Thailand after the coup
The Economist
The army’s propagandists have plenty to scribble about. Unburdened of democratic process, its rubber-stamp parliament, the National Legislative Assembly (NLA), has been cranking out new laws—more than 60 since it was set up in September. Among other things it has banned foreigners from paying Thai women to be surrogate mothers. It is mulling economic reforms to help online entrepreneurs (critics warn of more censorship and cyber snooping). It is also legitimising aspects of martial law, including tougher rules on protests and the right to detain civilians for nearly three months without charge.
Just as busy are the bigwigs whom the junta has put in charge of writing a new constitution. Many of the constitutional proposals, which will be published in draft form in mid-April, aim to shrink the power of political parties. They may include reducing the size of the national assembly’s lower house and encouraging the growth of independent candidates. It all seems designed to prevent any party gaining the dominance that was enjoyed by Pheu Thai, a populist outfit abhorred by Bangkok’s coup-backers but which easily won both the general elections it contested.
A new constitution may well allow for an unelected prime minister in times of crisis—a similar rule kept the army in charge throughout the 1980s. Thailand’s half-elected senate will probably be replaced by a fully-appointed one with more powers—a “House of Citizens”, the idea’s supporters call it. The constitution may also create high-level committees to make sure that future governments continue social and economic programmes which the junta is now launching.
Yet as the army tightens its grip on the political machinery it is finding it harder to command obedience among ordinary Thais. Student protesters are proving indefatigable. Prosecutors will soon decide whether or not to charge four high-profile activists who staged a mock election. An uptick in low-level violence is perhaps the biggest concern. Recently someone threw a grenade at a Bangkok courthouse. In February two pipe bombs exploded outside a shopping centre in the capital. And on March 22nd police found a cache of explosives hidden in forests not far from where the junta will soon hold a cabinet meeting.
Heavy-handedness could embolden dissent rather than suppress it. Two young people sentenced to 2½ years in prison for their part in a satirical play are among many feeling the stricter enforcement of Thailand’s lèse-majesté law. On March 19th Yingluck Shinawatra, prime minister until last May, learnt that she faces a trial for negligence in political office that could see her jailed for a decade. Anti-corruption officials want the NLA to consider banning more than 200 of her former MPs from holding political office.
The junta says that its new constitution will be finalised in September, perhaps allowing for a general election to be held next February. But before that it will have to decide whether the constitution should be put to a referendum, as happened in 2007. The junta’s supporters seem to be discouraging the idea, claiming that it would delay the return to democracy.
As for politicians from Thailand’s two main political parties, both turfed out of parliament by the coup, they are starting to look unusually united in their opposition to the junta’s plans. This month Abhisit Vejjajiva, leader of the pro-establishment Democrat Party and a former prime minister, called the constitutional proposals “a step back for democracy”. Members of Pheu Thai warn that the new constitution could cause fresh conflict. The generals had always promised that their takeover would help Thailand’s feuding politicians find common ground. It has happened in ways they did not intend.
