Imagine a scene straight out of a thrilling legal drama – a place where the lush green expanse of Khao Yai National Park meets the contentious world of land rights and bureaucracy. This isn’t fiction but the reality of an unfolding dispute that recently found its spotlight during a House committee meeting on February 27th. An army officer, with the solemnity befitting his rank, gestured towards a map that bore the contested boundaries of Khao Yai National Park, a point of contention that has landless farmers and government officials in a standoff over some crucial documents known as Sor Por Por 4-01.
The essence of this drama is captured by a recent action taken by the Agricultural Land Reform Office (Alro), which has boldly stepped into the arena against the National Parks chief, Chaiwat Limlikhit-aksorn. Alro is not just tapping on the shoulder but is gearing up to launch a legal battle, accusing Mr. Chaiwat of a move that could very well be out of a suspenseful plot twist—he allegedly removed, without any green light, markers that Alro had entrenched to demarcate agricultural land. These aren’t just any markers; imagine substantial concrete pegs, each one standing as a silent witness to the simmering dispute.
Picture the scene on February 13th. As per Alro’s narrative, Mr. Chaiwat, with an air of authority, directed his team to uproot 27 of these concrete sentinels. These pegs were not just pieces of stone but symbols of hope for numerous landless farmers, marking territories allocated for agricultural activities. However, Mr. Chaiwat, holding the fortress as the director of the National Parks Office, fiercely argues these lands are under the embrace of Khao Yai National Park’s green canopy.
The crux of this intriguing narrative is a tale of two claims. On one side stands Alro and on the other, the Department of National Parks, Wildlife and Plant Conservation (DNP), with Mr. Chaiwat at its helm. Both wield legal documents like swords, each claiming the disputed expanse of almost 3,000 rai, a significant portion of a larger tract of 33,896 rai across three districts handed over to the Ministry of Agriculture and Cooperatives in 1987, as theirs to protect and manage.
Alro envisions this land as a fertile promise to the landless, a dream of sustenance and prosperity, through the issuance of Sor Por Kor 4-10 land-use papers. Whereas the DNP sees the land through a lens tinted with the hues of conservation, safeguarded within the boundaries defined by the 1962 law that whispers the tales of Khao Yai’s ancient beauty.
While the officials maneuver through this tangled legal underbrush, a flurry of activity erupts in the digital realm. Mr. Chaiwat’s supporters take to his Facebook page, wielding their keyboards like modern knights, defending the protector of Khao Yai’s majestic wilderness against encroachment.
This narrative, rich with the drama of conflicting ideals, legal skirmishes, and a dash of social media warfare, paints a vivid picture of the complexities surrounding the serene landscapes of Khao Yai. It intertwines the destinies of government officials, landless farmers, legal boundaries, and the silent, ageless witness to it all — the sprawling expanse of Khao Yai National Park. As this saga unfolds, it begs the question: In the battle for land, who will emerge as the custodian of these verdant hills, and at what cost?
