The half-caste son of an accomplished Thai bar girl and an American G.I. she has long refused to identify, Sonchai also has a wry perspective on the differences between his Asian countrymen and Westerners, whom the Thais call “farangs.” He gets paired up with Jones, a female FBI agent (the murder victim was a Marine and a wealthy, jet-setting American jeweler is implicated), which gives him an angle on the culture clash beyond his usual encounters with backpackers, servicemen and sex tourists. Jones would like to offer him an even more intimate view, but he resists; a devout Buddhist, and a man of eminent good sense, he’d rather not be yet another exotic treat for a visiting farang. Besides, “the Buddha taught freedom from appetite.”

Such restraint isn’t the only way Sonchai differs from the familiar heroes of police thrillers. One of his detecting skills is the ability to catch glimpses of people’s past incarnations (and therefore the karma directing their current one) and he sees ghosts, hungry ones. His partner’s death, and graduation to the next, presumably better incarnation, is less an occasion for pity than for envy: “Would you be sorry about a sunset?” Sonchai can only shake his head at Jones’ “belief that there is anything logical about human existence. I suppose it must be the delusion of the West, a cultural defilement caused by all those machines they keep inventing.” A prime example: the new cellphone the FBI gives him, with a ring selection that includes “a choice of 15 different tunes, which includes the American national anthem but not that of any other country. ‘Star Wars’ is the only attractive option … Angrily, I realize that Motorola has led me down a labyrinth of apparent choice leading to a dead end. I have found the perfect paradigm of Western culture.”

Equally perplexing is the Western obsession with sex: “The path to the farang heart lies invariably through the genitals,” he observes. “To look for nirvana in someone’s crotch, now that is really dumb,” is how one bar girl puts it. Sonchai’s mother, now retired to a comfortable villa in the countryside, still gets calls from old customers: “The loneliness of farangs can be a fatal disease which distorts their minds and tortures them until they snap. When they begin to sink they grasp at any straw, even a Bangkok whore they had for a week on a sex vacation long ago.”

Yet Sonchai’s Bangkok is no mere backwater repository of pre-modern wisdom. It’s a metropolis crammed with former villagers looking to make it in the big city, and facing “the sadistic vivisection of life into hours, minutes, seconds … one of the few hardships never inflicted by the soil.” To fuel this round-the-clock labor market, the yaa baa (methamphetamine) trade arose, helping fisherman work all night for the expanded Pacific Rim market and keeping bar girls on the dance floor and truckers on the road.

Though the cops occasionally and brutally crack down on the dealers, the whole of Bangkok’s civil society works through a complex, and strangely functional, system of payoffs and corruption, as Sonchai explains to Jones. This makes Sonchai, who refuses to accept any bribes because he’s working off the bad karma caused by his role in a murder during his misspent youth, a bit of a misfit. But sometimes the detective’s supervising colonel, a man of magisterial worldliness and baroque intentions, finds that Sonchai’s integrity comes in handy.

Like I said, there’s a pretty good detective story in there, too, but it could have withered away and I’d barely have missed it amid the stories of soccer-mad call girls who want to watch the game while servicing their clients, pit stops at the book-stuffed apartment of a drunken Russian panderer, and disquisitions on the Chiu Chow Chinese, “the finest businesspeople in the world, then, now, and for maybe a thousand years past” (they run the jade trade, which figures in the plot). I have no idea how accurate Burdett’s depiction of the Thai outlook may be (he’s a British ex-lawyer who lives in Hong Kong), but “Bangkok 8″ nonetheless feels like a deliciously fresh breath of air in the often musty halls of detective fiction, as well as a more-than-fond tribute to a people whose charm is already legendary.

Our next pick: An expertly plotted tale of an 1890s Alabama gang war

Before his December escape, Sokha (a pseudonym) was the property of a deep-sea trawler captain. The 39-year-old Cambodian, his teenage son and two young nephews were purchased for roughly $650, he said, each through brokers promising under-the-table jobs in a fish cannery.

There was no cannery. They were instead smuggled to a pier in neighboring Thailand, where they were shoved aboard a wooden vessel that motored into a lawless sea. His uncle had fallen for the same scam five years prior and escaped to warn the others. But Sokha told his son, then just 16, that this venture would turn out differently. He was wrong.

“We worked constantly, for no pay, through seasickness and vomiting, sometimes for two or three days straight,” he said. “We obeyed the captain’s every word.”

Near-daily death threats reinforced the captain’s supremacy. So did his Vietnam War-era K-54 pistol, and the night he carved up another slave’s face in view of the crew. “For 20 hours a day, we were forced to catch and sort sea creatures: mackerel, crabs, squid.” It’s back-breaking work, under the searing tropical sun. “But the fish wasn’t for us,” he added.

So who was it all for?

The answer should unsettle anyone who closely examines Thailand’s multi-billion dollar wild-caught seafood industry and the darkest links in its supply chain.

“It’s an export-oriented market. And we know the countries where these products are exported to,” said Lisa Rende Taylor, chief technical specialist with the United Nations Inter-Agency Project on Human Trafficking or UNIAP. “Do the math.”

For Americans, the calculation is worrisome. Thailand is the United States’ second-largest supplier of foreign seafood. Of America’s total seafood imports, one out of every six pounds comes from the Southeast Asian nation.

In 2011 alone, Thailand exported 827 million pounds of seafood worth more than $2.5 billion to the US, according to National Marine Fisheries Service figures. The only nation that consumes more Thai seafood exports is Japan.

Murder is an occupational hazard. But a monotonous job assembling iPads is heaven compared to slavery on a Thai trawler, where conditions are as grueling and violent as any 19th-century American plantation. The lucky escape within a year or so. Less fortunate are those traded several times over for years on end.

Denying that the fruits of forced labor reach the biggest importers of Thai seafood — Japan, America, China and the European Union — has become increasingly implausible.

The accounts of ex-slaves, Thai fishing syndicates, officials, exporters and anti-trafficking case workers, gathered by GlobalPost in a three-month investigation, illuminate an opaque offshore supply chain enmeshed in slavery.

A long trail of offshore operators — slave boats, motherships and independent fishmongers — can obfuscate the origins of slave-caught seafood before it ever reaches the shore. While the industry’s biggest earners rely on clannish and violence-prone fishing crews for raw material, they’re distanced from the worst abuses by hundreds of nautical miles and several degrees of middlemen.

The result is that many Thai factory bosses have no idea who caught the seafood they process for foreign consumers.

There are caveats. The majority of Thailand’s two largest seafood exports to the US — tuna and shrimp — are sourced differently. Most “Thai” tuna is actually imported from overseas and processed for re-export. The shrimp industry, though routinely accused of abusing poor migrants, is at least vulnerable to spot checks on seaside farms.

The same cannot be said for deep-sea trawlers, the favored vessel of slave-driving captains.

The species caught by Thai trawlers legal and illicit alike include sardines, mackerel, cuttlefish, squid, anchovies and “trash fish,” tiny or foul-tasting catch ground into animal food or preserved to create fish sauce. Americans consume these breeds en masse. One in five pounds of America’s imported mackerel or sardines comes from Thailand, according to US government records. For processed fish balls, puddings or cakes — made from trawlers’ trash fish — the figure is one in three pounds. Thai fish sauce supplies nearly 80 percent of the American market.

All that trawler catch ends up in familiar American fare: anchovy pizzas, squid linguine, smoked mackerel salads and fish fillets on ice. Even pets are entangled: trash fish is a common dog- and cat-food ingredient. But industry representatives in Thailand admit there’s often no way to tell whether a particular package of deep-sea fish was caught using forced labor.

Using bar codes, American shoppers can track packaged Thai-exported seafood to its onshore processing facility, said Arthon Piboonthanapatana, secretary general of the Thai Frozen Foods Association. “You can trace it back to the factories.”

But exporters, he said, are not in the business of policing the fishing syndicates that supply their factories. “We only have the power to enforce our members,” Arthon said. “We have no power to enforce other stakeholders such as boats or fishermen.”

American seafood importers consider themselves similarly powerless in overseeing far-flung Thai boats. “Western regulatory agencies have little or no reach, or authority, over various parts of the value chain,” said Gavin Gibbons, spokesman for the National Fisheries Institute, America’s chief seafood trade organization and lobbying group based outside Washington, DC. The institute will promptly respond to allegations against specific factories, he said. But so far, it has not found an effective way to monitor conditions on deep-sea boats catching US-bound fish.

“We have started discussions with our members about just how far an audit could realistically go and whether, perhaps, there are dockside audits that could be developed,” Gibbons said.

The “nature of boats being at sea,” he said, presents a major challenge to industry’s self-policing efforts.

International pressure to rid Thailand’s seafood trade of slavery is mounting. Thailand teeters just above the US State Department’s worst human-trafficking ranking and could be downgraded this summer. Last year, during a visit that vexed Bangkok officials, a UN rapporteur declared that forced labor is “notoriously common” in Thailand’s fishing sector and even alleged police complicity.

“It’s not like monitoring brothels, plantations or factories … all this labor is at sea,” Rende Taylor said. “So it’s essentially a universe where captains are king. Some are out to make as much money as possible by working these guys around the clock and being as cruel as they want to be.”

But less mercy is offered to a different sort of tourist: Malaysian men, many fellow Muslims, border-hopping into insurgents’ turf for paid sex. Now, after a bloody Sunday night bombing spree in their favored brothel town, Malaysia’s government is warning its men to stay away.

Shortly after sunset on Sept. 18, in the gritty Thai border town of Su-Ngai Golok, a series of explosions erupted on a busy lane lined with hotels, food stalls and karaoke joints.

Televised mobile-phone footage shows pyres raging in front of a bar fitted with Christmas lights, Thai code signaling the availability of cheap beer and hands-on female hostesses. A half-naked man, his clothes singed and shredded, is seen sprawled nearby in the street.

Five were killed in the bombings, four of them Malaysian. Roughly 110 were wounded, some severely. If Islamic insurgents aimed only for men on the prowl, they failed: A 3-year-old Malaysian boy was among the dead.

The attack is surprising, even for insurgents known for beheading Buddhist monks and torching village headmen in the street. Though Malaysian tourists have been targeted before, such strikes are rare and have never caused so many foreign deaths in one night.

Worse yet, the attacks signal jihadis’ heightened brazenness and stomp out any flickering promise of peace talks.

Just months ago, Thailand’s military acknowledged secret meetings with separatists, whose ultimate goal is restoring a Connecticut-sized sultanate called “Patani.” At the turn of the 20th century, Thailand (than called Siam) seized the tiny kingdom and claimed dominion over its Muslim, ethnically Malay inhabitants.

More than 100 years later, armed resistance to Thai rule has hit its stride. Since a 2004 declaration of renewed jihad, more than 4,700 have died and insurgents have evolved into Taliban-worthy bombers. In 2007, a particularly bloody year, jihadis in Thailand managed 91 bomb deaths — 13 more than that year’s bombing death toll against U.S. and allied troops in Afghanistan.

As a younger wave of Islamic militants grows more agile and lethal, they appear more distant from an old-guard of separatists willing to negotiate with the Thai military.

Quasi-secret peace talks, which seemed to offer a twinkle of hope just months ago, have collapsed. “It’s closed. It’s finished,” said Kasturi Mahkota, a senior member of the separatist group Patani United Liberation Organization.

“Now, at this point, there is no cease-fire agreement,” Kasturi said over the phone from Scandinavia, his home-in-exile. “We’re not going to surrender. We’re not going to give goodwill to them.”

But perhaps the separatists willing to negotiate have nothing to surrender in the first place.

Kasturi and other old-guard leaders have proclaimed an alliance with the insurgency’s backbone militia, BRN-C, and claimed joint responsibility for roughly 80 percent of attacks. In reality, he and his ilk are “pretenders to the cause” according to insurgency expert Zach Abuza in an Institute for National Security Studies report released this week.

They consist of “a few exiles in Malaysia and Europe who command no forces and do not have the loyalty of men on the ground,” according to the report.

The real killers abhor the thought of negotiation. They’re also more radical than ever, said Sunai Phasuk, a senior researcher for Human Rights Watch, who has documented the insurgency for more than a decade.

“It’s a liberation war,” he said. “They do not believe in coexistence with the Thai population. They aim to win the war by wiping Thailand clean of non-Malay Muslims.”

Muslims from Malaysia, who share customs and language with Malay-speaking natives in the insurgents’ territory, are seldom attacked in Thailand — unless they’re loitering around spots deemed decadent by jihadi hardliners.

“They feel an ideological justification to target vice: brothels, karaoke joints, nightclubs,” Sunai said. “They want to send a message that, as a Muslim, you shouldn’t get involved in dirty activities.”

Thai authorities, however, seem to hate acknowledging insurgents’ ideological motives. Police are apt to cast them as rudderless bandits and smugglers. Within hours of the Su-Ngai Golok attacks, a senior officer announced, with little proof, that the bombings were retaliation for cops seizing 100,000 meth pills earlier that week.

Dismissing the rebels as mere criminals diminishes an unpleasant thought for Buddhist Thai authorities: that an estimated 8,000 armed separatists believe Allah condones their killing. Calling them drug runners also strikes at the jihadis’ proclaimed piety; a Muslim can only boast of so much righteousness if his living comes from smuggling bundles of meth.

But just as the Taliban is believed to fund attacks with Afghani heroin, proclaiming its jihadi credentials all the while, many experts believe Thailand’s insurgency is similarly tied to the drug trade.

“Some are funded by underground business like contract killings, drug smuggling and human trafficking,” Sunai said. “That doesn’t mean they don’t also have political motives. They can be paid to attack by drug lords who are unhappy with law enforcement … killing two birds with one stone.”

With peace talks appearing futile, and jihadis growing more bold, hopes of settling Thailand’s insurgency appear bleak. In the estimation of Abuza, the terror expert, the rebels aren’t winning “but they are also not losing, which, in an insurgency, is often enough.”

Many of the remaining ethnic Thais, roughly 15 percent of the population, have stockpiled guns and assembled all-Buddhist militias. The rest have simply fled the region.

A turn in the road appeared several months ago when Prime Minister Yingluck Shinawatra, then on the campaign trail, traveled to the region in a red hijab and promised a semi-autonomous zone to give local Muslims greater political power.

But after her July election victory, the new premier’s cabinet dismissed her pledges as mere ideas. Prominent academics and non-separatist Muslim groups have pressured her to honor her campaign commitment. “I think it’s finished,” Kasturi said. “That was just for the election. Now they don’t dare talk about it.”

Given doubts that aging rebels in exile can reign in young militants, it’s unclear whether any action by the Thai state would soothe the insurgency. The new breed does not appear willing to sit down for tea with the Thai military or even issue public declarations. They prefer to speak through violence and the occasional handwritten threat scattered around their victims’ corpses.

“There will be no negotiation with our enemy. We will not accept any compromise. We will not debate in the parliament,” says one written screed acquired by Human Rights Watch.

“We will purge all Siamese infidels out of our territory to purify our religion and culture … we will establish our country as a Muslim country to be recognized internationally.”

More important: This time the guys wake up in Bangkok the day before Stu’s wedding, a location that is presented as some sort of wacky alternative to their previous Las Vegas excursion. If these guys had watched any movie about Americans partying too hard in foreign countries, they’d know that Thailand is literally the worst place in the world to do this.

With that in mind, we created a list of films featuring stupid American tourists getting into hot water abroad. We can only hope one of these guys has seen “Brokedown Palace”; otherwise “The Hangover II” may take a much darker turn than its predecessor.

Of course, we didn’t have space for every movie, so leave your favorite American-in-a-foreign-country thriller in the comments.

View the slide show

Seriously, the real answer is almost nothing. Except that these two films are the most recent winners of the two most prestigious awards in international cinema — the only ones that teenagers with movie cameras from Borneo to Omaha bother to fantasize about — and the distance between them offers us a portrait of the diversity, and perhaps the schizophrenia, of global movie culture.

“The King’s Speech” is a well-crafted, old-fashioned entertainment, a nostalgic costume drama aimed at middle-class adult filmgoers all around the world. It was constructed to win Academy Awards, and it delivered. “Uncle Boonmee Who Can Recall His Past Lives,” on the other hand, is a highly personal art film made with nonprofessional actors, aimed at the tiny audience of global cinephiles who are willing to take this strange and original work on its own terms. It won the Palme d’Or at last year’s Cannes Film Festival precisely because it makes no compromise with mainstream filmmaking conventions and ignores commercial considerations. If foreign-language art cinema attracts a tiny audience in the United States these days, Asian art cinema attracts nearly none. It goes without saying that “Uncle Boonmee” won’t duplicate the $100 million-plus box-office returns of “The King’s Speech”; it probably won’t reach one-half of 1 percent of that number.

The sense that Oscar’s best-picture award and the Palme d’Or are handed out in alternate and only faintly connected universes — and represent radically different notions of what movies are and do — is nothing new, even if it seems particularly exaggerated this year. But before we move to that level, let me grab a moment to try and un-scare you about “Uncle Boonmee.” No, it’s not for everybody and it isn’t trying to be. But there’s absolutely no reason you can’t enjoy the sentimental, comic-inspirational history lesson of “The King’s Speech” and enjoy Thai auteur Apichatpong Weerasethakul’s gorgeous, loopy modern-day fairy tale about a dying man visited by ghosts and (apparently) figments and fragments of previous existences. After the Cannes premiere last year, a friend of mine described “Uncle Boonmee” as a “Buddhist tone-poem about death,” and although he was being half-derisive, that’s not a bad summary.

Although it may seem plotless by Hollywood standards “Uncle Boonmee” indeed has a plot, and one that’s probably more comprehensible than Weerasethakul’s best-known previous films, “Tropical Malady” and “Syndromes and a Century.” Still, there’s no denying that the last days of the eponymous Boonmee (Thanapat Saisaymar), a farmer near the forests of northern Thailand, are punctuated by unexplained leaps and caesuras, as well as by a visit from his wife (who’s been dead for 19 years) and their son (who has been living in the jungle among a race of monkey-ghosts). That mythical-seeming liaison between a princess and an amorous jungle catfish, for instance, has nothing obvious to do with the rueful, leisurely tragicomedy of the main story about Boonmee, his visiting sister-in-law (Jenjira Pongpas) and a farm foreman cum Buddhist monk (Sakda Kaewbuadee). At first, I wondered whether I’d been so exhausted at Cannes that I’d failed to grasp the connection, but seeing the movie a second time confirmed that the answer is implied, or under the surface, or simply left up to you.

As the small but devoted following that has made Weerasethakul an international film-festival favorite already knows, his movies blend influences from both West and East, including surrealism and dream psychology, Theravada Buddhism and quantum physics, and Asian film from Yasujiro Ozu to low-budget pop Thai movies. (The Monkey Ghost costume worn by Boonmee’s son, for instance, is silly and spooky — and oddly effective in both directions.) He occasionally gets some stick from Asian critics for allegedly making films aimed at a Western elite audience, but they’re missing the point. He may have more fans in Paris or New York than he does in Bangkok — where the Thai government has intermittently banned his films — but he’s far from a household name in any neighborhood on any continent, and is likely to stay that way. “Uncle Boonmee Who Can Recall His Past Lives” is a rich, beautiful, haunting and sweet work from an accomplished dream-poet, who can stand alongside any other artist working in the medium. But it has almost no relationship to the expectations and associations that generally come with the sentence, “Let’s go to a movie.”

“The King’s Speech” is, of course, exactly that kind of movie, almost too much so. Although wonderfully played by its cast and loaded with historical charm, the film is carefully paced and calibrated to deliver precisely the emotional beats the audience almost unconsciously expects. The internal life of “The King’s Speech” derives entirely from the interplay of Colin Firth, Geoffrey Rush and Helena Bonham Carter; as cinema, it’s strictly an efficient machine, which is what makes the best-director Oscar given to Tom Hooper seem so insulting in a field that included Darren Aronofsky, the Coens, David Fincher and David O. Russell. This is not “a movie that makes you dream,” in David Lynch’s famous phrase. (Even among this year’s largely excellent list of Oscar-nominated films, only Aronofsky’s “Black Swan” possesses that quality.)

If the yawning cultural and aesthetic chasm between “The King’s Speech” and “Uncle Boonmee” represents the long-standing transatlantic divide that separates the Oscars from Cannes, it hasn’t always been as dramatic as it looks today. As recently as 2002, a Palme d’Or-winning film — Roman Polanski’s “The Pianist” — was a major contender in the Oscar race, winning awards for its star and director (although not for best picture). Only two movies have ever won both the Palme d’Or and the best-picture Oscar, and those may surprise you as much as they did me: Billy Wilder’s 1945 “Lost Weekend,” a soap opera of drunken madness starring Ray Milland, and Delbert Mann’s awkward romance “Marty,” with Ernest Borgnine, 10 years later. But quite a few Palme d’Or winners have gone on to significant critical and popular success and multiple Oscar nominations, including “M*A*S*H,” “Taxi Driver,” “Apocalypse Now,” “All That Jazz,” “The Piano” and “Pulp Fiction.” (Quite a few more have won foreign-language Oscars, but nobody, frankly, cares about that.)

For roughly the past two decades, however, the continents have slowly been drifting apart. I don’t mean America and Europe, where pop culture is no less hegemonic than it is here, but the floating islands inhabited by Oscar voters and Cannes juries. Of the last 10 best-picture winners, only “No Country for Old Men” even played at Cannes, while “The Pianist” and Michael Moore’s “Fahrenheit 9/11″ are the only Palme d’Or pictures since the mid-’90s to make any significant impact on the American consciousness. For every modest foreign-language success, like “4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days” — which did pretty damn well for a Romanian film about an illegal abortion — there are movies like “The Class” (2008), “L’Enfant” (2005), “The Son’s Room” (2001) or “Eternity and a Day” (1998), which virtually didn’t exist for Yank viewers despite glowing international reviews.

Now, it’d be easy to conclude that art cinema has become too rarefied and self-reflective, or that Hollywood is overly concerned with delivering a prepackaged and predictable moviegoing experience, or that both things are simultaneously true. Indeed, I agree with that, about halfway: “The King’s Speech” could use a bit of “Uncle Boonmee’s” wandering water-buffalo spirit, and while I hesitate to tell Weerasethakul what to do, he could stand to edge half a step closer to the audience. But as his Buddhist tone-poem movie reminds us, life and death are cyclical, and the paths we travel converge and diverge. Frankly, it speaks well of international film’s vitality that something as weird and lovely and completely uncommercial as “Uncle Boonmee Who Can Recall His Past Lives” can share the world stage with a film like “The King’s Speech,” if only metaphorically and for a fraction of a second. And if Colin Firth has sex with a fish in his next movie, you read it here first.

“Uncle Boonmee Who Can Recall His Past Lives” is now playing at Film Forum in New York and opens March 4 at the Laemmle Royal in Los Angeles, with more cities to follow.

In the heaviest clashes, Karen rebels reportedly seized a police station and post office Sunday in the Myanmar border town of Myawaddy. Sporadic gun and mortar fire continued into Monday afternoon. More fighting broke out further south for one hour Monday at the Three Pagodas Pass, said local Thai official Chamras Jungnoi, but there was no word on any casualties.

Thai officials said late Monday that fighting had quieted and government troops had regained control of Myawaddy.

Groups representing ethnic minorities who make up some 40 percent of Myanmar’s population had warned in recent days that civil war could erupt if the military tried to impose its highly centralized constitution and deprive them of rights.

Refugee camps in Thailand already house tens of thousands of ethnic Karen who have fled decades of fighting in the border regions, but Monday marked the biggest one-day tide of refugees to flee into Thailand in recent years.

Refugees marched, shepherded by Thai security personnel, through the streets of the Thai town of Mae Sot, which is just across a river from Myawaddy. Those few carrying belongings toted them on top of their heads, while several lucky ones got rides on pickup trucks.

“At least 15,000 refugees have crossed from eastern Myanmar into northern Thailand since this morning,” said Andrej Mahecic, spokesman for the U.N.’s refugee agency, which was providing tents and other materials to shelter the refugees. Non-governmental groups also were offering aid, he said from the agency’s headquarters in Geneva.

Refugees continued to arrive into the evening, and some independent estimates put their number closer to 20,000.

They were being sheltered near the Mae Sot airport at a location that was becoming overcrowded, Mahecic said.

Col. Wannatip Wongwai, commander of Thailand’s Third Army Region responsible for security in the area, said Myanmar government troops appeared to have retaken control of Myawaddy, and the Karen rebels held just a few positions on the town’s outskirts.

“As soon as the situation is under control, we will start sending the refugees back to Myawaddy,” he told The Associated Press.

The fighting threatened to overshadow electoral developments, which include mounting chagrin on the part of anti-government parties over what they charge was blatant cheating on behalf of the military’s chosen candidates.

Visiting New Delhi, President Barack Obama said it was unacceptable for Myanmar’s government to “steal an election” and hold its people’s aspirations hostage to the regime’s greed and paranoia.

Obama says leaders in countries like the U.S. and India have a responsibility to condemn such gross violations of human rights. He was speaking before India’s parliament.

U.N. Secretary-General Ban Ki-moon said “the voting was held in conditions that were insufficiently inclusive, participatory and transparent,” and expressed concern about the reports of fighting, urging all sides to refrain from actions that could raise tensions further, U.N. spokesman Martin Nesirky said Monday from the United Nations.

State media and the Election Commission reported Monday that 40 junta-backed candidates won their races, but a day after the polls closed, virtually no other official results — even on voter turnout — were available, and there was no timetable for releasing them.

The junta-backed Union Solidarity and Development Party was certain to win an overwhelming number of seats. It fielded 1,112 candidates for the 1,159 seats in the two-house national parliament and 14 regional parliaments. The largest anti-government party, the National Democratic Force, contested just 164 spots.

And the constitution sets aside 25 percent of parliamentary seats for military appointees.

The NDF said provisional returns it had collected showed it winning 15 seats.

NDF chief Khin Maung Swe accused the USDP of using every possible method to steal the vote, and said it was “sure to win 90 percent if they continue to cheat in such manner.”

He described a case in the central city of Mandalay, where one NDF candidate ran against Health Minister Kyaw Myint, the USDP candidate. An initial count at polling booths Sunday evening showed the NDF candidate in front, but later that night, a bag of 3,376 ballots from advance voting arrived, which included 2,500 in favor of the USDP, enough to make it the winner.

Khin Maung Swe said there were many cases where lagging USDP candidates received a boost from the arrival of such ballots. Exile Myanmar media had reported that people casting advance ballots were often pressured to vote for the pro-government party.

The NDF is led by breakaway members of the former National League for Democracy of detained Nobel Peace Prize laureate Aung San Suu Kyi, whose party won a landslide victory in the last elections in 1990 but was barred from taking office. It was disbanded this year after declining to register.

Suu Kyi’s term of house arrest is supposed to expire Saturday, and her lawyer Nyan Win said Monday he was certain she would be released. “We are making plans for a welcoming ceremony,” he said.

Ban’s statement from U.N. headquarters repeated a call for lifting restrictions on Suu Kyi, who has been locked up in her Yangon villa on and off since 1989 and is one of some 2,200 political prisoners in Myanmar.

One of her two sons, 33-year-old Kim Aris, applied for a visa Monday in Bangkok in hopes of seeing his mother for the first time in 10 years. He lives in Britain and repeatedly has been denied visas to enter Myanmar.

Asked if he was optimistic, Aris told reporters he had “not too much hope. But there’s always a little bit of hope. We’ll see.” He called the elections “a load of rubbish.”

——

Associated Press photographer Apichart Weerawong in Mae Sot, Thailand, and writers Thanyarat Doksone in Bangkok, Edith M. Lederer at the United Nations and Frank Jordans in Geneva contributed to this report.