THE result of the recently held elections in Thailand is nothing short of an affirmation of the power of resistance, breathing some hope in the prospects of democratization and the rise of new blood in Southeast Asian politics. But lest people get the impression that what happened in Thailand is a revolution, one has to contend with the fact that the two frontrunners who together gave Prime Minister Prayuth Chan-ocha and his military-backed government a fundamental slap still represent the elite classes of Thai society. Both are seen wearing designer clothes even as they campaign for change.
Pita Limjaroenrat, the leader of the Move Forward party which won the highest number of seats, and is most well-positioned to form a government, is a Harvard-educated businessman. Paetongtarn Shinawatra, the leader of the opposition Pheu Thai party which placed second, is the scion of the wealthy political clan of the Shinawatras, the daughter of former prime minister Thaksin Shinawatra who was ousted in a coup. Her aunt, Yingluck Shinawatra, became prime minister following the 2011 elections, but typical of Thai political history, was also deposed by the military led by Prayuth. The Shinawatras, wealthy as they are, lorded it over Thai politics using their own brand of populism, cultivating and maintaining the loyalty of their mass base, referred to as the “red shirts.”
The political history of Thailand is one that has seen democratic space being punctured by frequent military takeovers. This last coup engineered by Prayuth resulted in a government that lasted for nine years. Its relatively uninterrupted rule, however, provided a constant repressive presence that led to its unraveling, as a new breed of Thais emerged, mainly driven by the youth who are more cosmopolitan, more educated and liberal, and who hungered for social, political and cultural change. It was not just the military establishment that these new breeds of citizens challenged. They also began to train their sights on the institution of the monarchy. The democratic voices which these young Thais were eager to express collided with the centuries-old lese majeste laws where criticism of the royal family was severely proscribed, and punished.
Thailand is a society of rigid forms and structures, where rituals and decorum are very much inscribed in their collective identities. Their entire being is circumscribed in the trifecta that is composed of the King, Buddhism and the Thai nation. The scripts upon which the habitus of the nation are articulated and defined are steeped in well-defined roles and fixed allocations of spaces for the exercise of power. It is this rigidity that also creates the condition for the violence of its ruptures.
In the recent past, despite the tumultuous political transitions and interruption, the institution of monarchy provided the calming hand that stabilized the polity. Pockets of criticism against the royal family were muted by the commanding effect of censorship, even as resentment began to grow. The passing of the long-reigning and revered King Bhumibol Adulyadej in 2016, and the ascension of his son to the throne, juxtaposed with the image of generals lording it over Thai politics, placed the Thai citizenry at a momentous point in their history. The Rubicon was crossed, and the election results were simply an affirmation of what festered, grew and exploded in the underbelly of Thai society.
It is actually amazing how the political opposition trounced allies of the generals and the king. It is even more remarkable how Pita Limjaroenrat and his Move Forward party were able to animate voters to take up the issue of lese majeste and effectively challenge the institution of monarchy.
There is still much to do to ensure that the popular vote would translate into Pita and Paetongtarn now leading a coalition government. Under normal circumstances, their parties are in a position to overpower the pro-military and pro-royalist parties with their combined seats in the 500-seat Thai parliament. However, the generals have thrown a monkey wrench on the process that could make that happen, as the military has installed a constitution where a military-appointed Senate composed of 250 members, mostly generals and royalists, will also have their say in the selection of who will become prime minister. Already, the same voters who pulled the opposition into victory are demanding that the popular voices prevail over the military. Anything less could lead to another fresh round of political violence.
It is valid to ask if what happened in Thailand can also happen in the Philippines. I dare say that we may not have the structural conditions that would enable a massive rupture in our politics. Thai politics is very much embedded in traditional institutions that have been ideologically dominant, and are conservative and seen by younger generations as repressing their freedom and rights. This was overlaid by the undemocratic presence of the generals. This is something that is not present in the Philippines. The political landscape in the country is less rigid, where rules are more negotiable, and where, despite references to martial law tropes and a return to despotic rule, democratic space thrives. There is no royal family that is sacred and cannot be criticized lest one gets jailed for lese majeste.
The repressive structures in our society are less ritualized, and are not ossified in centuries-old institutions. There is no triarchy of King, Buddhism and Nation that circumscribes our political identities. This is precisely why we take for granted our liberties, and we dwell on petty political battles.
In Thailand, young people worry about their future, join street protests and take the risk because the cost of not speaking truth to power is steep.
Meanwhile our democratic spaces, despite their imperfections, are largely intact. We have a president who disappoints critics expecting him to be a dictator like his father. Our political landscape is a noisy, pluralist terrain where we freely speak about our oppression, meme our leaders, curse the system and complain about everything. We are not oppressed by conservative traditional institutions. We air our grievances and expose red-tagging and unforced disappearances without widespread and systematic persecution. Simply put, the fear factor is lesser.
