Thailand’s Rigged Politics: New Leaders, Same Old Power Game
The gears of Thai politics grind on, not towards resolution, but towards further entrenchment. What presents as a straightforward head count — can Bhumjaithai scratch together 247 votes? — is in fact a harrowing portrait of a democracy held hostage, choked by constitutions written at gunpoint, judicially enforced silences, and a pervasive sense that the rules exist to preempt the will of the people. The seemingly inevitable elevation of Anutin Charnvirakul, propped up by the unlikeliest of partners, is not a turning of the page, but a fever dream.
The linchpin? A brazenly cynical pact. The People’s Party, phoenix rising from the ashes of the dissolved Move Forward Party, is offering its considerable bloc (143 seats) to Bhumjaithai, conditional on a snap election within four months and a binding referendum on constitutional reform. “Bangkok Post” lays bare this audacious maneuver. They’re not resolving the gridlock, they’re detonating it — only to tee up another election cycle almost immediately.
“The People’s Party affirms its role as the opposition, fully scrutinising the new government, and no person from the People’s Party will join the cabinet as a minister,” it said.
The “why” here is etched in the trauma of the 2014 coup. That power grab didn’t just install a military junta; it birthed a constitution designed, with almost comical specificity, to neuter populist movements like Move Forward and Pheu Thai. It enshrined proportional representation favoring smaller, establishment-aligned parties and, crucially, empowered a military-appointed Senate to vote for the Prime Minister. As legal scholar Piyabutr Saengkanokkul has argued, this isn’t constitutionalism; it’s legalized coup-proofing. The architecture is deliberately anti-majoritarian, designed to create perpetually hung parliaments, forcing messy compromises that bleed the energy out of any reformist impulse.
The rot, however, goes deeper than just the text of the charter. It’s the eagerness of establishment parties like Bhumjaithai to not just tolerate this system, but to master it, weaponizing its absurdities for their own gain. Bhumjaithai, after all, didn’t stumble into this position of kingmaker; they meticulously cultivated it, becoming experts in the art of playing within the junta’s lines.
Thailand’s dance with short-lived governments is less a bug and more a feature. Since 1932, it has endured thirteen successful coups and countless failed administrations. This instability, argues political scientist Dr. Punchada Sirivunnabood, is not mere historical accident. It is the predictable outcome of a deeply entrenched network of military, bureaucratic, and business elites who view democratic institutions as a threat to their power. The frequent interventions — coups, judicial rulings, constitutional amendments — are less about restoring order and more about recalibrating the system to preserve this oligarchy.
This interim government will address immediate priorities and perhaps even tinker at the edges of constitutional reform. But it promises no escape from the recursive loop of Thai politics. Instead, it doubles down on the unspoken truth: power resides not in the ballot box, but in the backrooms, with those most adept at navigating a rigged game. The question isn’t whether this uneasy alliance will hold, but how long before the next crisis forces another round of political triage. Until Thailand grapples with the deeper structural forces undermining its democracy, the dance continues, each step more exhausting than the last.
