Supporters of the post-coup government – and those who grudgingly regard it as being preferable to the brutality of street politics – view Article 44 of the interim constitution as a handy package of special powers for Prime Minister Prayut Chan-o-cha. By invoking it he can deal quickly and directly with problems as they arise, circumventing the bureaucracy and any established laws that might get in the way.
Even admirers of Article 44 must surely see its drawbacks, however. This is absolute, unrestrained power concentrated in the hands of a single person. And, while we see no reason to suspect that General Prayut might abuse that power to the detriment of the country as a whole, its very existence is cause for concern, and the possibility of its use backfiring is very real.
The Agriculture and Cooperatives Ministry has asked that Article 44 be invoked so that work can finally begin on the long-delayed Mae Wong Dam in Nakhon Sawan province. Opponents of the project say the dam’s reservoir will swamp a large area of pristine forest in Mae Wong National Park – this at a time when woodlands cover just 30 per cent of the country’s landmass. The government has been rightfully pushing for reforestation, and yet now appears ready to drown a huge forest. Public and academic opposition to the dam is firm, though, and hence the need for “special powers”.
Article 44 was included in the interim charter as another means of protecting the public good, but plans for the Mae Wong Dam have been shown from the start to be detrimental rather than beneficial. Environmentalists say that, because of its location, the dam will be of no use in easing our perennial water shortages. It would thus play no role in the sustainable development that Prayut so often promotes. Worse, the invocation of Article 44 for such a project would set a precedent for it being used to steam-roll other controversial development schemes. If Article 44 has to be used, its use must never become a matter of convenience. The powers it grants are referred to as “special” for good reason – for use only in extraordinary circumstances.
There was widespread public support when Article 44 was deployed to penalise former Information and Communication Technology minister Surapong Suebwonglee and, before that, a former deputy finance minister and other officials. Even then, however, long-established legislation could have done the job just as well. Had the authorities strictly enforced the law in the first place, we would not have had to summon any special powers.
Prayut has turned to Article 44 to confront a variety of issues, from lottery-ticket prices, sales quotas and brawling students to corruption in the corridors of power. Each time it has been effective, more or less, and each time it has demonstrated that the real problem lies in poor enforcement of existing laws. Article 44 has had no noticeable effect on our culture of corruption, in which the right amount of money can bend any law.
Wielded at inappropriate times, as in the Mae Wong Dam case, Article 44 becomes a troublesome double-edged sword – one edge able to cut through the binding forces of democracy. It is at once powerful and dangerous, particular so when in the hands of just one man – a general who’s never earned a popular mandate. Article 44 is best left unused on the shelf, posing a deterrent threat and nothing more.