It's a rare reversal of roles but the judiciary seems to have found itself on the other side of the bench in the court of public opinion with its decision to build a one-billion-baht housing and office project at the foot of the forested Doi Suthep mountain in Chiang Mai.
The court has the law on its side, but seemingly nothing else.
As protests against the controversial project gathers steam and public outcry grows louder, the esteemed institute could learn the hard way that what is lawful may not always be right.
The court, through the Office of the Judiciary, assured the public there is no question about the project's legality. The judiciary sought and received permission to use the 147 rai of state land outside Doi Suthep national park to build an office, flats and houses for Region 5 Appeals Court staff.
The Office's secretary-general Sarawut Benjakul told people not to worry about the environment -- the court's staff will take care of the forest and grow more trees.
He also said that it is too late to stop the project as it is almost complete. The judiciary will face a lawsuit from the contractors if it's scrapped.
Despite the assurances, calls are still being made for the project to be cancelled and the construction site returned to its natural forested state.
If the judiciary pushes on, it is possible the institution will be putting its credibility at stake. Apparently, the court's idea of what is fair or just may not be the same as the public's.
The case epitomises growing disparities between what the authorities believe to be right, which is quite static, and what the public expects of state policies and actions, which must evolve along with changes in a society marked by diverse and competing interests.
Since the Doi Suthep project is being built on state property and funded by taxpayers' money for about 200 court staff, it has inevitably opened old wounds about the privileges of the few, especially bureaucrats, in a country well known for inequality, where more than 11 million of its 70 million population are registered as being poor.
If we believe that all forest should be conserved, what made this area at the foot of Doi Suthep different? Why does the law say that some forests somewhere are off-limits and people, especially members of the poor who forage in them for food or wood, must be arrested and sentenced for encroachment while other forests, such as this area on Doi Suthep, can be designated state property and encroached on?
In one way, the court's housing project has brought to light an apparent fickleness in the implementation of laws governing forest conservation. In another, it shows how state authorities can be grossly out of touch with public's mood and expectations.
The uproar about the Italian Thai Development boss's alleged poaching of a black leopard in Thung Yai Naresuan wildlife sanctuary should have informed the state that concern for the environment, wildlife and diminishing forest remains high in the mind of the Thai public despite differences of opinion in certain cases.
The law may designate the area where the court's housing estate now stands as state property to be used for any purposes its owner sees fit, but the reality on the ground is that it was a forest.
An aerial photo of the project shows how alienated the brown, bare concrete block looks against the surrounding lush forest. There is no question that the housing project resembles an invasion, a wound in an otherwise green and healthy forest ecosystem.
Indeed, the project's barren looks bring into question whether it was worth stripping more than 100 rai of forest for an office building and rows of houses. After all, these buildings can be constructed anywhere but the forest's trees are gone forever once felled. This does not include the possibility that a housing project on this scale could compromise the ecosystem of the remaining woods in ways that its builders may not have expected.
The question, therefore, is not about the law and legality of the project but why didn't those entrusted to oversee the use of the land have the sense to realise its value and manage it more responsibly?
The question is why didn't the authority see the reality beyond the law, or the state's designation of the land, and realise that this area was a healthy forest that formed a buffer to the much-loved Doi Suthep national park?
The question is why did the government tell us to conserve the forest but allow the judiciary to destroy it?
Atiya Achakulwisut is a columnist, Bangkok Post.