The Economist 29Feb2020

The EconomistFebruary 29th 2020 Asia 21

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the party and banned Mr Thanathorn and

other party executives from politics for a

decade. It stressed that they may not

launch new parties.

The decision resolves just one of more

than two dozen cases working their way

through the legal system involving Future

Forward, its leader or other members of the

party. In November the constitutional

court stripped Mr Thanathorn of his parlia-

mentary seat. It ruled that he had violated

election laws which bar those with shares

in media firms from running for parlia-

ment. To reach that verdict, it ignored evi-

dence that the firm in question was defunct

and that Mr Thanathorn had anyway sold

his shares. Even when the firm was in busi-

ness, it had produced only glossy maga-

zines—presumably not the sort of outlet

legislators had in mind when they banned

media moguls from dabbling in politics.

The legal onslaught against Future For-

ward began after its surprisingly strong

showing in the election, at which a military

junta that had seized control of the country

in 2014 supposedly handed power back to

civilians. Founded only in 2018, the party

came third overall and drew particular sup-

port from young people. Its platform of

taming the army, decentralising govern-

ment and tackling business monopolies

had wide appeal. Mr Thanathorn subse-

quently sought the position of prime min-

ister. But Prayuth Chan-ocha, the junta-

leader-turned-prime-minister, remained

in office with the support of pro-army par-

ties. The army had worked hard to ensure

that the election would be held under con-

ditions that favoured its supporters. Even

so, it only just managed to scrape together a

parliamentary majority.

In the short term, Mr Prayuth’s position

has been strengthened by Future Forward’s

demise. Nine of its 65 now-homeless mps

are joining Bhumjaithai, a party in the go-

verning coalition. But the banning also

demonstrates the hollowness of Mr Pra-

yuth’s claim to have restored democracy.

Indeed, students at several universities

held candlelit vigils or mock funerals for

democracy in the wake of the decision.

Although the constitutional court has

dissolved eight political parties since 2006,

until now the targets had been allies of

Thaksin Shinawatra, a telecoms tycoon

whose government was ousted in a coup

that year, sparking a feud between pro-

Thaksin “red shirts” and pro-army, monar-

chist “yellow shirts” that has dominated

Thai politics ever since. Future Forward

was neither clearly red nor yellow. Indeed,

its colour, orange, spoke of a third way that

could appeal to partisans of both tenden-

cies. By banning it, the current regime has

proved once and for all that it does not sim-

ply want to restore order and break the po-

litical logjam, as often claimed, but to run

the country without opposition. 7

T

he picturesshowed Mahathir Moha-

mad, the prime minister, working

calmly at his desk. “Just another day in the

office”, read the accompanying caption,

tweeted on February 25th. Yet outside the

doors of his office there was pandemon-

ium. The day before, Dr Mahathir had re-

signed as prime minister and as leader of

Bersatu, one of the parties in the governing

coalition. The king, however, had promptly

reappointed the 94-year-old as a caretaker

while he and all Malaysia tried to work out

whether any of the various contenders to

form a new government could command a

majority in parliament.

The drama began with a failed attempt

at a parliamentary coup. Bersatu an-

nounced that it would leave the ruling co-

alition, Pakatan Harapan, as did 11 malcon-

tents from another of the alliance’s

components, Parti Keadilan Rakyat (pkr).

These rebels had planned to form a govern-

ment with the support of the opposition,

but were wrongfooted when Dr Mahathir—

whose backing the ringleaders seem to

have expected—instead resigned.

The chaos stems from a simmering dis-

pute over how long Dr Mahathir should

stay on as prime minister and who should

succeed him. He is a towering but contro-

versial figure, having served as prime min-

ister from 1981 to 2003 as the head of the

United Malays National Organisation

(umno), the ruling party from indepen-

dence in 1957 until 2018. Horrified by cor-

ruption within more recent umnogovern-

ments, Dr Mahathir left the party and set up

Bersatu. But he only became Pakatan Hara-

pan’s candidate for prime minister at elec-

tions in 2018 because Anwar Ibrahim, the

leader of pkr, a much bigger party, was in

jail after a prosecution that pkrinsisted

was politically motivated. After winning

the election, Dr Mahathir secured a pardon

for Mr Anwar and promised to hand power

to him soon. But soon gradually turned

into two years, prompting much grum-

bling from Mr Anwar’s camp.

What is more, rumours began to circu-

late that, whenever Dr Mahathir did step

down, he was hoping to be succeeded not

by Mr Anwar, but by Azmin Ali, another se-

nior figure in pkr. It is Mr Azmin who leads

the faction that broke away from pkrthis

week. But the extent of Dr Mahathir’s in-

volvement in that rupture, if any, remains a

mystery. “Did he have a change of heart, or

did he get cold feet?” asks a mystified polit-

ical adviser.

At the heart of this soap opera are both

personal and political divisions. Dr Ma-

hathir and Mr Anwar have a fraught history.

Dr Mahathir sacked Mr Anwar as his deputy

in 1998, after the two clashed over how best

to respond to the Asian financial crisis. Mr

Anwar was beaten up in jail and later con-

victed on trumped-up charges of sodomy (a

crime in Malaysia) and corruption. He be-

came a figurehead for those campaigning

for reform and led opposition to umnoin

KUALA LUMPUR

A botched power grab leaves parliament with no clear governing majority

Malaysian politics

The old men and the seats

In perfect disagreement for 21 years