THE
job of “returning happiness” to Thailand has put Prayuth Chan-ocha (pictured)
in a foul mood. In January the irascible leader of the junta that seized power
in May 2014 said he had resolved to “talk less, be less emotional and quarrel
less with reporters.” Yet this month he was again apologising, through a
spokesman, for flashes of anger at two press events. The cause of his ire was
impertinent questioning about a proposed new constitution.
His temper may only get worse.
Mr Prayuth, a former general, this week reassured President Barack Obama at
a summit for South-East Asian leaders in California that he is preparing the
country for fresh elections. But first the junta wants to pass a new
constitution which would keep the hands of elected politicians firmly tied. Mr
Prayuth’s coup suspended the previous constitution, itself drawn up during
another period of military rule following an earlier coup that also unseated a
democratic government, in 2006. A draft for a new constitution that was
presented last year proved too illiberal even for lackeys who sit in the army’s
rubber-stamp councils. The generals ordered a rewrite. Their latest blueprint
looks nearly as bad.
True, it abandons much-derided plans
for an army-led “crisis panel”, empowered to topple elected governments at
will. But otherwise it reflects the army’s view that popular politics is a form
of corruption, and that bickering politicians are the source rather than a
symptom of Thailand’s deep social divisions. (The biggest one is between a
wealthy, royalist establishment in Bangkok, the capital, and poorer, less
deferential classes in the north and north-east.) The new draft would produce
weak coalition governments, presumably in order to erode the dominance of
Thailand’s most successful party, Pheu Thai, versions of which the army has
twice kicked from power. The prime minister need not be an MP, a loophole that
could allow soldiers to keep bossing elected politicians around.
New power will also flow to watchdogs such as the electoral commission,
anti-corruption outfit and courts. On the face of it, that looks good. But
these bodies have traditionally reflected the interests of Thailand’s monied
elites. It is progress that the draft makes the constitutional court the final
arbiter in times of crisis—that role had previously fallen to King Bhumibol
Adulyadej, now old and frail. But the change probably reflects fears among the
Bangkok establishment that the next monarch, the crown prince, may go too easy
on Pheu Thai and other perceived enemies.
All this has dismayed Thais of many stripes. Politicians note that Mr
Prayuth will retain his authority until the moment the next government is sworn
in, perhaps allowing him to influence their election campaigns. They fret that
more surprises may be stuffed into subsections which the drafters have yet to
scribble (a process that may delay an election promised for mid-2017). Sensing
revolt, the junta has started warning that critics of the draft will be hauled
away for “attitude adjustment”. The government insists that the constitution
will be put to a national referendum at the end of July. The election
commission says it is already preparing plans for that ballot, an operation it
has considered calling the “65m Blooming Flowers” (forgetting, presumably, that
a similarly named campaign in Mao Zedong’s China ended in bloody repression).
It wants penalties for people who misrepresent the draft in the media.
Meanwhile, a general says cadets will be sent to polling stations to help
people vote for the right outcome. It may be in vain: the few opinion polls
suggest that Thais will throw the new draft out.
The attitude
adjusters
What would happen then is anyone’s guess. Mr Prayuth insists that a general
election will take place in 2017 no matter what—though the junta’s timetable
for a return to elected government has shown a tendency to slip. Perhaps he
will seek to resurrect a constitution from Thailand’s past (he has 19 to choose
from). Perhaps he will impose an electoral system of his own making. Meechai
Ruchuphan, a lawyer who led the latest drafting panel, has warned that Thais
who vote to abandon his council’s creation might end up with rules they like
even less.
Some wonder whether the draft is designed to fail, so that the junta can
remain in power. The generals are presumed to want to be around to manage King
Bhumibol’s succession (he is 88). Noxious censorship laws even prevent the
matter of the succession from being openly discussed—though it will be the most
significant moment for the national polity in decades and seems likely to
inflame the country’s smouldering class wars.
Yet the longer the generals hang around, the more problems they will have
to contend with. On February 12th Yingluck Shinawatra, pushed out as prime
minister just before the coup, invited foreign journalists to tour her
vegetable garden—an outing seemingly designed to skirt the ban on overt
politicking. She is probably hoping that foreign pressure on the junta will
lessen her chances of a long jail term at the end of her show trial for
corruption. Perhaps more pressingly, the junta also finds itself caught up in a
bitter dispute inside Thailand’s powerful religious establishment over who should
succeed the late patriarch of the Buddhist faith. Thousands of monks gathered
near Bangkok on February 15th, urging the government to endorse their faction’s
favourite. There were scuffles with soldiers.
It is a febrile mood, and no end of conspiracy theories
posit what a scheming junta intends to do next. Yet the debacle surrounding the
constitution may hint at something more worrying still: that Thailand’s
self-chosen leaders have no real strategy at all.
The Economist
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