Escaping the Section 112 shadow proves impossible as nationalism surges

With the general election for Members of the House of Representatives set for February 8, 2026, the race is increasingly taking shape as a straight fight for first place between the “orange” People’s Party and the “blue” Bhumjaithai Party.

That, in turn, raises the stakes over who will lead the next coalition government after the 2026 election.

Opinion polls tracking party support and prime-ministerial popularity suggest the two camps have been running neck and neck, largely occupying the second and third positions, while a clear, runaway front-runner for the top spot has yet to emerge.

This also means the contest remains fluid. Parties still have room to gain momentum, and the second and third-ranked contenders, in particular, have time to shift the narrative and change the game.

One factor reshaping the conservative camp is the political fallout surrounding former Prime Minister Thaksin Shinawatra, once widely expected to serve as a key figure in a “new conservative” alignment.

It also involves Paetongtarn Shinawatra, the Pheu Thai leader who was removed from the premiership after the Constitutional Court ruled against her in a case linked to an audio clip of a conversation with Cambodian Senate President Hun Sen.

With those developments, the leadership of the conservative bloc may need to adjust to new realities.

Against that backdrop, Anutin Charnvirakul, the Bhumjaithai leader and the party’s prime-ministerial nominee, has increasingly been positioned as a leading conservative figure—albeit with support framed as conditional by the People’s Party.

Even so, after only a few months in office, Anutin’s stance and decisions during the Thailand–Cambodia border crisis have, in the author’s view, made his leadership clearer: he has projected confidence in the armed forces, aligned closely with the military as part of a “Team Thailand” posture, and emphasised sovereignty and territorial defence.

The border conflict has also helped lift Anutin’s popularity to levels comparable with Natthaphong Ruengpanyawut, the People’s Party leader, with Bhumjaithai’s party ratings rising alongside him.

It is worth recalling that the People’s Party is the successor to the Move Forward Party, which topped the 2023 election with 151 seats, ahead of Pheu Thai’s 141. In 2026, the People’s Party enters as the de facto incumbent champion, with Bhumjaithai emerging as the principal challenger.

At the same time, the People’s Party has built its identity as a progressive force grounded in liberal-democratic ideals—positioning itself in stark contrast to conservative politics. 

Its agenda for political change has long included institutional reform and military reform, while several party figures have publicly pushed back against nationalist sentiment—an approach that can appear at odds with a public mood that intensifies during external tensions.

It is therefore not surprising that, during the Thailand–Cambodia clashes—when nationalism spiked—support for Natthaphong and the People’s Party reportedly fell sharply from earlier highs.

Beyond shifting public sentiment, the election is also entering a period of heightened political manoeuvring. For the People’s Party, a particularly consequential factor is the case involving 44 former Move Forward MPs, accused of serious ethical breaches over their role in proposing amendments to Section 112 of the Criminal Code.

If the National Anti-Corruption Commission (NACC) finds wrongdoing and forwards the matter to the Supreme Court, then once the court accepts the petition, those involved could face immediate constraints.

While the House has been dissolved and all MPs are currently former MPs—meaning a “suspension” would not bite at this moment—the risk would return the instant any of them win seats again, as they may be unable to serve until a final ruling is issued.

Crucially, the author notes that both Natthaphong and Sirikanya Tansakun—the People’s Party’s two prime-ministerial nominees—could also fall within the scope of the case. 

If the party were to finish first and attempt to lead government formation, complications over the premiership would follow immediately, including whether the remaining nominee alone would be acceptable to the House, and what would happen if elected MPs in the “44” group were required to step aside.

Despite this, Natthaphong has insisted the party will not change its prime-ministerial nominees, even as the possibility of an imminent NACC decision hangs over the campaign.

The author argues that this posture could be read as an attempt to rally sympathy—portraying the party as repeatedly targeted by independent bodies—while pursuing an ambitious goal of securing around 250 seats to avoid coalition arithmetic and leadership uncertainty.

At the same time, the party is believed to be preparing for multiple outcomes, including strategic candidate placement. The author suggests some of those at risk may be shifted away from constituency contests towards the party-list, where replacements can move up the list more easily if disqualifications occur.

This has already contributed, the author says, to visible dissatisfaction among some former MPs who have been moved to the party-list or dropped from contention—partly as a precaution against the legal and political risks ahead.

The piece also raises the question many people still ask: if the Move Forward Party has already been dissolved by the Constitutional Court, and its executive committee banned from politics for 10 years, why does the “44 MPs” case still continue? 

Independent legal scholar Kaewsan Atibhoti has offered a clear explanation in an article tracking the “ethics case of 44 orange MPs”, presented in a Q&A format.

In his account, the current proceedings stem from actions taken during the Move Forward era, when the party proposed amending Section 112 in 2021 and the Constitutional Court later ruled that the wider campaign formed part of an effort to undermine the monarchy. 

That sequence, he says, produced three related tracks: 

• A constitutional-protection case, which the court ruled on January 31, 2024, ordering the party to cease all such activity
   
• The party-dissolution case, filed by the Election Commission and decided on August 7, 2024, which also imposed political bans on party executives.
   
• The separate MP ethics case, which the National Anti-Corruption Commission (NACC) has authority to investigate, focusing on whether the 44 MPs who signed onto the Section 112 amendment proposal breached ethical standards—particularly the duty to uphold the nation, religion, the monarchy, and the constitutional order with the King as Head of State.

The Section 112 issue has long been the core vulnerability for the “orange” camp. Under Pita Limjaroenrat, the former Move Forward leader and sole prime-ministerial nominee, the party faced sustained attacks over accusations of being anti-monarchy.

It won the election, but ultimately failed to secure parliamentary approval for the premiership—largely because Section 112 was seen as a political stain that opponents could not ignore.

The same pattern is resurfacing ahead of the February 8, 2026 election. The People’s Party is still dogged not only by the unresolved “44 MPs” case but also by the wider perception that it remains committed to changing Section 112—fueling signals from other parties that they will not join a coalition with it. 

The result is a familiar risk: political isolation, with the intensity of any backlash depending on how strongly the issue is weaponised during the campaign.

This dynamic has already collided with the party’s recent messaging. After the People’s Party launched its “no grey” line—widely read as a swipe at rivals in Anutin’s orbit and a warning against future alliances with tainted figures—Natthaphong escalated the confrontation.

He declared the party would refuse to join a Bhumjaithai-led government and would instead go into opposition if Bhumjaithai won.

Anutin responded with a counter-move of his own, framing coalition choices as reflecting the people’s will while drawing a clear red line: he would not form a government with any party still fixated on amending Section 112. 

In an election climate where two currents could peak at once—an adverse ruling in the “44 MPs” case and renewed claims that some parties remain obsessed with Section 112—the author argues that an already-strong nationalist mood could intensify and blend into a powerful electoral force.