From Opium to Scam Centers: How Crime and Conflict Shaped Lives in Shan State

Antonio Graceffo

For more than six decades, Burma’s (Myanmar’s) wars have been closely connected to illicit trade. Opium and heroin financed armed organizations, including Khun Sa’s Mong Tai Army (MTA), as well as government-aligned militias, traffickers, and corrupt officials in Shan State. Successive military regimes, including the State Law and Order Restoration Council (SLORC), the State Peace and Development Council (SPDC), the State Administration Council (SAC), and its short-lived successor, the State Security and Peace Commission (SSPC), presided over an economy in which control of territory often meant control of illicit revenue.

By the early 2000s, methamphetamine had overtaken opium as the region’s most profitable drug, with production concentrated largely in Shan State and frequently linked to territories controlled by the United Wa State Army (UWSA) and other armed organizations.

More recently, international attention has shifted to industrial scam centers in Shan State and along the Thai border, particularly around Myawaddy in Karen State, where criminal syndicates have trafficked workers and defrauded victims worldwide of billions of dollars.

From the 1960s through the 1990s, however, opium was Myanmar’s most prominent illicit product. Although it later declined in relative importance as methamphetamine and online fraud expanded, the opium trade remains active, and many people whose lives it shaped are still living with its consequences.

One of the people shaped by this trade is Pa Kham Aung, a 60-year-old Shan woman originally from Ban Yerng Village in Laikha Township, Loi Lem District, Southern Shan State. Her journey took her from opium farming and the death of her husband from addiction to forced displacement, undocumented work in Thailand, and the creation of a new life for herself and her three daughters.

Before 1996, Pa Kham Aung explained, Ban Yerng Village was under the control of the MTA. At the time, opium cultivation was the main source of income for many families in the village.

According to Pa Kham Aung, the area’s geography made it difficult for villagers to cultivate other crops. The village was located in a mountainous region with steep terrain and deep valleys. Crops such as rice, sesame, groundnuts, and corn were difficult to grow successfully. Some villagers cultivated tea, but tea plants took a long time to produce income, and the earnings were insufficient to support their families.

“Opium was the quickest way to make money, and it was easy to sell,” she explained.

After harvesting their opium, villagers sold it to brokers and were required to pay taxes to the MTA. For many families, opium cultivation was therefore not simply a choice made for profit but had become an important part of the local economy.

Pa Kham Aung’s life changed dramatically when her husband became addicted to opium. In 1997, he died as a result of his addiction, leaving her alone to care for their three daughters. At the time, her oldest daughter was only 12 years old, while her youngest was four.

After her husband’s death, Pa Kham Aung found it increasingly difficult to provide food and other necessities for her family. She stopped cultivating opium and instead worked as a daily wage laborer on other people’s opium farms. Her oldest daughter worked alongside her.

The work was demanding. According to Pa Kham Aung, it took approximately three months from the beginning of cultivation until the opium was harvested. However, the income was still insufficient to meet the family’s basic needs. Facing increasing poverty and insecurity, she began considering leaving Myanmar in search of safety and a better life for her children.

In 1996, the MTA surrendered to the State Law and Order Restoration Council (SLORC), the military government at the time. Pa Kham Aung said that several months later, people living in areas previously controlled by the MTA were forced to relocate closer to military bases or into towns.

She recalled that villagers who refused to move faced serious consequences, including threats, punishment, and the destruction of their homes and villages.

Pa Kham Aung and her children moved to Laikha town. However, life there remained extremely difficult. They did not have enough food, and according to her account, soldiers restricted residents from leaving the town. People who attempted to travel outside without permission risked being shot.

After several months, Pa Kham Aung and some of her friends decided that remaining in Laikha was too dangerous. They fled toward Thailand in search of safety and opportunity.

The journey was long and dangerous. Pa Kham Aung and her companions traveled mainly at night through forests and mountainous areas to avoid military patrols.

They walked from Laikha to Namsang Township, a journey that took approximately three days. After staying in Namsang for two days, they traveled for another four days to Mong Pan Township. From there, they made their way toward Mong Ton and eventually reached Ban Na Kaung Mu, near the Thai–Myanmar border.

When they arrived in Ban Na Kaung Mu, they stayed for several months and worked on local farms. Pa Kham Aung earned approximately 50 Thai baht per day as a farm worker. Although the income was low, it allowed her family to survive while they considered their next step.

Pa Kham Aung and her daughters still hoped to reach Thailand. After saving enough money, they paid people to help them cross the border and travel to Fang District in Chiang Mai Province.

They had heard that workers were needed on orange farms in Fang. After arriving, Pa Kham Aung and her family worked on the farms for several years.

However, living in Thailand without legal documents created new difficulties. According to Pa Kham Aung, police inspected the farms approximately every three months. Undocumented workers were vulnerable to informal fines.

“We had no documents or work permits. When the police came to check us, we sometimes had to pay thousands of baht. The money we had earned by working for several months could disappear in one day.”

For a family already living on low agricultural wages, these payments placed a significant burden on them.

During this period, her oldest daughter moved to a city to find work and became employed as a restaurant cleaner.

After spending several years in Thailand, Pa Kham Aung was unhappy with her situation. The lack of legal documentation, insecurity, and financial difficulties made her question whether Thailand could provide the stable future she wanted for her family.

Eventually, she decided to return to Ban Na Kaung Mu with her daughters.

Upon arriving, Pa Kham Aung approached the village head and asked for help finding a place to live. He provided her with a small piece of land where she could build a home.

She constructed a simple bamboo house and later asked for permission to cultivate land. The village authorities allowed her to farm on land that did not have another owner.

For Pa Kham Aung, returning to Ban Na Kaung Mu marked the beginning of a new chapter in her life.

Over the following years, she gradually formed friendships with her neighbors and became increasingly comfortable and happy living in the village.

An unexpected opportunity soon gave Pa Kham Aung hope for a better future.

When a female neighbor injured her arm and could not use it properly, Pa Kham Aung offered to help. She had learned basic massage techniques from her mother as a child.

“I asked her, ‘Please let me see your arm. Maybe I can help you.’ She agreed.”

After Pa Kham Aung massaged her arm several times, the woman began to feel better. Grateful for the help, she told other villagers about Pa Kham Aung’s skills.

Soon, other villagers began coming to her for treatment. What began as an act of kindness gradually became her main livelihood, allowing her to support herself without performing the physically demanding agricultural labor she had relied on for many years.

Pa Kham Aung’s story is one of loss, displacement, survival, and adaptation. Her life was shaped by the political and economic conditions of Shan State, including the opium economy, taxation by armed groups, her husband’s death from drug addiction, forced relocation, migration, undocumented work in Thailand, and eventual resettlement in a border community.

After returning to Ban Na Kaung Mu, she rebuilt her life using the massage skills she had learned from her mother. This provided her with a stable livelihood and allowed her to support her three daughters, who have since grown up and established families of their own.

Her experience highlights an important reality in conflict-affected communities. When traditional livelihoods become impossible or unsafe, people often rely on informal economies, migration, community networks, and personal skills to survive. Her journey from an opium-growing village to a refugee-like life along the border and eventually to becoming a massage practitioner reflects her determination to overcome years of conflict, poverty, and displacement.

Antonio Graceffo is an economist and China specialist who has reported extensively on Burma.