Escaping Burma: Voices of the Displaced

“No one wants to join the army, and we don’t have the money to pay them,” shared Sai Suntimar, a 35-year-old man, describing life in Shan State, Burma (Myanmar). The region falls under the authority of the Shan State Army-North (SSA-N) and its political wing, the Shan State Progressive Party (SSPP), a large and well-equipped ethnic armed organization (EAO) currently in a ceasefire with the Burmese junta. Instead of resisting the generals who seized power in a 2021 coup, the SSPP wages a war of repression against civilians, imposing unbearable hardships through heavy taxation and forced conscription.

Recently, the SSPP demanded that the village headman provide 10 new recruits or pay 10 million kyat (about $4,500), threatening severe consequences if the demand was not met. “The only option left is to flee this area and find a place that is not under their control,” the headman said. 

The war in Burma is not new. Fighting first began in 1948, shortly after Burma gained independence from Britain, as ethnic minorities were excluded from the new government. Ethnic groups such as the Karen, Shan, Karenni, and Wa opposed central government control and resource extraction from their territories. Over time, the conflict has spread to include other ethnic minorities among the country’s 135 officially recognized groups, such as the Pa-O, Kachin, Chin, and Ta’ang. Although the intensity of the war has fluctuated, it has never ceased, persisting through successive regimes led by the Bamar ethnic majority.

In 2021, General Min Aung Hlaing overthrew the democratically elected government of Aung San Suu Kyi, triggering a full-blown civil war. Over the past four years, the conflict, once largely confined to ethnic states, has expanded to include the Bamar majority and urban dwellers, with an estimated 120 resistance armies now active across the country. The war has caused widespread suffering: in many regions, schools and universities remain closed, the economy and currency have collapsed, public services are disrupted, and crime has surged in urban areas as desperation grows. The internet has been out for months in many regions, and approximately 3.5 million people have become internally displaced. 

Myanmar's worsening humanitarian crisis has placed it among the top three countries on the IRC’s 2025 Emergency Watchlist. Nearly 900,000 people were forced to flee their homes in 2024 alone. The healthcare system has been devastated, with over 1,500 attacks on health facilities recorded since 2021, and cholera outbreaks have overwhelmed the fragile infrastructure. Compounding these issues, natural disasters such as cyclones and floods continue to ravage the country.

Humanitarian efforts face significant challenges, as violence against aid workers and bureaucratic restrictions have limited assistance to only a small portion of the 23 million people struggling with food insecurity. Internally displaced people, among the most vulnerable, lack UN protection and are often cut off from external aid due to government-imposed barriers.

Escaping violence and hardship, countless people have fled Burma, with the majority seeking refuge in Thailand. The Burmese ethnic population in Thailand, particularly among the Shan and Karen communities, is estimated to exceed 3 million, with as many as 5,000 new arrivals each day.

Sai Seng Khur, a 35-year-old man from Laikha Township, shared alarming details about the worsening conditions in his hometown. Criminal activity, human trafficking, and drug-related issues have become rampant, largely driven by the operations of a Chinese gang in the area. According to Sai Seng, the Shan Border Guard Force (BGF) 758—a local militia currently in a ceasefire with the junta—and the State Administration Council (SAC), the junta’s government, are providing protection to the gang, which has established a call center in their controlled territory. The gang is involved in producing yaba (a form of methamphetamine), opium, gambling, online gambling, telephone scams, human trafficking, sex work, and illegal weapons trading.

According to Sai Seng Khur, since the gang’s arrival, the cost of goods in the area has doubled, and many young people have abandoned farming to join the gang, lured by the promise of high salaries. Meanwhile, the Shan State Army-North (SSA-N) and the United Wa State Army (UWSA) are also active in the region. The SSA-N has been aggressively recruiting soldiers and imposing heavy taxes on locals, while the UWSA, one of the world’s largest narcotrafficking organizations, continues its illicit activities in the area.

These combined pressures have forced many rural residents to flee their homes in search of safety. At the same time, traveling in the region has become dangerous due to widespread robberies and theft, further deepening the insecurity for those who remain. Those willing to take the risk try to escape to neighboring Thailand. 

Pa Mya, 49, shared her story of how she and her family recently arrived at a refugee camp in Wiang Haeng, northern Thailand. Her eldest son, Sai La Maung, was forced to join the Shan State Army-South (SSA-S) in 2017 and remains with them. Her second son, a monk since age 13, moved to Thailand three years ago, while her youngest, 15-year-old Ying Charm Pao, still lives with her.

When their village came under the control of the Shan State Army-North (SSA-N) and the United Wa State Army (UWSA), soldiers inspected household registrations and questioned her about her sons. “They became angry when they learned my eldest son was with the SSA-S, their enemy,” she explained. Despite her efforts to clarify, the soldiers gave her an ultimatum: her second son must leave the monkhood to join their forces, or either her daughter or she herself would have to enlist. Unable to comply, the family fled to Thailand.

Both the junta’s army and several ethnic armed organizations (EAOs) officially set the conscription age at 18 for boys and girls. However, in practice, children as young as 14 are forcibly recruited, often taken off the streets or pulled from public transportation and placed into military service.

Owen, now 15 and living in Thailand, shared his story. “I was 11 when the coup happened. My dad and the whole family, except me because I was too young, were protesting. After they found out about my dad’s protests, they started trying to catch me for the army.”

Like many, Owen and his family were forced to flee multiple times within Burma before eventually reaching Thailand. At first, they moved to another village. “But after that, they went after my dad again, so we had to flee to Karenni State. We stayed there for over a year,” he said. During that time, his father became a captain in the People’s Defense Force (PDF). Despite his age, Owen trained with the PDF and occasionally stood guard with an AK-47. Eventually, his mother’s concerns for the family’s safety led his father to step down from his role in the PDF, and the family fled to Thailand. “Now he’s living a normal life, fixing motorcycles in Bangkok,” Owen said.

The war has devastated livelihoods, stolen childhoods, crushed the dreams of young adults, and claimed countless lives. Mawi, a 22-year-old from Chin State, shared her story of becoming a refugee in Thailand. “A Sunday school teacher I know was arrested for protesting, and so were some of my school friends,” she recounted. “One of my friends joined the Chinland Defense Forces (CDF) and was shot. My sister was arrested for three months, and more than five people from villages I know lost their lives protesting.”

Once in Thailand, Burmese refugees are safe from the war, but life remains challenging. Of the several million Burmese in Thailand, only about 100,000 are recognized as refugees under UN guidelines. These individuals live in camps where they receive food, physical security, and education for their children. However, they are not on a path to citizenship, nor are they allowed to leave the camps or work legally.

The majority of Burmese in Thailand have no legal status at all. Without ID cards or work permits, they are forced to work illegally, often as laborers on farms, in hotels, or on construction sites, leaving them vulnerable to exploitation and the constant threat of deportation.

In addition to struggling to survive while avoiding police and immigration officials, many Burmese refugees suffer from post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). Owen recalled, “When we lived in Yangon, I was a happy kid.” But after his family fled to Karenni State, his world changed. “Everyone was telling me to grow up because I kept crying during training,” he said, describing the emotional toll of his experiences. He also witnessed the horrors of war firsthand. “I’ve seen people die in front of my eyes. When I was 11, I was traumatized for a few years.” Beyond the trauma of what he saw, he lived in constant fear. “You have to worry about bombing... every second, every minute, every hour. Every night.”

Despite the harsh realities of war and the ongoing challenges in Thailand, some young Burmese remain hopeful. Some have enrolled in church-sponsored American GED programs, allowing them to earn high school equivalency diplomas that are accepted for admission to Thai universities. When asked about his future, Owen shared, “My future? After I finish GED, I’m aiming to go to Chiang Mai University or Payap University.”

Mawi is working as a teacher for Burmese children. She, too, dreams of a brighter future. “My future goal is to study in the U.S. I’m applying for a visa now,” she said, adding that she hopes to pursue a degree in English or international relations. 

Sadly, hopeful stories among refugees are far outnumbered by accounts of lives completely shattered. In the unofficial camps along the Thai border, refugees live in bamboo huts or makeshift shelters of plastic tarps, with little to no outside support. Parents take occasional work when available, but much of the time they have nothing to do and very little to eat. Many of their children are out of school, spending their days playing along the dusty paths of the camps. With the war showing no signs of ending, there is little reason to believe their children’s futures will be any brighter than their bleak present. And every day, more people cross the border, clinging to the hope of simply staying alive.