The Law That Eats Kings: Why every lèse-majesté prosecution now proves Thailand's monarchy is weakening

Queen Sirikit's death on 24 October 2025 didn't trigger Thailand's constitutional crisis—it exposed one already underway. For the first time since ascending the throne, King Vajiralongkorn faces his legitimacy problem without buffer or distraction: Section 112, Thailand's lèse-majesté statute, has inverted from shield to weapon pointed at the throne itself. Every prosecution his government files now broadcasts institutional panic rather than strength, announcing to Bangkok's students and Brussels' diplomats alike that this monarchy survives only through criminal coercion.

The paradox his father never confronted has arrived. Can a king dismantle the law his parents required without admitting it never protected legitimacy—only concealed its absence?

The Throne Without the Crown

The legitimacy cannot be willed into existence through constitutional amendments or prosecution statistics. Bhumibol Adulyadej understood this instinctively, spending seven decades constructing monarchical authority through calculated public performance that earned genuine international respect. When Rama IX toured rural villages inspecting irrigation projects, foreign diplomats and domestic citizens alike perceived a monarch who served rather than ruled. Sirikit's cultural preservation work reinforced this narrative. Together they created the impression that Thailand's monarchy embodied national unity through benevolent stewardship.

Section 112 prosecutions during their reign appeared exceptional precisely because dissent seemed marginal against this cultivated authority. International observers remained silent when lèse-majesté cases surfaced, extending benefit of doubt to a monarchy that projected competence and dedication. The law worked because Bhumibol rarely needed it—his performative legitimacy made criminal enforcement almost theoretical.

Vajiralongkorn inherited the throne but none of this painstakingly built credibility. His international reputation rests on tabloid scandals documented in German newspapers, autocratic consolidation that alarms democracy advocates, and extravagance during economic hardship that alienates young Thais struggling with student debt and stagnant wages. Where his father built authority through perceived service, Rama X projects entitlement. He openly intervenes in politics by transferring military units under direct royal command, seizing personal control over Crown Property Bureau assets worth billions, and amending constitutional provisions to expand monarchical prerogatives. Samuel Huntington observed in his foundational work on political institutions that authority derives from public perception of legitimacy earned through performance, not from formal powers extracted through constitutional manipulation. Vajiralongkorn operates in perfect inverse: expanding legal authority precisely because he lacks the performative legitimacy his father possessed.

By understanding this inversion reveals why Section 112's current enforcement pattern produces catastrophic results. A minority faction among Thai citizens continues extending Bhumibol's reverence to Vajiralongkorn through genealogical mysticism that treats royal authority as inherited through bloodline regardless of conduct. Concentrated among older demographics, rural constituencies embedded in traditional patronage networks, and Bangkok elites whose accumulated wealth depends on maintaining palace relationships, this faction controls disproportionate institutional power through military leadership, senior judiciary positions, and bureaucratic appointments. They create structural resistance to reform that transcends Rama X's personal unpopularity.

But demographics and international perception have shifted decisively against them. Young Thais who never experienced Bhumibol's carefully crafted golden age increasingly evaluate the monarchy through Vajiralongkorn's actual conduct rather than inherited mystique. International observers no longer extend the presumption of legitimacy they granted his parents. This generational and diplomatic shift explains why Section 112's intensification produces opposite effects from those intended. Rather than suppressing dissent, mass prosecutions politicise entire cohorts who might remain ambivalent about monarchical reform, transforming casual critics into committed activists through the very mechanism designed to silence them.

The Queen's Last Service

Queen Sirikit functioned as institutional shock absorber throughout her son's turbulent reign. Her popularity among traditional elites and older Thais provided protective cover for Vajiralongkorn's mounting inadequacies. Criticising Rama X risked offending the Queen Mother—a calculation that restrained both ultra-royalists uncomfortable with the king's conduct and pro-democracy activists who recognised that attacking Vajiralongkorn meant confronting Sirikit's legacy. Her presence created strategic ambiguity that benefited the throne: Was Section 112 protecting the beloved Queen Mother or her controversial son? The answer remained deliberately unclear.

Her death eliminates that ambiguity with surgical precision. Every prosecution filed now clearly protects Vajiralongkorn specifically, making the institutional question unavoidable rather than rhetorical. Does this particular king require criminal law to shield him from criticism, and if so, what does that reveal about his authority? The current silence from both political camps represents calculation rather than reconciliation. Ultra-royalists recognise that aggressive enforcement now highlights royal weakness instead of demonstrating strength. Pro-democracy forces understand that public sympathy during national mourning creates political space for reform advocacy that would have appeared disrespectful mere months earlier.

This silence won't last beyond the mourning period. Within months, prosecutions will resume full intensity as ultra-royalist networks reassert control and the political window closes. Understanding this temporal constraint reveals why the current moment represents a unique opportunity unlikely to recur. The question isn't whether Thailand will eventually confront Section 112's sustainability—it's whether political actors recognise that the confrontation has already arrived and the only choice remaining is whether to manage it through reform or watch it explode through crisis.

1,890 Confessions of Weakness

Since 2020, Thai authorities have charged approximately 1,890 individuals under Section 112, with sentences often exceeding five years imprisonment for social media posts, public speeches, or even wearing clothing deemed disrespectful to the monarchy. Compare this enforcement pattern to Bhumibol's reign, when lèse-majesté prosecutions remained relatively rare because criticism appeared marginal against his cultivated authority. Under Rama X, the sheer volume of prosecutions becomes the story itself—not the content of criticism that sparked charges, but the scale of apparatus required to suppress dissent.

Juan Linz's seminal research on authoritarian regimes distinguished between systems that stabilise through limited pluralism and those that destroy themselves through excessive repression that politicises entire populations. Thailand's Section 112 enforcement has crossed that threshold, moving from selective prosecution that maintained plausible deniability to systematic campaigns that reveal institutional panic. Linz argued that authoritarian systems survive by making opposition appear futile and isolated through carefully targeted repression. But when repression becomes so widespread it transforms dissent from fringe position to generational identity, the system accelerates its own delegitimisation rather than preventing it.

Young protesters who filled Bangkok streets during 2020-2021 demanding monarchical reform didn't vanish after authorities dispersed demonstrations and filed charges. They're watching from universities, offices, and social media platforms, recognising that Sirikit's death removes the last royal figure who commanded genuine popular affection. Each new prosecution reinforces their perception that the monarchy survives through coercion rather than consent, strengthening their conviction that reform represents necessity rather than preference.

International comparison exposes Thailand's isolation among constitutional monarchies with devastating clarity. Malaysia's constitutional monarchy allows citizens to sue the king in civil court—politician Karpal Singh dragged Sultan Mahmud Iskandar into legal proceedings during the 1990s without facing sedition charges or disappearing into prison. Spain's Juan Carlos faced prosecutors investigating financial corruption and chose exile rather than claiming absolute immunity from accountability. Japan's Emperor Naruhito operates within clear constitutional boundaries while Japanese citizens freely debate the monarchy's future without criminal prosecution threatening their liberty.

These monarchies survive precisely because they don't require criminal apparatus to shield them from accountability. Thailand stands alone among comparable constitutional monarchies in weaponizing criminal law at this scale—not because Thai culture uniquely demands it, but because the international silence that protected Bhumibol and Sirikit no longer extends to their son. Foreign diplomats who once deflected human rights critiques by citing Rama IX's popularity now file reports documenting systematic repression under Rama X. This diplomatic shift matters economically and strategically as Thailand seeks foreign investment and regional partnerships during escalating geopolitical tensions.

Tom Ginsburg's comparative research on constitutional monarchies across Asia demonstrates that successful adaptation requires what he terms "strategic withdrawal"—monarchies that survive democratic transitions do so by voluntarily constraining formal powers while maintaining symbolic authority that populations willingly extend. Japan's postwar transformation, Thailand's own 1932 constitutional transition, and Malaysia's evolving monarchy all followed this pattern of calculated retreat from direct political intervention. Vajiralongkorn operates in perfect reverse, expanding formal powers and intensifying legal repression precisely when strategic withdrawal would strengthen long-term institutional survival. As Ginsburg observed, monarchies that cannot distinguish between institutional preservation and personal prerogative accelerate their own obsolescence by conflating the throne's permanence with the current occupant's ego.

The King Who Could Save Himself

Thailand's ruling People's Party campaigned on reform but now confronts political reality. Challenging Section 112 means confronting entrenched networks throughout military command, senior judiciary, and bureaucratic leadership. Coalition partners maintain explicit ties to palace-aligned networks. Military leadership has demonstrated consistent willingness to intervene during perceived constitutional crises—Thailand has experienced twenty coup attempts since 1932, with thirteen succeeding in overthrowing civilian governments.

Yet circumstances have aligned in ways unlikely to repeat, creating counterintuitive convergence between monarchical survival and reform advocacy. The mourning period establishes unique conditions where ultra-royalists cannot aggressively defend Section 112 without appearing disrespectful to Sirikit's memory, while pro-democracy forces have public sympathy for measured reform proposals. This window won't remain open. Within months, prosecution intensity will resume and the moment passes.

Here's the paradox that transforms Thailand's political calculus: Vajiralongkorn's survival interests now align more closely with reform than resistance. A reformed Section 112—perhaps limiting prosecutions to direct threats against physical safety, reducing maximum sentences, requiring explicit royal approval before charges proceed, establishing clear definitional boundaries—would accomplish what current enforcement cannot. Reformed legislation would demonstrate institutional confidence rather than fragility, appeal to young Thais who might accept limited constitutional monarchy but reject systematic repression, and rebuild international credibility among democratic governments whose support Thailand increasingly needs as regional tensions escalate.

Roberto Gargarella's research on constitutional transitions across Latin America reveals consistent patterns that illuminate Thailand's current dilemma. Authoritarian legal structures that outlive the regimes that created them become more dangerous to successor governments than to opposition movements precisely because they embody the previous system's illegitimacy. Spain's transition from Franco's dictatorship required dismantling repressive legal codes not because democrats demanded it as precondition for cooperation, but because maintaining them delegitimised the new constitutional monarchy by associating it with authoritarian past. Argentina's military government discovered that emergency powers designed to protect the regime became evidence of its illegitimacy once public opinion shifted, forcing reforms that military leadership initially resisted.

Thailand faces identical dynamics with Section 112. The statute that once protected monarchical mystique now exposes monarchical fragility with each prosecution filed. The mechanism designed for institutional preservation has inverted into instrument of institutional erosion, broadcasting weakness rather than strength to domestic and international audiences.

Consider the legacy calculation from Vajiralongkorn's perspective stripped of ego and sentiment. The king who reformed Section 112 would be remembered as the monarch who saved constitutional monarchy by adapting it to democratic evolution—precisely the modernising legacy Bhumibol cultivated through rural development projects and economic initiatives. The king who clings to current enforcement while prosecutions mount and credibility erodes will be remembered as the monarch who destroyed what his parents spent seven decades building. This isn't moral judgment but strategic assessment: which path preserves monarchical institution across generational timescales?

When Foreign Support Strengthens Rather Than Threatens

Foreign democracies now possess rare opportunity to support Thai constitutional evolution without appearing to interfere in domestic affairs. During Bhumibol's reign, external criticism of Section 112 risked offending a monarch who commanded genuine international respect, allowing Thai authorities to dismiss reform pressure as cultural imperialism. Under Vajiralongkorn, diplomatic signals supporting reform help Thailand align with democratic norms that Malaysia, Spain, and Japan have already adopted without sacrificing monarchical institutions.

Larry Diamond's extensive research on democratic consolidation emphasises that international support proves most effective when it reinforces domestic reform movements rather than imposing external models. Thailand's pro-democracy activists don't need foreign intervention in the form of sanctions or aid conditionality. They need diplomatic space and international legitimacy for reforms that serve Thailand's own constitutional development. When European Union officials, United States diplomats, and Japanese representatives clearly signal that Section 112 reform would strengthen rather than weaken Thailand's international standing, they provide domestic reformers with powerful counterargument against ultra-royalist claims that reform constitutes foreign interference.

This international dimension transcends symbolic solidarity. Thailand's economy depends on foreign investment, tourism revenue, and trade relationships that increasingly factor governance standards into economic decisions. European Parliament resolutions condemning Section 112 prosecutions, United States State Department human rights reports highlighting lèse-majesté enforcement patterns, and Japanese diplomatic signals emphasising constitutional monarchy norms all create measurable economic and diplomatic costs for maintaining current apparatus. These external pressures don't constitute interference—they reflect unavoidable reality that Thailand's domestic governance choices produce international consequences affecting its strategic positioning during regional realignment.

The alternative to supporting reform now is watching Thailand's constitutional crisis deepen until it explodes through military coup, popular uprising, or institutional collapse that serves nobody's interests—least of all the regional stability that major powers claim to prioritise. Supporting Section 112 reform while political windows remain open and before positions harden represents rare convergence of moral imperative and strategic interest that foreign policy rarely encounters so clearly.

The Choice That Defines a Reign

Thailand's reckoning wasn't cancelled by Queen Sirikit's death—it was clarified. Without her buffer, the institutional question becomes unavoidable rather than deferrable. Can constitutional monarchy survive in democratic society while imprisoning citizens for peaceful speech? Every comparable democracy answers negatively.

Guillermo O'Donnell argued in his foundational work on authoritarian transitions that institutions designed to protect authoritarian regimes become their gravediggers once public legitimacy shifts beneath them. Section 112 has reached that inflection point—no longer protecting monarchical authority but exposing its fragility with each prosecution filed. Bhumibol never faced this paradox because his carefully cultivated legitimacy made the question theoretical rather than urgent. Vajiralongkorn lacks that luxury. The question has arrived with his name attached.

He can recognise that survival depends on reforming Section 112 before it completes the destruction of monarchical credibility, demonstrating the adaptive flexibility that constitutional monarchies require to survive democratic evolution across generations. Or he can cling to legal apparatus that functioned under his parents' legitimacy conditions but fails catastrophically under his own, watching prosecutions mount while domestic support erodes among youth and international credibility evaporates among democracies.

The People's Party faces parallel calculation. They can leverage this unique political moment to advance reform that saves constitutional monarchy by adapting it to contemporary Thailand, or they can watch the window close and spend remaining years managing perpetual constitutional crisis through symbolic gestures that satisfy nobody and change nothing. Their courage determines whether they're remembered as the government that modernised Thai democracy or just another coalition that dissolved while Section 112's apparatus continued destroying citizens' lives and institutional credibility simultaneously.

The enforcement continues daily. The demographic shift against traditionalist factions accelerates with each graduating class. International patience expires with each new prosecution reported. Every day that passes with Section 112 unchanged broadcasts the same message to Bangkok and Brussels, to university students and foreign investors: this monarchy requires criminal prosecution to survive criticism. That message doesn't protect the institution. It announces its decline.

History will record whether Thailand's king and government recognised that Section 112's final days arrived not because reformers grew stronger, but because the law itself became the greatest threat to the institution it supposedly protects. The legitimacy Bhumibol and Sirikit built through decades of calculated performance cannot be inherited through bloodline or enforced through prosecution statistics. It can only be earned through conduct or destroyed through coercion. Rama X's choice determines which process defines his reign and whether constitutional monarchy survives him.

Prem Singh Gill
Prem Singh Gill is Fellow, Royal Asiatic Society of Great Britain and Ireland.

Banner: Bangkok,Thailand -October 27 2025 :Thai national flag flown at half-mast in Bangkok following the passing of the Queen Mother of Thailand. Photo: retirementbonus, Shutterstock