Hundreds of thousands of people have fled Myanmar for Thailand since the military takeover in February 2021, bringing accounts of rights abuses and forced conscription by both the junta and opposition armed groups, but also of drug addiction.
Speaking in a refugee camp in Wiang Haeng district in northern Thailand through an interpreter, 48-year-old Sai Zam Aung told The New Humanitarian that life in his village of Kesi in southern Shan State had until recently been good.
Due to economic hardship, he and his sisters had to leave school at an early age to work on their family farm. This provided them with a small cash income. Sai Zam Aung eventually married and had a child. The family persevered as best they could.
This relative peace was shattered when battles between junta forces and the Shan State Army-South (SSA-South) – an armed separatist group fighting for the independence of the state – began to intensify in mid-2023.
“Both groups taxed us heavily,” Sai Zam Aung said, reiterating claims made by civilians in several other areas of Myanmar about being forced to make impossible choices under pressure from differing warring parties.
He said the SSA-South demanded 50,000 kyat, or $23.50, per acre of paddy field annually. The junta’s soldiers weren’t much better. “When Burmese troops came, they took whatever they wanted: chickens, pigs, cows,” he said.
“Sometimes, the two groups fought in our village and, afterwards, soldiers from both sides interrogated us about the other.”
It wasn’t just confiscations that drove him out: As is the case in many other parts of Myanmar, the junta has been accused of launching deadly airstrikes in Shan as it seeks to regain territory.
Armed groups, as well as human rights organisations, say the airstrikes are indiscriminate and have consistently killed many civilians. Earlier this week, the Ta’ang National Liberation Army, or TNLA, an ethnic armed group that operates in northern Shan State, accused the military of killing at least 30 civilians over a seven-day period.
In southern Shan, Sai Zam Aung said both the junta and the SSA-South used and abused civilians as part of their efforts to gain the military ascendancy.
“Sometimes, the two groups fought in our village and, afterwards, soldiers from both sides interrogated us about the other,” he said, adding that junta soldiers often arrested men, tortured them, and forced them to work as porters.
Drug addiction
An often-overlooked aspect of Myanmar’s humanitarian crisis is the widespread addiction to yaba, a potent mix of methamphetamine and caffeine produced alongside opium by groups in Shan.
Sai Zam Aung explained that many farmers and labourers became addicted to yaba because it enabled them to work longer hours without food or fatigue.
“Villagers could easily buy yaba from local brokers who operated with military permission,” he said. “Every military camp had its own yaba factory, producing hundreds of kilos monthly.”
Lower-quality yaba, he said, was sold locally, while higher-quality batches were exported to Thailand, Laos, China, and India. In one incident alone in 2023, Thailand seized 6.4 million yaba pills said to have been made in jungle laboratories in Shan State.
“Armed groups exchanged drugs and weapons with foreign mafias as Burmese troops turned a blind eye,” Sai Zam Aung said.
The Myanmar National Democratic Alliance Army (MNDAA), which currently controls the state capital, Lashio, claims to have outlawed the growing of opium, but the UN says opium cultivation in Shan State increased by 20% in 2023 alone.
Prolonged use of yaba has left many villagers in Shan State unable to work, creating cycles of addiction and dependence.
There are no reliable recent figures, but the UN estimated back in 2008 that there were already at least 300,000 people in Myanmar suffering from addiction, and studies suggest addiction numbers have soared over the past decade.
Sai Zam Aung’s wife, like so many others, was eventually arrested for her addiction and died in custody – a tragedy that drove him to flee to Thailand with his young daughter.
But the use of yaba and other drugs is also rife in the camps near the Thai border that are home to almost 100,000 Myanmar refugees.
‘I don’t want to join any army’
One of the main reasons cited by those seeking refuge in Thailand is to escape conscription into the Tatmadaw, the junta’s military. However, several opposition armed groups have also implemented conscription. In areas under SSA-South control, for example, families face punishment if their children refuse to join.
At the Wiang Haeng refugee camp, Nang Sing, a 19-year-old Shan woman, told The New Humanitarian how she fled Laikha Township in southern Shan State with her younger sister after the local military authorities warned their father their possessions would be seized if the girls didn’t report for conscription.
Some families reported that even prior conscription into the Tatmadaw is no excuse, and still results in punishment if children don’t join the SSA-South.
Sai Su Thamma, a 21-year-old Shan man from Lashio in northern Shan State, said that as soon as the junta announced conscription in early 2023, ethnic armed groups quickly followed suit.
Also speaking in the Wiang Haeng camp, he said some of his friends and relatives were forced to join at gunpoint: “They told us, ‘Everyone must join to protect our land, dignity, and rights,’ but I think this is just propaganda.”
The SSA-South claims it recruits to protect Shan State, yet it remains in a ceasefire with the Tatmadaw, making this justification unclear.
“I feel their policy is wrong,” Sai Zam Aung said. “I don’t want to join any army because they don’t truly serve the people or the country; they just want to maintain power. I don’t want to fight and kill people from my own country or community.”
Little aid for millions displaced
Those unable to flee Myanmar add to the growing population of internally displaced people (IDPs) – estimated now at more than three million. A similar number live abroad as refugees, including more than one million Rohingya in overcrowded camps in Bangladesh. Most of the rest are in Thailand, with smaller numbers in China and India.
Those internally displaced rarely receive humanitarian assistance. International aid organisations, including UN agencies, require permission from the junta to operate in the parts of Myanmar it controls, but the junta has been accused of denying assistance to those it sees as adversaries.
And despite significant gains by ethnic armed groups since they united against the junta in October 2023, there has been no evidence that the UN is reconsidering shelved plans to provide aid in the areas that these opposition forces control.
Along the Thai border, which spans almost 2,500 kilometres, local groups like the Free Burma Rangers deliver food and medical supplies over mountains by mule, while the Jesuit Relief Services, a US non-profit, supports teachers and students in IDP camp schools. Still, many camps receive little to no aid, leaving most displaced people facing severe deprivation and hardship.
Hundreds of thousands of people from Myanmar are currently living in Thailand, but only about 90,000 residents of nine UN-recognised camps officially fall under the category of refugees.
The vast majority live as undocumented migrants with limited legal status granted by the Thai government. Some hold IDs allowing them to work or live outside of camps, but most lack legal permission, forcing those in non-UN camps to rely on minimal support from private groups, making life extremely difficult.
In October 2023, the Thai authorities came under fire from Human Rights Watch for pushing back “thousands” of refugees from Myanmar.
Sai Zam Aung’s story is typical. He spent his life savings to be smuggled out of Myanmar into Thailand, where he and his daughter were dropped at an unofficial refugee camp.
Although the camp accepted them, there were no available houses, forcing him to rent a nearby hut. They received only 16 kilos of rice per month, less than half of what two people require.
To survive, Sai Zam Aung took occasional farm work for 300 baht (about $9) per day, although the work was illegal and police would sometimes raid the farms, issuing fines or arresting and deporting workers.
Eventually, a nearby boarding school offered his daughter a place, providing her with food and an education. This gave Sai Zam Aung some relief, allowing him to focus on building a better future for himself and his daughter. However, as both remain undocumented, they still face the constant threat of arrest and deportation.
Given many of his compatriots’ accounts of exploitation, addiction, torture, and arrest, Sai Zam Aung’s story could be seen as a success. Compared to the thousands who cross the border each day, he is faring better than most.
Edited by Ali M. Latifi.
