If the current regime of constitutional monarchy began with a grand compromise between a burgeoning democracy and traditional absolute monarchy back in 1932, the question before us now could be where to strike a balance between these partly contradictory concepts in 2021, as this legacy-laden bundle threatens to unravel at the seams?
Officially, the country is governed by a democratically elected parliament with the King as head of state.
Philosophically, however, the gap between the "democracy'' of concepts like one-man-one-vote, equal rights and freedom of expression and "the King as head of state", which entails certain privileges and curbs on some of those rights and freedoms can be vast.
Ideologically, the line can be drawn anywhere -- slanted towards a democratic regime or else favouring monarchic absolutism -- as long as it is acceptable to a majority of the people and as long as it serves to maintain order and keep the fabric of society intact.
In practice, however, the balance struck between the country's democratic aspirations and the legacy of its absolute past over the past 89 years is now under a great deal of scrutiny.
And Wednesday's Constitutional Court ruling that three "monarchy reform" activists had aimed to overthrow the royal institution in speeches made during and after a rally at Thammasat University's Rangsit campus has only intensified the debate.
The activists called for 10 changes to the royal institution including the abolition of Section 112, known as the lese majeste law.
They insisted, however, that they had no intention of inciting revolution and believed enacting their manifesto would serve to strengthen the monarchy.
In its ruling, the charter court, which did not allow the accused to take to the stand on the grounds that it had enough evidence already to proceed with the trial, defined "overthrow" as a severe, irreparable threat or a deliberate act to destroy, eradicate or uproot.
The court decided that the calls by the three protesters including to abolish Section 6 of the constitution, which says the King shall be enthroned in a position of revered worship that shall not be violated under the protection of the lese majeste law, which forbids anyone to insult or defame the monarchy, were subversive and could cause the royal institution to lose that status.
It thus ruled that the three protesters had gone beyond the realms of propriety and were not merely exercising their rights.
Their acts endanger security, order and morale and could potentially sabotage one of the cornerstones of the Thai constitution, the court said.
It cited parts of the speeches made by the three protesters which included calls for the King to stay above politics, to respect democracy and to never endorse another coup as demonstrative of a clear intention to "destroy" the monarchy.
Such demands made alongside attacks on the monarchy in public were improper, their words were vulgar and their criticisms violated the rights of their opponents and set a poor example to others, the court argued.
Indeed, few would argue the trio criticised the monarchy in their speeches. After all, they are adamant that they are calling for reforms that would serve thee democratic ideals of accountability and transparency.
What is debatable, however, is whether the speeches posed a threat to the monarchy severe enough to risk uprooting it entirely, and could be justifiably be deemed an act of overthrow it as defined by the court.
It may also be argued that if their speeches were so dangerous, the crown would have been substantially compromised by now. But that does not seem to be the case.
Also where does one draw a line between the freedom to criticise and an intent to sabotage? Should an attempt to overthrow something not involve certain actions or activities like an armed insurrection?
If an age-old, highly-revered institution risks being brought down by public campaigns or speeches, it is likely due to other factors pushing it to the brink.
It is also intriguing that the court said that throughout the Thai history, the "power of governance" has always belonged to the monarchy, from the Sukhothai period down to Ayutthaya and Rattanakosin.
This part has prompted a debate both among law academics and members of the public on how should it be interpreted.
Does the court mean the "power of governance" in a direct fashion? If so, how would such an interpretation be reconciled with the democratic tenet that "sovereign power belongs to the Thai people"?
Where does a modern balance between "democracy" and "the King as head of state" lie? The quest for an acceptable answer looks set to be both long and tumultuous.
Atiya Achakulwisut is a Bangkok Post columnist.