The general prime minister said last week that he really doesn't even want to talk about an election before September. Also, there won't be an election until he's able to announce the success of his programme of national reconciliation.
Nobody cared.
All eyes focused on a cave complex in Mae Sai district of Chiang Rai province -- as far north as one can go and still be in Thailand. Inside, a tight band of 12 local teenage and pre-teen under-16 football players and their coach were completely out of touch, cut off by early floods in the caverns that prevents their exit and hinders rescue.
As Interior Ministry Anupong Paojinda said on Wednesday, "These are fit, strong lads who know the area well." Optimism was palpable. Still is. Lack of it is unacceptable, unthinkable and undeniably unwelcome.
Gen Anupong's statement of the obvious did raise this mystifying question. Why in God's name did these local boys of the under-16 team, who know the area, go into the cave at all in the rainy season?
Just a guess, but the team's answer after they get back home is probably going to be, "Why not? It was still a week before it closed."
The main cave complex officially closes to tourists today. The Royal Forest Department has a sign at the entrance noticing the closure and stating why.
Which raises a second question. Why didn't the Royal Forest Department move up the annual closure?
The boys and coach entered the Tham Luang Nang Non cave on Saturday afternoon, eight days ago. Thirteen-year-old Songpul Kanthawong was the only team member who didn't go on the outing because he didn't take his bike to the football practice. He was the first to notice team and coach weren't back home by sunset. The teams' families and police were at the cave mouth calling out for the boys shortly thereafter.
Not a peep.
The complex is 1.7k end to end as the crow flies, but no crows ever have been spotted in or around Tham Luang. With twists and turns, the main route is an estimated 5km, and there are numerous side trails. The cave never has been mapped from within or by satellite.
A pair of expert British cavers, 30 US Navy SEALs, and members of Thailand's toughest combat elites, the "Seals" (official name: Underwater Demolition Assault Unit) are the searchers. The Royal Thai Army's designated coordinator, Maj Gen Buncha Duriyapan of the 37th Army Circle in Chiang Rai, is on the scene.
He is not the mission commander. That job fell to Chiang Rai governor Narongsak Osotthanakorn -- not because he has training or qualification for handling a disaster emergency but because he is more phu yai than anyone. Sure enough, no one publicly praised Mr Narongsak's management skills and inspired leadership. One exception is himself. He publicly praised his decision to bring out the bullhorn on Thursday at midnight to speak. "I told the teams they should consider these 12 boys as their children, to provide the courage to work at full capacity to rescue them". There was not wild applause.
Progress is slow, if there is any. When possible, it is a snail's pace. Only the most elite, master divers have a chance to advance, squeezing at great risk through tight passages, contorting their bodies around L- and U-shaped bends. Not a person at the site needs a pep talk to "work at full capacity".
Nevertheless, the general prime minister showed up Friday to do so.
Some rescue efforts, most planning and all coordination halted to ensure Gen (Ret) Prayut got properly welcomed and briefed with attractive charts and maps. It wasn't all his fault by any means, but the rescue operation slipped on Thursday and early on Friday into the sort of ill discipline that army officers hate. When Gen (Ret) Prayut arrived with an impressive party, personal photographers and limos, operations turned from NOO ("not optimally organised") to what military men and women around the globe call, in technical terms, a cluster-four-letter-word.
The Leader pressed flesh, said inspiring words the equal of Mr Narongsak's, invited families to the photo-op, called some to his microphone for words of encouragement and positivity. He couldn't resist bringing up election plans.
The irony was thick. In his stealth political speech on Wednesday, the general prime minister demanded national reconciliation. If he looked around the nation holding its breath and praying for 12 youngsters and their coach, he would have found it, although it wasn't all about him.