Mr. Luck Automates Fortunetelling; Some Rivals Want Industry Regulation
September 15, 2008
By JAMES HOOKWAY
The Wall Street Journal (USA)
BANGKOK -- For a glimpse into the future of fortunetelling in Thailand, pay a visit to Luck Rakhanithes.
At Mr. Luck's plush, three-story Bangkok offices, a team of telephone operators guides anxious callers through the chaos of everyday life. Some learn what their prospects are for securing a suitable love match or a well-paying job. Others are given auspicious dates for starting a new business.
At 36 years old, Mr. Luck is part of a new generation of business-savvy seers turning the ancient art of astrology into big business. He's a prime-time fixture on Thai television for waving a red flag when he is 100% certain about his predictions (a white flag goes up when he's less sure). He sells about 300,000 books a year, he says, thanks to a distribution deal with the local operator of the 7-Eleven convenience-store chain.
As Thailand comes to grips with two years of political unrest -- including a coup, deadly riots and, last week, a court ruling forcing the prime minister to step down for hosting a television cooking show -- the country has lapped up Mr. Luck's confident forecasts.
"Every time there's a crisis in Thailand, it's a glorious time for astrologers," Mr. Luck says.
It's all too much for some in the old guard, whose predictions tend to be vaguer and more in keeping with the ancient traditions of seers here. These astrologers typically don't speak in certainties, preferring instead to leave room for interpretation.
"We shouldn't give them black-and-white forecasts about what will happen in the future, no matter how appealing that might be," says Kengkard Jongchaiprah, a 70-year-old veteran of the craft. "Astrology is much more subtle than today's fortunetellers make out, but nowadays people want definite answers."
Mr. Kengkard's new rivals thrive on how readily many people in Thailand, and other parts of Southeast Asia, still turn to traditional, occult practices to help solve their problems. Hundreds of thousands of people wore yellow shirts -- Thailand's royal color -- in August to ward off a spell which they believed wizards in nearby Cambodia were preparing to cast on the country during a solar eclipse. It seemed to work: Nothing happened. (Cambodian officials deny there was any such plan.)
Phoned-In Forecasts
Astrology associations (and even some Thai banks) say many thousands of Thais consult astrologers and card readers. Leading politicians and top military leaders do it, say several leading fortunetellers, much as Nancy Reagan famously consulted astrologers to help determine President Ronald Reagan's schedule. Thaksin Shinawatra, Thailand's billionaire prime minister ousted in a military coup in 2006, says he frequently refers to the alignment of the stars.
Since accurately predicting that an unmarried Thai film star was pregnant a couple of years ago -- before anyone else knew it -- Mr. Luck (the name translates roughly as "the written word" in Thai) has expanded what he calls a "prediction delivery system" through an automated telephone forecast service.
Callers punch in their birth dates and select what kind of forecast they're looking for, whether it be for their love life, their jobs or their health.
Then they are redirected to the relevant prediction that Mr. Luck has recorded in his booming voice. Human operators are on standby if callers run into problems. The whole process takes about half an hour; calls cost nine baht, or 26 cents, a minute. The state-run telephone company keeps about half the $27,000 the venture earns each month. Mr. Luck shares the rest with his partners.
"Mr. Luck's my favorite fortuneteller, I like his style," says one fan, Chuanchom Plaignam, a 25-year-old entrepreneur.
"He sounds so confident on the telephone, and it's easy and convenient to call his hot line," she says. "When I call Mr. Luck, I don't have to sit down and think about my life any more. I just get on with it."
Sitting in an office surrounded by Buddha images and a handful of Barbie dolls still in their original packaging, Mr. Luck says he foresaw his own success as a fortuneteller while still a teenager. He got into the business after completing university and quickly specialized in political forecasts to help spread his name. Unlike other seers, he combines astrology with politics and economics to chart Thailand's turbulent future, flipping through tables of stock prices and government almanacs to help make his predictions.
"I like to call it 'fate management,' " Mr. Luck says, explaining that many customers are businesses hoping to gain a competitive edge.
It can be dangerous work. A small group of soldiers kidnapped Mr. Luck a decade ago for predicting the collapse of the government, he says. They dangled him above the jaws of some hungry crocodiles at a reptile farm on the outskirts of Bangkok to warn him against making dire predictions, he says. He's carried a gun ever since, and has continued making bold forecasts about Thailand's political future. Mr. Luck's story couldn't be independently verified.
Rapid Expansion
The ranks of seers like Mr. Luck have expanded so rapidly that Mr. Kengkard is pressing Thailand's astrologers, who were once supervised by the country's powerful monarchy, to introduce a code of conduct to regulate the industry. It's a radical about-face for Mr. Kengkard: He once counseled a former prime minister to deregulate the seer business, a piece of advice he now regrets.
"Before, it took years to build up a reputation as an astrologer," he gripes. "But with television and the Internet and mobile phones, it seems all you have to do is make a lucky guess to hit the big time."
Mr. Kengkard has had difficulty getting Thailand's myriad astrologer associations and institutes to agree to his plans. Many of the groups earn money by attracting students drawn by the high income successful seers earn and don't want to put them off. Kasikornbank PLC, Thailand's third-largest bank, values seers' annual takings at $74 million, based on the $15 to $20 many Thais are prepared to hand over for a reading.
"Maybe I should just give up and try to modernize," says Mr. Kengkard in his dimly lighted office as a train rattles by outside.
Mr. Luck rejects criticism that he's excessively commercializing the fortunetelling trade. "It's a business, like any other," he says. "I'm not going to sit still in my office waiting for customers."
-- Wilawan Watcharasakwet contributed to this article.
September 15, 2008
By JAMES HOOKWAY
The Wall Street Journal (USA)
BANGKOK -- For a glimpse into the future of fortunetelling in Thailand, pay a visit to Luck Rakhanithes.
At Mr. Luck's plush, three-story Bangkok offices, a team of telephone operators guides anxious callers through the chaos of everyday life. Some learn what their prospects are for securing a suitable love match or a well-paying job. Others are given auspicious dates for starting a new business.
At 36 years old, Mr. Luck is part of a new generation of business-savvy seers turning the ancient art of astrology into big business. He's a prime-time fixture on Thai television for waving a red flag when he is 100% certain about his predictions (a white flag goes up when he's less sure). He sells about 300,000 books a year, he says, thanks to a distribution deal with the local operator of the 7-Eleven convenience-store chain.
As Thailand comes to grips with two years of political unrest -- including a coup, deadly riots and, last week, a court ruling forcing the prime minister to step down for hosting a television cooking show -- the country has lapped up Mr. Luck's confident forecasts.
"Every time there's a crisis in Thailand, it's a glorious time for astrologers," Mr. Luck says.
It's all too much for some in the old guard, whose predictions tend to be vaguer and more in keeping with the ancient traditions of seers here. These astrologers typically don't speak in certainties, preferring instead to leave room for interpretation.
"We shouldn't give them black-and-white forecasts about what will happen in the future, no matter how appealing that might be," says Kengkard Jongchaiprah, a 70-year-old veteran of the craft. "Astrology is much more subtle than today's fortunetellers make out, but nowadays people want definite answers."
Mr. Kengkard's new rivals thrive on how readily many people in Thailand, and other parts of Southeast Asia, still turn to traditional, occult practices to help solve their problems. Hundreds of thousands of people wore yellow shirts -- Thailand's royal color -- in August to ward off a spell which they believed wizards in nearby Cambodia were preparing to cast on the country during a solar eclipse. It seemed to work: Nothing happened. (Cambodian officials deny there was any such plan.)
Phoned-In Forecasts
Astrology associations (and even some Thai banks) say many thousands of Thais consult astrologers and card readers. Leading politicians and top military leaders do it, say several leading fortunetellers, much as Nancy Reagan famously consulted astrologers to help determine President Ronald Reagan's schedule. Thaksin Shinawatra, Thailand's billionaire prime minister ousted in a military coup in 2006, says he frequently refers to the alignment of the stars.
Since accurately predicting that an unmarried Thai film star was pregnant a couple of years ago -- before anyone else knew it -- Mr. Luck (the name translates roughly as "the written word" in Thai) has expanded what he calls a "prediction delivery system" through an automated telephone forecast service.
Callers punch in their birth dates and select what kind of forecast they're looking for, whether it be for their love life, their jobs or their health.
Then they are redirected to the relevant prediction that Mr. Luck has recorded in his booming voice. Human operators are on standby if callers run into problems. The whole process takes about half an hour; calls cost nine baht, or 26 cents, a minute. The state-run telephone company keeps about half the $27,000 the venture earns each month. Mr. Luck shares the rest with his partners.
"Mr. Luck's my favorite fortuneteller, I like his style," says one fan, Chuanchom Plaignam, a 25-year-old entrepreneur.
"He sounds so confident on the telephone, and it's easy and convenient to call his hot line," she says. "When I call Mr. Luck, I don't have to sit down and think about my life any more. I just get on with it."
Sitting in an office surrounded by Buddha images and a handful of Barbie dolls still in their original packaging, Mr. Luck says he foresaw his own success as a fortuneteller while still a teenager. He got into the business after completing university and quickly specialized in political forecasts to help spread his name. Unlike other seers, he combines astrology with politics and economics to chart Thailand's turbulent future, flipping through tables of stock prices and government almanacs to help make his predictions.
"I like to call it 'fate management,' " Mr. Luck says, explaining that many customers are businesses hoping to gain a competitive edge.
It can be dangerous work. A small group of soldiers kidnapped Mr. Luck a decade ago for predicting the collapse of the government, he says. They dangled him above the jaws of some hungry crocodiles at a reptile farm on the outskirts of Bangkok to warn him against making dire predictions, he says. He's carried a gun ever since, and has continued making bold forecasts about Thailand's political future. Mr. Luck's story couldn't be independently verified.
Rapid Expansion
The ranks of seers like Mr. Luck have expanded so rapidly that Mr. Kengkard is pressing Thailand's astrologers, who were once supervised by the country's powerful monarchy, to introduce a code of conduct to regulate the industry. It's a radical about-face for Mr. Kengkard: He once counseled a former prime minister to deregulate the seer business, a piece of advice he now regrets.
"Before, it took years to build up a reputation as an astrologer," he gripes. "But with television and the Internet and mobile phones, it seems all you have to do is make a lucky guess to hit the big time."
Mr. Kengkard has had difficulty getting Thailand's myriad astrologer associations and institutes to agree to his plans. Many of the groups earn money by attracting students drawn by the high income successful seers earn and don't want to put them off. Kasikornbank PLC, Thailand's third-largest bank, values seers' annual takings at $74 million, based on the $15 to $20 many Thais are prepared to hand over for a reading.
"Maybe I should just give up and try to modernize," says Mr. Kengkard in his dimly lighted office as a train rattles by outside.
Mr. Luck rejects criticism that he's excessively commercializing the fortunetelling trade. "It's a business, like any other," he says. "I'm not going to sit still in my office waiting for customers."
-- Wilawan Watcharasakwet contributed to this article.
1 comment:
Good luck to Thai people1
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