Thailand will set aside its various troubles this week. The country has had no parliament since April when the opposition boycotted snap elections. The courts, commanded by the palace to sort out the “political mess”, annulled the elections but have yet to chart a way forward. In the prevailing uncertainty Thais have, yet again, reason to be grateful for the stabilising influence of King Bhumibol Adulyadej, who, for 60 years, has been their constant point of reference.

Thais like to compare this self-effacing man, a punctiliously constitutional monarch whose word has unquestioned authority, to “the comforting shade of a big tree”. They will gather under it reverently to observe the festivities, the stately barge processions and the gold-caparisoned royal white elephants, which begin this Thursday in celebration of the diamond jubilee of his accession.

The devotion he inspires would be extraordinary in a traditional society, let alone the rapidly modernising country that Thailand has become. The King’s picture is everywhere, not only in the Buddhist heartlands of Thailand but also in the restive largely Muslim south: not just on public buildings but also in people’s homes, worn on ploughs and taxis and around necks, tucked into wallets as a talisman.

Elsewhere, such ubiquity would be the sign of a tyrannical cult of personality, yet the King’s defining style is modesty, coupled with genuine effort on behalf of his subjects. The many photographs that show him working in fields or wading along irrigation channels, the laboratory in his palace given over to developing new rice strains and the thousands of agricultural projects he has initiated reflect a lifetime’s commitment to Thailand’s poorest communities.

At 78 the King may appear to embody serenity, but serenity did not come easily. Born in America, he was only 18 when the monarchy was unexpectedly thrust upon him by the death of his brother. He has had to weather a serious communist insurgency, 17 military coups and, even after civilian rule became established, the depredations of corrupt politicians and, in recent years, a severe financial crisis.

To be above politics was a matter of survival; he has said that caution was forced upon him because without it, “I would probably be dead . . . being in the public eye is deadly”. After a jam session together in New York many years ago, Benny Goodman called the jazz-loving Bhumibol “a cool cat”, and perhaps he felt the need of nine lives.

His public interventions have been few, and delicate. Yet they have also been decisive for Thai democracy. In 1973 he forced a military dictator into exile after troops opened fire on protesting students. In 1992 he again subdued bloody protests by publicly summoning rival generals to the palace and, as television cameras showed them prostrated before him, telling them to settle their differences for the nation’s sake. That act finally secured the retreat of the military to barracks.

Tradition may underpin the deference in which he is held, but his skills have been those of a thoroughly modern constitutional monarch.