Smiling for the cameras

[CrazyExpat]

THE glare of public debate was a departure from Thailand’s usual brand of political dealmaking. And it hardly made prime-time entertainment. But the three-hour televised peace talks on the evening of March 27th between Thailand’s prime minister, Abhisit Vejjajiva, and his red-shirted opponents did at least suggest that a tense political stand-off on the streets of Bangkok might yet be resolved peacefully. Neither side, however, was ready to budge much; a second meeting on March 28th likewise failed to yield a compromise; and it is unclear if there will be more talks to break the impasse.

The red shirts, who have been camped out in the Thai capital for three weeks in a huge show of strength, want Mr Abhisit to call new elections at once. They were not impressed by his offer of a nine-month timetable to wind down parliament, in which Mr Abhisit’s Democrat Party heads a six-party ruling coalition. The two sides might yet close the gap on a timetable.

Mr Abhisit had pooh-poohed the popularity and legitimacy of the red shirts, so sitting down with their leaders was a concession. It came amid friction between the army, squarely behind Mr Abhisit, and the protesters, who accuse the top brass of dictating government policy. A spate of unsolved bombings of government and military facilities has added to the tensions. The talks on March 27th followed sabre-rattling by both sides, including a threat by demonstrators to storm an army base where Mr Abhisit has been holed up.

Bangkok’s royalist elite has been chastened by the red shirts’ pulling power. Far from being a rural army-for-hire, as critics claim, it clearly has plenty of urban supporters. Not all red shirts are fans of Thaksin Shinawatra, the fugitive former prime minister, who backs the movement. But they are ready to join forces to evict a government that, in their eyes, lacks a democratic mandate. To imagine, as some do, that the red shirts will all go home to tend their fields is wishful thinking, argues Chris Baker, a historian and biographer of Mr Thaksin. The movement has staying power and Bangkok’s snooty elites “have been kidding themselves,” he says.

A commitment to hold elections soon should end the protest. But Mr Abhisit’s coalition partners, mostly cast-offs from Mr Thaksin’s former party, want to stay in power—and build up campaign funds—for as long as possible. The generals have their eyes fixed mainly on their annual promotions in October, when the army chief must retire. Mr Abhisit told the red-shirt leaders that an election should be held after constitutional amendments were completed and a budget was passed in the autumn. That sounds like flim-flam. And an excuse might yet be found for further delay, beyond the end of parliament’s term in December 2011.

Behind the sparring over election dates are calculations over who stands to gain. Many believe that the Puea Thai party, the heir to Mr Thaksin’s electoral machine, would win a plurality in an election, as its predecessor did in December 2007. Red shirts reckon they have a clear majority. But there is a counter-argument. The share of the vote for Mr Thaksin and his proxies has been in steady decline since a 2005 landslide victory. Court-ordered break-ups of two ruling political parties have depleted his stock of credible allies. To this way of thinking, the red-shirt protests represent the flailing of a desperate man. It is a fine theory that would seem worth putting to the electoral test. But Mr Abhisit and his backers do not seem convinced.

Thailand's political deadlock: Smiling for the cameras | The Economist