Thailand Parliament Wants 4D Cinema Despite Economic Concerns
The story out of Thailand, as detailed in a recent Bangkok Post report, seems almost too perfectly engineered to provoke outrage: a parliament requesting hundreds of millions of baht for renovations, including a 4D cinema, while its citizens grapple with economic hardship. It’s a story about priorities, about the gap between public perception and institutional decision-making, and about the sometimes perverse incentives that shape political spending. But it’s also a story that reveals a deeper tension—one playing out in democracies across the globe—between the symbolic role of governmental institutions and the very real economic pressures facing ordinary people.
These recent findings raise several uncomfortable questions. Why, when so many Thais are struggling, is the parliament prioritizing a 4D cinema and refurbishing a rarely used, and apparently oven-like, pavilion? The official justification—that the “cinema” is actually an information room for visitors, modeled after audiovisual facilities in other countries—feels thin, particularly given the proposed inclusion of wind, rain, and vibration effects. It’s hard to shake the sense that this is less about educating the public and more about creating a certain impression of modernity, even opulence, within the halls of power.
The proposed renovations seem to fall into a familiar pattern. Governments, regardless of their political stripe, often invest in grand projects, symbolic gestures meant to convey strength, stability, and progress. These projects can range from new parliament buildings to massive infrastructure undertakings. The problem, of course, is that such projects can quickly become detached from the lived realities of the people they are ostensibly meant to serve.
The specific details of the Thai parliament’s proposal are particularly revealing:
× 113 million baht to refurbish a pavilion deemed unusable due to excessive heat. × 180 million baht for a 4D “information room.” * Millions more for lighting upgrades, kitchen renovations, and a recreation room.
It’s a list that reads less like a carefully considered plan for improving parliamentary function and more like a wish list of amenities.
“This is public money. What purpose does this cinema serve? Who will it benefit?”
This question, posed by MP Bhuntin Noumjerm, cuts to the heart of the matter. In a world of limited resources, every baht spent on a parliamentary 4D cinema is a baht not spent on something else—education, healthcare, social safety nets. The optics of this are terrible, especially in a time of economic hardship. It reinforces a narrative of disconnect, of a ruling class insulated from the struggles of everyday citizens. And it raises the fundamental question of what we actually expect from our political institutions. Is it enough for them to look impressive, or should they also be responsive to the needs of the people they represent? This Thai controversy, though geographically distant, is part of a global conversation about how democracies prioritize spending and how they maintain the trust of their citizens.
