For Pita Limjaroenrat, Thailand’s liberal icon and “almost prime minister,” the experience of being banned from politics following his decisive 2023 general election win has only strengthened the calling to fight for democracy in his country.

Thailand’s distinctive power structure – an entrenched alliance among the monarchy, the military, and economic monopolies – has repeatedly undermined and dismantled democratic forces’ attempts to challenge the dominance of unelected institutions. “This is a systematic issue that if I don't stand up for, then it's going to happen to my daughter's generation and my granddaughter's generation,” Pita says.

Joining APARC Director Kiyoteru Tsutsui on the latest episode of the APARC Briefing video series, Pita reflects on his journey, shares lessons in leadership and resilience, and discusses the forward-looking vision that continues to define his commitment to contribute to the conversation on Thailand’s future.

The APARC Briefing interview followed a fireside chat with Pita, Thailand at a Crossroads, hosted by APARC’s Southeast Asia Program, where he examined Thai politics and Southeast Asian regional dynamics.

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The People’s Mandate

In May 2023, Pita led the Move Forward Party (MFP) to win the most seats in Thailand’s general election on a platform of progressive reform. He was poised to lead the country, but a court injunction and parliamentary maneuvering halted his path to the prime ministership. In August 2024, the Thai Constitutional Court disbanded the MFP and banned Pita from politics for ten years. He may still face a lifetime ban. Rather than retreating, however, Pita has reframed his political setback as a summons to a larger mission.

To compartmentalize, find purpose in adversity, and manage anxiety, Pita proactively maps out worst-case scenarios, he revealed. “Once I have that down on paper, I stop worrying,” he said. Having anticipated the possibility of being blocked from power, the event, when it happened, was not a personal shock but the activation of a pre-analyzed outcome. This mindset allows him to see his ban from office as a reversible obstacle in a long-term struggle, citing the comebacks of leaders like Brazil’s President Lula da Silva. 

Politics is a ball that could turn either way, Pita believes. “If there's enough mandate, if there's enough calling from the people that they want me to govern and they want me to run again, whatever legal procedure that is done to me can be reversed. A pathway to power is always there as long as you still have that fire in you and people give you the mandate,” he argues.

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The Art of the Middle Way

Pita’s leadership philosophy is rooted in a life spent bridging divides. Describing himself as a “jack of all trades,” he recalled how, as a child, he moved easily between being a bookworm and taking on leadership roles in school and basketball. He traces this identity back to his upbringing, which included a middle-class childhood in Bangkok, formative years at an all-boys school in rural New Zealand, and an education and professional experiences in both the public and private sectors, with degrees earned from Harvard’s Kennedy School and MIT’s Sloan School of Management.

“That became who I am,” he stated, outlining his unique proposition to Thai voters. “Someone who understands international markets and rural areas. Someone who's middle class, who understands people who are well off and people who are struggling [...] Someone who understands both the private side and public side because he prepared himself that way.”

This dual expertise, he argued, is crucial for effective governance. He noted the fundamental difference in objectives between the two sectors. “The goal of public service is service. The goal of the private sector is profitability,” he said. “Just because you're a successful businessman doesn't make you a successful politician.”

He recounted how his political calling was ignited in the wake of the 2004 Indian Ocean tsunami, when, as a management consultant, he worked on a tourism recovery strategy for Thailand. The intellectual challenge of balancing complex public needs, like national energy security, sparked a passion that private-sector work couldn't match.

From Campaign to Campus

Now a Senior Democracy Fellow at Harvard Kennedy School, Pita channels his experiences into mentoring a new generation of leaders. He teaches a class on running for public office in developing countries, hosts workshops, and holds “private office hours” for students committed to entering public service, helping them craft their first campaign strategies. It is a way of “turning reality into a textbook” for others.

He also remains a keen observer of global affairs, characterizing the current U.S.-China relationship as a “managed rivalry” or “competitive coexistence,” where deep distrust is checked by the understanding that a full-fledged decoupling would be “economic suicide” for both sides. He sees Southeast Asia as a central and crucial bloc of “swing states” that must leverage its position to determine its own future without being forced to choose sides in the competition between the world’s two greatest powers.

When asked for his message to young people, Pita’s advice is a blend of passion and pragmatism. “Always follow your heart, but take your brain with you,” he urged. For those with aspirations to tackle the world’s crises and pressing social challenges, he stressed the importance of pairing that fire with a concrete plan.

“It's up to you whether you find your North Star, improve your skills to have a plan to get there,” he concluded.

Pita clearly articulates what he wants: a more just and democratic Thailand. Even from outside the halls of political power, he is methodically working on his plan to get there. “I can wait for my time, and I will come back stronger, more vigorous, more capable, and more relevant.”

In May 2023, Thai pro-democracy reformer and lawmaker Pita Limjaroenrat led Thailand’s Move Forward Party to a stunning victory in the general election on a platform of progressive change. The party won a clear mandate from over 14 million voters, but conservative powers and military-appointed senators blocked Pita’s path to the prime ministership. Fifteen months later, Thailand’s Constitutional Court dissolved the Move Forward Party – the same fate its predecessor, the Future Forward Party, met in 2020. The court also barred Pita from politics for a decade.

It is a story he recounts in his political memoir, The Almost Prime Minister, and one he discussed at a February 2025 fireside chat hosted by APARC’s Southeast Asia Program. In his current role as a Senior Democracy Fellow back at his alma mater, the Harvard Kennedy School, Pita continues to champion transparent and equitable governance, coaches a new generation of political leaders, and strategizes a democratic path forward for Thailand. 

On May 29, 2026, Pita returned to Stanford for a follow-up discussion with APARC Director Kiyoteru Tsutsui, who also serves as co-director of the Southeast Asia Program. Pita examined political developments in Thailand since the contentious 2023 election, the tensions between Thailand and Cambodia, the crisis in Myanmar, ASEAN’s role in the region, and how Thailand and other middle powers should hedge their bets amid the U.S.-China competition and a fragmenting world order. 

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Anatomy of a Defeat

Pita’s opening remarks focused on the outcome of Thailand’s recent general election, in which the People’s Party – the successor to the dissolved Move Forward Party – suffered a decisive defeat. Entering the February 8, 2026, election, the People’s Party had hoped to convert widespread calls for democratic reform into power. Instead, the conservative Bhumjaithai Party secured a clear victory and then joined forces with the third-place populist Pheu Thai Party to form a coalition government.

Pita, who had campaigned for the People’s Party ahead of the election – a political activity he remains eligible to undertake despite being barred from seeking office – offered a candid assessment of the party’s loss.

Lower voter turnout was a key determinant of the February 8 election results, he argued: at 65 percent, it was sharply down from 76 percent in the 2023 general election that he won. Many voters came to believe that the costs of participating in the political process outweighed the potential benefits, Pita said.

That is the calculus of autocrats when they manipulate elections, he argued. Recognizing that electoral participation is the linchpin of a representative democracy's legitimacy and power, and that voter turnout of upward of 70 percent would all but guarantee a People Party victory, "they want to make sure that the cost of going to an election is higher than the benefit."

Pita pointed to his experience as evidence. Despite winning the 2023 election, Thai supporters now see him, three years later, living in Boston rather than governing from Bangkok. The message to voters, he said, is clear: If you keep voting and nothing changes, then why bother?

Pita calls this "voter fatigue by design" – a tactic used by autocrats to make politics seem “dramatized, boring, or irrelevant.”

He labels this Thai establishment's effort to convince voters that political participation is futile as “constituency.” It is one element in a “five C’s framework” that explains the People’s Party’s recent election defeat, he says.

A second factor, which he names “competitive collusion,” was evident in the decision by conservative candidates to coordinate their efforts – whether by merging campaigns or stepping aside – to avoid splitting the vote and present a unified front against the reformist People’s Party.

Third, conflict – by which Pita refers to the recent flare-up of tensions between Thailand and Cambodia – rallied nationalistic sentiment, lending greater legitimacy to the military and thus benefiting the conservative parties associated with it.

The fourth element, according to Pita, is Thailand’s Constitution, under which the Election Commission – the country’s sole election management body – is effectively appointed by the King on the recommendation of the Senate. “So I felt the [February 2026] election was not fair,” Pita said. “There was no linkage to the people, and there were no checks and balances.”

Finally, Pita pointed to the People Party's own missteps, which he categorizes as “candidacy.” He described a “Brahmin left versus merchant right” dynamic, arguing that the party became overly focused on technocratic, urban-centered policies and lost touch with the rural grassroots base that had been crucial to the Move Forward Party’s 2023 electoral success.

Regional Flashpoints: Cambodia and Myanmar

On the Thailand-Cambodia border dispute, Pita called for a renewed commitment to diplomacy, arguing that lasting peace can only be achieved through dialogue. He pointed to the Joint Boundary Commission, the bilateral body the two countries established in 1997 to oversee the demarcation of their border, as the most viable mechanism for resolving the dispute.

“If we return to the table and try to negotiate that out, I think that could be a path toward durable peace between Thailand and Cambodia.”

Turning to Myanmar, Pita stressed the need for Thailand and the Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN) to take a more active role in addressing the civil war that has devastated the country since the military coup of February 2021. The conflict’s spillover effects, he noted, extend well beyond Myanmar’s borders, fueling cyber scam operations, human trafficking, and illicit financial activity that directly affect Thailand.

“If the ASEAN core, especially Thailand, with its geographic proximity, doesn't do anything, it's going to keep going in a dangerous drift like that.” 

Pita noted, however, that the crisis in Myanmar has grown more complex in recent years. Beyond the struggle among ethnic armed groups and between the military and pro-democracy forces, it now encompasses resource politics as part of a broader competition over rare earths and China’s expanding strategic interests linked to trade corridors and energy infrastructure.

As China’s involvement in the region deepens through its trade routes and gas pipeline interests, the conflict in Myanmar has become much harder to resolve, he said.

As a way forward, Pita proposed a minilateral coalition comprising key ASEAN states, along with India, China, and possibly Japan and South Korea. The goal, he said, would be to work with Myanmar’s opposition forces to “turn resistance into governance” and lay the groundwork for a viable political transition toward a post-conflict Myanmar.

The Middle Power Moment and U.S.-China Rivalry

Zooming out to the global stage, Pita spoke of his interest in the prospects of a "middle power moment" taking shape, citing Canadian Prime Minister Mark Carney’s recent diplomatic tour of the Indo-Pacific region to urge middle power nations, including India, Australia, and Japan, to unite in response to the U.S.-China great power rivalry and the transformation of U.S. foreign policy under the Trump administration.

“Thailand is still the second-largest country in ASEAN,” Pita said. “So we have agency and autonomy. Whether we use it or not, that is something that remains to be seen.”

“You realize that if you rely on the Americans for security and the Chinese for the economy, you are going to be forced to choose sides. And once you choose sides, that's the end of everything that you have.” He argued that, if nations are to avoid being forced to choose sides, they must redefine neutrality as an active capability rather than a passive position.

Here, too, he suggested, flexible, issue-based minilaterals could be beneficial. “So I think we'll see a rise of multilaterals on various issues, whether it's AI governance, semiconductors, maritime management, cybersecurity, or critical minerals.”

From Player to Coach

Forced to the sidelines of Thai politics, Pita has embraced a new role. "My calling now is to groom next-gen leaders. I used to be a player, and I did a good job. And then they stopped me. They forced me to sit down. So I decided to become a coach instead.” At Harvard Kennedy School, he now co-teaches a class on running for public office in developing countries, turning his recent, raw experiences into a textbook for the next generation.

Despite the setbacks, Pita’s message remains one of resilience and determination. When asked if he could still win, he was unequivocal. "I think I can," he stated. “I think about it every single night, to return to the arena and become a player. But I can wait. I could strategize, I could accumulate small victories until I'm strong, vigorous, and capable. And when I return, I will change Thailand for good.”.

In His Own Words: Pita's Column in Matichon Weekly

Pita contributes a regular column to the Thai-language news magazine Matichon Weekly (มติชนสุดสัปดาห์), providing analysis on topics ranging from global economic shifts and international politics to urban development and his experiences engaging with leaders in politics, technology, business, and social activism. In his column of June 12, 2026, he reflects on his May 29 visit to Stanford and APARC.

Below is an English version of the column, generated by Google Translate. It has been mildly edited for accuracy and style.

Palo Alto Annual Event

I'm back at Stanford University and Palo Alto again, after visiting last year. I was so impressed that I've decided I'd like to visit every year if I can, not just because of the good weather and pleasant atmosphere, but because this place is a hub of knowledge, conversation, and unique perspectives on the world that are hard to find elsewhere.

I spent three days as a guest of APARC, or the Walter H. Shorenstein Asia-Pacific Research Center, Stanford University's Asia-Pacific research center, which is part of the Freeman Spogli Institute for International Studies (FSI), one of the world's most influential institutions in international relations and public policy, as well as the Hoover Institution, a public policy institute that brings together thinkers, historians, economists, and former policymakers from around the globe.

These three institutions set Stanford apart from typical universities, creating a space where the academic and policy worlds converge tangibly. The people you pass each day might be Larry Diamond, who has studied democratic transitions and declines for decades; Francis Fukuyama, author of The End of History and the Last Man; Gi-Wook Shin, an expert on East Asia; or Kiyoteru Tsutsui, who studies human rights issues. On the other side of the university is a collection of former top U.S. policymakers, from Condoleezza Rice to Michael McFaul, making conversations here both academic and practical. Importantly, the questions I'm asked at Stanford are always more difficult than anywhere else.

Many conversations this year have revolved around the same question: Is the world entering an era where geopolitics and technology are increasingly intertwined? While in the past, technology companies competed to create superior products, today they face geopolitical questions similar to those governments do. From restrictions on chip exports and access to rare earth minerals to energy security and the restructuring of international supply chains, the names Nvidia, TSMC, and ASML are frequently mentioned alongside those of major powers, as the ability to design, manufacture, and control advanced technology has become an integral part of state power.

In the world of AI, the question has changed significantly this year. At Stanford and Silicon Valley, I hear less talk about frontier models than I expected, but more and more talk about inference, compute, and energy. The excitement isn't about how well the next model will perform, but about who can get these models out of the lab and into real-world economic applications first.

On the other hand, competition is shifting from the digital world to the physical world. Waymo's self-driving cars are becoming commonplace on San Francisco streets, while Amazon's Zoox is beginning to enter the fray as a major player. The development of humanoid robots is also being discussed more seriously than ever before. Many believe that the next decade will be the time when AI begins to develop its own "arms and legs," no longer confined to computer screens.

As technology has advanced to this point, the conversation has once again turned to geopolitics. This includes issues such as controls on the export of advanced chips, competition to attract leading researchers, access to energy for hyperscale data centers, and concerns about the concentration of computing power in the hands of a few companies and countries. If in the 20th century, oil was the strategic resource of superpowers, many are beginning to see that in the 21st century, computing may be heading towards a similar status. The world is therefore not just witnessing a technological competition, but a new restructuring of power through technology.

Another thing I always try to do whenever I come to Stanford and Silicon Valley is to meet Thai students, researchers, entrepreneurs, and Thais working in the technology industry. Because, if you look closely, Thais are already a part of the global competitiveness we talk about.

Over the past two years, since being disqualified from politics, I have dedicated part of my time to traveling, meeting, and systematically building a database of Thai talent abroad. This includes scientists, engineers, economists, artificial intelligence researchers, and executives in global technology companies. This trip was no exception. I had the opportunity to meet Thais working at Google, Meta, Apple, Salesforce, Nvidia, OpenAI, and many other leading technology companies. Some work in semiconductors, some develop AI models, and some manage products with hundreds of millions of users worldwide. Many may not be well-known in Thailand, but they are part of the workforce driving the world's future economy today.

Every time I speak with this group of Thais, I leave feeling hopeful. Hopeful to see that Thais can stand at the forefront of industries that are shaping the future of the world, on par with anyone else. And hopeful that their knowledge, experience, and networks can connect and create even more value for Thailand in the future. I can only hope that one day I will have the opportunity to work with them for the future of our nation.

Southeast Asia’s megacities, long viewed as symbols of progress, are facing crises ranging from floods and ecological damage to displacement and widening inequality. Scholars of contemporary urban politics often attribute these predicaments to rapid globalization that originated in the mid-1980s. Yet APARC Visiting Scholar Gavin Shatkin argues they must be understood in the context of the Cold War era, when urban development agendas were molded by authoritarian regimes exerting political and economic control in the name of anti-communism.

Shatkin, an urban planner specializing in the political economy of urbanization and urban policy and planning in Southeast Asia, is a professor of public policy and architecture at Northeastern University. He recently completed his residency at APARC as a Lee Kong Chian National University of Singapore-Stanford fellow on Southeast Asia. Before heading to Singapore for the second part of his fellowship, he presented research from his new book project, which examines how U.S.-supported authoritarian regimes in Indonesia, the Philippines, and Thailand shaped urban politics in three megalopolises —Jakarta, Bangkok, and Metro Manila — during the 1960s and 1970s, with consequences that reverberate today.

Political Violence as Foundation

Shatkin refers to the period from the mid-1960s to the mid-1970s as Southeast Asia's "hot Cold War." During that time, in tandem with the armed conflict in Vietnam, Laos, and Cambodia, political violence spread through Indonesia, the Philippines, and Thailand, as the three countries witnessed the emergence of authoritarian regimes that cemented their rule by manipulating laws and institutions and deploying targeted, often extreme violence justified as necessary to combat communism.

In Indonesia, a U.S.-backed 1965 military coup, directed particularly at the Communist Party of Indonesia, led to the massacre of 500,000 to one million people, heralding General Suharto's 32-year authoritarian rule.

In the Philippines, amid leftist demonstrations and a communist insurgency, President Ferdinand Marcos declared martial law in 1972, marking the beginning of a decade defined by his administration’s widespread human rights violations, throughout which the United States continued to provide foreign aid to the country, considering Marcos a steadfast anti-communist ally.

And in Thailand, the imposition of the 1958 military dictatorship to counter communist threats and the 1976 crackdown by Thai police and right-wing paramilitaries against leftist protesters were pivotal points in establishing a royalist-nationalist model that defined "Thainess" (khwam pen thai) through loyalty to the monarchy, aligned with military power as well as American military aid and counter-insurgency policy guidance.

According to Shatkin, these were not isolated incidents but defining episodes of political violence that cemented authoritative oligarchic control over urban development. The explosive urbanization in Southeast Asian cities that followed in the mid-1980s must be read through the lens of this earlier period, when authoritarian regimes sought to exploit urban transformation to entrench political and economic power.

Oligarchic Politics

The Suharto regime's approach to Jakarta as a source of profit exemplifies this dynamic. Shatkin explains how, between 1985 and 1998, Indonesia's National Land Agency distributed land permits for extensive urban development across the Jakarta metropolitan region to a small network of oligarchic conglomerates, such as the Salim Group. These crony corporations, allied with Suharto through family ties and political patronage, came to dominate Indonesia’s economy. Many of these same corporate interests continue to influence development agendas in Jakarta today, owning exclusive rights to purchase and develop permitted land.

The same pattern of successive waves of government expansion of metropolitan regions through infrastructure development and the distribution of land to selected major conglomerates has repeated itself in Manila and Bangkok, creating in-country profit centers for economic interests and what Shatkin calls “an archipelago of exclusive gated elite spaces” that reinforces spatial dichotomy and segregation as each of these megacities also experiences a housing crisis.

For example, Shatkin’s research in Metro Manila during the late 1990s and early 2000s revealed that approximately 40% of the population lived in dense informal settlements. A significant portion of these residents were employed in the nearby container port, yet their wages were insufficient to afford legal housing near their workplace. This discrepancy highlights a structural dilemma where low-wage workers are effectively compelled to occupy land illegally.

Environmental crises in the three urban giants are also entrenched in political and social structures rooted in oligarchic and authoritarian legacies of the Cold War era, argues Shatkin. Thus, increasingly devastating floods in Jakarta, Metro Manila, and Bangkok have less to do with sea level rise and far more with the rapid spread of impervious surfaces and the extraction of groundwater resulting from uncontrolled urban sprawl on converted watershed lands within a relatively weak regulatory environment. Moreover, flooding mitigation solutions, like Indonesia’s Great Garuda seawall project, have perpetuated the same pattern of land giveaways to major developers.

Lessons from Urban Social Movements

Crucially, Shatkin's research shows that Southeast Asian urban activists themselves frame their struggles through the lens of Cold War legacies. For example, when Jakarta residents along the Ciliwung River faced eviction for flood mitigation in 2015, they challenged the Jakarta administration and the Ciliwung-Cisadane Flood Control Office in court, arguing the eviction was based on a Cold War-era law drafted during counterinsurgency operations that had no place in democratic Indonesia. They partially won the case.

In a similar vein, Thailand's Red Shirt movement, representing working-class people from the northeast, deliberately protested on land owned by the Crown Property Bureau, using iconography that critiqued the military-monarchy-elite alliance forged during the Cold War.

An example from Manila is the 2001 mass protests by urban, low-income groups in defense of President Joseph Estrada, who was impeached for corruption. Their support can be interpreted as a reaction against “anti-poor” discourse that originated in the Ferdinand Marcos era. For the urban poor, Estrada represented a powerful counterweight to this legacy of elite disdain.

"We need to listen to these protest movements on the ground,” says Shatkin. They do not primarily critique globalization but rather contest entrenched oligarchy and state paternalism forged by Cold War political violence. Thus, an alternative framework for understanding debates in urban politics of Jakarta, Manila, and Bangkok is to view them not merely as capitals shaped by globalization but as Cold War frontline sites.

Beyond Southeast Asia

The implications of Shatkin’s theoretical framework extend beyond Jakarta, Metro Manila, and Bangkok, and even beyond Southeast Asia. It illuminates how periods of political upheaval create enduring social, economic, and environmental inequalities.

Moreover, these three urban giants, which produce outsized shares of their nations' GDP, rank among the world's largest cities. Their futures will not only affect Southeast Asia but also global urban development patterns. Shatkin's work suggests that this future cannot be charted without reckoning with the past.