The Pwo Karen of Ban Mae San have prospered in harmony with nature, upholding their traditional agricultural practices and rich cultural heritage for over 300 years. However, government measures are now putting their way of life at risk.

In the first few months of recent years, residents of Bangkok and northern Thailand have struggled to breathe due to high levels of PM2.5 in the air. Anti-pollution masks have become essential. On air monitoring apps, regions have been marked in red or purple. Reports of lung cancer and respiratory illnesses have surged, leading frustrated citizens to criticize the government for its negligence. In response, the government has scrambled to provide explanations and solutions.

Indigenous people are often blamed as a significant cause of air pollution. Rotational farming, also known as shifting cultivation or slash-and-burn agriculture, is frequently portrayed negatively by government leaders and the mainstream media—not only as a source of pollution but also as a cause of natural disasters such as floods and landslides. This perspective, which reinforces prejudice against indigenous people, is often spread without proper scrutiny. However, a closer look at how rotational farming is practised reveals a more nuanced picture.

Sowing seeds

Rotational farming fields after harvesting rice and other crops in December 2023 (Photo by Ratcha Sathitsongtham)

In Lampang province in northern Thailand, there are at least 12 Karen communities that have practiced rotational farming for generations. Ban Mae San, one of the most resource-rich and culturally vibrant communities, covers an area of 29 square kilometres, according to the Northern Development Foundation. Approximately 40% of this area, or 12 square kilometres, is dedicated to rotational farming, with the remaining land used for conservation, spiritual activities, and other purposes.

“We make a living. We follow the system laid down by our ancestors,” said Natthanon Lapma, a resident of Ban Mae San. “What rotational farming fields were like 300 years ago, today at Ban Mae San the fields are the same as back then. In a single field plot, we primarily plant upland rice and also plant different crops among the rice such as bananas, chilies, beans, taro, yams, and other vegetables and fruits that provide for the villagers to harvest throughout the year.

In May 2023, as they do every year, the Karen had just finished preparing the planting area and were about to sow the rice seeds. Before planting, they performed a ritual to determine how different varieties of rice seeds would perform in feeding their families. Natthanon said that this ritual is key not only to their resilience but also to their agricultural diversity.

Natthanon Lapma, a resident of Ban Mae San (Photo by Ratcha Satitsongtham)

“If we follow the results of the seed lottery, not only will it give us a harvest of sufficient amount, but we will also obtain a variety of upland rice seeds for rotational farming,” said Natthanon. “In Ban Mae San, we have up to 35 varieties of rice from rotational farming, with 27-28 varieties of sticky rice and the rest being varieties of paddy rice. But every year, we use seeds from these 35 varieties for planting in rotational farming without needing to bring rice varieties in from outside the area at all.”

After sowing seeds in the fields, the Karen look forward to the beauty of the fields and the fruitful results of the rainy season. While waiting, they regularly clear weeds and grasses from the fields without using chemicals. Relying primarily on rainfall, the rice and crops grow naturally without fertilizers or irrigation systems. The fruits of their labour are primarily used for sustenance, helping to reduce the cost of living.

Harvest and rotational cycles

In November, they harvest. Phichet Thuengwa, a Christian Karen from Ban Mae San, was busy collecting rice from the last plot. He noted that out of the many varieties of rice seeds, five performed particularly well in 2023 and are likely to be used again. Among them, one variety stands out in particular.

“This is a variety of yellow husk sticky rice, known in Karen as Ta Ae Ba,” Phichet explained. “It is very resistant against dry conditions. Its stalk is not easy to break. This variety is considered perfect, and the seeds can be saved for next year’s planting. Each variety of rice in rotational farming can be grown consecutively for up to three years. Then we may change to another variety which has a stronger stalks and is more resistant.

As Phichet walked back to the village after finishing the harvest, he explained that once the rice field is harvested, it becomes 'rai lao.' The land then requires a fallow period of at least 7 years before rice can be grown there again. Due to government concerns, this fallow period is sometimes extended to 15–20 years. For the next cycle, they move to a different field. While waiting for the 'rai lao' to recover, they plant a particular tree unique to their village that serves multiple purposes.

“Do you see that little makhwaen tree over there? The villagers of Mae San use the age of makhwaen trees to measure the age of ‘rai lao’ and the appropriate fallow period,” said Phichet.

Makhwaen, or Zanthoxylum limonella, is known for its aromatic and spicy flavour in popular Northern Thai dishes. The villagers harvest makhwaen from November to early January, starting around the time when the rice harvest is almost complete. Makhwaen is ready to harvest when it grows to a height of 4-5 metres. It is not only a major source of income and a natural alarm clock but also serves as proof to the government that the recovering land is ready to be used.

“Actually, a fallow field that has rested for 7 years already passes the test because the soil has had time to accumulate enough nutrients,” said Natthanon. “But if today Ban Mae San didn’t have makhwaen, I don’t know if the government would allow us to use the fields in a rotation of just 7 years , because makhwaen at Ban Mae San is a plant that naturally grows and thrives in the forest areas and in fallow fields before that.”

Kamthon, a Ban Mae San villager, harvesting makhwaen (Photo by Ratcha Satitsongtham)

Makhwaen is an important commercial plant for Ban Mae San. Many families have achieved financial stability from selling the fruit, earning tens of thousands to over a hundred thousand baht per year. Kamthon, a villager who has just finished his harvest, said that each household collects an average of 4-5 sacks of makhwaen fruit daily. As of 2023, fresh makhwaen fruit is priced at 20 baht per kilogram, but the price rises to 100-120 baht per kilogram if dried for an additional 2-3 days.

“Every year, we receive many customer orders. They say that the makhwaen from Ban Mae San has a fragrance second to none compared to makhwaen from other places. Even though the amount collected from Ban Mae San is smaller, makhwaen is a product from rotational farming that helps urban people see the Karen way of life in a more positive way. And the villagers of Mae San are also able to persevere with the ways of rotational farming and manage the necessity of making a living through makhwaen at the same time,” said Khamthorn.

State repression

The Pwo Karen at Ban Mae San traditionally have a simple lifestyle, relying on reciprocity between people and forest resources. With evidence of being settled for over 300 years, their community long predates the government’s designation of the area as Tham Pha Thai National Park in 1991, which led to an overlap between their fields and the conservation areas.

After the military coup in 2014, Gen Prayut Chan-o-cha launched the Forest Reclamation Policy, which intensified state encroachment into indigenous communities. In 2015, the Department of National Parks, Wildlife, and Plant Conservation expedited the declaration of all national parks, including Tham Pha Thai.

Empowered by the 2019 National Parks Act, which was legislated without public consultation, the state further tightened control over land use and access to resources. Communities near Ban Mae San have often faced harassment from forestry officials, park rangers, and military officers from the Pratu Pha Special Forces Camp. The villagers at Ban Mae San feel that their way of life is in jeopardy.

“Even while just preparing to declare a national park, we are threatened this much by state officials. If it ends up becomes a National Park, how much worse will it be?” asked Natthanon. “Villagers who practice rotational farming without title deeds or proof of rights, how will they live when they can no longer do rotational farming? Their land might even be seized for the park. If that day comes and it is like this, it will for us be no different from a living death, because land is life. Rotational farming is the soul of the Karen people.”

Drying makhwaen fruit after harvest (Photo by Ratcha Satitsongtham)

Meanwhile, Ban Mae San also faces pressure from the invisible hand of the market. The COVID-19 lockdowns led to a 60-70% decline in income from makhwaen in 2021. Kamthon, who previously earned at least 30,000 baht annually from Ma Kwan, used the money for his child’s tuition fees and car instalments, with any surplus saved for emergencies. When the price of makhwaen fell to an unprecedented low of 10-30 baht per kilogram, his total earnings no longer reached 30,000 baht.

Like some other villagers, Kamthon had to sacrifice part of their fields previously designated for subsistence farming to grow monoculture corn. “That year, I earned 100,000 baht from selling corn, but after deducting costs such as seeds, fertilizer, herbicides, and labour, I had around 30,000 baht left, still enough to cover my child’s tuition fees and three payments on the car.” said Kamthon. “But after this, what will we eat when the rotational farming fields have already become corn fields?”

Prohibition on burning

The shift to monoculture corn proved more resource-intensive, less sustainable, and less self-reliant. This change was driven not only by economic pressure but also by restrictions from the 2019 National Parks Act and state harassment in nearby areas. These government actions had a chilling effect on the Karen of Ban Mae San, making it harder for them to continue their traditional agricultural practices. However, the most problematic measure is the prohibition on burning.

The government stated that the burning ban is necessary to mitigate PM2.5 particles. Under the Disaster Prevention and Mitigation Act, Lampang Province first imposed a ban on burning in 2011. This ban is usually enforced from March to April, which is when villagers traditionally burn rotational farming fields to prepare the land for subsistence crops.

Panompon Tuikat, District Chief of Mae Mo, Lampang Province (Photo by Ratcha Satitstongtham)

The prohibition on burning is counterproductive for several reasons. First, the policy is based on flawed inputs. Panompon Tuikat, the District Chief of Mae Mo District in Lampang Province, explained that his jurisdiction is over-scrutinized because 3 out of 4 heat detection devices in the entire province are installed there, which includes the area where Ban Mae San is located.

According to data collected over the past 5 years, the Monitoring Station in Ban Dong, Mae Mo, has not observed a decline in PM2.5 particles. PM2.5 particles can travel long distances, and heat is not the only indicator of their origin. Although exceptions can be made if there is a clear fuel management plan, this option is often overlooked due to the government’s obsession with hot spots.

Far from being a solution, the prohibition on burning actually worsens the problem. “When they do not allow us to burn when we have to burn, we have to hurry to burn in late February before they announce the ban,” said Somkit Thittha, Village Head of Ban Mae San. “But the period before the prohibition on burning still has moisture in the air, which means the fuel is not properly dry. So the burning is incomplete. In the end, we have to burn again and again.”

Burning early before the ban creates a gap before planting subsistence crops, allowing weeds to grow. Villagers then have to burn again in May. However, burning after the ban can be hindered by early rains, leading to incomplete burning and faster weed growth, out-competing the crops. Additionally, ash from burning, which should act as fertilizer for the seeds, gets washed away by rain.  As a result, the villagers experience lower yields and produce of lower quality.

Somkhit Thitta, Village Head of Ban Mae San (Photo by Ratcha Satitstongtham)

“It’s not that it is entirely impossible to do rotational farming without burning, but if we don’t burn, what will we use to nourish the soil? What will we use to get rid of weeds?” asked Natthanon. “If we don’t use fertilizers or chemicals, what else can replace burning? This is the trade-off for doing rotational farming without burning, but the Karen of Ban Mae San do not want it to be that way.”

Phachara Kamchamnarn of the Northern Development Foundation said “the only way to keep rotational farming alive alongside the Karen is to end the blanket approach to banning burning.” The Karen communities engaged in rotational farming have clear management plans, including scheduled burning, firebreaks, and prevention measures to contain fires, with the entire process averaging no more than 10 to 30 minutes per plot. They should be exempt.

Advocacy for change

Due to a lack of proper understanding, the central government in Thailand has enforced various measures to separate indigenous communities from nature. The 1941 Forest Act marked the beginning of centralized control over forest areas. The abolition of logging concessions in 1988-9 displaced villagers to expedite the creation of conservation areas. However, Ban Mae San and other indigenous communities existed long before any forest laws.

Somchat Raksongphlu, village head of the Ban Klang Karen community (Photo by Ratcha Satitsongtham)

Ban Mae San is not the only indigenous community affected by state measures. Another well-known case involves the Sgaw Karen community in Ban Klang, Mae Mo, Lampang, which has a long history of defending their rotational farming practice since the declaration of Tham Pha Thai National Park 30 years ago—the same park causing problems for Ban Mae San. Their struggle saw partial success with a Cabinet Resolution on August 3, 2010, which placed their land and traditional way of life under government protection.

Under the military government led by Gen Prayut Chan-o-cha, indigenous rights have been severely eroded. One significant case is the enforced disappearance in 2014of Porlajee ‘Billy’ Rakchongcharoen, who fought for the rights of the Karen community in an area later designated as Kaeng Krachan National Park. Villagers have faced legal action, harassment, and land confiscation, including the case of Saengdeuan Tinyo in Lampang, whose land was seized after being declared a forest reserve.

Indigenous communities, along with advocacy groups, are building a coalition to advance the agenda for indigenous rights. As a member of the Ban Dong Subdistrict Administrative Organization in Ban Mae San, Natthanon has compiled recommendations for the government to prevent further impacts on rotational farming.

Natthanon points out that the Cabinet resolution of 3 August 2010, while significant, is not enough to safeguard the rights and cultural practices of ethnic minorities and indigenous peoples, especially when it comes to rotational farming. Government officials often emphasize laws, which are viewed as having greater authority than Cabinet resolutions.

Furthermore, although the Ministry of Culture recognized 'rotational farming' as part of the national cultural heritage in 2013, and the 2024 Promotion and Protection of the Way of Life of Ethnic Groups Act has already been passed by Parliament, these steps alone do not ensure that the Karen can return to rotational farming with full confidence.

The regulations affecting the lives of Karen communities fall under the Ministry of Natural Resources and Environment, particularly through the 2019 National Parks Act and the 1964 National Reserved Forests Act. These laws need to be revised to align with the forthcoming Promotion and Protection of the Way of Life of Ethnic Groups Act, especially to accommodate exceptions or specific provisions for rotational farming.

“The state wants us to follow the law; the state must also make the law protect us,” said Natthanon, “because we were here before these laws existed. And we have already proved how splendidly rotational farming methods under a changing environment have preserved 29 square kilometres of forest land alongside the Karen of Ban Mae San.”