by Peter Church
Chulalongkorn's position grew stronger as the older generation passed on and he matured into a shrewd politician, nurturing a corps of bright, Western‐educated royal relatives. With them, he set about major reform of government in the mid‐1880s. Specialised ministries and departments began to appear. Cabinet government was introduced between 1888 and 1892. Subsequently, the king's half‐brother, Prince Damrong, undertook the delicate task of reforming provincial administration, placating the great regional families while centralising bureaucratic control in Bangkok.
The modern look to government came none too soon, for Western imperial rivalries in South‐East Asia were reaching their peak. Chulalongkorn's skilled foreign minister, Prince Devawongse, could now put the case that the kingdom had no need of Western intervention—unlike its neighbours, it was stable, bent on modernization, and able to accommodate international business. Even so, Western empires stripped the former Thai empire. Already Mongkut had been obliged by the French in 1867 to abandon claims to Cambodia (except its western provinces). Now in 1893 (when French warships menaced Bangkok) and in 1902 and 1904 Chulalongkorn had to transfer to the French sovereignty over the areas which would constitute modern Laos. In 1907, he was obliged to relinquish the western Cambodian provinces. In 1909, he gave control of four northern Malay states formerly under his suzerainty to the British (leaving, nevertheless, a Malay‐Muslim minority within his kingdom). Meanwhile, an 1896 treaty between France and Britain had marked a crucial turning‐point in the disposition of Thai territory. This treaty, designed primarily to head off Anglo–French confrontation in South‐East Asia, guaranteed the independence of most of the territory which today forms Thailand. Chulalongkorn's core kingdom had been secured.
He proceeded with modernisation until his death in 1910, laying the foundations of a modern military, improving communications—particularly with an extensive railway system—and continuing law reform. Western‐style education became common for royal and upper‐class children, and an elementary Western‐style syllabus was introduced to the temple schools. Chulalongkorn resisted full‐tilt modernisation, however. He rejected any thought of introducing democracy. Economically, he presided over the development of a quasi‐colonial state. Ordinary Thais became commodity producers for the world market, rice accounting for over 70 percent of exports in the early 20th century. Other items included tin, teak, and rubber. There was no significant industrialisation. Western and Chinese interests dominated the country's financial and commercial life. Chinese numbers swelled to about 10 percent of the population. Indeed the size and power of the Chinese community began to disturb many Thais.
THE ECLIPSE OF THE MONARCHY, 1910–1932
During the reigns of Chulalongkorn's successors, Vajiravudh (Rama VI, 1910–25) and Pradjahipok (Rama VII, 1925–35), disgruntlement with Thailand's equivocal modernisation and economic subjection would grow amongst the expanding, though still small Western‐educated elite. Vajiravudh's dilettante approach to kingship also provoked criticism. His inner circle at court consisted of male favourites. His extravagance contributed to government deficits and a balance‐of‐payments crisis in the 1920s. On the other hand, his contributions to the emergence of Thai nationalism probably strengthened his reign. It was he who introduced the trinity of “Nation, Religion (Buddhism), and Monarchy” as the focus of popular loyalty, and promoted organisations and public spectacles designed to inculcate nationalist pride. In the 1920s, he also sponsored successful diplomatic efforts to end the extraterritoriality provisions of Mongkut's treaties and recover national control of tariffs.
Prajadhipok (Chulalongkorn's 76th child—Vajiravudh died heirless) took an earnest approach to his duties, but was hamstrung by the financial problems bequeathed to him and even more by the Great Depression. In the early 1930s, national income slumped and cuts to government expenditures heightened discontent. For him the promotion of nationalist thinking proved to be a double‐edged sword. The concept of “Nation” alongside that of “King” soon encouraged modern‐minded Thais to distinguish between the two. On June 24, 1932, plotters in the military and bureaucracy staged a coup and, in the name of the nation, obliged Prajadhipok to surrender the monarchy's absolute powers and accept constitutional status. In 1935, Prajadhipok abdicated in favour of his nephew, Ananda (Rama VIII, 1935–46), who was then at school overseas and would remain abroad until 1945.
THE RISE OF MILITARY GOVERNMENT, 1932–1948
The promoters of the 1932 revolution consisted of both civilians and military men. Their professed goal was the staged introduction of parliamentary democracy, and they set up a National Assembly of appointed and elected members. By the late 1930s, however, the parliament appeared doomed to virtual irrelevancy. For 60 years after 1932, in fact, the military would dominate Thai government.
For several reasons, military dominance would neither prove stifling nor produce wholly negative effects. First, Thai military leaders faced no serious problems of national integration; history had bequeathed to them a country of relatively minor cultural, religious, ideological, or ethnic tensions, and they could usually enforce their will with a relatively light hand. Second, they would generally be willing to accommodate other elites in the power process, and those elites—business, bureaucracy, and civilian politicians—would generally acquiesce in military preeminence. Third, ossification of the power structure would be avoided, crudely but not ineffectively, by rivalries within the military and changes of government by intra‐military coup. Finally, successive military‐dominated governments would pursue modernisation, economic growth, and the expansion of education and other services. For several decades this would seem to justify military rule—though it would eventually undermine it. Economic development and a better‐educated society would finally produce broad‐based pressures for more representative government.
In the 1930s, Thailand was still overwhelmingly a country of peasant farmers. The military was its best‐organised, most cohesive modern institution. The military's crucial role in the 1932 revolution was underscored in October 1933, when pro‐royalist protesters marched on Bangkok. They were repulsed by troops commanded by a Lt‐Colonel Phibun Songkhram. The following year, Phibun became defence minister, and would hold various posts until he became prime minister in 1938, when he headed a cabinet of predominantly military men. Phibun and his supporters, unimpressed by the floundering Western democracies of the period, were attracted to other political models—fascist Italy, Germany, and, above all, Japan, the one Asian country which seemed to offer Thailand a pattern for modernisation. Phibun rapidly adopted some features of dictatorship, arresting opponents, promoting himself as Thailand's great leader, and exciting nationalist emotions. A series of “cultural mandates” attempted instant economic and social change. Domestically, his most dramatic move was legislation targeting the Chinese in Thailand. State corporations took over commodities such as rice, tobacco, and petroleum, and Chinese businesses found themselves subject to a range of new taxes and controls. Chinese economic knowhow was in fact too valuable for anti‐Chinese measures to be pushed far, but Phibun's policies would have lasting effects. They stimulated Chinese assimilation into Thai society, through Sino‐Thai business partnerships, intermarriage, and Chinese acceptance of Thai language, education, and culture. They also set in train heavy state involvement in the economy, which would blur the lines between business and those who held political and bureaucratic power.
Pursuing his nationalist goals, Phibun changed his country's name from Siam to Thailand in 1939 (the name Siam would be briefly resumed between 1945 and 1949). Phibun pointed out that “Siam” was originally a term for the area used by Chinese and other foreigners, but the change also had irredentist implications—should “the land of the Thais” include “Tai” people who lived beyond its borders, many as a result of Western pruning of the old Bangkok empire? Phibun answered this question in November 1940, when Thai forces invaded Laos and western Cambodia. The Japanese, who now held base and tr
ansit rights in French Indochina, stepped in to mediate, awarding Cambodia's western provinces and portions of Laos to Thailand.
This victory was popular in Thailand. Phibun's subsequent relations with the Japanese would become more controversial, however. In December 1941, the Japanese moved troops into Thailand, demanding transit rights for their attacks on British Burma and Malaya. Thai troops resisted but, within hours, the Phibun government called for a ceasefire. Subsequently, it entered a military alliance with Japan and, in January 1942, declared war on the United States and Britain. Division about these events within Thai ruling circles was indicated most obviously by the refusal of the Thai minister in Washington, the aristocratic Seni Pramoj, to advise the US government of the declaration of war. A Free Thai movement began to grow amongst overseas Thais and, eventually, underground within Thailand itself.
At first, however, Phibun's actions were widely supported, and Thailand was rewarded by Japan with the Shan states of Burma in 1942 and the four northern Malay states in 1943. Disillusionment began to set in as the tide of war turned against Japan, and Thailand experienced acute economic disruption because of the war. In July 1944, Phibun quietly resigned the prime ministership, leaving the National Assembly with the problem of preparing Thailand for an Allied victory.
The politicians were restrained by the Japanese presence until August 1945, but then all agreements with Japan were repudiated (including those which had transferred territory to Thailand). Though the goal of democratic government was reasserted, a range of factors would combine to frustrate its achievement. The British and French were at first bitterly hostile to Thailand. The economic difficulties of the war years persisted and political infighting prevented effective, or even stable, government.
In the midst of the turmoil, King Ananda, who had returned to Thailand in December 1945, died of a gunshot one morning in June 1946. His death has remained shrouded in mystery. The young king enjoyed collecting guns and most likely the shot was accidentally self‐inflicted but the political scene was inflamed by murder theories. The prime minister, Pridi Phanomyong, famed as the chief civilian promoter of the 1932 revolution but viewed by conservatives as a radical leftist, resigned amidst mounting hysteria against “communists.” The government continued to flounder until the military stepped in with a coup in November 1947. Initially, they retained a civilian prime minister but forced him to resign in April 1948. He was replaced by Phibun.
THE “STRONGMAN” ERA, 1948–1973
The resumption of military dominance over government instigated a succession of authoritarian leaders who were unchallenged by forces outside the military until 1973. Their power was enhanced by US patronage and aid. Washington wanted strong, anti‐Communist leaders who would both repress domestic communism (never more than a fringe phenomenon in Thailand, in fact) and join in American‐led strategies for the containment of Asian communism. From the 1950s, US aid to Thailand was substantial. It enabled a great deal of social and economic development, notably in communications, infrastructure, and social welfare projects, but it also bolstered military and police power.
Even so the goal of stable government was not necessarily secured. American aid created new opportunities for corruption in Thai government and administration, and stimulated competition for the prizes of power between rival political networks anchored in the military but reaching into business and the bureaucracy. American appeals for some evidence of democracy in Thailand produced in the short term only cynical political manipulation, rigged elections, and rubberstamp parliaments from time to time.
After 1948, Phibun resumed many of his former repressive policies. He mounted another anti‐Chinese campaign, and also attempted to impose cultural uniformity forcefully on the Malay‐Muslims of the far south. The latter resisted the arrival of Thai officials, the introduction of Thai‐language education, and the substitution of Thai law for customary law. A separatist movement grew which, despite conciliation by later Thai governments, persists to this day.
Despite the tough image which Phibun once more projected, his power was not in fact secure. He faced several attempted coups from within the military between 1948 and 1951. All were defeated, but at the price of the emergence of two further “strongmen”—army commander, subsequently Field Marshal, Sarit Thanarat (whose later spectacular wealth would be grounded in his control of the government lottery), and police chief Phao Siyanon (who would make his fortune from opium trafficking). In 1955 Phibun eased the controls on political activity and promised elections. He may have been under American pressure to do so, or he may have hoped to outmanoeuvre his rivals by winning popular endorsement. However, his party was accused of massive fraud during the 1957 election and Sarit won popularity by resigning, supposedly in disgust, from Phibun's government. In September 1957, Sarit staged a coup, driving Phibun and Phao into exile.
In October 1958, Sarit declared martial law, silencing the experiments in open politics. He justified his authoritarianism in two ways: he argued for a return to Thai traditions of social order, and he accelerated economic development and social modernisation. Under the former banner, the monarchy was given renewed prominence. King Bhumibol Adulyadej (Rama IX, 1946–2016) attended public ceremonies, toured the provinces, and patronised development projects, becoming a revered figure in the process. Under the banner of development, Sarit introduced to government a new generation of economically liberal technocrats, encouraged private and foreign investment, launched major rural development programmes, and rapidly expanded educational facilities.
When Sarit died in December 1963 power transferred peacefully to his close associates, Generals Thanom Kittikachorn (who became prime minister) and Praphas Charusathian (deputy prime minister). Thanom and Praphas basically maintained Sarit's style of government and economic policies, which produced GNP growth rates of over 8 percent per year during the 1960s. At the same time, the military's place in the Thai political landscape seemed to loom larger than ever. US aid increased sharply because of the Indochina conflicts. From 1964, Thailand provided bases for the US air force and committed its own troops to action in Vietnam and Laos. US aid was also forthcoming to combat a communist insurgency which had taken root amongst alienated tribal groups in the country's north and northeast.
The era of unquestioned strongman rule was drawing to a close, however. Economic development, wider education, and better communications were rapidly increasing the numbers of the politically aware. In 1968, Thanom proclaimed a new Constitution, and an election the following year established a new parliament. The political public was shocked when he reversed direction in 1971, dissolving the parliament and banning political parties once more. By the early 1970s, several other issues were raising concern. The leaders' presumed successor, Narong Kittikachorn (Thanom's son and Praphas' son‐in‐law), was not regarded highly inside or outside the military. Thailand's close involvement with the United States obviously required rethinking as the United States moved to disengage from Vietnam and the region. The OPEC “oil shock” and rising prices sent tremors through the economy.
It was the educated young who precipitated the downfall of the Thanom‐Praphas regime. In October 1973, student protests against political repression (inspired to some extent by the Western student radicalism of the era) escalated into massive confrontation with the police on the streets of Bangkok. Popular sympathy for the students increased when several of their number were killed or wounded by the police. In the first subtle indication of royal political opinion in many years, the King permitted student first‐aid stations on royal ground. The demonstrators triumphed when the army withheld its support from Thanom, Praphas, and Narong, who fled into exile.
BETWEEN AUTOCRACY AND DEMOCRACY, 1973–1992
The “Students' Revolution” unleashed an extraordinary burst of political activism. Political parties mushroomed, hitherto‐banned ideas circulated freely, trade unionism flourished, and numerous organisations of all shades of opinion set out to politicise the
people. Even the Buddhist sangha, long a compliant supporter of government, revealed radical dissent within its ranks.
An interim civilian government arranged for a fully elected parliament to be created by elections in January 1975. The result was an unstable coalition government which collapsed within 12 months. Another ineffective coalition emerged from elections in April 1976. Meanwhile, the problems of a destabilised economy were not being addressed and neither were the apparent threats to Thailand from the communist victories in Cambodia, Vietnam, and Laos in 1975. Conservative opinion, outraged by the political disorder from the beginning, increasingly became popular opinion. In October 1976, the military resumed power, unopposed, permitting right‐wing organisations to torture and kill student radicals gathered at Thammasat University in Bangkok. Many leftist and moderate leaders fled the city, some to join the communist insurgents in the north‐east. For the moment it appeared that Thailand faced more authoritarian government than ever before. The policies of the first post‐coup prime minister, a civilian but a rigid right‐winger, deepened rather than healed the divisions in the country. Even civil war seemed possible, if the newly expanded insurgent forces could attract popular sympathy.
