root causes affecting the entire family.
The impact of being stigmatized by sensational headlines did not end with Daniel’s punishment; it haunted him throughout his life, even after serving his sentence, gaining freedom, and attempting a fresh start by competing nationally in singing contests.
Living outside prison felt like an endless sentence because society constantly reopened old wounds. Daniel admitted that if he had given in to the criticism, he might not have survived to this day.
“I don’t think I can change anyone’s mind. What I can do is just be the best version of myself.”
The wounds of repeated judgment are further emphasized through the experience of Chokchai Pornpaisan, a former death row inmate on drug charges at Bang Kwang Prison, who lost over 18 years of freedom. Chokchai shared a similar painful experience with Daniel—that those who make mistakes are often judged three times.
The first time is being judged by society and the media as soon as the news breaks; the second time is being judged 'in court' under disadvantaged conditions, without bail to gather evidence; and the third is being judged as a 'former prisoner' when reintegrating into society.
“...Right or wrong, I don’t know the legal verdict, but society has already judged me as wicked.”
Originally, Chokchai was just an honest limousine driver at the airport. One day, a passenger hired his car, but he was unaware that the passenger was a major drug dealer being stung by the police.
That job led to his arrest with over 200,000 methamphetamine pills—the first time he had ever seen drugs in his life.
This occurred around 2000–2001 during the government’s declared war on drugs, with policies heavily pressuring the justice system. Chokchai recounted that almost no drug case was acquitted, even when the entire village signed petitions confirming his innocence. Such evidence carried little weight as the scales tipped heavily toward the prosecution.
What weighed most heavily on Chokchai’s heart was not the chains on his feet but his mother’s eyes. The arresting police knew he was innocent and even apologized to his mother in the courtroom.
“...Since that day, I have never seen my mother smile. When one is imprisoned, it’s not just the individual—it’s the whole family, those who love us, trust us, and know our true selves who suffer with the accusations.”
Imprisonment is therefore not just punishment for one person but a theft of life, hope, and a penalty on the family behind them—especially since, from his perspective, prisons reproduce violence rather than serve as places for rehabilitation.
“...The prison environment cannot turn bad people into good, but it turns good people into bad because resources are insufficient. Selfless people become selfish; those who respect others become rude just to survive in such conditions.”
Regarding state violence, Thitirat Tipsamritkul, a law lecturer at Thammasat University, elaborated that Thai society often fails to realize that we ourselves permit such violence by electing representatives, administrators, and paying taxes that fund state mechanisms.
Yet when problems arise, we feel detached, and bureaucrats remain aloof, working in silos without regard for interconnected consequences.
Meanwhile, the public enjoys using the 'social media court' as entertainment, forgetting the fundamental principle of the 'presumption of innocence' and typically only seeking sympathy or influence when their own families are affected.
“The social media court has become entertainment, turning others’ stories into daily amusement—discussing violence and cruelty with delight, without any real feeling...”
Thitirat suggested society adopt the concept of the 'Veil of Ignorance,' viewing everyone in the justice process as equal human beings regardless of identity, background, gender, or race, so decisions are truly fair and treat everyone as equals.
Speaking of restoring humanity, Ticha Na Nakorn, or Pa Mon, director of the Baan Kanchanaphisek Boys’ Training and Rehabilitation Center, demonstrates that 'understanding' holds more power than 'walls and chains.'
Pa Mon believes Thai society is not yet mature enough to question structural issues. The state often evades responsibility for tragedies, leaving offenders as mere products of failures the state has created. Baan Kanchanaphisek takes an approach opposite to ordinary prisons: no high walls, no barbed wire fences, and when children arrive, the first thing they receive is a 'hug' to restore their broken humanity.
“...I don’t believe in prison violence or juvenile detention centers that use violence. I’m not a state official. Being part of the state makes people stop analyzing situations, thinking uniformly and remaining stuck forever.”
Pa Mon insists choosing peaceful methods is not weakness but a belief that deep down, every human desires to be good. Respect for basic human rights, clothing, appearance, and dignity are tools that heal the mind better than forced vocational training as in prisons.
Of course, society often asks, 'What about the victims? Who will heal them?' Both Daniel and Thitirat agree that victim healing and offender punishment should be clearly separated processes and agencies. Punishment by equivalent violence, such as 'an eye for an eye,' does not truly help victims heal.
The state should have systematic mechanisms to support victims psychologically, financially, and in daily life. Many countries provide spaces for victims and offenders to communicate, unlocking pain more effectively than revenge-driven justice processes.
“Human feelings are dynamic and always change. Over time, or when we learn broader perspectives, anger can transform into understanding if society collectively builds a fair ecosystem of awareness.” The former death row inmate concluded the discussion.
The panel’s conclusion does not call for glorifying crime or ignoring victims’ pain but invites us to reflect on the roles of social media courts, the press, and state mechanisms: Are we using rage to deepen society’s wounds?
Since laws and justice processes are a national consensus, we all share responsibility for every verdict—both in formal courts and in the vigilante courts on our smartphone screens.