Thailand’s current leader, Prime Minister Chuan Leekpai, was defeated in the Jan. 6 parliamentary elections. Thaksin’s TRT Party routed Chuan’s ruling Democrat Party. In fact, the Democrats conceded the election after three different exit polls showed the TRT winning a solid plurality in the 500-seat Parliament. “We are ready to be the opposition party,” said Abhisit Vejajiva, deputy leader of the Democrat Party. At the weekend, press reports suggested that Thaksin would try to form a government with the parties of two former Thai prime ministers–Chavalit Yongchaiyudh’s New Aspiration Party and Banharn Silpaarcha’s Chart Thai Party. Neither left office on good terms. Banharn was removed by a parliamentary no-confidence vote in 1996. Chavalit resigned under pressure the following year during the economic crisis.
Thaksin’s credibility has already suffered a serious gash. Two weeks before the election, he was indicted by the National Counter-Corruption Commission (NCCC) for allegedly hiding millions of dollars in assets. Thaksin, a 51-year-old telecommunications tycoon who proclaimed himself the prophet of clean politics, reportedly transferred more than $200 million worth of company stock to household employees–maids, servants, security guards–and then failed to report the transactions on a financial-disclosure form during his brief tenure as deputy prime minister in 1997. He told the commission that he’d simply forgotten about the transfers; later he pinned the blame on his wife and then on his secretary. Amusing? Perhaps. But if Thaksin goes down–the case will be decided within the next few months–Thailand could be thrown into turmoil.
This was supposed to be Thailand’s moment of glory. The country hoped to show the world that it could form a clean, transparent government–free of backroom deals and under-the-table payoffs. The election was the first to be held under strict new campaign laws, meant to be a model for the region. Under the new laws, several watchdog agencies now have the power to disqualify candidates, enforce spending limits and overturn tallies–even if there is only a suspicion of wrongdoing. “It’s a good beginning,” says Chaiwat Kamchoo, a political-science professor at Bangkok’s Chulalongkorn University, referring to the new anti-corruption agencies. But money politics, he says, “is deeply rooted in our culture. So it takes time to get rid of it.”
That’s for sure. Throughout Thailand, politics remains a venal and often violent undertaking. In the two months before the election, 18 party rivals and campaign workers were killed in gangland-style shoot-outs. Many candidates wore bulletproof vests for protection, along with their magic amulets. Vote buying was still rampant, even though the tough new laws forced it to become more discreet than the usual wad of bills clipped to campaign literature. (The going rate: about 500 baht, or $12, a vote.) Before the election, the election commission kicked out three of the 3,722 parliamentary candidates for trying to buy votes, including one who was handing out clocks embossed with his photo. The Nakhon Ratchsima Rajabhat Institute, which studies election fraud, estimates that about $460 million in bribe money circulated during the campaign–more than in any previous election.
It’s enough to make one long for the dimpled chads and disputed recounts in Palm Beach County, Florida. In Thailand, the election commission can investigate suspected infractions for up to a year. That raises the prospect of delays in establishing the new government. “It is really difficult to wrap up the election within 30 days as required by law, since we expect a large number of complaints,” says election-commission chairman Thirasak Kannasutra. In the Senate elections last year, voting extended for five months as round after round of graft-tainted results were thrown out. If that happens this time, the fallout could be far worse. Pre-election uncertainty had already hurt the stock market and sent foreign investors fleeing. Any more chaos could undermine the country’s delicate economic recovery and leave Thailand with a power vacuum.
Not surprisingly, Thaksin is not fond of the new anti-corruption agencies. He has appealed the NCCC ruling. If that effort fails, he might try to amend the Constitution to curb its power once he takes office. For its part, the NCCC makes no apology for its scrutiny of Thaksin or any other candidates. “We are working according to the law,” NCCC chairman Opas Arunin told reporters last month. “If Thailand ends up a headless chicken, so be it.”
Some of Thaksin’s supporters, troubled by that scenario, had asked him to withdraw. But Thaksin, a former cop, refused. “My vision is not blurred. I can still aim my gun and pull my trigger,” he said shortly before the election. “Before I die I want to kill our enemies first, and these are poverty, drugs and corruption.”
Such bravado is precisely what gave Thaksin an edge over his soft-spoken rival, Prime Minister Chuan. Honest, articulate and boring, Chuan helped pull Thailand out of economic depression by following the austere dictates of the International Monetary Fund. Yet many Thais felt that Chuan and his Democrat Party allies spent so much time kowtowing to bankers that they forgot about everyday workers. Exports may be booming, but consumer confidence is low, and many Thais–especially the 70 percent who live in the countryside–feel left out of the slow economic recovery.
Thaksin, on the other hand, promised the moon–and sold his ideas with a hip, ultraslick campaign. A Ross Perot-style populist, Thaksin presented an image that was untainted by the financial crisis. Targeting the countryside, the impetuous billionaire tossed out financial promises like campaign trinkets–including universal health care for less than a dollar per person. He vowed to use his business acumen to lead the Thai economy into the 21st century. His audiences, whether watching him live or on simulcast (provided, helpfully, by his own satellite-TV network), loved the extravagance. “They are actually giving the people something,” said Sanae Ake-anand, a ticket inspector for Bangkok Mass Transit, before the elections. “There is nothing like this from the other parties.”
But paying for such a grand agenda will be difficult. Before Election Day, TRT deputy leader Pitak Intrawityanunt said he didn’t know where the money for Thaksin’s stimulus package would come from. Says Chaiwat Kamchoo, the professor at Chulalongkorn University: “Thaksin’s been successful convincing people he can help the economy. But it’s not easy to believe he could solve problems in just a few months. If he becomes prime minister, he’ll have to work quickly.”
Critics say Thaksin’s TRT Party–though presented as fresh, modern and forward-looking–is little more than an amalgam of old-school politicians held together by the leader’s purse strings. They fear the merger of business and politics under Thaksin could make government more subverted by money than it already is. That’s a scary prospect–and the last thing Thailand needs as it struggles to reform itself.
