Forced Withdrawal

Drug users in Mae Sot are finding themselves shunned by the community. It's a tough stand but one that seems to be working. Story The Nation's Don Pathan

A man like Samart Loifah comes around once in a blue moon. People say he is an endangered species - a civil servant who does not sit around and wait to be told what to do by his superiors.

"The top-down approach doesn't work," admitted the enthusiastic Mae Sot district chief, whose crusade against drug abuse has made him one of the most noted Interior Ministry officers in the country.

About two years ago, Samart was transferred from Lampang province to Tak's Mae Sot, where he is now the district chief. With the area becoming an emerging route for more and more illicit drugs coming out of Burma, just across the Moei River, Samart said he was shocked when he realised what lay ahead of him.

When he arrived, Mae Sot district was home to 750 known drug dealers, mostly in methamphetamines, and, it was estimated, more than 1,700 regular users. Samart, whose name means "capable of flying", soon lived up to his name. Under his guidance, the district was able to cut down the number of addicts to 388 and dealers to 147 in just over a year.

Samart said it has long been his goal to empower the local community to take care of its own. The method Samart employed in his war against drugs is commonly referred to as "social sanction".

All the adults in each of the 78 villages in the district are asked to take part in electing a committee to draft a set of rules for all to abide by. Once this is completed, Samart explained, the villagers hold a hearing and vote on anti-drug resolutions to serve as guidelines.

"We make no exception as to who the person is. All must abide by the rules, which the villagers themselves develop," said Khanthiya Srikirisawan, a 30-year-old ethnic Karen woman who is chief of 484-strong Yang Huay Ya-u village in Mae Sot district.

"If [you don't follow the rules], then you become an outcast and are eventually forced to leave the community."

Some of the measures include prohibiting drug dealers or users from using village funds and property, such as tents and utensils, and cutting off water and electricity.

After helping nine opium addicts kick the habit, Khanthiya's village proudly declared itself drug-free in May of this year.

The approach has been tremendously successful in other areas as well, officials and villagers said.

"I couldn't bear the fact that my family and I would become outcasts if I didn't stop doing drugs," said former addict Charoon Thiemphanya, a 27-year-old resident of Mae Khuluang village, also in the Mae Sot district.

If all else fails, said Mae Khunluang Kamnan Lert Kerkham, 58, the person is either forced out of the village or handed over to the police to face legal actions. 

To make sure that the suspected drug users are living a clean life, a urinalysis is carried on a regular basis. One urinalysis kit, which costs about Bt1,000, can be used to test up to 50 people. But money and equipment are hard to come by and the district accepts donations, Samart told a group of foreign journalists during a recent visit organised by the Thai Army's Civil Affairs Department.

Samart dismissed what he called "publicity stunts" staged by the government, such as getting students to drink holy water and pledge that they would not take drugs, or walkathons designed to promote anti-drug efforts.

"These measures don't really do anything because only clean kids show up for these events," Samart said. "What is important is that we stop demonising the people who are addicted to the substances and let them know that people are capable of making mistakes and that there is always room for forgiveness.

"And, of course, the villagers have to carry out urinalyses on a regular basis," he added.

The social-sanction approach employed by the villages in Mae Sot district, said Samart, starts off by emphasising compassion and understanding, not condemnation.

Ko Koh, a 60-year-old ethnic Karen who kicked his opium addiction two years ago after using for over two decades, said he never felt better.

"It was so painful," Ko Koh said, recalling his withdrawal symptoms. "My whole body was aching for five to six days. I couldn't sleep. I was shitting blood."

For Ko Koh, it was the threat of an outright sanction that got him to think about quitting. Being a male and an elder in a traditional Karen setting like Yang Huay Ya-u, Ko Koh said the threat of being an outcast had forced to think hard about his place in his community and the loss of dignity if he was forced to leave. Today, he is a proud owner of a new plow his children purchased as a gift for kicking the habit.

Samart and the villagers themselves insisted that social sanction is much more effective then the law itself. "The thought of being persecuted by their fellow villagers is more powerful than the threat of legal action," Samart said. "They have to look at each other's faces day after day."

"The vast majority of the people in the villages would like to help but the question is how to gain their trust and get them to join hands," Samart said. "The villagers know better than us which of their neighbours are dealing drugs. So when we approach them, we let them know what we know, and most of the time the villager will respond positively."

"A lot of times it is the parents of kids addicted to drugs who need to know where to turn to."

The chief maintained that his data about dealers and users are accurate. "We have our own statistics and the villagers have theirs. And almost one hundred per cent of the time, theirs and our numbers of dealers and users matches," he said.

"Of course, one way of ensuring that the figure is accurate is through urinalysis."

If you are interested in making donations to help the Mae Sot district's anti-drug campaign, please call the district office at 055-531-297, or write: Mae Sot District Office, Tak Province, Thailand.