Thailand’s Military Shadow Government Silences Civilian Leaders, Provokes Cambodia
Is Thailand a nation-state, or simply a holding company for the Thai military? That’s the question you’re left pondering as Lt Gen Boonsin Padklang’s bellicose declaration regarding the Ta Kwai Temple echoes through the halls of power, unanswered by the supposed civilian government. The silence, as Khaosod rightly notes, is deafening. And in its absence, the military’s narrative becomes, by default, Thailand’s official position. This isn’t just about a temple; it’s about the architecture of authority, and the slow, relentless creep of military power into the vacuum left by democratic institutions.
The details are telling. A signed ceasefire agreement with Cambodia, explicitly forbidding provocative actions, is rendered instantly moot by a single general’s pronouncements. Point 4 stated, “Both sides agreed not to undertake provocative actions that may escalate tensions…” The Cambodian Ministry of Defence spokesperson, unsurprisingly, denounced Boonsin’s statement as “irrefutable evidence of provocation and a deliberate and premeditated attempt to seize Cambodian territory." And yet, from the acting PM to the Foreign Minister, the official channels remain quiet. In this orchestrated quietude, the message is unmistakable: the military sets the terms.
We have to ask ourselves: what is the point of having a Ministry of Foreign Affairs and a civilian government?
This isn’t an anomaly; it’s a feature. It’s the legacy of a historical pattern of military intervention etched into Thailand’s political DNA. Consider the thirteen successful coups d’état since the end of absolute monarchy in 1932 — a near-constant state of disruption that has ensured civilian institutions remain perpetually fragile. This isn’t merely a cycle; it’s a ratchet, with each intervention weakening democratic norms and consolidating military influence. And what is normalized is rarely overturned.
Why does this pattern persist? The answer, as always, is multifaceted. Duncan McCargo, in his work on Thailand, highlights the ‘network monarchy’ and the intricate web of patronage that binds the military, the palace, and powerful business interests. But it’s more than just patronage. It’s the deeply ingrained cultural narrative, subtly reinforced over decades, that positions the military as the ultimate protector of the nation, the guardian against internal and external threats. It’s this perceived legitimacy, cultivated and maintained, that allows them to operate outside the normal constraints of civilian oversight. Add to this a lèse-majesté law that effectively silences criticism of the monarchy (and by extension, institutions closely linked to it), and you have a system powerfully insulated from accountability.
The consequences of this power dynamic reverberate far beyond the immediate border dispute. It erodes Thailand’s credibility on the global stage, projecting an image of instability that deters investment and undermines diplomatic efforts. It hands ammunition to critics who question Thailand’s commitment to the rule of law. And, perhaps most damagingly, it broadcasts a clear signal to Thai citizens: that their elected government is, at best, a stage prop.
Ultimately, the silence is the policy. By failing to challenge Boonsin’s declaration, the 'civilian” government has tacitly endorsed it, confirming the power imbalance at the heart of Thai politics. Perhaps it’s time to acknowledge the fiction, dismantle the facade, and rename the country “United Military Directorates of Thailand.” At least then the org chart would reflect reality.
