The Man Who Turns Information and Passion

Into a Vision for Achieving Any Goal

Panlop Samsi

“What is it you do for a living, again?”

“I’m a consultant and specialist in corporate planning and strategy,” he said.

I heard him the first time, clear as day, but I had to ask again. My mind was drawing a complete blank. What is that job? More importantly, how does it make money? What kind of person ends up doing that? What did he study? His artsy vibe, completely devoid of any academic stuffiness, didn't help. I couldn't for the life of me picture the man with the ethnically ambiguous face sitting across from me doing the job he just described. If I hadn't gotten his background info before our chat, there’s no way in hell our paths would have ever crossed. Our professional worlds are galaxies apart.

But hey, that's the gig. I'm an interviewer, and so, the unexpected happens.

Which is great, actually. Because now I get to find out what a human data-alchemist like him eats, breathes, and loves—the raw materials that forged him into a master planner who once helped shape national strategy.

And so began our conversation, in a restaurant buzzing with a multinational crowd in a Ram Intra condominium complex. Dr. Anak Piyakarn fit right in, maybe because of his Middle Eastern-esque features and a beard thicker than your average Thai man's. His striking, exotic look, which blended seamlessly with the foreigners around us, became the first question I had to ask, the one I was most curious about.

“My dad told me we have a tiny sliver of Portuguese from my grandfather’s side in Ayutthaya. My mom’s from the south, Surat Thani,” he explains, which likely accounts for his international look. Now, I have to confess, I was raised to size people up by their appearance—a kind of amateur anthropology. Where are his people from? Does his accent give away his origins? What about that face, that name? It’s a habit. But before I could probe deeper into his childhood… well, I already told you, I needed to know how he was built.

When I ask what shaped him for this career, he says, “It probably goes back to when I was a kid. During school breaks, my parents would put my sister and me on a train to our relatives’ place in Surat Thani. I’d mostly hang out at my aunt’s restaurant in the city. Back then, if you weren’t with your friends, there was nothing to do. I’d just lie around in my aunt’s air-conditioned office. Daytime TV was just static; good shows only came on in the evening. Luckily, there was a huge bookstore less than a hundred steps away. It had everything. Reading became the perfect way to kill time.” He says he likely got his love for reading from his father, an avid reader and collector of translated novels, especially Agatha Christie and Stephen King.

“The books I bought were mostly fun, thin paperbacks by ‘Pae See Nam.’ I could finish a book a day. I mean, there was literally nothing else to do. But the book that was probably the real starting point for who I am today was a management philosophy book by Dr. W. Edwards Deming. I can’t remember what made a kid, probably in late elementary school, pick up that book and wonder how this Westerner became a key figure in management for a fiercely nationalistic country like Japan. I had to buy that thick book to satisfy my curiosity. At the time, I didn't even understand the word ‘management.’” That book, unknowingly, steered him toward the world of management knowledge, especially Japanese management concepts.

As he got a bit older, in middle school at Suankularb Wittayalai College, he and two like-minded friends dove into philosophy books, swapping ideas and recommendations. “It started with the three of us being librarians at the school library. We all loved electronics, and we all loved philosophy.” He was also a huge fan of Rabindranath Tagore’s writings, along with any other poetry he could get his hands on. “I first found a Tagore book at a second-hand stall in the Chatuchak Weekend Market… Reading books with beautiful language, where you read a couple of words and have to stop and think, to interpret… I found that really fun.”

During that time, he also got into meditation. Meanwhile, his father thought he was destined to be a computer engineer because he had already started designing and etching his own electronic circuit boards. “I went from being a hyperactive kid since birth to this quiet person. My family started to worry that I was reading too much philosophy and would ‘lose it.’ I had started getting into metaphysics and Buddhist texts, which led me to practice meditation. But after a while, I realized it was beyond my ability to understand on my own, and my family’s concern was becoming a problem—they thought I was just spacing out. So, I decided to put a stop to it for the time being.” He was also a member of the school’s special Boy Scout troop throughout middle school and won the outstanding student activity award, earning him the nickname “Pop Kong Roi” (Pop of the Troop), which his friends still use today.

In high school, he became an assistant in the audio-visual room, managing the school’s radio and television broadcasts that aired before the morning flag ceremony, and occasionally shooting photos and videos of school events. He also developed an interest in drawing.

“The first portrait I drew for my art class in 10th grade, I thought it was a perfect likeness. I walked around showing it off to everyone. Looking back now, it wasn't a good likeness at all (laughs). But at that moment, it gave me the confidence to improve. I carried a big drawing board or a thick, black-covered sketchbook to school every day. Whenever I had free time, I’d just sit and draw trees and leaves. Then one day, our teacher gave us an assignment to create a portrait of King Bhumibol using any technique except drawing or painting. I chose to use a 0.05mm black ink pen and just stipple, dot by dot. It took me almost three months to finish.”

He seems incredibly proud of this drawing, as his portrait of King Rama IX was placed on the royal altar table at the school’s entrance every December for the three years he was in high school. He was also selected as the battalion commander for the Reserve Officers' Training Corps (ROTC) at the Vibhavadi training center for all three years.

“I played music in high school, too. I was the drummer. I was in the same grade as Toon from Bodyslam. Everyone in my band was amazing… except for the drummer,” he laughs heartily. “Back then, I was in the science-biology track. That was the track for kids who wanted to be doctors, because I think only medicine and science faculties required biology for the entrance exam. I chose it because I loved science and tinkering with things since I was a kid. I pictured myself as a scientist in a lab. But in the end, my heart leaned towards art. So, on the very morning of the entrance exam applications, I changed all four of my university choices from science to architecture and decorative arts. I was especially interested in jewelry design, which was a new major that year. After applying, I had to cram for the architecture exam at Silpakorn University. Because I had a very sketchy, ‘cat scratch’ drawing style and was very meticulous, the tutors there saw my work and said I was better suited for painting.” In the end, he was the only one in his friend group who didn't get into his chosen university, a turning point that forced him to choose a new path.

“At the time, I was determined: pick the faculties I really wanted, with no backup plan. If I didn't get in, I would give up on art and keep it as a hobby.” Even though his father offered to pay for him to study architecture at a private university, he started thinking back to Dr. Deming’s book and decided to pursue a business degree. “I was torn between two choices: satellite engineering at Mahanakorn University and business administration at the University of the Thai Chamber of Commerce. I had this childish thought that engineering would trap me in a rigid world of precise calculations, but business would let me use my imagination and think outside the box. So, I chose business.” And just like that, he was enrolled in the Faculty of Business Administration, majoring in Industrial Management at the University of the Thai Chamber of Commerce.

And it was here, in his young adult years, that his life’s path toward academia began to crystallize. The first piece of the jigsaw puzzle fell into place when he became close with his advisor, who was also the head of his major. They bonded over their shared interest in Japanese management principles and their admiration for Dr. Deming, and Anak essentially became his assistant.

“My advisor’s name was Ajarn Uthai Rattanavichitvech. What impressed me most was how he taught. He would distill modern management concepts that weren't even in textbooks yet into his own lecture notes. He was especially focused on Japanese management, which almost no one was talking about back then. It made learning exciting and fascinating for me, especially when writing reports, because I got to apply all these tools and concepts to analyze management situations and find the most effective solutions.” This method of mixing and matching knowledge from different fields made him love research and gave him a unique perspective. He later realized that in the real world, knowing only one thing is never enough.

“As I was finishing my senior year, Ajarn Uthai, who was now an assistant to the university president, called me in for a meeting. He told me he wanted me to go on to get a master’s degree because he wanted me to come back and teach at the university. He said if my family could afford it, I should study abroad. He stressed that I should go straight to grad school, not work first, and shared his own experiences to back it up. But at that time, I was hungry for real-world experience. The fire was burning bright. I wanted to see how different organizations worked, to understand what made them succeed or fail, what their constraints were. Because management is both a ‘science and an art,’ sometimes you need more imagination than principles and theories. So, I decided to work first. But Ajarn Uthai’s words that day lit a spark in me—a goal to one day return as a professor, once I had enough knowledge and expertise to pass on to others.”

While he was an undergrad, he also opened an “internet cafe” behind the university, one of the first in the area. Business was good. “I wasn’t selling internet hours; I was selling a comfortable vibe. My goal was for customers to think, ‘If I have nothing else to do, I’ll just go hang out at the shop.’ You didn't even have to use a computer. I’d help them with their reports and tutor them. I had a team of younger engineering students who kept the place fun and lively, but they had to be better at games than the customers. The goal was to make the customers keep coming back to try and beat us. What I’m proud of is that even though my hourly rate was two to four times higher than other shops, and the computers were laggy for gaming, we were always full. They said they just felt comfortable hanging out there. I consider that a business success.” But eventually, the licensing fees for games and software became too expensive, and he had to shut it down. And that was his life as an undergrad.

The working world began the moment he graduated. He jumped between a variety of organizations: a Japanese company, a golf and sports club, a printing ink factory, an oil transport company, and even a massive multinational corporation, Unocal Thailand, where he worked on an offshore platform in the Gulf of Thailand, 14 days on, 14 days off. “Life on the oil rig was pretty much perfect. Life was good, maybe too good. The work was tough, but I had great colleagues, so being in the middle of the sea was never boring. I loved the job, there was so much to learn about the oilfield, I ran into several old friends from Suankularb, and I got a full immersion in American-style corporate management.”

But something still felt off. “Lately, whenever I came back to Bangkok, I started noticing how much older my parents were getting. I’d never really seen it until then. I realized I wanted a normal life, to be there to take care of them, not just see them for a few days between my own adventures. I figured I had gathered enough experience.” His career was taking off, but he chose to stick to the original plan he’d discussed with Ajarn Uthai.

So he decided to go back for his master’s degree, though not abroad as he’d been advised. “I was interested in a high-level executive management program, a so-called CEO program, which was a new concept back then. Looking at the curriculum, I thought it would satisfy my thirst for knowledge better than a standard program. At the time, there were only two places offering it: the University of the Thai Chamber of Commerce and Ramkhamhaeng University.” There was an age requirement for both. “Ramkhamhaeng wouldn't even let me apply because of my age. UTCC initially rejected me too, but I managed to talk my way into an interview.” In the end, he got into the CEO MBA program in Management at UTCC, just as he’d hoped.

“The key to this master’s program was that it forced students to think strategically. That’s where I really learned about corporate strategic planning, which was still a pretty new idea in Thailand back then. Another subject I loved was research methodology. Both subjects were about systematic thinking, creating clear frameworks for thought and action that were scientific and reliable.” His master's degree sharpened his focus on what he truly loved: planning.

“Planning and systematic thinking force you to analyze all the environmental factors, both from theoretical models and other relevant aspects, from every angle. You learn to choose the right tools, to know your framework, to see your options. It also teaches you to write and communicate systematically—to listen, think, and then synthesize disparate data into a clear, simple, understandable, and credible concept.” And then, the next piece of the jigsaw puzzle that would lead him into the academic world appeared.

“While I was doing my master’s, I had the chance to be a research assistant for Associate Professor Dr. Sangsidh Piriyarangsan at the Center for Good Governance Research. This gave me the opportunity to work with many renowned senior academics. I saw their incredible work process. They could take all sorts of information they’d read and heard and sketch out a simple, comprehensive framework that connected everything. After hours of meetings with scattered information, they could summarize it all into a few concise, powerful concepts using just a few choice words. I was blown away. I became determined to learn how to think systematically and synthesize information into clear frameworks like that.”

But the stress of the job, which required him to stay on top of daily political developments for the research center during a period when Thailand was intensely “playing color sports,” left him with a deep dislike for politics, even the petty kind within organizations. He says that kind of office politics is what creates friction and holds businesses back. It leads to miscommunication, drains performance, and cripples the entire organization.

“While I was working on my thesis, I randomly ran into a professor who taught me during my undergrad years. My class was his very first class in his very first semester as a new lecturer. He recognized me instantly, even remembered my nickname, which shocked me. He explained that he remembered me because I was the first and only student who had ever asked to review their graded essay in his class. We sat and talked, sharing stories and experiences. He told me what was going on with the department I had studied in. At the end of our conversation, he just asked, ‘When you finish, are you interested in coming to teach the younger students here?’” That invitation powerfully reaffirmed his long-held goal of becoming a university professor.

After finishing his master’s, he planned to study abroad for a short 1-2 year program to get the international experience Ajarn Uthai had recommended. “At that time, both my sister and I were doing our master’s and were stuck on our theses. My parents made a deal: whoever finished first would get to go on for their doctorate first. As luck would have it, I graduated before her. I decided I wouldn't do a Ph.D. just yet, but would ask to live abroad for a while.” But due to a series of unfortunate events, particularly health problems, he had to abandon his plans to go to Canada, even after he’d already started contacting universities and looking for accommodation.

While waiting for a teaching position to open up at his target university, he was offered a short-term project, less than a year, working for Dr. Woraphon Sokatiyanuruk and Assoc. Prof. Dr. Montri Sokatiyanuruk, who are brothers. The project was the Advanced Provincial Administrator Training Program (NPSC) for the Damrong Rajanubhab Institute of the Ministry of Interior, in collaboration with the National Institute of Development Administration (NIDA). Dr. Montri was the program director, and Anak was stationed on-site at the Ministry of Interior College in Chonburi as the project director.

“The NPSC was the first top-level training program of its kind in the country, so it was a huge deal. Huge in terms of the participants—district chiefs from all over the country, because you had to pass this course to become a provincial governor—as well as other high-ranking government officials, from directors to even prison commanders. And huge in terms of the speakers, who were the ‘best of the best’ in their respective fields. We had former deputy prime ministers, famous senior civil servants, leading experts, and renowned professors. Every single detail of the project was critical.”

After the NPSC project ended, Dr. Montri invited him to come work as his assistant at NIDA and offered him a scholarship to pursue a doctorate to bolster his academic credibility, wanting him to become a university professor. The opportunity for a Ph.D. had suddenly opened up, while his application for a teaching position had to be postponed again. And it was here at NIDA that a crucial piece of the jigsaw puzzle was put into place.

“After the NPSC program in Chonburi, Dr. Montri invited me to help him at NIDA as a research assistant. He also graciously offered me a scholarship to get my Ph.D. in Public Administration, specializing in Public and Private Sector Management. He said that this field of study would broaden my conceptual framework and help me understand the origins and intertwined mechanisms of both public and private organizations. My initial plan was to apply directly to the business school.”

“When I started my Ph.D. program, I discovered a whole new world. A world of people who thought and spoke the same language as me. For the longest time, people had told me I was too principled in the way I spoke. But when I met my Ph.D. cohort, everyone said the same thing: ‘I never thought I’d meet someone else as crazy about principles as I am. I thought I was the only weirdo who had trouble talking to other people!’ (laughs). It made my doctoral studies even more fun and challenging, allowing us to debate and argue freely within theoretical frameworks. Even our casual chats were peppered with academic concepts.” He had finally found his tribe.

“As for my work, I was responsible for managing the training programs that Dr. Montri undertook with external organizations on behalf of the institute, as well as various research and academic tasks. I had the opportunity to help develop strategic plans, both long-term 5-10 year plans and various operational-level plans, for government agencies at both the department and ministry levels, as well as state-owned enterprises and independent organizations. This allowed me to learn and accumulate experience in creating strategic plans all the way down to the operational level.” He also assisted Dr. Woraphon when he was a member of the National Legislative Assembly (NLA) and chairman of the Subcommittee on Finance, Banking, Financial Institutions, and Capital Markets, serving as his personal expert, tasked with analyzing draft laws before they went to the assembly for consideration.

These work experiences gave him a front-row seat to regional and sub-regional development plans, particularly the various levels of national development plans. He saw where things had been and where they were going, which sparked a passion for analyzing development plans, especially spatial planning. But all the while, his goal of becoming a professor remained unchanged.

“After passing my Ph.D. qualifying exams, or QE, which earned me the academic title of ‘Doctoral Candidate,’ I contacted the university I wanted to teach at through a professor I knew from my master's program. I got to speak directly with the dean. He advised me to wait until I had officially finished my doctorate, because there were conditions that might prevent me from getting my Ph.D. recognized for a faculty position later on. So, I had to keep waiting until I was officially a doctor.”

And then, the final piece of the jigsaw puzzle was placed, completing the picture of the career he now specializes in. “While I was writing my dissertation, I was invited to work at a well-known consulting firm in the position of ‘Consultant and Specialist in Planning and Strategy.’ There, I had the opportunity to develop strategic development plans with various agencies, such as the plan for the Special Economic Zones (SEZ), the 20-year strategic plan for sustainable development of water resources and natural waterways, proposals for the 20-year national strategic plan by region, and other development plans.”

He notes that many people don't understand what a strategist does. Some think it’s just about writing pretty words that are impossible to put into practice. “In reality, any good plan, from the national level down to the tiniest organization, starts with setting a goal and analyzing relevant data to understand the environment and context from all sides. You have to understand the past, the present, and make educated predictions about what might happen. It's about knowing them, knowing yourself, knowing the terrain, making accurate forecasts, knowing your escape routes, and having the ‘guts’ to win the battle before it’s even fought! A strategist must have a massive amount of well-rounded information to create a ‘picture on the board’ for analysis and decision-making, to set the right plans at every level, and to create a viable path to move the entire organization toward its goal. The initial goal might even be scaled down or become bigger than you ever imagined once you've thoroughly analyzed the entire environment.”

He says that the written words everyone sees are just the final product of the plan development phase. It has to be followed by resource allocation, implementation, monitoring and evaluation, and plan review. “Behind those beautiful words is a communication of ideas, translated into carefully polished linguistic symbols. The words and language must be chosen to be clear, simple, and able to communicate information so that everyone involved has the same understanding. So, the words strung together all have a source; they aren't just pretty phrases. They are a ‘picture’ of the entire process, with hidden origins and significance.” Because the interpretation of every word in a strategic plan gets broken down into action plans and the allocation of limited resources, especially the budget, to achieve maximum benefit, drive development, and enhance competitive potential. For him, this work is like creating art. It allows him to enter a state of deep concentration for long periods, sometimes even forgetting to eat or sleep.

“A conceptual framework is like the composition of a whole picture. Analyzing and inputting data is like dabbing a paintbrush with color. What will you study? How will you frame your thinking? Is it complete enough? Which words will you choose? How will you arrange them? What kind of language is appropriate to make the words clearly communicate the entire concept so everyone understands it the same way? So, for me, writing any plan is no different from creating a work of art. The concept is the same; it just depends on what materials you use to create it. The result is like a piece of art, beautiful in its interconnectedness, its narrative woven with words that can clearly communicate a message to all stakeholders. You could say it’s about writing complex, difficult things in simple terms that can be implemented to achieve challenging goals smoothly. Or, on the other hand, it's a message that has been so thoroughly synthesized that it yields a plan and a course of action that is both challenging and perfectly appropriate.”

As he talks about data management and conceptual frameworks, Dr. Anak’s voice and eyes seem to shine brighter than usual, as if he’s talking about the thing he loves most in the world—a love that borders on obsession, filled with absolute conviction and joy.

With his love for spatial planning, he decided to challenge himself by finding out just how much a Ph.D. could contribute to a private sector business. He applied for a job at a real estate company as a “Corporate Strategist.” This was another level of proving himself that the young doctor wanted to attempt, a foray into the private business world. But after a few years, it turned out not to match his disposition. They saw the world through different lenses. So, he returned to the main path he had set for himself.

But then, the dream of becoming a professor, held since his youth, was challenged. “When Dr. Montri encouraged me to get my Ph.D., he said that Thailand was short tens of thousands of doctoral-level workers. By the time I graduated, the world had changed. The thinking had changed. Technology had leaped forward, while the birth rate had plummeted. Demand for higher education declined. Career options exploded. For example, in the past, a kid addicted to video games was a social problem. Now, it’s a profession that can earn hundreds of thousands, even millions, a month. Being a content creator is the new dream job for kids. As a result, the demand for university professors has dropped.”

The requirements, which used to emphasize a minimum age and years of experience, flipped to a maximum age limit. “There was also a new rule that you had to have at least one degree from the same faculty as your Ph.D. I had a bachelor's and master's in business administration, but my doctorate was in public administration. Even though they were both in organizational management, the degrees were from different faculties. That made applying for a teaching position even harder. If I wanted to continue on that path, I would probably have to go back and get another master’s degree in public administration.” He also faced the interview question: "Why are you only now thinking of becoming a professor, now that you’re over 40?" … “This must have been what Ajarn Uthai was trying to tell me in that meeting all those years ago.”

His career path may have deviated from the goal he set as a young man, but that’s what has made him the corporate strategist he is today. Beyond that, Dr. Anak uses his knowledge and experience to help Mr. Panchana Vatanasathien, the president of the Khao Yai Tourism Association, as an advisor. He helps develop the association’s strategic plan and project plans to systematically secure funding for local volunteer organizations. This work allows him to use his experience to be a part of driving local development and building a sustainable Khao Yai community. “I believe my knowledge and experience can be of some benefit, great or small, to the Khao Yai community, Pak Chong district, or any other opportunities that come my way.” It’s a way to use his expertise in spatial planning, which he loves, with complete freedom.

When asked what it takes to be a strategic planner, Dr. Anak says the foundation is to be observant and to love collecting experiences from the world around you. You have to love to analyze, and you must be able to synthesize everything around you, including your own experiences, and apply it appropriately. “Writing a strategic plan is like writing a song. It has an opening, a hook that has to be catchy and memorable, and a closing. It’s about stringing words together to communicate an idea. But with planning, the idea is a product of systematic analysis. The plan requires both experience and imagination, coupled with comprehensive knowledge and data. It has clear, interconnected action plans at each level, with appropriate goals and indicators. The weaving of language and the beauty of word choice polish the work, making it more powerful and allowing it to communicate more effectively.”

“You have to process all your knowledge into a path that can seek out opportunities to move the entire organization toward its goals with maximum efficiency and effectiveness, under existing constraints. So, under these conditions, you have to be someone who loves to gather experience, an observant person, someone who loves to analyze and absorb information. These are fundamental. To be a strategist, it's crucial to be observant, to have a wide range of knowledge at your fingertips. You have to learn from both successes and failures, not just look at the bright side, because every opportunity carries risk. Learn what factors and conditions led to certain outcomes, to find solutions and preventative measures, and to build on your knowledge and experience for future planning.”

“Besides analysis, you need a systematic thought process. Writing a plan and analyzing environmental factors has to be done systematically, otherwise it becomes a mess. You’re managing the entire framework that will move the whole organization toward a set goal. So, it must be comprehensive, clear, and based on verified information. For me, a good plan should be judged on how well it addresses the goal and the surrounding environment, which includes the community and society around you.”

Though his path has been winding, filled with decisions that always came at a cost, every step of his life has distilled and forged this man into a strategist who doesn't just understand data, but can see the future through its structures with sharp clarity, refining it into a far-reaching vision. Today, Dr. Anak Piyakarn is not just a consultant or a specialist in strategic planning. He is a living example of a person who used his love and passion for knowledge and systematic thinking to create his own path. He is a man who grew from a small childhood curiosity into a figure who sets the course for organizations, and perhaps even for his country, in a way that few can see or understand.

No part of this content may be copied, modified, or distributed in any form without prior written permission.