Thailand’s Leaders Play Amnesties and Casinos: A Political Game of Smoke
The old saw says that politics is the art of the possible. But in Thailand, it increasingly feels like the art of strategic distraction, of diverting attention from intractable problems by creating even more tantalizing controversies. It’s a spectacle, brilliantly staged to keep the audience guessing, while the core issues remain stubbornly unaddressed. Take the latest maneuver from the ruling coalition: Faced with a splintering majority and an unpopular Entertainment Complex Bill legalizing casinos, they’ve opted to prioritize amnesty bills. Is this a genuine attempt at national healing, or a cynical ploy to buy time, divide the opposition, and ultimately, sneak the casino bill through the back door? The answer, as is often the case in moments of political complexity, probably involves both, and something more: a desperate attempt to maintain control in a system increasingly resistant to genuine reform.
Bangkok Post reports that the decision to delay the Entertainment Complex Bill, a move that would legalize casinos within defined parameters, stems from a simple reality: the government doesn’t have the votes. The Bhumjaithai Party (BJT) defected, the Democrat Party and Prachachat Party have expressed reservations, and the United Thai Nation (UTN) Party is facing internal turmoil. Rather than face a humiliating defeat, the government is pivoting to amnesty, a potentially unifying issue, but one fraught with its own landmines.
Wisut Chainarun, a Pheu Thai Party MP, claims the amnesty push is about “peace,” aiming to reconcile divisions lingering for two decades, particularly for grassroots activists, especially those of the “red shirt” movement who participated in mass protests in the past. He frames it as a gesture of compassion for “the small people” incarcerated, not for powerful figures. This is where the art of the possible turns into the art of selective memory. Because amnesty, like history, is always written by the victors, or at least, those currently holding the reins. But more than that, it reveals a strategy of perpetually resetting the political clock, selectively forgiving the past in order to maintain the status quo.
But the devil, as always, is in the details. And in this case, the devil wears the number 112: Section 112 of the Criminal Code, better known as the lèse majesté law, which criminalizes defamation of the monarchy. Some amnesty bills include those accused under Section 112, while others explicitly exclude them. This single provision is set to be the wedge in the room, the knife poised to divide the coalition and the opposition. It’s not merely about legal technicalities; it’s about the very definition of dissent in Thailand, and who gets to decide what constitutes a threat to national security.
Natthawut Buaprathum, a People’s Party MP, rightly questions the government’s motives, suggesting the shift to amnesty bills is less about sincere reform and more about political expedience.
“This shouldn’t be about delaying or defusing censure. It should be about real change.”
He suspects it’s a way to defuse a potential no-confidence vote led by BJT by driving a wedge between them and the People’s Party, which insists on including Section 112 cases in any amnesty. He’s not just observing political gamesmanship; he’s pointing to a deeper cynicism, a belief that any issue, no matter how profound, can be weaponized for short-term gain.
Political activist Jatuporn Prompan echoes this, calling the move a “political trap” designed to sow confusion. He believes it’s a distraction from internal tensions and a strategy to pave the way for the Entertainment Complex Bill under a new guise later. This isn’t just about casinos or amnesty; it’s about power, survival, and the deeply ingrained patterns of Thai politics. It’s about a system that prioritizes the preservation of the elite at the expense of genuine progress.
This all fits a familiar pattern in many democracies, but particularly those grappling with legacies of authoritarianism and entrenched inequality. Governments find it easier to address symptoms than structural causes. Easier to offer piecemeal amnesties than to reform legal systems that criminalize dissent. Easier to promise economic growth through casinos than to address the root causes of poverty and inequality. And, crucially, easier to blame individual actors than to confront the systemic rot that empowers them. Think of the “color-coded” politics that have defined Thailand for decades: the Yellow Shirts versus the Red Shirts, each representing competing factions of the elite vying for control. Amnesties, in this context, become not acts of forgiveness but strategic pauses in an ongoing power struggle.
Olarn Thinbangtieo, a political science professor at Burapha University, sees the amnesty push as a tactical plot by Pheu Thai to discourage the People’s Party from pursuing a no-confidence motion. By exploiting the differences over Section 112, the government hopes to derail the opposition’s efforts and create a more favorable environment for the Entertainment Complex Bill in the future. He is unveiling the meta-game, where policy debates are mere pawns in a larger chess match for political dominance.
This is why focusing on discrete policy choices—casinos, amnesties—misses the forest for the trees. The fundamental problem is a political system where power is concentrated, accountability is weak, and the rule of law is selectively applied. Until those structural issues are addressed, these cycles of postponement, division, and superficial reform will continue to play out, leaving Thailand perpetually on the cusp of progress, but never quite able to achieve it. It’s not simply a question of bad actors or flawed policies; it’s a reflection of a system designed to perpetuate its own imbalances. The latest news merely reconfirms the painful truth: Thailand has a history of using amnesties for political expediency, but what the country desperately needs is justice for all, and more importantly, a political architecture that makes justice a reliable outcome, not a bargaining chip.
