Thailand’s General Says No Coup But Shadow of Power Looms
When a General says, “The military has no plans for a coup,” the relevant question isn’t whether you believe him; it’s what structural flaw in the system necessitates him saying it. Lt Gen Boonsin Padklang, commander of Thailand’s 2nd Army Region, assured the Bangkok Post that the military wouldn’t stage a coup, and would remain neutral on the Prime Ministerial selection process (Bangkok Post). But his very statement underscores a more profound reality: in Thailand, democracy exists under the ever-present threat of military override — a kind of political user agreement that can be unilaterally revoked.
The General’s carefully worded neutrality is, itself, a declaration. The historical context provides the chilling subtext. Since abolishing absolute monarchy in 1932, Thailand has endured over a dozen successful military coups. These aren’t anomalies; they’re a recurring feature, a hard reset button deployed when civilian governance deviates too far from the military’s self-defined red lines. The 1991 coup, for instance, ostensibly justified by claims of widespread corruption, paved the way for a military-backed government that further entrenched the army’s power.
“The military has no plans for a coup. We let things proceed according to established mechanisms.”
But what are these “established mechanisms?” Are they the formal democratic institutions, or a tacit understanding that the military retains ultimate veto power? This tension is the Gordian Knot of Thai politics, a system where elections are held, but their outcomes remain perpetually provisional.
The underlying structural issue is the Sakdina system’s lingering shadow and its modern manifestation in the “deep state.” The Thai military isn’t just an armed force; it’s a sprawling economic and political empire, interwoven with the monarchy and the bureaucratic elite. Its control extends far beyond weaponry, encompassing vast business holdings, banks, media outlets, and land. This influence, cemented over decades, positions the military as an indispensable stakeholder, not just a defender of the realm. As Paul Chambers, a professor at Naresuan University specializing in Thai military affairs, observes, the army "perceives itself as a guardian of Thai nationhood, monarchy, and Buddhism' — a self-appointed role that eclipses the authority of elected officials. It is, in essence, an unelected parallel government with the power to overrule the elected one.
This deep state operates within a unique political calculus. The 2023 general election, in which the Move Forward Party won the popular vote only to be stymied in its attempts to form a government, epitomizes the precariousness of electoral mandates. Any aspiring government must not only win votes but also navigate the intricate power dynamics of the monarchy, the military, and the established elite.
The long-term implications are corrosive. The persistent threat of military intervention fosters a climate of self-censorship and discourages genuine democratic participation. Politicians tread cautiously, reform movements are muted, and the public grows increasingly cynical. This becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy, undermining faith in democratic institutions and legitimizing future interventions. Each coup, justified in the name of stability, entrenches the very instability it purports to solve, deepening the public’s reliance on a non-democratic authority. Lt. Gen Boonsin’s assurance is not evidence of progress, but a symptom of Thailand’s enduring democratic fragility — a reminder that in Thailand, democracy is not a right, but a privilege granted, and potentially revoked, by those who hold the guns. It’s not just about whether a coup will happen, but what the constant possibility of a coup does to the soul of a nation.
