National police chief, Sereepisut Taemeeyaves, sacked for alleged corruption.

Thai governments tend to rely on the army or the police (or both) to remain in power. So their commands have always been deeply politicised. Like other public institutions they are dominated by a narrow elite of families with tentacles everywhere. “You find the same few surnames wherever you look,” notes Michael Nelson, a political scientist in Bangkok. Indeed, Mr Sereepisut's replacement as police chief has the same surname as a former army chief—his brother.The prime suspects are often the Thai police. Among current cases are a group of border police accused of abducting innocent people and extorting money from them, and a huge car-theft ring thought to have been run by bent coppers. The prime minister, Samak Sundaravej, this month sacked the national police chief, Sereepisut Taemeeyaves, for alleged corruption. Mr Sereepisut insists he is the victim of a conspiracy by crooked subordinates. Earlier this month the justice minister visited Chalor Kerdthes, a former police general serving life in jail, belatedly seeking progress on the “blue diamond” affair of the early 1990s, which wrecked Thailand's relations with Saudi Arabia. After the priceless gem and other jewels were stolen from a Saudi royal palace by a Thai worker, three Saudi diplomats seeking their return were murdered in Bangkok. The Thai police supposedly solved the case but the jewels they sent back to Riyadh were fake. Mr Chalor arranged the murders of the family of a gem dealer involved in the case. It is suspected he can dish the dirt on other former police chiefs.Cases of police graft and abuse of power are legion. In 2003 Thailand's then prime minister, Thaksin Shinawatra—a former mid-ranking policeman and businessman—told police to wage “war on drugs”, resulting in at least 1,300 extra-judicial killings. The army removed Mr Thaksin in a coup in 2006, promising a thorough investigation of the deaths. It had made little progress by last December's election, won by allies of Mr Thaksin. In March the American government's annual human-rights report on Thailand criticised the widespread torture of suspects. Last year 751 people died in prison or police custody. Abuses by police (and soldiers) have worsened an insurgency in Thailand's mainly Muslim southern provinces, in which 3,000 people have died since 2004. Predictably, opinion polls show the police are widely mistrusted. Experts say Thailand's force is not the world's worst: it does have some honest, capable investigators. However, for a country of a fairly high state of development, its record is abysmal. After decades of failed attempts at police reform, a panel set up after the 2006 coup proposed sweeping changes, including creating an independent police-complaints body. Some of the panel's reformists may be sincere. But this looked suspiciously like an attempt to curb Mr Thaksin's power base in the police. Now Mr Samak, although a supposed ally of Mr Thaksin, seems to be building bridges with army chiefs to bolster his own power. So his motives in sacking the police chief and talking of continuing the military government's reforms are also bound to be questioned. Thai public servants are less loyal to the institutions that employ them than to their loose network of connections—relatives, ex-classmates from military training or old university chums. The 2006 coup pitted Mr Thaksin's schoolmates against those of General Sonthi Boonyaratglin, the then army chief. Police reforms elsewhere have generally succeeded only where a public-spirited and untainted political leadership forced them through. When will Thailand get that sort of leadership?