CHIANG MAI, Thailand , January 28 (IPS) – From construction and hotel workers to kitchen and restaurant staff—estimates of the numbers of Myanmar migrants living in Thailand range up to six million, with a surge of new arrivals since the 2021 military coup.
Many are building new lives in the vast metropolis of Bangkok, ranked by the UN among the world’s top 15 “megacities,” as Thailand hungrily soaks up a pool of cheap labour.
But it is Chiang Mai in northern Thailand that has drawn large numbers of Myanmar intellectuals, activists, and ex-fighters and also defectors, forming the core of a resistance in exile supporting those fighting the junta inside Myanmar.
The two communities —Thai and Myanmar—have long shared cultural and social ties. In 1558 Chiang Mai’s famed Lanna kingdom fell for more than two centuries under the rule of Burma’s Toungoo empire, its dynasty stretching at times from India to China and across to Cambodia.
In more recent times, Chiang Mai has evolved into a hub for Myanmar exiles. An early wave of newcomers found refuge to regroup after the military’s crackdown on student-led protests in 1988. Now senior members of the parallel National Unity Government, set up by elected lawmakers ousted in the 2021 coup, move in and out.
However, beneath the surface calm of what is often described as Thailand’s most beautiful city, beloved by tourists, life is far from easy for migrants and activists existing on the edge of legality.
Here some of these exiles recount to IPS their personal experiences, their resilience in a brutal civil war, and the future.
AUGUST MO* (LGBTQ activist, former prisoner, born in monsoon rains)
“I came to Chiang Mai after six months in prison. I had a long rap sheet for my political activities. I joined the Spring Revolution against the military, did fundraising and fought in Mon state. I’m an artist and paint portraits and places and make money to support refugees. Our village was torched by the military and we ran away.
“I was caught by soldiers at a checkpoint. Prison was very bad—terrifying. There are three prison sections—for men, women and gays. I was sent to the gay section. Every day at 6pm we were used by the officers as sex workers. I can’t talk about it. There were no condoms or medicine. There is too much HIV among the prisoners. We were forced by the officers. I was tested in Chiang Mai. I am okay. We were slaves under their control. We ate spinach with worms and bugs. We got no treatment when we were sick, 14 to a cell.
“In prison, there were so many flies, mosquitoes, cockroaches, and worms. There is no toilet. If you want to pee or poo, you just go to the corner and take it out each morning for fertiliser.
“A friend with military connections helped me buy my way out for 100 LAK (USD 2,500). My mother sold our home for me to get to Chiang Mai. Here I make money and send it back to my family and my second family, the Spring Revolution team. We don’t want war, just peace. But they are not human. The soldiers are brainwashed. They use drugs to fight and have lost their minds; they don’t know right from wrong. They just want the drugs and the military gives them drugs to fight.
“Before the coup, the LGBT community was starting to be more open. That stopped after the coup. In Chiang Mai I was the emcee this month at our LGBT Miss Freedom contest to raise my voice and show the world we want peace and not war.
“I was teaching nuclear physics at a university in Myanmar. If our country’s situation is good, then I would love to teach again.
[August Mo takes out a small wad of Myanmar kyat banknotes]. “My friend who died in the war left it to me: 3,300 kyat [less than USD1]. I keep the money as a memory of my friend.” [Showing a Samsung mobile phone] “From another friend who was killed. I will never sell it.
“I don’t think either side will win or lose this war. We fight for justice. We hope to win. When we have justice, then we will stop fighting. We just want peace, justice and humanity.”
Ngaing Tun Aung* (a military officer who defected to the resistance)
“I was a captain in a military training school in Mandalay. I came to understand this war was not right, but the only thing I could do as a soldier was to defect. It was my only way to support the resistance. I told no friends of my plans because of the danger of being arrested. On social media, I contacted Civil Disobedience Organisations (CDM), and Mother’s Embrace gave me a route to Mae Sot [a Thai border town] and arranged transport: buses and a motorbike from Mandalay and then illegal boats over the Moei River border. I came with others but didn’t know their identities. I stayed in Mae Sot for six months and then came to Chiang Mai. I work now with an organisation to check information from inside Myanmar and I donate food and money to refugees.
“In my opinion, neither side can win the war, neither the military nor the resistance. The military can officially source weapons from Russia, China, and Belarus—the resistance can’t and has to pay more. Some resistance forces are running out of bullets because China is choking supplies. China is decisive now.
“The war will go on for a long time. Resistance organisations are numerous but haven’t been able to unite. The military sees this weakness. Some small resistance groups are now using their weapons to extract money at checkpoints and kidnapping people for extortion.
“I don’t tell people I am a CDM soldier and keep a low profile. I am afraid of my identity being leaked. My snacks business is illegal —under my permit I am supposed to be a construction worker. Informers could hurt my family if they knew.”
Sakura* (on the junta’s notorious wanted list)
“D was the first person I helped to defect. I was already delivering many things to defectors across Myanmar like mobile phones, laptops and clothes, when I got funding from someone in Singapore who contacted me to help a friend’s brother to defect. I arranged his transportation… I didn’t know his skills. He was a captain, but I could only find basic jobs. He did whatever he got, like cleaning work. Some Myanmar treated him badly. I felt very bad. The second was a police defector. I had to arrange everything, all logistics. D got a promotion at a restaurant and called junior staff to join him. The police defector made friends. I tried to connect people and a network formed. It didn’t always work: Jason was a combatant and aggressive and started to abuse other staff at the restaurant… More defectors were arriving, even a major.
“Defectors face issues with ordinary people who don’t trust them and treat them as informers or spies. So I try to form a network among themselves with people of the same background and community. I try to be a safe person for them so they can talk to me. One is 56 years old, much older than me, and he always calls me ‘mommy’ because I look after him.
“In Myanmar a few months after the coup, I joined the Force for Federal Democracy and helped them with fundraising for medicines and supplies. I sent 200 jumpers. Sometimes I get malaria medicine from the Free Burma Rangers. I did lots of fundraising for the People’s defence Forces.
“Two months after the coup, on Armed Forces Day, soldiers opened fire on demonstrators and so many people, over 100, were killed. My cousin was arrested that day in Yangon. I was two blocks away and escaped. That is when I started delivering food packages to political prisoners.
“My future? I thought I would apply for a visa to Europe or somewhere but now I don’t feel confident I can do it alone. I try to survive by myself in Chiang Mai as much as possible. I need to find more work with projects. The Thai visa system is getting complicated—immigration officials are getting tougher.
“When I was young, my grandmother made batches of mont phet htok from sticky rice, coconut and jaggery steamed in banana leaves. All of us and our neighbours would collect them to distribute to the monks. They would come to our village house and share Buddha’s teaching in thanks. I still like to eat them in Chiang Mai. My home was flooded twice by torrential monsoon rains. I lost so many clothes.
“I would love to go back to my country and set up my own tourism company. But I don’t know when that will be possible.”
Htet Myat Phone Naing (university student and son of Soe Moe Naing)
“My family is from Pyay, on the Irrawaddy. My father, Soe Moe Naing, was a well-known businessman and philanthropist, running a free funeral service and providing medical aid, as well as oxygen and blood. He was a famous person in town and worked with the NLD (National League of Democracy) government until the coup. Covid was a tough time. My father was on the list of influential people wanted by the regime. They killed two young protesters in Pyay and we provided the free funeral service and their graves were marked as martyrs of the revolution. The whole town turned out.
“My father was arrested and they shut down his transport business and organisations. He asked to see his family and escaped. He crossed the river and hid for 10 days, moving by boat. But being well known was a problem and he moved closer to Yangon.
“Afterwards, the police came back to our house. I told them I was only 17 and I wanted to be a military pilot. They invited me to their airbase, but we left for Yangon instead. I laugh now, but at the time it was very scary.
“We have nothing left in Pyay. The military seized everything, so you can use our names—we have nothing left to lose.
“My father had a mental breakdown because of the isolation of hiding for months in a Yangon apartment. So my mother treated him by finding ways to fill his time. We bought chopsticks and toothpicks and he made a model of the Eiffel Tower. He didn’t feel how time was passing and he got his mental health back. We left two Eiffel Towers in Yangon and he made a third in Mae Sot and sold it in a lucky draw at a fundraising event. Father now works on other orders like tissue boxes and pen holders and as a waiter for mum. He also draws and paints and took an online drawing class while escaping, given by a CDM teacher who was also on the run.
“I attended a private school in Mae Sot for Burmese migrants. I finished in Chiang Mai and applied to the online university Parami, registered in the US. I got accepted with a full scholarship in 2023 and study statistics and data science for a four-year BA. Mum is running a Pyay food stall, selling special local rice salad—it’s famous.
“Our future is unsure. We have applied for asylum in Australia. It’s so difficult to start new lives in a new place, but we became a chain of people helping each other here.”
*Denotes names chosen by the speakers to protect their identities
IPS UN Bureau Report
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