The Resurgence of the Heritage of Indigenous Peoples of Thailand in the Aftermath of Development

Introduction

In 2000, Thailand’s 38 non-Thai ethnic groups comprised roughly 2 per cent (1.1 million) of the population of the country. These groups come from different backgrounds with various connections to China, Laos, Vietnam or Myanmar. As a result, Thailand is an area of intricate ethno-linguistic and ethno-cultural diversity. This study focuses mainly on the northern region of Thailand, where the so-called ‘hill tribes’ are located. The nine ethnic groups recognized as ‘hill tribes’ are the Hmong, Mien, Lahu, Lisu, Akha, Karen, Lawa, Htin and Khamu. According to Schliesinger (2000), the term ‘hill tribes’ does not provide a solid definition as many of these groups used to live in the plains and were forced to seek refuge in the mountains after being pushed away from other regions. Moreover, the term is pejorative in nature as it refers to a specific lifestyle and culture deemed ‘inferior’ and does not simply describe populations by geographic or topographic location. I also consider the term ‘ethnic minority’ inappropriate in this case, especially because the term ‘minority’ elides the socio-political power that these groups do (or could) possess. Therefore, these ethnic groups are referred to as ‘indigenous peoples’. The term ‘indigenous peoples’ does not denote an essential type or category of peoples, but refers to a specific problem or condition of social injustice that is consequence of colonialism (Jansen & Pérez Jiménez, 2017). In accordance with the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples, the concept of ‘indigenous peoples’ applies to peoples that do not yet enjoy, as a collective or as individuals, all rights and fundamental freedoms as recognized in the Universal Declaration of Human Rights; lack peace and security as persons and as distinct peoples; face severe limitations in practising and revitalizing their cultural traditions and customs, as well as in maintaining, protecting and developing the past, present and future manifestations of their culture within their country; are exposed to a lack of education that takes into account their own linguistic and cultural identity; generally suffer discriminatory conditions in labour, employment and salary; are excluded from decision-making in matters that affect their rights; their economic and social conditions are inadequate; suffer the lack of respect for the distinctive spiritual relationship they may have with traditionally owned or otherwise occupied and used lands; have to live in an environment that is insufficiently attended to, preserved and protected; do not have guarantees for maintaining, controlling, protecting and developing their cultural heritage and traditional knowledge; cannot participate freely in the determination and development of priorities and strategies for the development or use of their lands or territories; their own determination of identity or membership in accordance with customs and traditions is not taken into account; state authorities do not adequately consult nor collaborate with (Jansen & Pérez Jiménez, 2017, p. 29–32).

The aforementioned indigenous peoples are divided into small localized groups and may be additionally subdivided by different dialects, tribal relationships, geographical location and social structure; some of them may have few things in common. This diversity is reflected in their unique cultures, from costumes and arts to beliefs and rituals. Nevertheless, they may also comprise a wider group by their similarities in subsistence agricultural practices, values and kinship with nature (Schliesinger, 2000).

The objective of this preliminary research was to assess the state of conservation of indigenous peoples’ cultural heritages, major problems which affect them and how indigenous peoples have been trying to tackle these issues from a bottom-up perspective.

Methodology and Theoretical Framework

The study was conducted in 2016 during a three-month internship at SEAMEO-SPAFA Regional Centre for Archaeology and Fine Arts in Bangkok, Thailand. This study was constrained by several factors, including time, budget and language. However, it was possible to conduct a broad survey on indigenous peoples and the issues they are facing through a literature review on their cultures and traditions, natural resource management policy and national parks-related publications, and through a short period of fieldwork in the cities of Chiang Mai and Chiang Rai, Doi Suthep–Pui National Park, and several museums.

State Policy and Development Measures

For decades, the Government of Thailand has been promoting measures to foster the social and economic development of indigenous peoples. In general, these measures included the integration of indigenous peoples into Thai society. However, these development measures were based on a profit-oriented economy that must comply with the exigencies of a capitalist market; further, they do not respect indigenous peoples world views and traditions, such as growing new cash crops, participating in ecotourism, manufacturing handicrafts for sale, and activities of a socio-political nature such as participating in the Thai education system and learning the Thai language (Buergin, 2001; Crooker, 2007; Lasimbang & Luithui, 2006).

The Thai state considered indigenous peoples as problematic due to their opium cultivations, ‘destructive’ agricultural practices and perceived susceptibility to communist mobilization. With the support from the USA, the Tribal Research Institute (TRI) was established as a tool to better deal with what would then become known as the ‘hill tribe problems’. The objective was to carry out anthropological research in order to better understand the tribes and to give recommendations to the Department of Public Welfare for implementing additional measures regarding these ‘problems’. Clearly, the primary intentions were connected to issues of ‘national security’ and not so much with academic research. Proof that the TRI operated essentially to tackle the ‘hill tribes’ problems’ is that after the national security problems were resolved, the TRI was initially transferred to another ministry—the Ministry for Labour and Social Welfare—in 1993, which would be in charge of the integration process until it was finally dissolved in 2002. Allegedly, the reasons for its termination were that indigenous peoples had ‘become Thai’, and thus it was pointless to proceed with the research. Also, it seems to have caused more of an impact on foreign scholars and tourists than on locals, government policies or even Thai scholars (Buadaeng, 2006).

Another issue which clearly affected indigenous peoples in Thailand was the collection of government policies related to natural resources management, land ownership and wildlife preservation. Instruments such as the Forest Act of 1941, which reinforced state ownership over forest land and continued a process that had already began in 1896 with the creation of the Royal Forest Department. According to this Act, any portion of land which is not legally acquired or possessed is considered ‘forest’ and consequently falls under State ownership. This has obvious impacts on indigenous peoples’ access to land and resources as it considers their subsistence activities within the forest to be illegal (Lasimbang & Luithui, 2006).

The National Park Act of 1961 deserves a more in-depth analysis, as it is identified as one of the most regularly used laws in arresting indigenous peoples. Based on the USA’s national parks model, this act introduced the Western concept of protection of forests into Thailand. In this formulation, parks were established to protect the natural environment, especially extraordinary and aesthetically pleasant elements, for future generations, particularly for educational and recreational purposes, and not for the preservation and sustainable use of resources. Together with the National Reserved Forest Act of 1964, the National Park Act of 1961 forms the basis for the determination, control and maintenance of protected areas in Thailand. Due to these regulations, no person is allowed to possess, exploit or inhabit the land. This means the sustainable practices and lifestyle of indigenous peoples are considered harmful to the forests and they in effect become illegal encroachers on their own lands (Lasimbang & Luithui, 2006).

The ideology of an incompatibility between humans and forests is dominant in conservation policies in Thailand. This dualism is further seen with the introduction of the Western heritage notion through the World Heritage Convention. The combination of both turned out to be disastrous to indigenous peoples as existent conflicts increased and new ones were triggered. One of the earliest and preeminent examples is the Thungyai-Huai Kha Khaeng Wildlife Sanctuary. After its nomination as a World Heritage Site in 1991, it became inevitable that the Karen communities living in that territory would draw more attention and concern. The Royal Forest Department and the military were already fighting against the Karen to protect the forests by applying the countries’ policy of exclusion. The Karen, who had been living in that territory for more than 200 years, see it not only as an ancestral land but also as a sacred place. However, in the nomination, the ‘outstanding universal value’ of the wildlife sanctuary is justified by its extraordinary high levels of biodiversity and its integrity; that is to say, it was perceived as ‘undisturbed nature’. Despite this characterization, as stated by Buergin (2001), the Karen were defined as a threat to the sanctuary and their resettlement was announced.

This case study reframes heritage as a political act aimed at exploiting certain nationalist and cultural interests. More specifically, it seems this act was concerned with justifying and pushing through territorial claims and control over resources and local people, which other Western concepts of conservationism had already started. However, this is not the only case where indigenous peoples are omitted from nominations of World Heritage sites and suffer from the subsequent consequences. Rather this appears to be a consistent practice around the globe, visible in Thailand in other nominations such as Kaeng Krachan Forest Complex. This site, which has been on the World Heritage Tentative List since 2015, has received numerous complaints of human rights abuses (Cultural Survivor, Network of Indigenous Peoples in Thailand, & Asia Indigenous Peoples Pact, 2015).

All of the aforementioned measures clearly reflect three major socio-political features which intersect with heritage practices or use heritage as a tool for its implementation.

First, Thailand has an ethnocratic regime—that is, one ethnic group holds control of the state and uses this to maintain its ethnic identity at the expense of the other groups within the state (Collins, 2000). This identity can be reinforced through certain cultural attributes such as language or through the symbolic nomination of monuments, landscapes or natural elements, as heritage of the nation, excluding all other dissenting narratives. Naming the country ‘Thailand’ is one such symbolic act which highlights the supposed oneness of Thai ethnic and national identity. The definition of Thai-ness also includes following the precepts of Buddhism and the monarchy, as well as respecting a defined pattern of livelihood—in which swidden cultivation is not included—and residence—in the valleys instead of the forest and mountains—deemed as civilized (Buergin, 2001). In this sense, on the subject of heritage, Thailand can further be defined as what Ashworth, Graham, and Tunbridge (2007, pp. 76–79) termed a ‘melting-pot society’; that is, a state that established certain assimilatory or integrationist norms in order to produce a single core set of values. Both of the aforementioned development policies and heritage nominations are prominent examples, as also stated by Choomgrant (2015).

Second, the subordinate position of indigenous peoples within the Thai state generated a weaker sense of national identity and created a stronger sense of regional consciousness, contradicting the state’s ideas and objectives of socioeconomic development measures. As stated by Brown (1994, p. 168), this is a crucial element in the definition of internal colonialism. He further refers to such policies as ‘an attempt to restore a traditional dependency relationship between the ethnic minorities and the state’.

Lastly, such measures can be considered as an act of cultural genocide; that is to say, there seems to be an intentional destruction or undermining of indigenous peoples’ cultures and values which ultimately define them, and give them a sense of integrity and identity. Cultural genocide is the suppression of traditions and livelihoods according to indigenous people’s world views and conceptions of a good life, which results in the loss of self-esteem and sense of belonging. These attitudes are further reflected in education programmes, missionary actions and physical violence such as military pressure or resettlement (Kingston, 2005).

The combination of these three features has undermined indigenous peoples’ rights by restricting access to land, citizenship, education, health services and economic opportunities, which inevitably affect their livelihoods and cultures. As indigenous peoples are seen as either peripheral or otherwise as obstacles to the project of biodiversity conservation or as culprits in its destruction, conservation efforts have disempowered indigenous peoples, undermining any local autonomy and harmony they might possess. Either dominantly economic, social or political, the consequences of such ‘development’ measures are all interconnected and have resulted in a chain reaction of cultural loss including the breakdown of the traditional land use systems and the significance of rituals and ceremonies associated with these. In trying to increase productivity, cash-cropping or wage labour in the cities are the usual solutions. This increasing market orientation leads to their own de-legitimization as indigenous peoples with sustainable practices and living in harmony with nature. As reported by the Hilltribe Museum in Chiang Rai, to pay for debts resulted from lack of productivity, children are being offered to traders and then sold to third parties; this has resulted in a host of other issues, including prostitution, a rise in drug addictions and sexually transmitted diseases (STDs).

Heritage and the Politics of Recognition

In this section, I will address how indigenous peoples are using their heritage not only to build a sense of identity and community in connection to the surrounding environment but also to challenge the ways in which heritage and conservation are employed by the state. Heritage is thus used ‘from below’ for a positive social change and not as imposition of an ideal.

It has been recognized that heritage can be a form of social action, in that culture is recognized as having a rhetorical quality, and is not the simple accumulation of certain practices but also an active process of use and revitalization (Harrison, 2010; Lafrenz Samuels, 2015; Marques Miranda, 2019). Furthermore, as will be demonstrated, it is used by communities to appeal to social justice, in the struggle for self-determination and legitimation of their cultures and identities. As Lafrenz Samuels (2015, p. 7) states, ‘the past is mobilized in the present: it becomes (…) a competing narrative for making strategic moves in broader struggles’. In the case of indigenous peoples in Northern Thailand, heritage has an increasing role in the struggles for the recognition of excluded narratives and marginalized identities.

As previously mentioned, the creation of a stronger sense of regional consciousness due to internal colonialism generated an environment of contestation in which heritage plays a crucial role. I present here three examples in which this aspect is evident.

The first case is related to the reconstruction of Hmong identity. Contesting their definition of low culture and forest encroachers, both by the government and Thai ethnic groups, the Hmong living at Doi Inthanon National Park in Chiang Mai created a network comprised of 36 villages to tackle shared problems in agriculture, environment and culture. As Hmong attitudes and belief systems promote nature conservation and sustainable use of resources, it was necessary to create a strategy to demonstrate to Thai society that the pejorative image of the Hmong was based on ethnic and cultural differences and not on concrete proof (Hengsuwan, 2003).

The Dong Seng ritual, used continuously by the Hmong for the last 400 years, is now also used with this objective. Dong Seng is a ritual sacrifice to the gods which are believed to inhabit the trees in order to protect the village and its inhabitants. In order to prevent god’s wrath, any kind of disturbance in the Dong Seng area is forbidden, such as cutting trees or hunting animals. However, the Dong Seng is not only part of the belief system but is also a practical idea for forest conservation in Hmong culture. As previously mentioned, such non-use taboos are common in forest areas considered sacred by indigenous peoples (Colding & Folke, 2001).

However, the most surprising aspect in this case is that the majority of Hmong villages had already abandoned the ritual. Just like the Thai government identified and restored specific monuments which had already lost their practical functions as representatives of the Thai culture and nation, the Hmong revived the Dong Seng ritual to show their connection with nature. The network also actively used a ceremony called Fe Yeng, which aims to prevent wildfires reaching villages and agricultural areas, and Teng Hao De, which is aimed at pacifying the spirits believed to inhabit water bodies. What is more significant is the fact that although this rituals and ceremonies were traditionally performed in a community environment, nowadays the National Park officials are invited to attend these practices in order to understand that the Hmong are traditionally concerned with nature conservation. This denotes the Hmong are well aware of the symbolism their cultural practices entail and its power to fight prejudice (Hengsuwan, 2003).

The second case is of a very similar nature and relates to the Karen living in the Thung Yai Naresuan Wildlife Sanctuary. Suffering from the same kind of denigration as the Hmong, the Karen started using their heritage as a persuasive element to show their sustainable traditional knowledge and their harmonious way of living with nature. As Boonchai (2003, p. 7) reported, an annual festive ritual originally restricted within the community became a public event to communicate their identity to outsiders; that is to say, state authorities and Thai ethnic people. Furthermore, studies were conducted to recover the community’s self-esteem which turned the Karen in the sanctuary into a centre of culture and tradition. This act was so influential that other Karen communities around the country invited those of Thung Yai Naresuan to come to their villages to revive and conduct rituals that had not been practiced for a long time (Boonchai, 2003).

In both cases, rituals acted as a community performance to demarcate a territory in space and time. Such symbolic territory is created for ‘us’, those with a shared communal identity, in opposition to the ‘others’, those with competing world views and beliefs. Koster (2003) also refers to this act as inherently aggressive. This is reflected in the practice of building one’s ‘sacred space’ on top of some other group’s sacred space. However, this practice does not necessarily imply physical violence. Using legal instruments to demarcate a territory can be as effective as destroying or building something else on top of it. By considering forests as protected areas and declaring its ownership, the Thai state sent a clear message to indigenous peoples inhabiting those areas. Consequently, contestation would be natural. According to Koster (2003), regenerating rituals is one of the forms to cope with fear, exclusion and hostility, and these are inserted in a context of struggle with ‘the enemy’, in this case to get its approval.

The third case relates to the Ban Jalae community museum. Ban Jalae is a traditional Lahu village located 22 kilometres from the city of Chiang Rai. The village is also surrounded by other Akha, Lahu and Mien villages. Like in other cases, restrictions on land use are forcing people to work in the city. This exodus is causing discontinuity in the Lahu culture as young generations reject their traditional lifestyle in the forest.

The Ban Jalae museum was constructed by the community with the objective of tackling the issue of cultural loss and to find sustainable sources of income for the village. The museum displays several objects of the various indigenous peoples around the village, such as agricultural and woven tools, musical instruments, household and other everyday life typical objects. The Ban Jalae Museum expresses the desires of the community to instil pride in their identity and to transmit it to young generations. The symbolic role of heritage in representing the communities’ identity and the way communities address the topic of development is evident and the essential purpose of its creation. Harrison and Hughes (2010, pp. 248–249) have addressed similar cases in Kenya in which community-led museums and sites of memory work as a tool to assert communities’ rights to heritage, culture and territory, and where heritage is a new form of struggle used to challenge state systems of knowledge and power.

Indigenous peoples are embracing the concept of the museum and adapting it to suit their own cultural and social needs. Museums can become more relevant to the communities as they are representing and contributing to community regeneration by tackling exclusion. As Crooke (2006, p. 171) states, by ‘moving away from the grand narrative by giving greater recognition to local and community histories’, they are challenging the traditional concept of museum born in the West.

These cases demonstrate that heritage not only plays a role in negotiating and legitimizing political and cultural claims but also that this is essentially a dissonant process used in asserting certain cultural values of indigenous peoples over non-indigenous or colonial values. As Smith (2006, pp. 297–298) concludes,

the political work that heritage does in legitimizing and delegitimizing Indigenous cultural identity is a role that is fundamental to the heritage process generally. Both subaltern and authorized heritage discourses work in similar ways to grant or withhold power to other conceptualizations of identity and social and cultural experiences. These discourses compete with each other for authority and legitimacy, so that the meanings about the past and present they represent are validated, and this in turn will help to validate present social and cultural experiences.

Finally, it is necessary that both academics and professionals involved in heritage management, broadly understood, change their attitude towards indigenous peoples. This is an essential first step in decolonizing their representation in the most diverse disciplines so historically charged with racist and colonialist approaches, terminologies and outputs. Museums should not represent indigenous peoples’ cultures as static and exotic (Marques Miranda & Acuña Suárez, 2018), archaeologists must recognize that indigenous peoples have legitimate interests in the ‘archaeological record’, policymakers have to understand that there are disastrous consequences to the promotion, for touristic purposes, of indigenous peoples’ cultures as ‘intangible’ and ‘traditional’ (Marques Miranda, 2019).

A decolonizing methodology should be founded in a research design that recognizes and promotes the rights of indigenous peoples, cooperates with indigenous experts and communities, deconstructs colonial notions, focuses on cultural continuity and intercultural equality, aims cultural heritage at the continuation, dignification and validation of culture and traditional knowledge, and re-establishes a connection between the past and the present, between a community and its heritage. Such an approach does not only address the remains of the past, what has been traditionally understood as heritage from a Western point of view, but also the value these have for communities in constructing and maintaining a sense of identity and belonging within the contemporary social struggles. On the other hand, a good dose of self-criticism about the role of academics and professionals in society is also needed to expand the horizons of the disciplines (Acuña Suárez & Marques Miranda, 2019; Jansen & Pérez Jiménez, 2017).

Conclusion

Ironically, the increasing restrictions on land and natural resources imposed by the state made indigenous peoples more aware of their own identity and set the foundations to its strengthening. After decades of subjugation, violence, poverty and exclusion, results of so-called ‘development’ measures, indigenous peoples still find the resilience necessary to revitalize and reinforce their cultures. It is this resurgence through the valorization and revival of their heritage which I would like to highlight with this work.

The fact that reviving their heritage practices was one of the first steps to gain rights over their lands, and to reconfigure their identity and state’s perception and attitude towards them, is representative of the persuasive character of heritage. By relying on their connections with their lands and traditions, such endeavours as those taken by the Hmong, the Karen and the Lahu, emphasize not only their shared values as separate groups but also as indigenous peoples as a whole. That is to say, by suffering from the same problems, they were able to create a stronger and broader collective memory in which Ban Jalae museum is paradigmatic.

Heritage practices can be seen as a crucial tool in reinforcing communities’ identities, creating bonds between old and new generations, and increasing self-esteem and sense of belonging both among the community and its land. By showing that their traditional practices are sustainable and their traditional knowledge is viable and significant, despite not being considered by many as ‘scientific’, and by reaffirming their spiritual connections with nature, indigenous peoples are claiming their rights and participation in states’ policy.

However, this will certainly be a difficult path as the current governmental situation in Thailand might give continuity and reinforce such politics and attitudes towards indigenous peoples as those mentioned in this article. As shown by recent developments, the military-led authoritarianism and heavy-handed rule is unlikely to disappear in the near future, and restrictive measures and human rights abuses may be expected.

Those involved in heritage management can certainly play a crucial role in protecting the rights of indigenous peoples by adopting a work methodology that includes, respects, represents and collaborates with marginalized and disempowered communities.