If by now the King has been identified, with any degree of plausibility, as one of ‘the angels’ (not to say ‘the Angel’!) of Thai democracy, we may move on, at last and quite briefly, to the most recent episode in the drama: the drafting and passing of the new Constitution, 1997. The episode is full of surprises, but the attitude and involvement of the King should not be one of them. The context of the process of Constitution-drafting included several vital elements. First, the coalition led by Democrat Party leader Chuan Leekpai since the elections of September 1992 collapsed in May 1995. It was a record run, in Thailand, for an elected Prime Minister, but the victory of Chart Thai in ‘Thailand’s most corrupt election’ of July 1995, seemed a bad omen for democratic politics despite the smooth transition between governments by formally democratic methods.57 Consequently, when the King addressed the new Cabinet of Banharn, he was at pains to remind the ministers to give responsible priority to their executive role over their status as elected legislators.58 Shortly afterwards His Majesty began to criticize the performance of this government publicly, in a way never experienced by any of its predecessors.59 Meanwhile, Prime Minister Banharn had inherited a testing task from the previous Cabinet (of which he had, however, been a member) in the shape of a constitutional reform programme which, however progressive in Thai terms, was failing to satisfy the reform movement that was gathering considerable momentum outside parliament and threatening to leave the elected politicians behind (or deprived of essential prerogatives if they put its demands into effect). The constitutional reform movement was, of course, a maturing consequence of the military violence in 1992. A one-man hunger-strike in 1994 had caused the Lower House Speaker to set up a Democratic Development Committee (DDC) to make wide- ranging proposals.60 Although the House was dissolved by Chuan before it could debate the DDC’s blueprint, the Banharn Cabinet found itself under constraint to carry on with the process, and appointed its own committee, the Political Reform Committee (PRC). Like its predecessor, the PRC agreed that the new Constitution should be drawn up by a special Commission appointed by the
King – in other words, taking the process out of the hands of parliament. The King would have the discretion to call a referendum on the future Constitution, should the joint Houses of Parliament reject it. This proposal caused unease and tension within the government, not least within Banharn’s own faction-ridden party, rather than defusing it.61
The Banharn government collapsed in September 1996, most directly because of internal squabbling, but indirectly in a context of middle-class disaffection from a government tainted with corruption.62 The elections of November 1996 at last gave retired General Chawalit his chance to be Prime Minister, through the victory of his New Aspiration Party, strong in the Northeast.63 Chawalit’s clearest aspirations were in the area of reforming national financial management – to lessen interference by elected interests – but the most notable event early in his Administration was the by now irresistible appointment of the Constitution Drafting Assembly (CDA) on 26 December. The appointment was effected by parliament, but the candidates were picked from lists submitted from the provinces, civic groups, professional bodies, etc.64 Early in 1997 ex-Premier Anand emerged as the Chairman of the Drafting Committee. Strong pressure for political accountability and recognition of ‘community rights’, separate from the constitutional reform movement as such, was felt throughout 1997 from the highly organized ‘Assembly of the Poor’. Chavalit handled this challenge with not a little populist panache.65
However, a far greater crisis arose – spelling eventual doom for his govern- ment but working to the benefit of the new Constitution, which was approved in its final draft by the CDA on 15 August and passed by Parliament on 27 September. Poor regulation of the financial sector, which Chavalit perceived as a problem but was incapable of curing, had precipitated the drain on the Baht in May which forced several other currencies into ‘knock-on’ or competitive devaluations – the great Asian financial crisis of 1997–98. The passing of the Constitution was not consistent with normal parliamentary self-interest, given controversial clauses such as the one requiring parliamentarians to relinquish their seats on becoming ministers (a fulfilment of the idea of execu- tive/legislative separation articulated by the King in mid-1995). But the action was one of a series of desperate attempts by the government, in effect, to save its skin in the great financial crisis. It was perceived and urged by both business and military that a confrontation with the forces of the reform movement was the last way of restoring international confidence in the Thai currency. By refusing to defuse the crisis over the Constitution, the government would have forfeited credibility in the eyes of its most solid domestic backers in Thailand’s hour of need. As Acaan Prudhisan has put it, summing up this unique constellation of pressures and events, ‘Civil society pressure was aided by the financial crisis in creating an environment wherein vested interests in political society had to acquiesce to the reform Constitution.’66
Just as historic as the passing of this extraordinarily radical Constitution as such was the attitude of the military, in (a) calling for it, and then (b) refusing to contemplate a State of Emergency on 21 October when Chavalit (revealing
Thailand 151 himself in truly ‘traditional’ military colours!) broached it as the only way of saving his government in face of a new, popular challenge.67
Also significant in Thailand’s economic and political crisis was the way Prem’s name surfaced in late July in the context of a ‘royal intervention scenario’ dear to some hearts,68 with Prem himself seeming ready to ‘answer a call’ in late August, and actively calling for a ‘national government’ in early October. But even more to the point is the fact that the King distanced himself firmly from this ‘non- elected Premier’ scenario.69 Let it be also noted that the Constitution is not a ‘royal Constitution’ in the sense of enhancing the King’s formal powers above and beyond any previous model.70
Finally, by way of a provisional ‘happy ending’, inter-party negotiations after the resignation of Chavalit brought Chuan back to the helm without the need for another round of disruptive and demoralizing elections. Enjoying wide esteem and the favour of the King for his previously proven integrity and commitment to the poor, Chuan was able to take the necessary measures of financial reform with a great reserve of public support. The King added his moral support with a Royal Birthday call for a re-emphasis on rural self- sufficiency – as advocated by rural development NGOs for some time past.71