Matt Owens Rees

I sometimes joke that, if I had the power, I’d make the concept of “losing Face” illegal worldwide.

It may sound flippant, but there’s a serious undertone. In many situations, it’s less stressful to accept a loss of Face and walk away than to stay and try to resolve a disagreement — especially when the other party is more concerned with saving Face than solving the problem.

This isn’t unique to Thailand, but after nearly 20 years living here, I see it play out daily. The Thai approach to Face is deeply embedded in social interactions, often more so than in other cultures. Let’s dig a little deeper with a few examples.

I want to be clear: this isn’t a criticism of Thailand. My aim is to inform, not judge. I strive to present my observations factually and with balance. Still, it’s worth noting that many Thais interpret commentary about their country as personal criticism — even when the remarks are constructive and demonstrably true.

The Dynamics of Face

To illustrate the dynamics of Face, I’ll share a true story from my first job after university — not in Thailand, but in the UK. The cultural parallels are striking.

The company was in the garment industry — affectionately known as the rag trade — and held a major contract with one of Britain’s leading mail-order houses. The owner, Mr Newman, was a tough but fair émigré from the former Czechoslovakia. He ran a tight ship.

One day, a shipment of trousers was sent out that didn’t match the agreed specification. The pockets were slanted instead of straight.

What followed was a masterclass in blame-shifting. The production team and the sales manager both claimed the specification was unclear. That was nonsense. The contract was watertight, and a sample pair had been signed off showing straight pockets. As the new junior accountant, I found myself in the firing line — accused of not flagging the cost difference between slanted and straight pockets.

At 5 o’clock, we all filed into Mr Newman’s office, each of us ready to defend our position. He listened quietly, then picked up the phone and called the director of the mail-order house. No drama. No defensiveness. He simply apologised, cancelled the invoice, and promised to replace the trousers.

Then, with a touch of business savvy, he added that slanted pockets were actually more fashionable — and more expensive to produce. If the client liked them, he’d be happy to supply future orders at the original price.

No one lost Face. No one was humiliated. The problem was solved with dignity and pragmatism.

How a Thai Handled Loss of Face

Somchai was a good gardener. He was licking my one-acre garden into shape, and we got on well. Because the garden was so large, he built four compost bins. But they were too big—the contents would never compost effectively. Rather than admit the mistake and rebuild them, Somchai took the Thai alternative: he became awkward.

He opened the gate to the orchard and let my dog, Namsom, out into the road. Namsom wandered into the garden of my neighbour, Deng. A fight broke out between the two dogs. Deng’s dog is well-known in the community for starting fights.

I believe Deng tried to intervene, but with both Deng and his dog attacking Namsom, my dog bit my neighbour.

Deng retaliated by chasing Namsom down the road with an iron bar.
As I tried to get Namsom back into my property, Deng—still in a fit of uncontrolled anger—kept chasing him further down the road. I shouted at Deng to stop so I could bring my dog home. He wouldn’t.

This episode created a rift between Deng and me, ending the friendship we’d had since I first moved into the community.