The invocation of Section 44 of the interim constitution in place of martial law is a mixed bag in disguise.
The controversial section vests complete power and authority with Prime Minister Prayut Chan-o-cha in his capacity as head of the National Council for Peace and Order (NCPO), which has governed through martial law for more than 10 months.
In turn, the replacement of martial law with Gen Prayut's absolute authority yields several immediate implications.
First, the 44th of 48 sections in the interim charter depoliticises draconian rule in the eyes of the international community but further consolidates and personalises it at home under Gen Prayut. It is designed to show that Thailand's conflict is more about Thais than foreigners.
Not since the Cold War has this sort of absolute rule by one individual taken place in Thailand.
Back then - in 1959, 1972, 1976 and 1977 - it had a semblance of justification as an instrument to maintain peace and order to thwart the threat of communist expansionism. The contemporary post-Cold War period does not offer such justification.
As it stands, Gen Prayut now has runaway power unto himself. He merely has to inform the junta-appointed National Legislative Assembly and the prime minister, who happens to be himself, in Thailand's ultimately one-man rule.
Moreover, the implementation of Section 44 roughly separates the home front from the abroad. As martial law has blanket authority, it has adversely affected international sentiments. It conjures up "Third World" images of human rights violations and restrictions on civil liberties. Martial law also makes Thailand a pariah because it is anachronistic.
The private sector and foreign stakeholders are likely to welcome the lifting of martial law. Tourist arrivals have been sustained since the coup but tourist patterns have shifted in favour of East Asian locations. Doing away with martial law will enable Western tourists to obtain travel insurance and favourable advisory notices from their governments to visit Thailand again. Overall, no martial law is generally better for business.
And democratic governments in the West and elsewhere will find it easier to deal with their Thai counterpart. Martial law is antithetical to democratic rule. It is also easily benchmarked by foreign governments for its simplicity. Martial law means rights violations and hence consequent criticism and rebukes are almost automatic. But Section 44 is complicated and sophisticated, involving fine print and interpretation, which some foreign capitals may not be willing to fathom.
As martial law is out and Section 44 is in, domestic consequences are clear. Attendant conditions under martial law are retained, including the prohibition on peaceful assembly, the detention without due process for up to seven days, all actions deemed necessary for national security are sanctioned, and so forth.
In other words, Section 44 appears to function as "martial law-plus", with identical restrictions on basic freedoms topped by the centralisation of power and authority under the prime minister. In some areas of dissent and political expression, the application of Section 44 may be harsher than martial law.
This new power structure yields a second implication. The risks of missteps and mistakes will likely increase because the onus will now be on the prime minister as the omnipotent and omnipresent source of authority.
Martial law effectively functioned as a power-sharing arrangement within the military. Field commanders at regional, divisional and regimental levels had authority and latitude to apply martial law as they saw fit under orders they were given. This is no longer the case.
Thus, martial law resembled a military regime governing the country and was spearheaded by the junta chief. But under Section 44, the prime minister will be the only one governing the country backed by a military regime.
The distinction is crucial. With a regime in charge, there were limited checks on power, chains of decision-making, and some delegation and decentralisation of authority.
When one individual is in charge, it is all up to him. The risks he might make wrong decisions or have incomplete information increase.
Third, all of these risks may have been more manageable in Thailand's Cold War past. But it is difficult to imagine Thailand of the 21st century, which has spent the past four decades opposing military dictatorship, accepting absolute power now with hands down and heads nodding in obeisance.
More rumblings of dissent are being expressed, not least from the vibrant civil society segments and the media that backed the coup in the beginning. As the coup becomes entrenched and embedded, Thai civil society appears to be agitating and regaining its pluralistic consciousness.
The coming months under Section 44 are going to be a litmus test for Thai civil society. It has passed this test time and again in 1973 through to the 1980s and, especially, in 1992, when a Bangkok-based uprising extirpated a camouflaged elected government backed by the army. There is no reason to doubt Thai civil society passing a similar test now that military despotism is in full view, compounded by a blatant strongman governing style.
Finally, consolidating political control from martial law to Section 44 may end up in a spiralling catch-22. As martial law did not quite get the job done in imposing the kind of political order and stability the NCPO wanted, more power is needed.
But as Section 44 engenders more opposition and resistance, more power will be needed still and more enforcement will be imperative. This is a recipe for growing confrontation and turmoil.
The only way Section 44 could end up doing good is for the prime minister to be judicious and just, enlightened and efficient, incorruptible and inexhaustible. If he is not up to all of these virtues, it behoves him and benefits the country to wind our way back from absolute power.
Thitinan Pongsudhirak is associate professor and director of the Institute of Security and International Studies, Faculty of Political Science, Chulalongkorn University.