To understand King Bhumibol, we have to perceive him as an individual who underwent a teleological shift from 1946 to around 1990. The young Bhumibol was never due to inherit the crown. He spent his childhood in Switzerland, attending international schools and becoming an erudite young man in a rapidly modernising world.
His ascent to the throne was unlikely, but after the passing of his uncle (the King) and the sudden, mysterious murder of his older brother in 1946, he was crowned. Bhumibol saw himself as made king almost by accident, but if anyone were to hold the throne during this new, tumultuous post-WWII Bangkok, it may as well be him. He viewed himself as that young, erudite man, as capable as anyone else of guiding the country into the rapidly modernising world. Significantly, he considered himself a human being, a man with flaws, with the capacity for error.
His early reign exemplified this, he eschewed ancient customs in favour of a more Western modernity and lent cautious support to peasants and liberal reformers over the staunchly reactionary elite. In the early 1970s, he even said, “At present, changes are taking place rather ominously; people are becoming slaves on the land under the oppressive yoke of capitalists.”
However, during his tenure, he increasingly came to embrace the pomp, ceremony, and religiosity that the institution demanded. Over time, too, the old guard gradually passed away, leaving only himself and his trusted appointees, surrounding himself with and establishing their generation’s own reactionary elite. Bhumiphol became a vessel for the ambitions of that elite. The benevolent monarchy was to be upheld, revered and defended at all costs– be it from communists, students, peasants, republicans or just unfavourable elected politicians & political rivals.
From his perspective, he came to recognise the importance of ancient customs in maintaining the institution of the monarchy, and subsequently, the Thai state. Bhumibol began to believe his anointment in 1946 was not an accident, but a divine purpose. When he spoke with such confidence, critiquing “the oppressive yoke of capitalists,” it was not an implicit reference to socialism, but rather his effort to grapple with the idea of a pre-capitalist mode of production, one with a benevolent, divine ruling class rather than a corrupt capitalist one.
In 1991, he said: “The King must reign with righteousness for the benefit and joy of his people, in accordance with thotsaphit ratchatham (an antiquated word meaning the ten specific virtues found in ancient Hindu and Theravada Buddhist teachings on kingship).”
In himself, he saw the benevolent, divine infallibility of the ancient kings of Siam, Ayutthaya, and Sukhothai, the essentialist essence of the monarch at the helm of the kingdom. This characterised the latter stage of his reign, in which he played the role of an almost god-king. Such was the belief in his divinity that upon his death in 2016, there were those who literally thought it impossible for the monarch to die.
As such, Bhumibol can be interpreted in many different ways, depending on one’s perspective. Those seeking the divine essence may find it, just as those looking for an erudite moderniser may see him as such. Bhumibol is seldom portrayed as an individual who underwent this teleological or ideological shift. Instead, his entire life is presented on a flat plane, all at once, affording his image an unmatched gravitas and fluidity, cementing his infallibility. To challenge the infallible, then, is heresy, indeed, it is literally against the law in Thailand.
