Blood Is Thick, Humanity Is Thin

A few days ago, I finished a Thai series that had me in a hook for the past two weeks. The series, In Family We Trust (although I prefer the literal Thai translation Lueat Khon Khon Jang or “Blood Is Thick, Humanity Is Thin”), follows a wealthy Thai family of Chinese descent, Jira-anan family, as they fell from the heights of Confucian harmony to a depth of Hobbesian free-for-all bloodthirsty accusation war after the family’s patriarch was assassinated. I will spare you the details and the ending of the series as I do think it is a series worth watching.

In the series, the family made its wealth through their hotel empire. The eldest son, the crown jewel of a Chinese family, was in charge of managing the hotel after the grandfather retired. After the grandfather, the head of the family passed away, his inheritance is passed onto the next generation. But in his inheritance wish, his only daughter was excluded. This fueled the civil war that turned different factions of the family against each other. After the daughter severed ties with the eldest son, the eldest son was assassinated in his bedroom the next day, putting the daughter in the spotlight as the potential criminal. But as the series goes on, the Confucian chains that once bound the family together unravel, unearthing the family’s darkest secrets and moral crimes.  

Instead of spoiling the series for you (I really recommend it), I want to talk more about how I, a child of Chinese descent, relate to the story and Thai society at large. It might also be useful to provide some context for the Thais of Chinese descent. As Thailand opened up to the West during the imperialist era, Chinese merchants played an important role in developing the country. The Thai government, needing the capital to develop, allowed the Chinese to conduct their businesses while they handle the diplomacy with the Europeans. The Chinese dominated many of the industries – sugar, rice mills, textiles – allowing them to accumulate a lot of wealth. While the merchants used to send money back to their home country, after China became Communist and closed itself, the Chinese started to truly assimilate into Thai society. Because of this, more of the Chinese wealth is circulated inside Thailand. The assimilation was fairly smooth, partly because of similar cultural backgrounds and understanding. Currently, the top two richest families in Thailand are of Chinese descent. While my family is nowhere near the top of the country, we were able to place ourselves in the upper middle class with our wealth.

My great grandfather immigrated from China to Thailand; here, he started his own textiles factory, one of the most profitable industries in Asia, accumulating a large amount of wealth for our family. His family, like other Chinese immigrants, canonized their names into Thai culture and assimilated with the natives. If you ask them who they are, they will tell you that they are Thai. 

His legacy still runs in the family as my sister, my cousins and I are able to receive a good education with the family’s money. Even though our factory was closed recently and our wealth started to decline, we still live a very comfortable lifestyle. 

In the subset of my family, I am both the eldest and the only male child, so throughout my life, I was treated very well. In fact, I was spoiled. But I didn't really see its effects until recently. I started to see that my sister, the second oldest in the family, did not receive the same treatment. This was reflected in the series as the only daughter of the Jira-anan family is treated on a lower level than the sons of the family. She holds it in and thinks that her hard work will eventually outshine her gender and social ranking in the Chinese family. But she loses all hope when she receives almost none of the inheritance. I wonder if my sister is holding on the same grudge. Watching the series really helped me to see my own sister differently. Right now, I think this dynamic is greatly affecting her psychology. In a lot of ways, my sister starts to subconsciously think that she is inferior just because of her gender and her age. That really worries me. 

But despite the unequal treatment among the gender line and age hierarchy, our “blood is thick.” To the eyes of Westerners, our family may be excessively collective. At my great grandmother’s house on Radio Road, we would always eat around a round table. Like in Chinese restaurants, we would never have our own individual meals; we must choose from large plates, placed in the middle of the table. I once made a fuss because I didn’t want to share a plate of dumplings that I enjoyed.

“Grandpa, please don’t eat this one! It is mine!”

“What do you mean? You can always have more.”

“No!” I started to scream

He looked at me coldly.

“We are a family. You cannot keep this to yourself. I will order more for you. Just wait.”

Although I was abroad for almost half my life and despite being surrounded by the individualist societies of Europe and America, this scene still haunts me to this day. I thought a lot about the value of family. I thought a lot about American families. Americans move out from their parents eventually, gaining their freedom and independence. Thais, especially of Chinese descent, will return to their parents. As much as I think that I have a degree of free-will, I still struggle with this question: do I return to my family or should I start a life of my own? Being in America will provide me with many benefits. I’ve grown to become used to talking to people here. I started to have my own network of friends here. Professionally, I know I can prosper. Logically, it does not make a lot of sense to return. Yet, that scene will always come back to me.

In Thai, there is a word that is not easily translated into English: kwam kattanyu. The dictionary translates it to “gratitude,” but it is more specific than that. It has a connotation that goes something along the lines of returning the favor to your family despite the unfairness you have experienced because, at the end of the day, they went through the trouble of taking care of you. Partly out of duty. Mostly out of love. And so your actions should reciprocate. Partly out of duty. Truly out of love. This word is deeply embedded in all of us. 

Despite being told off by my grandfather countless times on countless “offenses,” I think the value of his sending me to school, buying clothes for me so that I dress well, feeding me with his best dishes still outweigh any grudge I have towards him, and by a large magnitude. Because even though I did become more independent, I argued with my parents and grandparents, I disagreed with their views, I still saw myself returning. To argue with them again, to have them lecture me again. But more importantly, like the Jira-anan family, to solidify the ties I have with them, to forgive them and take care of them with the best of my abilities. And so I saw myself returning to that round table. Returning to that plate of dumplings.