Lucius Edward William Plantagenet Cary, aka Lord Falkland, went to his death in the English Civil war, leaving little of note except a rule that could be the official motto of libertarians.
"When it is not necessary to make a decision," wrote the 17th-century politician, "it is necessary not to make a decision."
Of course, the mirror maxim is no less true, that "All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing."
The truly good man, however, will consider both options and take the correct course. Do nothing. Do something. The choice is often not simple.
The next general election doesn't even have an official date -- the media and regime's continual "Feb 24" chant has the legal authority of a child's tantrum -- but already it is being compared in some unkind forums with the laughable "free and fair" poll of Feb 26, 1957. And that is most definitely not a good thing, for the regime or the country.
That was the time the tricky trio of Field Marshal Plaek Pibulsonggram, Gen Phin Choonhavan and Gen Sarit Thanarat openly bought votes and corrupt politicians (but we repeat ourselves).
"Laughable" except it took 16 more years and actual bloodshed to tear that election result apart and to resume a democratic ambition.
Children know that repeating that farce in the 21st century would mean serious international black marks and problems. They also know that the way you get respect for your election is to make everything open. Obvious.
When it is necessary to do that, then, the obtuse decision is not to do it. Weirdly, the minister of foreign affairs was first out of the gate explaining that foreigners shouldn't be welcome to look on as Thailand campaigns and votes. The Watchman chimed in: He doesn't want foreigners observing when the army can ensure everything is secure and honest.
Next to giant welfare programmes indistinguishable from populism and criticised as vote-buying, plus an election campaign using government ministers and ex-MPs somehow (who knows how?) convinced to trade red shirts for green, a few dozen foreigners scurrying about and taking notes seems a rather tiny problem. Or no problem at all.
By our axiomatic examples, it was necessary not to make a decision about election observers. To let them come or not, who cares? Now there's a whole hubbub about it -- and the brouhaha draws direct comparisons with farcical 1957.
The current general prime minister seems still to be working on his Gleichschaltung master plan. Either that or he's not entirely confident about it. He has finally admitted what has been obvious even to the most challenged: the sun rises in the east, gravity makes things fall down and Gen (Ret) Prayut aims to be both the current and the next prime minister, without a break.
Because of the high level of shenaniganery involved in the third of these facts, there is deep cynicism about the process. Everyone sees simple things that should be done, are not; obvious blunders are sycophantically praised, chiselled into policy.
It took a week for the Election Commission to start, stop, restart, pause, discuss, debate, hold secret meetings and finally announce that candidate numbers, parties and names will appear on the election ballots.
And now there is serious allodoxaphobia. Not only the National Council for Peace and Order (junta) and its dependable appointees are affected by fear of opinions.
The demand for outright censorship was first raised by the Open Forum for Democracy Foundation, far better known as P-Net. Really P-Net? Really?
Somsri Hananantasuk, once a highly reliable small-d democrat called on all media to self-censor "issues of the past". Don't for example even whisper that red-shirt thugs instigated great violence and much arson against the Abhisit Vejjajiva government in 2010. And for heaven's sake don't bring up the violence (and likely the murders) by the army in forcing them to submit.
When it was absolutely necessary for authorities not to make a decision about this undemocratic suggestion, naturally authorities barged right in and expanded on it.
As the Bangkok Post Sunday goes to press, the reliable junta-appointed Election Commission is formalising it into a Pyongyang-worthy "media-checking war room" where every kind of report will pass through, social media included. Hands up, everyone who predicted the likelihood of a full-fledged censorship operation as the military regime was leaving office.
There's a postscript to the ludicrous and widely disrespected 1957 election. Seven months after the vote, Sarit promoted himself to five stars, staged a coup against himself, rid government of Pibulsonggram and every democrat. That's a possible follow-up to any obviously rigged election. It's a great reason for everyone to straighten their backs and make the next election serious, credible and respectable, at home and abroad.