Thai Court Sentences Activist Attapon Buapat to 5 Years, 9 Months, Weaponising Ambiguity to Broaden Lèse-Majesté

In a ruling that further solidifies the aggressive expansion of Thailand’s lèse-majesté law, the Southern Bangkok Criminal Court on 30 September 2025, sentenced prominent activist Attapon "Kru Yai" Buapat to a three-year prison term for violating Article 112 of the Criminal Code. This sentence was ordered to be served consecutively with two prior convictions, escalating his total incarceration time to a punitive five years and nine months. The charges originated from a speech Attapon delivered at the #18พฤศจิกาไปราษฎรประสงค์ (18 November Going to Rasadonprasong) rally on 18 November 2020, an event where he called for constitutional reform and addressed the use of tear gas against protesters. The case itself was controversially initiated by a complaint from former Palang Pracharath MP Pareena Kraikupt, underscoring the political weaponisation of the law by royalist actors.

The court’s decision rested on a series of expansive and often subjective interpretations of the defendant's words, effectively criminalising political satire, nuance, and even basic critique. Central to the verdict was the court’s hostile reading of the neologism "Ratcha-Prahan," a play on "coup d’état" (ratthaprahan). Despite the defence arguing it was a rhetorical flourish, the court analysed the phrase by separating the components—"Ratcha" (king), "Prahan" (execute/destroy)—to rule that the statement suggested "the people will use force to change the king," thereby demonstrating the requisite malicious intent to overthrow the constitutional monarchy. Similarly, Attapon's reference to the "Pao Mangkon Fah," a reference to an elite, untouchable group in the Japanese manga One Piece, was dismissed by the court as a defence; the judge reasoned that based on the context of the speech and the defendant’s gesture of pointing his finger upward, it was an unambiguous and derogatory reference to the monarch.

However, the most alarming precedent set by the ruling is the criminalisation of commentary based not on direct insult, but on the potential to "cause hatred" among the public. In reviewing Attapon’s comments on the amendment of the Sangha Act of 2505, which grants the monarch power over the appointment and removal of high-ranking Buddhist monks, the court acknowledged that the remark itself might not have been a direct insult. Yet, it concluded that the implication—that the king was overreaching his role and acting as an equal to the Buddha—was designed to make listeners despise the monarch. This judicial logic shifts the focus away from the speaker's intent and onto the third-party listener’s emotional response, creating an untouchable sphere around the monarchy where any critical or unfavourable interpretation of the king's activities can be deemed criminal.

Furthermore, the court displayed a profound hostility toward the use of political metaphor and ambiguity. Attapon’s final rhetorical question to the establishment—"Is it that hard to live under the Constitution? If it's hard, come, let me lecture you on how to live under the Constitution"—was explicitly ruled to be a statement that "undermined the king's competence and understanding" of constitutional matters. The court rejected the activist’s defence that he was referring to the government or parliament, arguing that as a teacher and educated speaker, he should have chosen "clearer language" if that was his true intention. By demanding that all political criticism must be expressed in literal, unambiguous terms and judging all ambiguity against the speaker, the court effectively criminalises any form of figurative or critical speech, establishing an impossible standard for political expression under Article 112. The cumulative sentence of five years and nine months, achieved by stacking multiple convictions, highlights the judiciary's severe posture, weaponizing sentencing rules to impose a draconian punishment intended to silence a key voice in the pro-democracy movement for the long term.

The gravity of Attapon’s sentence demands more than mere observation—it calls for a collective awakening of civic duty. The power of Article 112 lies not just in the letter of the law, but in the pervasive climate of fear and self-censorship it creates. As citizens, our primary defence is to break the silence. This means moving beyond passive outrage to practicing digital solidarity, meticulously documenting every case of judicial overreach, and providing immediate and sustained support to the accused and their families, who face not only imprisonment but financial and social ruin. For organisations like 112WATCH, their mission is to serve as the world's institutional memory and global alarm bell. By translating complex legal manoeuvres into accessible reports, tracking the dangerous evolution of judicial interpretation, and ensuring that the names and stories of those imprisoned for their words remain visible to international human rights bodies and foreign governments, they transform isolated acts of repression into a documented global crisis, making the price of injustice too high for the state to ignore. Our collective vigilance, channelled through documentation and advocacy, is the most potent countermeasure against laws designed to thrive in the dark.

Banner: Bangkok, Thailand, October, 2020: Attapon Buapat speaks to supporters during an anti-government demonstration.  Photo: RedCap / Shutterstock.com