Southeast Asia is marked by its diversity and, unfortunately, widespread ethnic conflict and political instability. This unsafe environment has led members of vulnerable ethnic groups, particularly those who reside in mountainous upland regions, to engage in refugee migrations throughout the region. Yale political scientist James C. Scott discusses this particular subset of upland migrants in his book
Political violence and humanitarian crises plague the region of Southeast Asia. In recent decades, ethnic conflict and political instability have led to multiple refugee migratory events, with one prominent pattern of refugee movement being from Myanmar to Thailand. Many such migrants face novel challenges in adjusting to their new country of settlement. This paper analyzes the refugee migration experiences of the Dara’ang people—a group of highland peoples forced to flee into Thailand to avoid violent domestic conflict in Shan State in Myanmar. The Dara’ang, also known as the Palaung, are a relatively unknown refugee group to casual and academic observers of the region because of their small numbers and pattern of resettling at higher altitudes in mountainous northern Thailand, largely out of the public eye. Since the 1990s, close to 8,000 Dara’ang have fled into Thailand by way of both official and unofficial channels in search of a better life. This paper provides a scholarly account of the Dara’ang people’s refugee experiences in Chiang Mai Province in northern Thailand, in the famed “Golden Triangle” where Myanmar, Laos, and Thailand meet. It argues that Dara’ang refugees, unlike their ancestors who fled upland to avoid state control, now seek to engage with the Thai state, their preferred state, given that the full encroachment of the state into the once “nonstate” spaces of mountainous upland climbs is now complete. Today’s Dara’ang refugees seek to master the “art of being governed” in Thailand, of becoming “legible” (in James C. Scott’s interpretation of the word) as a strategic means to escape the war, violence, and oppression they endured as an upland minority in Myanmar’s unstable Shan State.
Because of their small population and relative obscurity among the larger populations of refugees from Myanmar in Thailand and a dearth of scholarly sources on this refugee community, Dara’ang interactions with Thai authorities and society deserve greater attention. This paper therefore analyzes Dara’ang refugee experiences and interactions with Thai authorities and communities, explains how these interactions have changed over time, and explores how the Dara’ang fit into the larger-scale relationship between upland and lowland people in Southeast Asia. It combines archival research and on-site field research conducted in both Thailand and Myanmar during July 2018. The methodology employed for gathering data drew upon primary and secondary sources, a series of structured and semi-structured qualitative interviews with Dara’ang migrants and stakeholders in Thailand, observational data from historical sites and museums, and documented field notes and video footage assembled during three weeks of site visits and fieldwork.
There have been many studies that have attempted to explain the relationships between disparate groups of people residing in close proximity. Among such works, James C. Scott’s
The Dara’ang have been forced to adapt in response to pressures from growing state spaces for much of their recent existence. Their traditional home is in Burma (present-day Myanmar), primarily within the modern-day Shan State region. During the period when the Burmese attempted to rule over this territory, the Dara’ang’s interactions with the government adhere quite firmly to Scott’s descriptions. The Dara’ang moved their communities higher up into the hills to avoid the rule of the lowland Burmese ethnic group (
In recent decades, conflict, infrastructure development, and technology have pushed the violent reach of the Myanmar state space into the Dara’ang’s nonstate space. These developments lessened the friction of distance between the upland groups and the military government by alleviating the deterrent created by the mountainous terrain, contributing to the diminishing of local autonomy. As a result, some decided to move to the Thai border. Among these was Nawng Manheng, one of the original Dara’ang refugees and a current resident of No Le, the original Dara’ang-specific village just inside Thailand’s borders. When Nawng Manheng crossed the Thai-Burmese border forty-one years ago, along with about thirty-five other people, it marked the official beginning of this mode of political egress, bringing a type of legitimacy, or legibility, to the Dara’ang people’s experience in Thailand. Importantly, this does not directly address the continued illegibility being sought by those who remained in Shan State. It instead marks the beginning of a different relation among those Dara’ang that would come to settle in Thailand.
With the king of Thailand’s blessing, they were granted asylum, and the Dara’ang, which means “people who stay in the mountains,” simply moved from one upland region to another (
Despite the Thai government’s support and contributions to their lives and livelihoods, the Dara’ang continued to hold a distrust of outsiders from their time in Burma—particularly those of the lowlands—and spent much of their early time in Thailand embracing the illegibility of their lifestyle in the hills (
Scott’s framework for upland-lowland relations establishes a dichotomous relationship where the upland people flee the legibility of governance, up into the nonstate spaces of higher elevations. Scott refers to this dynamic as “state-evading behavior.” As technology has developed over time, the friction of distance present between these two groups has decreased, forcing the upland people even further upward. However, for some upland groups in northern Thailand, the relationship between technological development and geographic relocation seems to have ceased. Here, the Dara’ang of Thailand are striving for a more coherent and structured relationship with the Thai government, essentially striving for legibility. Obtaining Thai citizenship is a common goal for Dara’ang individuals. The Dara’ang are particularly concerned with their children’s legal rights. They seek assimilation under the Thai government umbrella while maintaining their traditional practices and customs (
Fear of persecution drove these Dara’ang out of Myanmar. Historically, they resorted to isolationism within their home country by settling further and further up the hills. However, this strategy offered neither the protection nor the improved living conditions they sought. As a smaller ethnic group, the Dara’ang from the Namsang area in Shan State were caught up in the conflict between the Shan United Army and the Burmese military. Dara’ang boys and young men would be forcibly conscripted as soldiers or forced to conduct drug transactions for either party (
The Thai government-run primary school in the largest Dara’ang village in Chiang Mai Province’s Fang District, Huay Mak Liam, provides a useful example of a case in which refugees have embraced state resources to receive benefits. In addition to following programming dictated by Thailand’s standardized curriculum, the school has a weekly Dara’ang cultural day where students are encouraged to wear traditional dress. Dara’ang students also sing songs praising the village and those who live there, a Dara’ang tradition, each morning before classes begin, along with the Thai national anthem. Although the Dara’ang language is heard at the school, the school formally conducts educational curriculum in Thai, and the school’s main goal is to teach children how to exist within the Thai state to ensure their assimilation (
Another service offered by the school is a health program that checks up on the school’s children. Although health care is free for all Thai citizens and inexpensive for non-citizens, access to services require forms of transportation that are not available to all. The school’s provision of health services within the building thus does much to circumvent this issue, as it is located near the center of Huay Mak Liam, within walking distance for most, if not all, of the children who attend. The largely accepted view of the school held by village leaders is that this education is both welcome and necessary for the continued future of their people (Seana 2018). Whereas Scott suggests that ethnic groups like the Dara’ang will often choose to live in the hills to avoid assimilation into the cultural homogeneity of state centers in the past, evidence today suggests that the villagers now perceive legibility as desirable.
Despite having to deal with an overly complicated and opaque system of identification cards giving each individual person a “level” of citizenship, the villagers put in significant effort to improve their status, hoping that they will be able to participate in citizen activities such as free travel and farmland leasing (
This has resulted in the current state of affairs, in which the Dara’ang people have become much more integrated not only into the Thai state space but also the international community. The group has become more enthusiastic and outgoing in seeking aide from nonprofit organizations and wealthy individuals. The Thai-run elementary school in Huay Mak Liam is only partially funded by the Thai government, which pays for salaried workers and supported the construction of the main building and the teachers’ housing. The rest of the funding, including new buildings, upgraded classrooms, and improved facilities, has been paid for by international development groups and individual donors (
Beyond direct state aid, village leaders have been active in utilizing support from development non-governmental organizations (NGOs) such as the Upland Holistic Development Program (UHDP). A combination of these groups and certain private companies helps provide running water and cellular service—and the basic infrastructure needed for access to wired internet—to the homes of the village. The presence of funding from these groups provides a healthy alternative to reliance on the state for these services, given both the distrust exhibited by the Dara’ang refugee group regarding integration into the state and the state’s potential unwillingness to commit large amounts of resources to a relatively small number of people. Recent years have seen the availability of funds diminish—particularly under King Bhumibol’s successor, King Vajiralongkorn—and an inconsistent commitment of funds to upland aid programs such as the DNA citizenship program outside the education program in recent years has led to growing concern about the availability of those funds moving forward (
Importantly, observational data confirms that the UHDP has garnered much public support. Agroforestry, environmental conservation, health and water access, and backyard agriculture are the main areas of concern for the NGO. The UHDP has taught the same agroforestry practices to all upland groups, including the Dara’ang. Along with backyard agriculture, which is a form of subsistence agriculture, agroforestry has helped the Dara’ang become more self-sufficient. It is especially useful in Huay Mak Liam, where the Thai government has forbidden the Dara’ang from making use of the forest surrounding their village. UHDP helped to bring water to the village at affordable rates, saving the Dara’ang time and money (
UHDP plays a key role in the Dara’ang’s seeking legibility within Thailand by providing legal guidance. The process of obtaining an identification card in Thailand is inherently complex, and refugees tend to lack understanding about how to acquire status. There are five different types of documentation available for refugees in Thailand, each with varying levels of accessibility and benefits. The most obvious is full citizenship, though that is quite uncommon. Most of the first Dara’ang to settle in Thailand obtained full citizenship, but many of their children did not; for full citizenship at birth, one needs to be documented as a newborn, either at a hospital or by a doctor, which can be extremely difficult for populations in more remote areas. An important advantage of full citizenship is the right to own land, which provides stability: landowners can be sure that they will not have their access to land removed or revoked by the state and because they acquire land for agricultural purposes, this assurance enhances their quality of life. Blue cards are the second highest form of legal status; though these blue cards only grant about 80 percent of the rights available to those with full Thai citizenship, they allow their holders to obtain approval if they wish to travel out of the country. Unfortunately, blue card holders still cannot purchase land, work for the Thai government, or vote. Other types of cards include ten-year labor permits and more temporary labor cards with time-specific limits. The least attractive status of all is the lack of status. Reports about the Dara’ang show that they are concerned and anxious about getting into arguments with the police (
At this point, it is important to differentiate between becoming part of the Thai state and becoming culturally Thai, particularly in light of what past state-evading behavior on the part of what lowland the Thai people see as “hill tribes.” Scott describes this relationship is nearly impossible to separate and states that from the Thai perspective, “becoming civilized … is nearly indistinguishable from becoming … Thai” (
The Dara’ang people have struggled with their state identity since fleeing to Thailand. Many among the population do not feel as if they have to identify either as Burmese or Thai—for all purposes, they identify as Dara’ang (
Beyond the official citizenship cards mentioned above, there are additional sets of cards that most Dara’ang use to conduct basic affairs and work. The Bat Husu card is one example. A Bat Husu card is not recognized as a citizenship card, but it allows the holder to remain in the country for ten years. Greatly valued, these cards allow people the ability to obtain work and access housing in Thailand more freely. The last two levels of official residential status are Hua Sun cards and work permits. Holders of these cards only have temporary status, but this status allows card holders to obtain jobs legally. If an individual does not have one of these cards, one is classified as undocumented and is at risk of being deported and subject to capricious and unscrupulous employers (
Migrants seeking to upgrade their card status and legal position do so in an effort to advance their socioeconomic standing and opportunities in Thai society. Ta, a thirty-year-old migrant, has been able to rent land many miles from his village to farm corn over the past few years. This economic opportunity has been vital for stimulating his income and allowing him and his family to renovate their home and live more comfortably in his migrant village. Though his identification card allows him to rent land, the owner of the land has the last say in the arrangement. If there is someone who is willing to offer more money to rent the same land, then the owner has the discretion to kick Ta off the land, even in the middle of growing crops, and allow a new farmer to come in. Ta and many other entrepreneurially minded refugees suffer the inability to purchase or own land due to their limited residential status. Some in such situations team up with parents who have full citizenship to purchase land. Ta has also been able to harvest and grow lychee fruit on land owned by his aging father. This arrangement allows Ta to have a smaller but more stable income in the event that he can no longer rent the land that he currently grows corn on (
This research demonstrates a collective mentality among the Dara’ang people in the villages of No Lae, Huay Mak Liam, and Huay Chanu that prioritizes Thai citizenship, state legibility, and closer economic and social ties with the lowland Thai. This new approach to interactions with the Thai state represents a significant shift from the dichotomous relationship described by James C. Scott in
Field research, funded in part by an ASIANetwork-Freeman grant and a Mellon Digital Humanities grant, was conducted ethically through adherence to self-regulatory guidelines and the accepted practices and standards of humanistic research, oral history, and scholarly inquiry.
Concerns surrounding growing embrace of Islam by those within Thailand were considered of critical importance to a royal structure that has historically considered protection and purification of Buddhism within the state crucial. The time surrounding the Royal Project Initiative was a particularly heated time for this conflict. See Yoneo Ishii (
This “sufficiency economy” is an economic model emphasizing sustainability and agriculture based off of the sayings and development projects of King Bhumibol and aligned with Buddhist economic practices. For more, see Darren Noy (
Notably, there is currently a method by which this issue of “statelessness” among upland groups is being addressed by the Thai state by way of DNA testing. However, this system is rather fraught, with access, cost, and outcomes varying radically among different ethnic groups and geographic locations, and there is some concern that statelessness is not being addressed to the level expected. For further reading, please see Amanda Flaim (
The authors completed this research with funding in part from an ASIANetwork-Freeman grant and a Mellon Digital Humanities grant.