Indigenous People defend their traditional practice as authorities impose restrictions on rotational farming. Photo from Prachatai, a content partner of Global Voices.

This article by Ratcha Satitsongtham was originally published by Prachatai, an independent news site in Thailand. An edited version has been republished by Global Voices under a content-sharing agreement.

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 recent years, between January and April,  residents of Bangkok and northern Thailand have struggled to breathe due to high levels of pollution in the air. As the Air quality index can reach 150 and even 200 AQI during these months — levels deemed unsafe for humans — anti-pollution masks have become essential. 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 practiced reveals a more nuanced picture.

Sowing seeds

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 kilometers, according to the Northern Development Foundation. Approximately 40 percent of this area, or 12-square kilometers, is dedicated to rotational farming, with the remaining land used for conservation, spiritual activities, and other purposes. Natthanon Lapma, a resident of Ban Mae San, explained how they use the land:

We make a living. We follow the system laid down by our ancestors. 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 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.

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 labor 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.

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 seven 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 flavor 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 four to five meters. It is not only a major source of income and a way to track their harvest cycle but also serves as proof to the government that the recovering land is ready to be used.

State repression

The Pwo Karen at Ban Mae San have traditionally maintained a simple lifestyle, relying on reciprocity between people and natural 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. Natthanon shared the villagers’ concerns:

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? 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.

Prohibition on burning

Another problematic measure is the prohibition on burning. The government stated that the burning ban is necessary to mitigate the pollution that arises from burning, which can release dangerous 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.

Far from being a solution, the prohibition on burning has seemingly worsened the problem. Somkit Thittha, village head of Ban Mae San, explained:

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. 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.

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.

Advocacy for change

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.

The struggle of Indigenous People saw partial success with a Cabinet Resolution on August 3, 2010, which placed their land and traditional way of life under government protection.

Natthanon points out that the Cabinet resolution of August 3, 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.

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