At dusk, Sangchan Thavornchaiyaphum (Am) stands on a jungle ridge and scans the horizon, her eyes darting from one bare hilltop to another. She points to one clearing and says solemnly, “That was our village, full of life. All quiet now.” She points to another hilltop, then another, her fingers curling into a fist and her eyes filling with tears.
“We’ve been evicted again, and again, and again. All the way down the mountain. I’ve never known justice. Never felt it in my life. I only know the feeling of oppression and violation. We are people with nowhere left to run.”
Am’s story is not unique. She is a member of the Tha Woe community in Chaiyaphum province, in Thailand’s rural Isaan region. She’s one of thousands upon thousands of farmers across the country forced off their land by the government, through an impossibly complex web of policies reclaiming agricultural land as protected forests, national parks or ‘industrial forests’ producing lumber and cash crops. And with no official documentation to prove their ownership, these villagers often have very little legal recourse – let alone understanding of government policy – to fight back.
But this is the work of Isan Land Reform Network (ILRN), a coalition of 36 communities spearheaded by passionate, local activists, fighting for the rights and lives of small-scale farmers. Since 2006, ILRN has provided legal aid and representation, research and documentation to help these communities defend their lands and resources. And, critically, they’ve built a die-hard sense of solidarity among their member communities.
“ILRN gives me the courage to keep fighting. They are more than advisors, more than guides. They are our siblings. They share in our success, and they share in our suffering. They give us strength, confidence, and resilience,” Am says. “And we trust them as if they were our own blood.”
In some cases, they are. ILRN’s professional and volunteer team all hail from these local communities; their fight for land rights is personal.
Tha Woe villagers’ lists of government abuses span back decades. One example came in 2014, when dozens of them were called to a meeting by Thai Royal Forestry Department officers and informed they would be evicted from their homes and farmland due to re-zoning as a protected forest, where agricultural work would be illegal. They signed an attendance sheet, but they’d been tricked: the form was altered to state that they’d given up their farmland as well. Some, like Am, were forced to demolish their own homes, amid threats of jailtime or fines. Another round of forced evictions came in 2020.
Today, ILRN is collecting data to defend Tha Woe’s use of their land, citing a window of years which should exclude their land from the reclaimed forest land. They’ve successfully advocated against the arrest of Tha Woe villagers for ‘trespassing’ in their own homes. But villagers are still barred from farming the land that once sustained their families.
“This is not just a fight for land. It’s a fight for justice. Access to our land is a human right, and our rights have been violated for too many years,” says 25-year-old Jiraporn Rawangpao, who villagers call “Little Am.” “So I’m fighting for my daughter. I’m fighting for my family. And for all of my community who should be enjoying the fruits of our land, not slaving away as wage workers, serving someone else.”
Unable to access her farmland, the elder Am now works from midnight until dawn on a rubber plantation. She lives in a small hut on the edge of the jungle, about eight miles from her family’s original land. When she finally sleeps after sunrise, she returns to that home in her dreams.
“In my dreams, I can go anytime. I hear the birds, and I have no fear,” she says, standing back on that ridge. “I was born with this land in my blood. I have been evicted so many times, but I stand firm. This is my home. You cannot take that away from me. You cannot separate me from the fresh, pure air here. The deep and wide jungle. Not many people can call this home. Despite it all, I know I am blessed.”