The telephone pole beauty contest

21 February 2000

What would you do if your face was to appear on telephone poles across the city? Chermsak Pinthong appears to have been to the gym and lost the pudginess and stress accumulated over recent years. Vichien Techaphaibun seems to have used his son’s picture by mistake. Chat Taopoon has thrown away all pretence and is possibly using a retouched picture of the younger Elvis. Only Chodchoy Sophonpanich has been able to resist this self-rejuvenating trend. But then she’s made of something permanent and indestructible. Probably porcelain.

For many senate candidates, the problem is being distinctive. Look at the man in the white uniform with the red sash. He appears in several different poses with several different hairstyles and several different numbers. Presumably the voter can choose any one. The same goes for the man in the white suit with the blue sash. And the man in full academic rig.

Then there’s the problem of the candidate number. Traditionally on election posters this appears in Thai numerals. But early in this senate election campaign, Chermsak’s poster went up with western numerals. For other candidates, this became a big decision. Will western numbers make me look more modern? Or will it look pretentious and un-Thai? Some candidates compromised by including both. But western numerals seem to be winning.

Some candidates strain to give their poster some uniqueness and personal flavour. The schoolkids’ chalk on Khru Pratheep’s poster is perhaps the campaign’s only hint of real creativity. Suphavadi Harnmethi appears flanked by her own kids. Will they get senate seats too? Dr Sansani Chatrakupt stands out for the stylish coiffure, make-up, and silk scarf flung across her throat. An appeal for the fashion vote?

Kaewsan Atipoh has made his posters round. A bull’s eye or a plughole? An air chief-marshal fills the frame with his dress uniform and his number in both Thai and western format. All rank and number, very little name. One former MP highlights his bald head with the information that he shaved it to protest against high bus fares.

Damrong Puttan uses high-quality photography to project his highlit face out from the background. The poster says: I’m media savvy. Uthit Hemwatsakun includes his nickname, Sia Tachang (weighscale boss), which somehow manages to convey the promise of a good Chinese dinner. Mo Weng has taken the unique route of plastering his candidate number right across the photo of his face. Is this a subtle protest against the tendency towards a beauty contest?

Sophon Suphapong has taken the heretical, tradition-defying route of giving us a full sunny smile. He is the only candidate we can be sure has a full set of teeth.

But seriously. This senate election is hugely important, and this contest on the telephone poles tells us a lot about the current state of Thai political life.

Consider the sheer number and variety of the candidates standing in Bangkok and in some major towns. Many, many people think they can make a difference by entering politics. Here we are seeing continuation of the urban political enthusiasm which emerged during the writing of the 1997 constitution.

See how the rules are changing. Look at the posters in the classic election style – name, number, bust photo in official uniform or degree robe. These say: vote for me because I’m a pillar of the establishment. On today’s telephone poles, such posters merge into an undifferentiated blur. A pack of cards. Pick any one.

Other candidates are straining against the limitations of the pavement poster, just as they are straining against the overall limitations of the campaign laws. Isn’t it funny to expect them to campaign for a political job without a political platform?

Finally, the scope for confusion is huge. The whole business of electing senators is novel. The Bangkok voter is supposed to pick one from a list of over 260. The clutter climbs up the telephone poles.

Behind all of this enthusiasm, novelty, and potential confusion is one big contradiction: this is a political election which is supposed to rise above electoral politics.

Since the 1940s, the senate has been the sheet-anchor of dictatorship and paternalism in Thai politics. The appointed body acted as a counterweight to elected politicians. In designing the new senate, the writers of the 1997 constitution retained the same idea. Indeed, they were reacting so strongly against the ‘money politics’ of the Banharn era that they took this idea even further. They loaded the senate with even more important powers and duties. They wanted to give these powers to an assembly of ‘good people’.

So they tried to design an election system with the politics taken out. They banned political affiliation, political campaigning, political platforms. Voters, they presumed, would choose the candidates who were obviously ‘good’.

This olympian vision now faces cold political reality. On the one hand, this idea of ‘politics against politicians’ has struck a real chord, and has brought many new people into the arena. On the other hand, the result—and the meaning of the result—is likely to be far from straightforward.

In the provinces, the ban on campaigning has delivered the election into the hands of the hua khanaen, the vote-brokers. As polling day approaches, the usual techniques of these vote-brokers are coming into their own. In Bangkok, the election has become a beauty contest, favouring those with a media profile or some other form of notoriety.

Those looking forward to a senate of ‘good people’ may already be preparing themselves for disappointment. Bowornsak Uwanno, one of the key writers of the 1997 constitution, said recently that only 50 of the right type would be enough. In truth, the result is likely to show how much Bangkok people disagree with one another on who the ‘good people’ really are. For some people, that result may be a shock. For the society as a whole it will be just another stage in learning democracy by doing it.