A Question of Technique

Thailand's soft-voiced but strong-willed Premier Pibulsonggram came home from a state tour of Europe and the U.S. a year and a half ago full of the wonders of democracy. Expansively he urged his countrymen to erect themselves a Hyde Park for uninhibited soapbox oratory, offered them the kite-flying ground next to the royal palace. Going his new friend Dwight Eisenhower one better, Pibul instituted weekly press conferences, forced his hapless ministers to appear and answer rude reportorial questions about their carefree handling of public funds.

All this was somewhat surprising in a man whose political handbook ever since his student days in France has been a volume called The Technique of the Coup d'Etat. But the real shocker came when the Thai strongman informed his countrymen that they were free to organize political parties and start campaigning for the 1957 parliamentary elections.

Buddhas & Thunderbirds. To unsubtle Western minds this appeared a somewhat dubious concession. Thailand had had "elections" before, and in any case only half the country's 320 parliamentary seats are filled by election (the other 160 M.P.s are appointed by Pibul). The difference was that the 1957 elections were to be honest. This time, said Pibul sternly, there were to be no "fire cards" (faked ballots) and no "parachutists" (people who vote under other people's names). As a final democratic fillip, Pibul announced that he and eight of his ministers would take their first fling at running for office.

In this heady new atmosphere political machines sprang up like mushrooms after a rain, and in no time at all 23 parties had named 965 candidates. Most formidable of the opposition groups was the Prachathipat (Democratic) Party headed by thin, reedy-voiced ex-Premier Nai Khuang Aphaiwong, who upheld the Pibul government's staunchly pro-Western foreign policy, but damned its corruption and authoritarianism. "We live under a government of gangsters," shrilled Nai Khuang, to the delight of thousands of assembled Bangkokians.

Hardest campaigner of all was Pibulsonggram himself. An ardent admirer of U.S. political methods, the 59-year-old Premier zipped about the country in his green Thunderbird, handing out boxes of "Pibul matches" and replicas of his personal Buddha charm. Since Pibul's countrymen reckon that any man who has survived one kidnaping, two attempted assassinations by snooting and one by poisoning must have supernatural luck, the charm went over big.

In the last month of the campaign alone, Pibul made 150 speeches for his Seri-Manangasila (Free Stone Seat) Party, including a few on TV.* And as proof of his new convictions, he turned over to the police his treasured copy of The Technique of the Coup d'Etat.

Last week, as an estimated 5,000,000 Thais trooped to the polls, Bangkok was a Jersey City in Technicolor. Charges of fire-carding, parachuting and hooliganism echoed and re-echoed. "They're cheating plenty," complained Democrat Nai Khuang, angrily waving what he said were government-doctored ballots. "I deny everything," retorted Air Force Marshal Feun Ronapakart.

Not only did Pibul lead all other candidates in Bangkok, but the sole woman candidate elected turned out to be his wife, Lady Laiad. True enough, two of Pibul's ministers were defeated and at least 26 seats had fallen to Nai Khuang and his Democrats, but at week's end, with 135 seats accounted for, Pibul's men had won 77--more than enough to assure the Premier control of even the free half of Parliament.

Sulks & Sabre Jets. No one was happy. The Premier, disappointed in his hopes for "a landslide like Eisenhower's," retired to the seashore in a pet. Nai Khuang and his fellow Democrats, egged on by Redlining leftists (who got only nine seats). declared that they had been defrauded, and demanded nullification of the Bangkok election. Crowds of protesters began to mass on the streets.

At this point, would-be Democrat Pibul apparently decided there was something to be said for the old book-learned techniques after all. At 7, one morning, Bangkok Radio suddenly announced that the Premier had proclaimed a nationwide "state of emergency," banning political meetings of more than five people. Then, as Thai air force Sabre Jets screamed over the city, the impromptu news broadcast gave way to the stirring strains of Marching Through Georgia.

*Thailand has 8,000 TV sets, but 1,000 are out of order, and no one is equipped to repair them.

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