The Power of Love

The power of love

By Chang Noi

Love among politicians is so dramatic, so torrid, so fleeting. They discover mutual love and fall passionately into one another’s arms. They match their horoscopes (“sharing the same ideology”) and rush to loop the sacred thread and pour the lustral water. But even before they move into the bridal house, there is a tiff. The promised dowry was not delivered in full. The horoscope (“ideology”) was falsified. Disillusion turns to retribution. Divorce is completed by ritually cursing each other with the names of inauspicious animals.

This year, these dramas have seemed more comic than romantic. Perhaps that is because they are being played by puppets rather than actors. The looming election has to be staged among political parties, but the real contest is between the junta and its supporters on one side, and Thaksin on the other. The manipulators are behind the curtain. All the canoodling, copulating and cursing in public does not matter because we know these are only the shadows of bits of wood and leather.

In the real contest, there is still everything to play for, and the game will be brutal. On one side, the Democrats have their firm base in the south. On the other, the Thaksinites have a loyal core the north and northeast. But there is a squishy middle of at least 200 parliamentary seats, enough to decide the result.

These local candidates approach the poll with two objectives: to get elected, and to end up in the ruling coalition. Only by achieving both these aims can they become an ambassador from their territory to the seat of power and so deliver to their constituents. Achieving both these aims simultaneously is always tricky. Getting elected needs money – to hire an electioneering team, pay for publicity, and bring down a monsoon on the eve of election day. The national parties are ready to provide funding to secure a good candidate as a member in their party. But to get elected and find yourself in the wrong party is almost as bad as not getting elected at all. You cannot deliver to your constituents, and they will resent having given you their support. This second objective requires skill in prediction.


Since the decentralization of local government began around a decade ago, local electioneering has become more sophisticated. There are a lot more elections – of MPs, municipal councilors, tambon and provincial administrative organizations, and village headmen. These are all inter-linked. For someone seeking election to a local post, it helps to have the support of an MP who is well-known as a “big” man and who can bring goods from the capital to the locality. For an MP candidate, it helps to have henchmen installed in the key posts of local government because they now control significant funding for local projects. Most provinces have sprouted electoral-machine alliances which link together headmen, local government politicians, and national politicians.

In some provinces, one such machine has a virtual local monopoly. Its members win everything. In the negotiations over party alignment, such monopoly machines are in a powerful position. If a party wants to win in that province, then it has to deal with this gang. They can sell to the highest bidder. But they still need skill in casting the political horoscope to tell which parties will eventually form the coalition.

But such monopoly situations are rare. More often there is some competition between rival families, business interests, or towns. Local dominance can shift because people fall out, family fortunes fluctuate, or new deals are made. In these places, the decision over party alignment at the general election is much trickier. Choosing the wrong party might result in an opponent gaining the financial support and the party label which make all the difference at the poll.

At this election, the local candidate’s choice of party alignment is even trickier. There are not just two variables, but four.

First, there is certainly the money. Thaksin has to spend in order to gain some political influence to stem the judicial assault which threatens to deprive him and his family of wealth and freedom. Prachai Leophairatana has publicly claimed that he can match Thaksin’s spending. That’s quite a boast. The junta believes it has the right and duty to spend public money to oppose Thaksin. It funded political subversion of Thaksin’s support in the northeast. It used public money to support its referendum campaign. We must assume that this trend will continue in the election, given the implications of the outcome.

Second, voter loyalty matters. In parts of the north and northeast, Thaksin has achieved the same kind of emotional attachment that the Democrats have in the south. The degree differs from place to place. Gauging it is difficult.

Third, official pressure will play a big role. The new electoral laws outlaw almost everything that passed as electioneering in the past. Spending is capped. Postering is controlled. Rallies are subject to strict rules. The penalties for infringement are high. These rules place big power in the hands of the Election Commission and the Interior Ministry.

Fourth, predicting the likely form of the upcoming coalition is very difficult. In the classic pattern, potential candidates lie doggo like a pile of rocks until one leader manages to start an avalanche which they then join. In 2001, Thaksin persuaded enough of them he was the man-of-the-moment and the man-with-the-money to win by a landslide. Today, the picture is less clear. Many candidates will be drawn towards parties which could jump either way in the coalition bargaining.

Perhaps the decisive moment will come when the puppeteer breaks the illusion and bursts onto the stage. The 2006 coup was the first time since the Sarit coup of 1957 that a tank coup had succeeded. Sarit installed a civilian government, but a year later staged another coup and installed himself. Will we see something similar achieved through the electoral process? Ah, the love of power.


Source : The Nation on October 15, 2007