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Editor’s note: While expatriates regularly complain about Bangkok's tricky taxi drivers, Bangkokian Thais are facing much worse -- the poor bus services, offered by both the Thai government and private companies. Most of the complaints from passengers direct to the private-run bus lines. The common problems are that buses do not stop at the appointed stops and buses are driven in a frightening manner. From 2011 to 2013 there were 29 road accidents in Bangkok involving buses, with 30 deaths and 100 injuries
With an increasing need for energy, the Royal Cambodian Government has spent nearly a billion US dollars on a hydroelectric dam that it claimed was necessary for industry. However, the real social and economic cost of the dam, which will flood an area equivalent to a small province and submerge thousands of families’ houses, might far exceed its construction cost as it might deprive millions of Cambodians of their most important food staple.
A family out fishing in Mekong River close to its confluence with Sesan and Srepok River on a cloudy day in June
It is the beginning of the monsoon season in June and it did not take very long for Thongming a Laotian-Cambodian fisherman, to catch three big fish and made a big feast that could serve about 10 people from his lucky catch. “These days normally we have to spend nearly all day to catch the fish, but it’s been better this time of the year. There seem to be more fish in the river,” said Thongming. For him and his neighbours, natives of Koh Saray, a commune of 20,000 people on an island in the Mekong River in Stung Treng Province of north-eastern Cambodia, the river has been merciful to them this year in allowing many species of Mekong fish to swim easily into their nets. Not far from the island, however, the rumbling of cranes and tractors are constant reminders that their luck might not last long.
In November 2012, the Cambodian government approved a proposal to build a hydroelectric dam in Stung Treng Province in the country’s north-eastern interior. The dam site is situated on the Sesan River, one of the three large tributary rivers in the ‘3S River Basin’ that flows into the Great Mekong: the Sesan, Srepok, and Sekong rivers. The dam is 1.5 km downstream from the confluence of Sesan and Srepok rivers and 25 km from where they meet the Mekong. The 816 million USD project was first proposed as a joint venture between the Cambodian Royal Group and EVN International Joint Stock Company, a Vietnamese state enterprise. However, the Vietnamese counterpart later took a step back and retained 10 per cent of its share while a newcomer, China’s Hydrolancang International Energy, took up a 51 per cent share, with the Royal Group retaining 39 per cent. The dam is currently under construction and the Cambodian government prohibits people from entering the site without permissions.
According to the Cambodian government, the Lower Sesan 2 Hydroelectric Dam (LS2) project is crucial for meeting the energy demands of the country’s growing industries as well as for lighting houses in rural Cambodia where most inhabitants still depend on kerosene lamps. However, for many civil society workers, environmentalists, and locals whose livelihoods depend on the resources provided by the Sesan River, tapping the river that never goes dry even in the gravest drought could mean kissing good bye to the lives they and their ancestors have known forever.
The temporary rock-filled embankment of the Lower Sesan 2 Dam
Once completed, it is estimated that the 75-metre-high LS2 Dam will create a reservoir of about 336 sq km. In other words, the storage dam will submerge an area equivalent to 47,059 football fields, most of which is a forest area in Cambodia’s northeastern hinterland. Along with the forest which will be cleared for timber by the Royal Group before the water rises, the dam will flood Srae Kor Commune on the Sesan River together with Sre Sronok, Kbal Romeas, and Krabei Chrun communes along the Srepok River, displacing nearly 5,000 people from seven villages along the two rivers.
Convinced that the benefits of the dam outstrip its costs, the Cambodian government promised a resettlement plan and compensation packages for the villagers who have to be evacuated. The authorities are offering 50 USD per square meter of the villagers’ land and have built houses in four resettlement locations, two along the road to Ratanakiri Province, an eastern province bordering Vietnam known for its wilderness, and two others in the forest of Stung Treng Province. At first glance, the modern-looking concrete houses built by the government in the resettlement areas seem a decent upgrade from the thatched wooden houses that most villagers occupy. The authorities also promised to supply the resettlement houses with electricity and subsidies for basic commodities, such as rice. However, many people are still determined not to move from their traditional homes.
The map of Lower Sesan 2 Hydroelectric Dam and the area that would be flooded (courtesy of Mekong Watch and 3S Rivers Protection Network)
Like many other villagers, Phavee, a 58-year-old farmer from Srae Kor Commune, has known no other life beyond her commune and the river. She said that one of the most important things for her is to stay on her ancestral land. “I don’t care about development and will not abandon my ancestral graves no matter what.” Sarakom, from the same village, pointed out that many Srae Kor villagers were tricked by state officials into putting their fingerprints on documents in April 2015 without being fully informed that by doing so, they were giving their consent to the resettlement plan.
“The government offers 1,500 USD per each family grave. However, they kept changing their mind about the offer and have reduced it. No matter what, it’s very strange to say that our ancestral graves could be sold,” said Sarakom.
Fearing that they would have nowhere else to go, 207 families of Srae Kor Commune have accepted the compensation package and resettlement plan while the rest have not yet made up their minds on the matter. Nasuta, a native of Srae Kor Commune, added that the decision whether to move or to stay until the water rises as dam construction forges ahead has split many families apart in the past several months. For Tiankui and Penhna, farmers aged 37 and 21 from Sre Sornok Commune, there is no other choice but to move. They said that most villagers in their commune have agreed to the resettlement plan because the village chiefs in their villages already put their thumbprints on the documents to approve the plan and there is simply no other choice.
From right to left, Sarakom, Nasuta, and Phavee, three elderly natives of Srae Kor Commune on the bank of Sesan River who determined to stay on despite the fact that their villager would be flooded once the dam is completed
Depleting fish stocks
In addition to the forced relocation of thousands of villagers, the dam could also put at risk the food security of millions of people along the Mekong River and the 3S River Basin. According to many fish experts and environmentalists, the negative impacts of the LS2 Dam on many fish species of the Mekong might be even worse than any previous dam constructed on the main stem of Mekong River.
The confluence of the Sesan and Srepok rivers is only 25 km upstream of where the two join the Mekong. The two rivers are not only major arteries of the Mekong River Basin, but the main migration routes for many of the region’s unique fish species. Meaeh, an advocate of a dam-free Mekong and 3S Rivers, pointed out that putting up a barrier at the confluence of the Sesan and Srepok which many species of fish have to swim past annually to spawn could significantly reduce numbers or even cause the extinction of certain fish species unique to the region. “Many fish species swim up here all the way from Tonle Sap Lake [the largest freshwater lake of Southeast Asia connected to the Mekong in central Cambodia, which supplies fish to millions of Cambodians]. With the dam, the fish and people who rely on them would both be devastated,” said Meaeh.
Meaeh Mean, an anti-dam activist from 3S Rivers Protection Network, thrillingly shows off the fish that Thongming a Laotian-Cambodian fisherman
According to International Rivers, a think tank which monitors river ecology worldwide, the latest study conducted by the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences estimates that the LS2 Dam would cause a 9.3 per cent reduction of fish stocks in the 3S River Basin and might drive about 50 local species of fish to the verge of extinction. Ouch Vibol, an activist from the Culture and Environment Preservation Association of Cambodia (CEPA), said that since fish are one of the most important food staples of people along the basin, a reduction in fish species could jeopardise the main source of protein of millions of people upstream and downstream of the dam as well as local traditions of the region originating from the abundant resources the basin provides.
“If we think of Tonle Sap Lake as the beating heart of Cambodia which sucks in from the Mekong and other tributary rivers and pumps out water to keep the water flowing during the dry season while nursing thousands of fish species before they swim up river, then building a dam on the confluence of the Sesan and Srepok is like cutting the main artery to the heart,” said the CEPA activist. He added that besides reductions of fish numbers, the dam would also affect the flow of sediment in the river, which in the long run could reduce the fertility of farmland along the river and also exacerbate the erosion process.
The lucky catch, a fisherman from one of the Mekong River’s islands lifts out a meal that could feed several members of his family
Energy for whose benefit?
Despite several ecological and socio-economic drawbacks to the LS2 Dam, the Cambodian government is adamant that the installed capacity of about 400 MW would bring more development to the region. With more energy to feed industry, the authorities claim the dam will create more jobs in the region and that more households would be able to enjoy stable incomes in the industrial sector. However, many people frown upon the government’s suggestion that native people from the area which will be flooded could become industrial workers, because they were given no other alternative in the first place.
According to Premrudee Daoroung, coordinator of Towards Ecological Recovery and Regional Alliance (TERRA), aka Foundation for Ecological Recovery, an organisation based in Thailand which keeps track of environmental issues in Southeast Asia, native people along the Sesan and Srepok, most of whom are not used to the cash economy, would suffer grave social and economic consequences from the dam. “Some of the native people in the region don’t even speak Cambodian, but their native dialect. So, in comparison, imagine what would happen if people who speak no Thai came to work in factories in Bangkok,” said Premrudee. “To me, the project is totally illegitimate, since I don’t see any benefit that it would bring at all.” She added that the manner in which the Environmental Impact Assessment (EIA) on the project was approved is also very controversial since the communities that would be affected were never consulted and whole EIA report was never published. In fact, while the Cambodian government promised to improve the EIA process by taking transboundary impacts of the dam into consideration, dam construction is still forging ahead.
Chinese construction workers battling against the rain at work in the rock-filling embankments of the dam where the permanent concrete structure which seems like a flood can be spotted
Meaeh, an environmental defender of the 3S Rivers Protection Network, rejected as empty promises the Cambodian government’s claims that the dam will electrify more houses and might even lower electricity costs in Cambodia’s remote regions. “I think most of the energy produced by the LS2 Dam will be either transmitted to Phnom Penh or sold to Vietnam. The locals who bear the cost of the dam would not really benefit much from it”, said Meaeh. “Currently, only about 24 per cent of Cambodians have access to electricity and the price of electricity in the country is one of the most expensive in the world without any sign that it would go down”.
Ouch, another river defender from CEPA, pointed out that the government’s decision to build the dam in a flat area that would cause massive flooding and soaring construction costs has been very dubious since the beginning. He mentioned one of the primary reasons for constructing the LS2 Dam might not in fact be the need for energy, but the lucrative profits from logging the forest areas that would be flooded. “By building the dam in a dense tropical forest area, the government would already be able to reap massive benefits from logging even before the dam could produce electricity,” said Ouch. “I have also been told by many villagers from the villages upstream that some public officials illegally cut down trees in national parks of Ratanakiri Province beyond the reservoir area and put the logs in the rivers to claim that they are from areas which need to be cleared before the water rises.”
The large cement bridge built besides the dam embankment on top of a bottlenecked stream where the fast-flowing Sesan River has been squeezed
Under the blazing sun of humid June when well-to-do Cambodians were seeking shelter in air-conditioned venues, I accidentally met Saran, a native from Ratanakiri Province, Cambodia’s northeastern frontier famed for its wilderness, at a coffee shop. Speaking some Thai and fluent in English, he passionately told stories about his childhood when he enjoyed spending much of his holiday on Sesan River’s bank fishing and throwing rocks into the river. He said that his beloved home province has changed tremendously in the past decade. “Although much of the area in Ratanakiri is designated as national parks, illegal logging is still very prevalent and the Sesan River is not the same anymore. There are less and less fish in the river since the construction of O Chum 2 Hydroelectric Dam back in the 90s,” said Saran. When asked about Lower Sesan 2 Dam, the Ratanakiri’s native bursted into a sarcastic laugh and said “the government always use the same rhetoric about how our country needs more industries and energy as justification for many development projects, but besides the government themselves and Phnom Penh people, the poor in the countryside is always the one who suffer.”
Lushly forest along the banks of the union of Sesan and Srepok River several kilometers from the confluence of the two where the Lower Sesan 2 Dam construction is ongoing
Service 10GF 10Face 8Body 7 (skin neither white nor smooth)
Military officer: Where are you going?Malay driver: (with a serious, normal face like he goes there regularly) To Tae Hae Bong.Military officer: I see, proceed.
Military officer: Where’re you heading?Malay driver: (deadpan) To Baga Goloh.Military officer: Alright, go ahead.
Journey in Patani ยาวหน่อย แต่อยากให้อ่านนะครับวิดีโอชิ้นนี้ เป็นงานโฆษณา ของ ททท.สำนักงานนราธิวาส ที่ดูแลกำกับการท่องเที่ยว 3 จว ชายแดนใต้ โดยมี บังยี Nirundorn Loknaเป็น โปรโมเตอร์ประสานงานจัดหาทุนจาก ททท และมีบังบรี Mahamasabree Jehlohเป็น ช่างภาพ ตัดต่อ ขับรถ และผมเอง ร่วมคิดบท ค้นหาสถานที่ เป็นโปรดิวเซอร์ และร่วมเดินๆ วิ่ง ๆ ในวิดีโอชิ้นนี้ รวมไปถึงเพื่อนกินยันตาย อย่าง Anattata Naser Havilator Cucu ที่มาร่วมช่วยกันให้สำเร็จขึ้นนมา คลิปนี้ใช้เวลาตระเวนถ่ายทำ 6-7 วัน ไปในสถานที่เกิน 50 แห่ง ( มีอีกหลายที่ๆถ่ายมาแล้วไม่ได้เอาลง) แล้วก็ยังมีสถานที่ๆสวยมากๆ อีกหลายที่ ที่อยู่ในลิสต์ แต่ด้วยเวลา/ งบประมาณที่เป็นข้อจำกัดจึงทำให้ คลิปออกมาได้แบบนี้ ความจริงถ้าจะไปถ่ายสถานที่ในใจให้ได้ทั้งหมดคงต้องใช้เวลาซัก 2 เดือน วัดแสง วัดลม ให้สวย เหมาะกับการถ่ายทำ ที่ใช้คำว่า Journey in Patani เราอยากสื่อถึงคำว่า ปาตานี อันหมายถึง พื้นที่ใน 3จวแห่งนี้ มาใช้แทน โดยไม่มีเส้นแบ่งเขตจังหวัดมาแบ่งเขตพื้นที่อันมี นิเวศ ประเพณี วัฒนธรรม ศาสนา สิ่งแวดล้อมร่วมกันอย่างนี้ ..... ผมในฐานะที่เป็นคนชอบเดินทาง ไปไหนมาไหนมีโอกาสเห็นของสวยๆงามๆ ในที่แห่งนี้ มีไอเดียอยากทำแบบนี้โดยมีคลิปของฝรั่งนักเดินทาง รอบโลก เป็นต้นแบบ ตลอดเวลาที่เราไปถ่ายทำเราสนุกกันมากครับ ตื่นเต้น ปนประทับใจ เพราะบางที่ก็เป็นครั้งแรกของพวกเราเช่นกัน แต่กว่าที่คลิปนี้จะออกมาถูกใจเพื่อนหลายคนๆ เบื้องหลังก็มีเรื่องราว บ้าบอ ขมเปรี้ยวอยู่ ... บนการเดินทางของเราด้วยรถเก๋งคันเก่าๆ กับเราทีม งาน 2-3คน อุปกรณ์ถ่ายทำ เสื้อผ้า ของใช้เต็มคันรถ เราถูกเจ้าหน้าที่ๆมีปืนที่เอว มีเสื้อเกราะที่อก มีหมวกเหล็กสวมบนหัว และมีความอคติ กับพวกเราก้อนใหญ่อยู่ในหัวใจ แน่นอนล่ะพวกเค้าเป็นคนนอกพื้นที่กันทั้งนั้น โบกสกัดตามด่าน เป็น 10 ครั้ง มีอยู่2-3 ครั้ง ต้องโดนค้นของกันทั้งคันรถ( แบบระเนระนาด ) ถูกคำถามเชิง เย้ยหยัน ประชดประชด เข้ามา เพียงแค่เรา มีหน้าตา สารรูปแบบนี้ ( แบบคนที่ๆเกิดที่นี่และโคตรเหง้าเป็นคนที่นี่ ตกลง เราหรือเขาที่เป็นแขก ? ) เราก็ต้องตอบไปตามวาระโดยมีหลักฐานยืนยัน จาก ททท. ที่เป็นกระดาษแผ่นนึง ว่าเรามาถ่ายทำงานนี้ให้กับ ททท. นะเว้ย ไม่ได้มาสอดแนม มาแอบถ่ายอะไรทั้งสิ้น รวมไปถึง การเข้าไปถ่ายในสถานที่ท่องเที่ยวบางที่ไม่ได้ เอ่อ..หัวหน้าผู้ดูแล ก็เป็นข้าราชการมาจากนอกพื้นที่อีกเช่นกัน ซึ่งมันช่างแตกต่างกันมากกับเวลาที่เราเข้าไปถ่ายในวัด ถ่ายในศาลเจ้า บ้านคนจีน เพียงแค่ผมทักทาย สวัสดี ขออนุญาตด้วยวาจา ทุกท่านที่เป็นผู้ดูแลหรือเจ้าของสถานที่ ต่างให้เราเข้าไปทำงานกันอย่าง สบายใจฉิว ทำงานไปดูดใบจากไป พูดง่ายๆ คือ คนในกันเองไม่เห็นจะมีอะไรเลย มีแต่คนนอกนี่แหละที่เป็นปัญหา จุ้นจ้านขวางทางไปเสียหมด ...... ปล่อยให้คนในได้จัดการ ได้เล่าเรื่องราว ภายใต้แว่นและความรู้สึกของคนในเถิดครับ มันยังมีเรื่องราว ที่น่าสนใจอีกมากมาย เหมือนที่คลิปชิ้นนี้กำลังทำหน้าที่ของมันอยู่ปล.. ขอบคุณทุกกำลังใจสำหรับเพื่อนพี่น้องทุกท่านที่ไม่ได้เอ่ยนาม ขอบคุณสำหรับดอกไม้ และ ขอเอาหัวหลบสำหรับก้อนอิฐ แล้วเจอกันใหม่นะครับ #ไอเดียมีอยู่เต็มปอดแต่งบเรามีอยู่เท่าหางมด ใครชอบแล้วอยากช่วยเรายินดีมากกกกนะครับ
Posted by Simba Anda on Tuesday, 30 June 2015
More than ten years after the war on drugs wreaked havoc on many Lahu ethnic minority families in the hilly northern Thai-Myanmar border, arbitrary abuses and discrimination from Thai state authorities continue as they struggle to come to terms with their traumatic past.
It was almost noon and the sun shone mercilessly bright above a small single-room shack, roofed with bamboo thatch. Emerging from its creaking door, Na-ue Jalo, a 68-year-old Lahu widower, smiled faintly and gestured for us to enter her modest home. Living in a run-down bamboo house with a nephew with physical challenges and a cat, she told us that she should fix the house before the approaching monsoon rains. At her age, however, fixing an old wooden house inherited from her husband, Jawa, could be too much of a task for her. Not seeing even a glimpse of her husband’s shadow for more than decade, Na-ue said “I still have hope that he might one day return” while casting her eyes downwards, staring at a beam of light through a crack in the bamboo floor.
Like Na-ue, many other families of Lahu, an ethnic minority in northern Thailand, are still tormented by the unknown fate of their loved ones who disappeared during the height of the ‘war on drugs’ initiated under Prime Minister Thaksin Shinawatra’s administration in 2003. According to Human Rights Watch, between February and April 2003, the controversial PM’s measure to crack down on the narcotics trade cost almost 3,000 lives, nearly half of which were not related to drug trafficking. As they struggle to overcome their losses, arbitrary arrests, evictions, and other forms of unfair treatment by the Thai state authorities continue as if salt is being rubbed into their open wounds.
Na-ue Jalo, a 68 years-old Lahu widower, whose husband, Jawa, disappeared after he was arrested by the border rangers in the midst of the war on drugs
Wounds that don’t heal
Living along the Thai-Myanmar border districts of Mae Ai, Fang, Chai Prakan, and Chiang Dao of Chiang Mai and Mae Sai District of Chiang Rai, one of the most active drug trafficking routes from Wa State in Myanmar, many Lahu families bore the brunt of the war on drugs.
Although about 90 per cent of about 120,000-150,000 Lahu ethnic have Thai citizenship and more than half can speak Thai, they are still viewed by the Thai authorities as foreigners. Coupled with unfair stereotypes that the Lahu and many hill minorities are opium farmers, forest encroachers, and narcotics traffickers, they suffered torture, summary executions, and enforced disappearances during the anti-drugs war. Sila Jahae, the President of the Lahu Association who has been active in fighting for justice for the Lahu and other hill minorities, was one of those who suffered such a fate.
Sila Jahae, the President of the Lahu Association who has been active in fighting for justice for the Lahu and other hill minorities. He himself suffered from torture and arbitrary detention in the hands of state authorities in 2003
Sila was detained in a Ranger camp in Fang District in Chiang Mai twice in 2003. He reported that the Rangers put him and other Lahu tribesmen in holes 2-3 metres wide and four metres deep. At the detention facility, they were repeatedly brought up from the holes for interrogation and beaten, threatened with execution, or electrocuted. Sila’s father is also one of the victims of the war on drugs. Although he himself could not recount the ordeal because of his neurological complications, Sila told us that his father was taken away from a lychee farm and put into the hole under false drug charges for two months.
“We urinated and excreted in the detention hole.” Sila recounted his trauma. “Sometimes the officers would kick and use their rifles to hit 8-10 detainees who were loaded into each tiny hole. There were three holes all together.”
The rangers told us “Thaksin (the former PM) has allowed us to arrest you people dead or alive.” said Sila. He added that he does not know if Thaksin really gave the officers a blank cheque to arbitrarily prosecute and kill Lahu people through drug allegations.
The holes used to detain Lahu people and other who were accused of drug trafficking during the narcotic war, which were already buried
In addition to arbitrary arrest and detention, the Lahu Association President mentioned that when the authorities came to arrest Lahu people, they tended to search houses and confiscate Lahu households’ valuables without returning them. Since many Lahu families, especially those who cannot read or write Thai, usually keep cash, gold, and other possessions in their homes, some lost their life savings and even vehicles.
Jadae Kae-ka, 47, another Lahu who was put into a hole for five days during the war on drugs in 2003 and remained in custody on drug accusations for another three months, told us that the Rangers searched his house and took 60,000 baht in cash. “The officers would mark well-to-do houses and come to search them,” said Sila. “Some Lahu people also made false drug accusations against each other. In 2006, 30-40 people fled to Myanmar.”
Jadae Kae-ka, 47, another Lahu victim of the war on drug
For other Lahu, the cuts of the war on drugs go much deeper. According to Sila, more than 20 Lahu have suffered enforced disappearance at the hands of the Army Border Rangers and the Thai police during the purge on drug trafficking networks between 2003 and 2006.
The Ja-ue family of Nong Pai village in Fang is one such family. In February 2005, during the New Year celebration of the Lahu, the family lost five members forever. Naga, the eldest and the mother of four of the family, told us that Jaka, her son, and Yalo and Nasri, a son and daughter-in-law, disappeared without their bodies ever being found, while Pichit, her husband, and Jakaa, the eldest son, were summarily executed. The bodies of her husband and eldest son were found the next day after the five were arrested on drug allegations. The family added that they were shot in the head with bruises and other injuries all over their bodies. The media at that time reported that Pichit and Jakaa were summarily killed by the authorities for trafficking drugs, but the family maintained that they were not involved in the narcotics trade.
As for the other three, however, no one knows what happened to them after they were arrested. “I still believe that my children are alive,” said Naga. Napla, the sister of Jaka and Jakaa, told us “Deep down, we still have hope that they might still be alive.” She added “These days, when the authorities come into the area, we’d be afraid”. Nothing concrete has been done to investigate the deaths and enforced disappearances of the Ja-ue family.
Naga Ja-ue (left) holds a picture of Pichit, her late husband, while her daughter, Namai Ja-ue (right), holds a picture of Jakaa, her brother, both of whom were summarily executed by the authorities in 2005
According to Jahae Srirasmi, the Ador, or Lahu religious leader of Nong Pai Village, the unknown fates of many Lahu who disappeared during the war on drugs continue cast a dark shadow upon many Lahu families because the families could not perform proper religious ceremonies for their lost members. He added that his son-in-law was also killed during the height of the narcotics war.
Unending Ordeal
Although it has been more than the decade since the war on drugs was implemented and scrapped altogether when Thaksin was ousted by the coup d’état in 2006, there has been no prosecution of Rangers or police officers who were allegedly involved in torture, summary killings and enforced disappearances in Lahu communities.
Arbitrary arrests and prosecutions of Lahu people by state authorities continue until now. On 25 November 2014, military officers arrested Jako Ja-mea and charged him with possessing narcotic substances after they reportedly found illicit drugs around his farm and house. In the case file, the officers wrote that a spy reported that Jako possessed illegal drugs and was involved in a drug trafficking ring with two other Lahu in Tha Ton Subdistrict of Mae Ai. According to the Peace Foundation, a civil society group which has been providing legal assistance to many Lahu and other ethnic minorities in Chiang Mai and Chiang Rai, however, there are many inconsistencies in the report of Jako’s arrest.
The Foundation pointed out that the authorities did not record the name of the ‘spy’ who made the accusations against Jako. Moreover, the officers mentioned in the file that three Lahu tribesmen are involved, but one of the suspects was released on the day of the arrest. The Foundation added that contrary to the case file, which states that 2000 narcotic pills were found in a hole next to a corn field of the suspect and another 60 pills next to Jako’s house adjacent to a village creek, the footage evidence shows that there is no corn field in the area and that the house of the suspect is nowhere near the creek.
Nadao Aimu, Jako’s wife, maintains that her husband is innocent. She said that the authorities and another Lahu tribesman who owes her husband money planted drugs on Jako. Speaking in Lahu, Nadao added that the officers also hit Jako’s head with batons to the point that he lost consciousness and claimed that they had to do so to prevent his escape. Jako is still in custody.
Nadao Aimu, Jako’s wife, who maintains that her Lahu husband is innocent
In 24 March 2013, police officers stopped the pickup truck of Thongchat Panpakarin, a Lahu man, when he was driving home in Fang District of Chiang Mai from a festival with four other Lahu, five Hmong, and two Lisu. The officer searched the car and claimed that the car was stolen from another person before arresting Thongchat and the others. The police took them to the Narcotics Control Board district centre where they were interrogated and later informed that they were charged with drug trafficking.
“The narcotics control officers detained us there for two days. They asked me if I know the guys from other tribes whom I offered a free ride to and when I said I didn’t know them before, they repeatedly hit and electrocuted us,” said Thongchat. “They put plastic bags over our heads and punched us; when we were about to faint from suffocation, they removed the bags and questioned us all over again.” He added that the interrogation officers tried to force him to sign a statement, but he refused because the officers did not allow him to read it.
After two days of interrogation, the police brought Thongchat and 11 other suspects to Bangkok and imprisoned them in Bangkok Remand Prison during the trial. In the end, two Lisu tribesmen who fought the case up the Supreme Court received the death penalty and five Hmong pleaded guilty and were sentenced to long years in prison. Thongchat and four fellow Lahu, who always pleaded innocent, were acquitted after being held in the remand prison for a year and nine months.
“There was no apology. My family had to spend a lot of money to go visit me in Bangkok and my daughter’s pickup truck was confiscated for 11 months, but there is no compensation whatsoever from the authorities,” said Thongchat. “I am fortunate because my family is supportive but for the other Lahu their wives left them.”
Thongchat Panpakarin, a Lahu man who was imprisoned in Bangkok Remand Prison for almost two years, but was later acquitted from the drug trafficking charges
Sila said that it is easy for the authorities to randomly pick on and abuse Lahu people along the border because of the lack of development in the region and the fact that most Lahu families are undereducated. “In the past they thought of us as vegetable or fish; if they wanted to kill then they just killed us,” the head of the Lahu Association told us.
In another recent case, four Rangers stopped Anuwat Pudlek, a Lahu teenager driving a motorcycle at a check point between Nong Pai and Huai Nok Kok villages in Fang District, Chiang Mai, in late 2014. He was taken into the bushes where he was held by two officers while another beat him and asked if he had been taking illicit drugs. When he denied this, the Ranger continued to hit him until he had no choice but to confess to stop the beating.
Anuwat told us that the Rangers simply let him go after he confessed as if nothing had happened. He added that the officers might have beaten him because they mistakenly thought that he was another Lahu who messed with them earlier.
Anuwat Pudlek, a Lahu teenager, who was randomly stopped and tortured by Rangers
Under the current junta regime, adding to the arbitrary abuses and discrimination, the forest protection policy of the military government has made numerous Lahu families jobless. After the junta’s National Council for Peace and Order (NCPO) issued Order No. 64/2014 in June 2014 to crack down on encroachers in protected areas and poachers, hundreds of acres of farmland used by the Lahu people have been reclaimed by the Royal Forest Department. Although according to NCPO Order No. 67/2014, the forest policy does not apply to poor people and those who had settled in protected areas prior to the enactment of Order No. 64/2014, the authorities took a hard stance against Lahu communities who have been settled in the area for many generations. In July 2015, Pa-ae Kirirasami, 57, Witoon Kiriratsami, Pa-ae’s 22-year-old son, and Jakui Japalo, 37, farmers of Huai Nok Kok Village, Fang District, have been charged with encroaching into Doi Pha Hom Pok National Park and assaulting officers on duty.
Pa-ae, the religious leader of the village, told Prachatai in May 2015 that he was beaten by the authorities, his right ring finger was broken and he had to have six stitches on his scalp. He said that on that day he went to check the irrigation system of the village. When he ran into some National Park officials, he ran away. He said the officers caught him and beat him on the head. Later his son and other villagers came to rescue him and tried to take him to the hospital. The National Park officials instead allegedly blocked and surrounded the villagers. The situation became tense and both sides engaged in a brief clash. The incident ended when the military came to impose law and order at the request of the National Park officials. The village’s spiritual leader added that he has farmed there for the last 20 years.
Pa-ae Kirirasami, an Ador of Hui Nok Kok Village, who is now charged with land encroachment along with two other villagers
Kam Nalu, the former Ador of Huai Nok Kok, told us “We can’t farm and we are going to starve. We usually start farming in May, but now we can’t do anything.” Sila pointed out that the authorities reclaimed the farmlands of Lahu people, but allowed Thanatorn Orange Farm, a large orange producer in the area who occupies more than one square kilometre of land, to continue farming. “Why do they let the capitalists do it [farm] while picking on the villagers who only own tiny plots?” asked the Lahu Association leader.
Back in the dimly lit wooden shack with no electricity of the old Lahu widower, Na-ue Jalo, we were offered some lychee to refresh ourselves during an unbearably humid noon. Speaking of her lost lover in the Lahu dialect with a cracking voice she told us that Jawa, her husband, was beaten by officers and other Lahu detainees who were forced to join the beating. Although she was told that he is dead and that the officers dumped his body in a hole somewhere, the 68-year-old Lahu woman is still waiting for a reunion with her husband, dead or alive. Walking us out of her compound, she stared at the thick clouds which were beginning to form above the village’s hills. With the help of Sila and other villagers perhaps she would be able to repair her shack in time before the monsoon arrives, but who knows how many monsoons it would take to wash away her sorrow.
A typical Lahu village along the Thai-Myanmar border in Fang District of Chiang Mai Province where most habitants are farmers
Just a bit of curiosity lands you in jail! Jail! Jail! Jail!Just a bit of criticism lands you in jail! Jail! Jail! Jail!Just telling the truth lands you in jail! Jail! Jail! Jail!Why not grant bail? How much longer are they gonna stay there?Somyot, Da and Surachai. Why the need to jail them so long?Akong didn’t get bail. (So he’s dead.)He wasn’t a thief or murderer.This oppressive, barbaric, vicious law!
“This tree, this tree, if you’ve been here beforeWhere they strung up men said to be traitorsStrange things did happen hereNo stranger would it beIf we met at midnight, ‘neath the moon forevermore”
“The day that the People’s Party came in, changed the ruling system to a democracyBuilding it up with blood and sweat, but at last it’s been stolenTens and tens of coup d’états, democracy’s getting too far to seePeople’s rights trampled on, and for whose stability?”
“The day the nation, the King, and the mass of people live without dangerWe offer to guard and protect you with our hearts, this is our promiseToday the nation is facing menacing danger, the flames are risingLet us be the ones who step in, before it is too late”
The junta cabinet has approved a bill on religion which can be used to prosecute, with jail terms, people who propagate ‘incorrect’ versions of Buddhist doctrines or cause harm to Buddhism. The bill also posts jail terms specifically for homosexual monks.
In recent decades, although Theravada Buddhism, the prominent Buddhist sect in mainland Southeast Asia, remains the most popular faith in Thailand, followed by about 90 per cent of Thais, the conventional practices and doctrines of Buddhism and the institutions which promote it have lost their ability to attract followers. This religious gap is filled with Buddhist cults which have managed to attract hundreds of thousands of followers, such as the Santi Asoke, a Buddhist sect which promotes simplistic communal lifestyles whose founder was disrobed by Thailand’s Buddhist monastic authorities in 1989, and Dhammakaya, a controversial commercialised version of Buddhism which has attracted billions of baht in donations from its followers. Viewing these developments as threats, prominent Buddhist institutions have come up with the legal mechanisms to control Buddhist practices and regain power.
Since 2006, the Sangha Supreme Council (SSC), known in Thai as ‘Mahathera Samakhom’, the governing body of Thai Buddhist clergy, and the National Office of Buddhism (NOB), the secular office under the Prime Minister’s Office responsible for promoting Buddhism, have unsuccessfully tried to propose a ‘Bill to Patronise and Protect Buddhism’, written by the two organizations. The draft bill was rejected under previous military and civilian governments, who recommended that the contents of the bill should merely be included in monastic rules, but not apply to the general public. However, in August 2014, the junta cabinet, which sees Buddhism as a part of the Thai identity, has approved the bill and is preparing to submit it to the National Legislative Assembly. It is now under consideration of the Council of State.
Pointing to the importance of Buddhism to the nation, the draft bill says “Buddhism is one of the pillars of the Thai nation and is the religion that most Thai people adhere to. Therefore, Buddhists should be united in patronising and protecting Buddhism to make it prosper and enhance Buddhist principles and ethics to develop the quality of one’s life.” In addition to these vague sentiments, however, the bill will allow the SSC and the government to punish anyone deemed to threaten a narrowly defined version of Buddhism promoted by the authorities.
For Sulak Sivaraksa, one of the founding members of International Network of Engaged Buddhists and a historian who is renowned for his criticisms of the SSC, the bill clearly shows the SSC’s desire to gain more prominence in Thai society.
“This bill shows blind stupidity and lust for power,” said Sulak. “The Sangha Supreme Council is a very weak council. It doesn’t have its own identity. That’s why it wants to show that it has power, which is regrettable,” he added.
Monopolising Lord Buddha’s teachings
In Section 8 of the bill on penalties, Article 32 states that anyone who propagates wrong versions of Buddhist teachings or, in others words, versions which differ from the SSC’s interpretation of the Tripitaka, the ancient Buddhist scriptures, could face one to seven years imprisonment.
To effectively enforce this doctrinal monopoly of Buddhism, provincial Buddhist committees will be established under Article 14 of Section 3. One of the functions of these committees, as laid out in Article 16 of the bill, is to form a warning centre in each province against threats to Buddhism.
According to Venerable Phramaha Paiwan Warawunno, a liberal Buddhist monk known for his criticisms of the SSC, the content of the bill to protect Buddhism violates the rights of individuals to interpret the Buddha’s teachings. He pointed out that the Buddhist doctrines in the Tripitaka should not be monopolized by any specific institution, but should be open to all on individual basis.
A spectacular Buddhist ceremony organized on October 2013 at the controversial Dhammakaya Temple, which continues to attracts billions of baht in donations from its followers (courtesy of Dhammakaya Post).
“Whose interpretations of Buddhist doctrines are correct and shall be used as standards? Who will have the right to judge whether a specific version of the Buddhist doctrines is correct and point out that the others are not?” he questioned.
Venerable Shine Waradhammo, an undergraduate student monk at the International College of Mahachulalongkornrajavidyalaya University, a Buddhist university in Bangkok, said that if the bill is passed it may become the religious version of the controversial Article 112 of the Criminal Code, aka the lèse majesté law.
“It will be a grave danger to education especially tertiary religious education of both monks and lay persons alike,” he added.
Nidhi Eoseewong, a prominent Thai historian and political commentator, also drew a comparison between the Bill to Patronise and Protect Buddhism and Thailand’s lèse majesté law.
At a public seminar on ‘Religion and State: We Won’t Be Able to Separate in this Life’ organized by Dome Front Agora, a student group at Thammasat University’s Tha Prachan Campus in Bangkok on 21 February, Nidhi pointed out “No one really knows what the Lord Buddha taught word by word. You only have the Tripitaka which was in fact written some 500 years after the Lord Buddha died. Therefore, even the oldest Buddhist scripture is written through an interpretative process.”
Tightening the rules against ‘sexually deviant’ monks
In an attempt to prevent men with sexual orientations other than heterosexuality from entering the monkhood, Article 40 under Section 8 of the bill stipulates that monks who perform, knowingly or unwittingly, an ordination ceremony for persons with “deviant sexual behaviour” can also be punished with a prison term of no more than one month.
Article 41 of Section 8 also states that monks who are ‘sexually deviant’ can be imprisoned for up to one month if they cause ‘harm and disgrace’ to Buddhism although the bill does not mention what kinds of actions are deemed harmful to Buddhism.
In countries where Theravada Buddhism is a prominent faith, such as Sri Lanka, Myanmar, and Cambodia, the subject of homosexuality and monkhood is understudied. In Thailand, although homosexuality is generally accepted, since the Vinaya, the Buddhist monastic rules, stipulates that monks must be celibate, most monks choose to remain silent about their sexual orientation.
A photo of two men in Buddhist monk robes kissing, posted on a Facebook page titled Monk Fetish, a page which uploads pictures of appealing Buddhist clergymen
In Thailand, the SSC has never applied strict rules regarding this matter. Sulak said that even some high-ranking monks in the SSC are themselves openly homosexual. Nonetheless, if the Bill to Patronise and Protect Buddhism is enacted, this could all be changed.
Venerable Shine believes that the disenfranchisement of people of alternative sexes and genders from the Buddhist monkhood is a form of violence and a violation of human rights.
“It seems as if people who took part in writing this bill hold prejudiced views against people with alternative sexes and genders. This is a form of violence and a violation of human rights because naturally gender and sex can’t be straightforwardly defined as male and female.” the monk told Prachatai.
He added that the application of this section of the bill is going to be problematic because it is based on prejudice.
“Although the bill states that only monks with alternative sexes and genders who cause harm to Buddhism could be prosecuted, the bill does not mention what sort of actions constitutes harm to Buddhism. Since the wording of this section of the bill already discriminates against monks with alternative sexes and genders, its application will be very problematic,” said the monk.
Religious hindrance to democracy
Besides the legal loopholes in the bill, Vichak Panich, a Matichon columnist and expert on Buddhism and religious studies, pointed out that if the bill on protecting and patronising Buddhism is going to pass, it will become another obstacle to democracy in Thailand.
“This bill will give the SSC, which is already quite a dictatorial organization, since it is not transparent and elected, the power to prosecute not only monks but also lay persons who defy its authority,” said Vichak.
Vichak added that the version of Theravada Buddhism which is promoted by the SSC and the National Office of Buddhism (NOB) in Thailand always has two functions in Thai society.
“It [Theravada Buddhism] is promoted as a part of the Thai identity and nationalism. Moreover, it promotes the intangible concept of virtue and morality over freedom and rights. This lends support and justification for some groups of people in society to judge others,” said Vichak. “It is no surprise that this bill is being accepted under the current political regime.” added the religious expert.
In addition, according to Sulak, an attempt to further elevate the status of Buddhism in Thai society can backfire and become a grave danger to Thailand’s plural society.
In the 2011 version of the Bill to Patronise and Protect Buddhism, Article 4 states that Buddhism will be made the state religion of Thailand. However, in the current draft bill, which has been approved by the junta cabinet, the statement that Buddhism is a state religion has been deleted.
“Although Buddhism is not the state religion now, Buddhism always assumes a state of paramountcy over other religions in Thailand and the Buddhist clergy already enjoy many privileges. If it is to become a state religion it might stir up some conflicts with other religious minorities in the country,” Sulak told Prachatai.
To sum up, Venerable Shine pointed out that the bill itself is counterproductive and would end up destroying Buddhism instead of protecting and patronising it.
“In order to thrive, religion must always be adaptable to societies to allow people to understand its practices and teachings, including, making itself open for debate and discussion. If this is prohibited, then the religion itself would be dead,” he concluded.
Sansern Sriounruen speaks to members of the so-called "red-shirt village" at a university in Buriram in December 2013
Eight months after the implementation of the Thai government’s Master Plan to reforest the country, villagers in Isaan bear the burden of a flawed policy at the cost of their livelihood and health.
KALASIN – Three thousand rubber trees lie fallen on top of each other as if nothing more than a row of toppled dominoes. A slender man with calloused hands and laugh lines around his eyes gazes at the field that was once his life savings, primary source of income, and home. It is now covered in weeds, destroyed in the name of environmental conservation and reforestation.
Paiwan Taebamrung, 46-years-old, recounts the circumstances under which it all happened. A district officer came fully armed to his house at night demanding Paiwan leave his property. The smell of whiskey was in the air. Three days later, the officer returned with the village headman. Paiwan watched as dozens of officers cut down 30 out of 36 rai of his rubber trees.
The Master Plan, rolled out by the National Council for Peace and Order (NCPO) shortly after the coup last year, purports to target commercial investors who own and exploit thousands of rai to grow rubber, cassava, and other cash crops.
Villagers claim they are not at all investors – only poor families trying to make a living on land they have worked their whole lives.
“Many impoverished villagers who have lived in the forest for decades have been identified as investors,” explains Dr. Nattakant Akarapongpisak, a lecturer in the Faculty of Politics and Government at Maha Sarakham University.
This was the case with Paiwan. “They labeled me an investor and told me I had to move out. My family has been working on this land for 47 years.” Paiwan’s house was deemed an illegal structure, and he and his wife have had to move in with his elder sister.
Now, eight months after his eviction, the repercussions of the Master Plan are as strong as ever. Paiwan and his wife have had to find work as day laborers making the minimum wage of 300 baht per day.
“It is hard to make ends meet,” he says, “and I feel frustrated I am not working my own land. I worked in the South for 20 years to save up enough money to buy the rubber trees.”
According to the Internal Security Operations Command, farmers in 68 provinces are facing similar charges and evictions. What began as an admirable goal of achieving forest cover in Thailand within 10 years has now turned into a laundry list of human rights violations.
The International Covenant of Economic, Social, and Cultural Rights (ICESCR) clearly outlines the right to work, and protects people from deprivation of their means of subsistence. Barring access to land directly contradicts the principles the Thai state has sworn to uphold.
“Right now I work as a laborer, tapping the rubber for someone else in this village because they seized my farmland. I cannot work there anymore.”
With his land seized, Pongsamai Silawan, a resident of Kalasin province, lost his primary means of income. He soon discovered that his meager salary as a day laborer was not enough to support his family.
“I have to sneak onto my land to tap for rubber,” the 52-year-old Pongsamai says. He recounts the events of a day following his secret tapping. As he was cooking rice, he heard the dogs barking. “I dropped everything. The officers were coming,” he says. “When the dogs bark, I am ready to run.”
If caught, Pongsamai could face up to four years in prison.
Pongsamai faces a dilemma. “Between being afraid and having no food, which would you choose?” he asks. He has had to cut back on many expenses. “I can’t afford food from the market. I must scavenge for it in the forest. I don’t have money for my motorcycle, and I am even in debt to the gas station.”
In the nearby village of Jatrabiab, in Sakon Nakhon Province, the government has taken a more direct approach. Labeled as “investors,” 34 villagers have been charged with trespassing and encroachment.
Charges have piled up in some families. The Srikham family had three members charged for encroachment. Khamlamun Srikham was called in to the Royal Forestry Department (RFD) under the pretext of registering her land in order to receive land titles.
She had wanted to divide the land she farmed into three parts – one for herself, and two parts for her daughters who could have land titles in their own names as an inheritance.
Yet soon after, Khamlamun and her two daughters were all charged for trespassing. The key piece of evidence behind the charges was the very information Khamlamun had provided to the RFD.
“We trusted [the RFD representative] as a government employee, that he would allocate the land to us,” Chai Thongdeenok explains. “But the RFD truly tricked us villagers. Now we have no rights and cannot use the land.”
Khamlamun’s eldest daughter was charged even though she’s been working in Bangkok for over 20 years. She now has to cover transportation costs to and from Bangkok to attend court hearings.
For Amorn, Khamlamun’s younger daughter, what hurts the most is the effect the charges have had on her father. “He used to talk and laugh. But since the court case he is quiet and doesn’t say much,” she says. “I believe everyone who’s been charged is suffering from depression.”
As her husband looks on, Khamlamun Srikham passes the time weaving, no longer able to engage in farming.
Charges have been often exaggerated, say many of those arrested, adding even more pressure on these fragile families. When Khamphai Todkaew was brought to court, she found that she had been charged with farming 36 rai of land, when she only owned four rai.
These discrepancies in charges are not anomalies – of the 34 people charged, 25 reported being charged with incorrect property amounts.
Khamphai’s husband, Prasert, offered to be charged in her place, and thought he had reached an agreement with the police to such effect. Yet when the case was brought before the judge, the court charged both husband and wife.
They were presented with two choices: either fight but risk four years in prison if found guilty, or give up and suffer a reduced penalty of two years. In the absence of adequate legal advice, they opted not to fight the charge and instead plead guilty.
The arrests of both the mother and father have shaken the entire family. The eldest son, Lerdsak, 23 years old, has fallen apart emotionally. After 10 days in a psychiatric ward, he has returned home but is still at risk. “Every day now my brother has to take psychiatric medicines to manage his condition,” says his brother, Jakkrit. “He cannot work and we must spend a lot of time taking care of him.”
At least three families have had a family member see a doctor or have been admitted to the hospital for psychiatric illnesses. This not only puts an added strain on state mental health facilities, but burdens families with medical payments and extra care of loved ones.
Jakkrit, 21, Lerdsak, 23, and Tannika Todkaew, 26. “It is like we have lost the main pillars of our family, leaving just us three.”
Despite negotiations with representatives of the RFD, farmers in Jatrabiab were denied access to their land during the legal proceedings. A survey of families shows that 75% of those charged are barring access to their primary source of income, resulting in an average loss of monthly income of 50-80 percent per capita.
The absence of a steady primary income source, court fees, and agricultural loans have resulted in insurmountable debt. Collectively, the charged villagers owe around 4.2 million baht, or 180,000 baht per person on average.
Even under the best circumstances, it would take a farmer almost a decade to pay off this debt even without interest. When external factors such as available workdays, health and family expenses, and unexpected expenditures are taken into account, it is unlikely that families can ever repay it.
Land evictions of this type in Thailand have rarely met positive outcomes. The prospects of compensation from the state are low, says Nattakant, drawing comparisons with the Khor Jor Korprogram in 1992. According to Dr. Nattakant, under the 1992 program, government officials stated that there would be just and appropriate compensation measures. However, the funding never came and the land the government allocated was already occupied.
Today, military rule exacerbates the situation, argues Nattakant. “Officials have blocked villagers any access to help from their allies, including media, NGOs, activists, and academics. Some of the villagers have been received death threats if they tell the media about their plight.”
The military makes it nearly impossible for villagers to share their concerns with larger society. “The use of martial law or Section 44 of the interim constitution and the repeated summoning processes,” says Nattakant, “clearly violate the rights of local people to resist, or even question the implementation of the plan.”
Despite international condemnation and statements issued by the United Nations Office of the High Commission for Human Rights (OHCHR), the NCPO has failed to protect the rights of the poor. As of last November, over 500 forest encroachers had been prosecuted and 300,000 rai of land had been seized.
Under the NCPO’s approach, many more will suffer like Pongsamai and the Todkaew children, as they are pushed off their land and further into the margins of Thai society.
The eviction notice placed by the NCPO in Sakon Nakhon village.
About the author: Sarah Sanbar studies International Relations at Claremont McKenna College. She is a student-journalist on the CIEE Khon Kaen study abroad program.
The article is first publish on The Isaan Record
Among a wilderness of green shrubbery, Somkit Singsong sat in front of a small clay hut outside his village in Khon Kaen province. Sporting a beard akin to Vietnamese revolutionary leaders, Somkit recounted the days when there was a bounty on his head. “They came for me at the crack of dawn. Helicopters with spotlights hovered over the village. They wanted to kill me,” he said calmly.
From a rural Isaan childhood to student activism in Bangkok and six years with the communist armed struggle, the 65-year-old is now leading a green development project in his Northeastern home. But the life of Somkit will forever be linked to Thailand’s turbulent times of the 1970s.
Somkit’s rural Isaan upbringing distances him from most student activists in 1970s, who tended to come from the urban middle class. Somkit’s university education likewise made him different from most of those Isaan villagers who left their rice fields to fight with the communists during that period.
A prolific writer and co-founder of the Isaan Writers’ Association, Somkit has published several novels, short stories, and poems. Most of his writing belongs to a genre of literature known as wannakam phuea chiwit or “Literature for Life,” which features strong protest themes.
A child of rural Isaan, Somkit Singsong went to study at Thammsat University in Bangkok, took up student activism, and spent six years in the forest with the communist movement. Today, the 65-year-old is leading a green development project in his Northeastern home.
His most famous work remains the words to a song that became the anthem of the political movements of the 1970s. Along with fellow student activist Visa Kanthap, he wrote the lyrics to the song Khon Kap Khwai (“People and Buffalo”) that would later be made famous by Caravan – a folk-rock band that itself grew out of the pro-democracy protests of 1973.
“Every year on October 14, I organize an anniversary event in my home to remember the protests,” said Somkit. “We play ‘People and Buffalo’ because it helps people understand society and has now become part of history itself.”
Born into a rice farming family, Somkit spent his childhood in Sap Daeng village, Khon Kaen province. In the early 1960s, he followed a family member to central Thailand to attend middle school on the Thonburi side of the Chao Praya River. Sarit Thanarat – the military dictator who had seized power in 1958 – had just drank himself to death, Somkit remembered.
Somkit shared his high school years with someone who would play a fateful role in Thailand’s politics decades later and pave the way for another military coup. “Suthep Thaugsuban was in the same year. We were friends back then,” he remembered. “After high school, Suthep failed the entrance exam for Thammasat University while I scored as the second best,” Somkit said, with a mischievous grin on his face.
Rewarded with a scholarship from the National Education Council, he enrolled in the newly-established Journalism and Mass Communications program at Thammasat University in 1969. The stipend of 1,500 baht covered his semester tuition fees and bankrolled a comfortable life in Bangkok.
Throughout the 1960s, a military junta had maintained its grip on power and formed an economic and anti-communist partnership with the United States. The Northeast hosted tens of thousands of US military personnel stationed there to support the American proxy war in Vietnam. In return, the US government gave Thailand major financial and development aid.
In the late 1960s, resistance to military rule reached a boiling point among university students. In the highly politicized atmosphere at Thammasat University, Somkit formed his own political creed and the sharp-tongued Northeastener soon became a leader among student activists.
“I had the feeling that Thailand was not free, but a colony of America,” Somkit said, explaining his motivation to join the budding student movement. “We talked often about independence and how to end inequalities in Thai society,” he said.
On October 14, 1973 a student-led uprising swept the military rulers out of government and launched a three-year democratic interlude for Thailand. After the unexpected victory, Somkit quit his studies, left the capital and returned to his home in the countryside.
Somkit said he felt frustrated with the attitudes of people in Bangkok. “I had a vision to build the society of my dreams in my home village,” he said, adding that the state gave too little support to the country’s rural population. He began organizing development projects around his village and engaged in politics by joining the central committee of the Socialist Party of Thailand.
“In the countryside, students were seen as the heroes of the time,” he recalled, “so I travelled around and gave speeches explaining politics to villagers.” But hostility against students and progressives was also rising. “The local bureaucrats hated me and called me a national security risk, a traitor, and a communist,” Somkit said grimly.
On October 6, 1976, the military dictatorship regained power with a bloody crackdown on students and protesters at Thammasat University. The shockwaves of the massacre reached Somkit’s village a couple of days later. State and paramilitary forces were hunting down communists and all of those branded “enemies of the state,” and they soon surrounded the area. Left with no other choice, the then-26-year-old fled his home, hiding in the townhouse of a friend until undercover communist agents offered him safe passage to a base in the Dong Mun forest, north of Kalasin province.
Somkit claimed that prior to this he had no connection to the Communist Party of Thailand (CPT), which had launched a guerrilla war against the state from the Northeast in 1965. “The CPT had spies all over Isaan back then, and I realized only later that they had kept an eye on me after I returned from Bangkok,” he said.
Immediately after the massacre of October 6, the CPT invited all dissidents to join the armed revolutionary struggle, accusing the Bangkok establishment and American government of backing the killings. About 3,000 students, leftist intellectuals, and farmer and labour leaders followed the communist call and fled into the forests.
Ironically, it was the state’s anti-communist witch-hunt that drove Somkit into the arms of the communist fighters. He was never one of them, he stressed, but an ardent defender of socialist revolution – a fine distinction that seems to be lost on most people these days, he complained.
Somkit received a warm welcome at the CPT’s base, and his involvement with the Socialist Party led others to regard him as a senior party member. “They treated me with so much respect, but I was really just a boy,” Somkit said.
After the CPT leadership invited Somkit to a major cadre meeting in Laos, he embarked on a weeklong trek to the border, where he was flown by helicopter to Muang Xai in Oudomxay province. “It was pure indulgence,” said Somkit. “There were servants, free cigars, and the fridge was filled with wines from Europe,” he added.
Somkit felt proud to meet high-ranking communist leaders like Udom Srisuwan, the communist party’s major theorist, and Phayom Chulanont, a Thai army defector. (In a historic twist, Phayom’s son would later lead military operations against communist fighters and be appointed Interim Prime Minister under the 2006 military coup.)
Somkit never saw much good in the armed struggle and soon felt his work with the CPT was fruitless. He disliked the hierarchical structures of the organization and criticized it for allying with China and adopting a Maoist ideology – a move that would isolate the party from other communist movements in Southeast Asia.
When China’s foreign policy flipped in the late 1970s and the Chinese regime became friendly with the Thai government, the CPT was cut off from the Chinese support that had financed its activities. Soon after, ideological disputes between the party leadership and student activists eventually drove the students to part ways with the communist movement and return to the cities.
Most students abandoned the revolutionary struggle feeling jaded, but Somkit returned to his village hoping to continue where he had left off. He initiated several development and environmental projects and established a publishing house in Sap Daeng village. “The CPT was falling apart, but for me it really all had just started,” he said.
Somkit begrudgingly acknowledges that the experience of the faltering communist revolution and the return of military rule in the 1980s left its mark on his generation of leftists. Many fell into a state of political shock following their return from the forests. While some of them would reemerge in the country’s nascent NGO scene years later, they tended to turn their backs on political organizations, often taking a stance against representative democracy.
After Somkit made rural Isaan the center of his life again, he retreated from politics and turned to environmentalism. Along the way, political disillusionment crept into his life.
Somkit had a final fling with electoral politics as a candidate in a local election, but failed to win. “I didn’t have money to give to anyone – the ones who had cash bought all the votes,” he said. “Maybe it’s for the better; in parliament I might have turned into a bad person.”
The dirt road that leads to Somkit’s environmental development project, which is located a few kilometers outside of his home village Sap Deang in Khon Kaen province.
A motor scooter came rumbling down the dirt road leading to Somkit’s development project, which lies between two fields far from Sap Daeng village. Somkit’s son climbed off his motor scooter, put down a bag with ice and cheap beer, and disappeared behind the clay hut to prepare lunch. The thirty-something-year-old is taking care of his father, whose health has declined in recent years.
Today, it seems former activist Somkit has not even a glimmer of faith in Thailand’s political development. “If I look at the future of this country, all I see is darkness,” he said. “Just look around you, is there light anywhere here?”
Somkit scorns national politics and while he does not approve of last year’s coup, he calls the current military government “the best of the worst.”
Thai politics has always been a stage “for those who seek benefits and power,” Somkit said, but corruption and nepotism escalated when Thaksin Shinawatra entered the scene.
“Thaksin put the nation on sale and Lee Kuan Yew bought it,” Somkit said, referring to the controversial deal between Thaksin’s family and the Singapore-owned Temasak Holdings in 2006.
The Shinawatra family’s sale of its share in the telecommunications giant Shin Corp to an investment arm of the Singaporean government incited major public outcry over what was regarded as an unfair tax exemption for the powerful family. Thaksin was accused of “selling out” national assets. The controversy surrounding the sale added momentum to the anti-Thaksin protests that precipitated the 2006 military coup.
Somkit also has little respect for the recent political agenda of some fellow student activists from the 1970s. “The radical leftists really thought they could use Thaksin to overthrow the capitalist system and the monarchy,” he said, mentioning two prominent red shirt leaders.
“I was once a socialist and anti-monarchy,” he said, “but then, I realized that there is no other king in this world that is working as hard as ours.” Somkit discovered his love for the country’s royal institution through his newfound passion to defend the environment, a mission that the monarch always supported, he said as his son returned from cooking. The fried cobra dish he served was in no time discovered by hungry red ants.
In a way, history played a joke on many members of Somkit’s generation. Once leaders of the country’s most progressive forces longing to foment a revolution, today many seem stuck without any political vision. And as many political observers have noted, these former student activists today often find themselves cheering those who try to freeze society’s progress.
In Somkit’s view, things are “just different now” and he has moved on from his past of political activism. “The world’s big issues today are environmental,” he claimed. “Political problems make up only a small part of it.”
As Somkit picked a few red ants off some pieces of fried cobra, a construction worker trudged out of the thick green undergrowth to hand Somkit a bill.
Next to the clay hut, Somkit is building an education center for organic agriculture. And the 65-year-old continues to think about new projects that focus on chemical free farming and he vows to fight against the influence of global agribusiness on Thailand’s farmers.
“The farmers are committing suicide by putting chemical fertilizers into their fields,” he said. “What we need is a new Green Revolution.”
Just a bit of curiosity lands you in jail! Jail! Jail! Jail!Just a bit of criticism lands you in jail! Jail! Jail! Jail!Just telling the truth lands you in jail! Jail! Jail! Jail!Why not grant bail? How much longer are they gonna stay there?Somyot, Da and Surachai. Why the need to jail them so long?Akong didn’t get bail. (So he’s dead.)He wasn’t a thief or murderer.This oppressive, barbaric, vicious law!
“This tree, this tree, if you’ve been here beforeWhere they strung up men said to be traitorsStrange things did happen hereNo stranger would it beIf we met at midnight, ‘neath the moon forevermore”
“The day that the People’s Party came in, changed the ruling system to a democracyBuilding it up with blood and sweat, but at last it’s been stolenTens and tens of coup d’états, democracy’s getting too far to seePeople’s rights trampled on, and for whose stability?”
“The day the nation, the King, and the mass of people live without dangerWe offer to guard and protect you with our hearts, this is our promiseToday the nation is facing menacing danger, the flames are risingLet us be the ones who step in, before it is too late”