6 days Ago
The toxic PM2.5 haze is back -- and so is the government's misguided response. As haze blankets the country once again, the government is using the same old solution.
Deputy Prime Minister and Interior Minister Anutin Charnvirakul blames highland farmers and enforces a "zero-burning" policy. But this won't fix the problem. Instead, it creates false sense of security.
Above all, the zero-burning policy indirectly shields big business -- especially corn and sugar plantations -- and causes more damage to the forests. On Jan 29, Mr Anutin announced a three-month nationwide ban on all forms of burning. He threatened to punish governors who allowed fires and to strip state support from farmers who didn't comply.
Arrests followed -- mostly poor, powerless farmers. Many were just practising "rai mun wian", the traditional rotational farming that uses fire responsibly as part of a long-standing ecological system. By criminalising all forms of burning and shutting out those who know the land best, the result is hunger, deeper poverty, uncontrolled wildfires, and heavier workloads for forest communities to protect their homes from the fires.
And of course -- dirtier air for everyone. Indeed, we've seen the failure of the zero-burning policy before. In 2016, a similar two-month zero-burning policy led to dry debris piling up in the forests.
When fires broke out, they were massive and uncontrollable. Highlanders, barred from farming and pushed into hardship, were too weak to help. There weren't enough people, resources, or tools.
The ban didn't prevent the fires -- it delayed and worsened them. The policy backfired. Yet here we are again, repeating the same mistake.
The myth of "zero-burning" sees all fire as bad. But in Thailand's deciduous forests, fire is part of nature. Without regular, low-intensity burns, dry leaves and debris pile up.
When a fire does break out, it burns hotter, longer, and spreads further. Forest ecologists and local communities have long known this fact. That's why, in Chiang Mai last year, over two-thirds of requests for controlled burning came from forest officials, not villagers, according to Prof Pinkaew Laungaramsri of Chiang Mai University.
Communities requested fewer burns -- because theirs are smaller and safer. There are villagers who build firebreaks and light careful fires for farming. And there are arsonists who set fires out of spite or carelessness.
But the government lumps them all together. When all burning is banned, responsible villagers are punished -- and reckless ones go unchecked. That makes wildfires harder to control.
Communities and forest dwellers carry most of the burden of firefighting. They stay up at night watching the hills. They chase fires with rakes and buckets.
Many have died trying to protect their homes. And forest rangers -- those actually on the front lines -- don't fare much better. Without sufficient equipment and manpower, their lives are also put at risk by policies crafted far away from the forests, in air-conditioned rooms with no understanding of fire ecology.
Mae Chaem, a mountainous district in Chiang Mai, used to have the highest number of fire hotspots in Thailand. But after years of failed zero-burning bans, the district chief tried a new approach: listening to the community. Together with villagers and forest officials, they created fire calendars.
They allowed early-season burns in designated areas, coordinated across agencies and communities. Fires became smaller, more predictable, and easier to control. It worked.
So why ignore this success? Because the top-down system is about control, not results. It reflects a deep misunderstanding of fire -- and a distrust of the people who know the forests best. In classrooms across the world, forestry students learn that fire in some ecosystems is not just inevitable, it's necessary.
But in Thai government meeting rooms, fire is taboo, a villain. The result? A policy that causes more damage than it prevents. To break this cycle of haze and blame, we must decentralise forest fire management.
Local communities don't just need a voice, they need a real role. They know the winds, the slopes, the way leaves fall. They are not enemies of the forest.
They are its protectors. Decentralisation takes work. It needs trust, training, and planning.
It means seeing highlanders as allies, not criminals. And it means accepting fire not as a curse, but as a natural force that, when managed wisely, protects rather than destroys. Thailand doesn't need another season of haze, arrests, and empty orders.
We need leadership that understands forests, listens to people, and works with those who risk their lives to protect the land. Anything less is all for show, driven by ignorance and shortsightedness, and only makes things worse..
