THE emblems of the Chakri dynasty, Thailand’s royal family, are the discus of Vishnu and the trident of Shiva. That is because the king is supposed to wield the authority of both gods. Bhumibol Adulyadej, who died on October 13th at the age of 88, did indeed enjoy near-divine status. His subjects had a tendency to prostrate themselves before him. Every film screening in the country begins with the playing of his personal anthem (not the national one). To mock even his dog was to invite prosecution for lèse-majesté, which carries a prison sentence of three to 15 years for each individual slight.
An old-fashioned king
When King Bhumibol was born, in 1927, Thai kings still wielded unfettered authority. Although a revolution in 1932 made the country a constitutional monarchy, a series of subsequent governments, many of them installed by military coups, inculcated reverence for the king as a means of bolstering their own legitimacy. Bhumibol’s sheer longevity further raised his standing. His 70-year reign saw Thailand’s population explode from 17m to 68m and its economy grow 40-fold. He lived through 26 prime ministers, 19 constitutions and 15 coup attempts, nine successful. Despite his lack of constitutional clout, he could ensure a government’s collapse with a subtle indication of displeasure (as in 1992, when a military regime crumbled after he offered veiled criticism of its bloody repression of student protests), or shore one up with a perceived sign of support (as in 2006, when putschists appointed one of his privy councillors prime minister, to replace the democratically elected Thaksin Shinawatra). The king’s death, therefore, leaves a huge vacuum at the centre of Thai politics (see article).
It also comes at an especially awkward time. The coup of 2006 left deep political scars, which still have not healed. Mr Thaksin had pursued populist policies, including lavish farm subsidies and cheap public health care, that earned him the enduring loyalty of poor, rural Thais, who were not used to deriving much benefit from electoral politics. He also seemed to be friendly with the crown prince, Vajiralongkorn. Both these things alarmed the elites of Bangkok, military and commercial alike, who feared that Mr Thaksin might be accumulating an authority that rivalled, and did not depend on, the royal family’s. Even after they ousted Mr Thaksin and banned his party, a surrogate political movement led by his sister, Yingluck, triumphed at a subsequent election. The army duly deposed her, too, ushering in the current junta.
The past ten years of Thai politics, in short, have seen a protracted and destructive battle between the “red-shirts” loyal to Mr Thaksin and the “yellow-shirts” loyal to the king and the coterie of generals around him. The feuding has claimed hundreds of lives, hobbled the economy and prompted a ferocious assault on freedom of speech in what had been one of the more stable, liberal and prosperous countries in Asia. The yellow-shirts, who have been in the ascendent of late, have attempted to secure their position by winning approval in August, through a flawed referendum, of a new constitution that accords the army a big say in politics. That was supposed to pave the way for an election next year, after which, observers assumed, a suitably pliable government would be installed, perhaps headed by Prayuth Chan-ocha, the coup’s leader.
The king’s death throws this whole plan into doubt, however, and raises the spectre of renewed civil strife. There had been little uncertainty about the succession itself: the junta and the late king himself suggested that the crown prince would take the throne, and so it was announced he will. Rather, it is the new king’s conduct once enthroned that is the source of concern. One fear is that Vajiralongkorn will attempt to use his influence as king to rehabilitate his old friend, Mr Thaksin, prompting resistance from the yellow-shirts. Another is that the army, without King Bhumibol’s vague but invaluable imprimatur, will have to resort to ever greater repression to maintain its hold on power.
It does not help that Vajiralongkorn is deeply unpopular. He has lived the high life, largely abroad, churning through a succession of wives, siring multiple children outside his various marriages and shirking the more mundane sort of flesh-pressing expected of the heir apparent. A widely circulated video of his third wife, naked apart from a G-string, singing happy birthday to their pet poodle, gives a sense of the loucheness of his image. It is hard to imagine him acting as any sort of curb on Thailand’s excesses, political or otherwise.
And yet, for all the risks the king’s death brings, it may also present an opportunity. If the newly enthroned King Vajiralongkorn declined to meddle in politics, the generals’ fears of a Thaksin comeback might subside. That, in turn, might induce them to allow slightly greater political freedom. For decades Thailand’s chattering classes have fretted about what would happen when the king died. The passing of that moment without great upheaval should in itself go a long way towards defusing political tensions. Even better would be if King Vajiralongkorn helped foster a less confrontational political climate by pardoning those convicted of lèse-majesté in recent years.
A chance for change
The constant feuding between red- and yellow-shirts has prevented all sensible discussion of Thailand’s future. Much-needed reforms, such as a dilution of the country’s extreme centralisation, have been shelved for fear that they will bring advantage to one side or other. By the same token, the question of how the Thai economy might escape the middle-income trap has been ignored amid the endless coups and protests. A calming of tensions could lead to a more substantial debate.
In the long run, the exaggerated respect the monarchy commands is an impediment to the proper functioning of democracy in Thailand, even when it is not being used to legitimise military coups. It might be no bad thing, therefore, for a less beloved monarch to occupy the throne, and for the monarchy to recede to a less prominent role in public life. Under King Vajiralongkorn, it is hard to imagine it doing otherwise.