How do you heal hardcore young criminals and turn them into active citizens? Ask Thicha Nanakorn -- she has the answer.
To witness her success, visit Ban Kanchanapisek, where nearly 2,000 convicted youths under her care over the past 20 years have never returned to their old ways.
However, the new boss of the Department of Juvenile Observation and Protection does not seem to appreciate her work and has let her go, citing budget cuts. This raises questions about the leadership and vision of this agency, which oversees 21 juvenile detention centres in Thailand, most of which operate as prisons rife with violence rather than rehabilitative centres.
Many believe those higher may not want to see Ms Thicha around, given her straightforwardness and open criticism of authoritarian culture, power relationships at every level, corruption, and social injustice.
Ms Thicha has lent her sympathy to young jailed activists for their stance on Section 112, the lese majeste law. She was upset that many of those in positions of power, especially ex-student activists from the 1970s who are now cabinet ministers, ignored the young activists' grievances. She showed solidarity with the late activist Netiporn Saneysangkhom, who died on hunger strike while in jail.
Pa Mon remains steadfast in her stance against authoritarianism. "If you cannot stand up for your beliefs, that is a life without self-respect, and I cannot live with that life."
Established in 2003 to mark the 50th anniversary of King Bhumibol Adulyadej's accession to the throne, Ban Kanchanapisek aimed to reduce repeat offences among young convicts and serve as a model for other centres. Ms Thicha, known as Pa Mon (Auntie Mon), a distinguished social worker and human rights advocate, has led the centre since its inception.
The secret to Ban Kanchanapisek's success? Her answer: "Keep it as free from state bureaucracy as much as possible."
Unlike other detention centres, Ban Kanchanapisek lacks high fences and prison uniforms and allows members to help set their own rules. New arrivals have their handcuffs removed and are welcomed with a hug from Pa Mon. They can choose their clothes and hairstyles. No more prison uniforms, no more shaved heads, no more dehumanisation.
While many see these young offenders as irredeemable, Pa Mon views them as victims of broken homes and inadequate welfare, further harmed by a harsh, authoritarian school culture that erodes their self-esteem.
"The Education Ministry reports about 100,000 school dropouts each year, while the Justice Ministry sees nearly 50,000 new young offenders annually," Pa Mon noted.
"When school gates close, prison doors open. To reduce the number of young offenders, we must fix the authoritarian school system," she stressed.
"No one is born a criminal. They are products of their environment. Lacking love and trust, they don't know how to love and trust others. But we can help them to transcend alienation and regain faith in humanity -- and in themselves."
Removing handcuffs and prison uniforms is just the beginning of restoring identity, self-esteem, and the ability to make appropriate judgements. She also used various other tools to guide them through self-reflection, empathy, critical thinking, and emotional healing.
"Many call it a miracle, but it's really hard work," she said. "Our methods take at least 18 months to show results, but they work anywhere if you respect their rights and believe in their inherent goodness, no matter how dark their past. That goodness will shine again if given the light -- and you must be that light."
One youth reflected in his diary, "Being able to walk around freely and being called by my name, no longer faceless and nameless, makes me feel like a new person."
Many wonder why Ban Kanchanapisek does not focus on vocational training. "Because it doesn't reduce repeat offences. What the kids need is a new mindset and life skills to start afresh," she explained.
The centre helps by showing them examples of people who've overcome severe challenges, proving they, too, can succeed.
Daily diaries help youths reflect and articulate their thoughts, while group discussions on current events and social issues foster empathy and critical thinking. Sharing personal thoughts also helps them open up while helping supervisors better understand each one individually.
The impact deepens during movie hours on social issues, followed by group discussions and personal reflections.
Pa Mon also takes the youths to activities like a Mu Kata barbecue buffet to build trust and restore self-esteem.
When natural disasters or emergencies occur, and the kids express a desire to volunteer as rescue workers, Pa Mon fully supports them. They take pride in their work as their sense of responsibility and compassion deepens.
Weekly family visits and shared cooking sessions foster a sense of normalcy. When issues arise, they work together to find solutions, developing important skills in listening and consensus-building.
Recognising that many of the youths' emotional wounds stem from family issues, Pa Mon initiated sessions for them and their parents to address these problems. "This process is crucial for healing both sides," she said.
Changing the entrenched prison culture wasn't easy. As an outsider with a different philosophy, Pa Mon faced resistance from staff from day one. Under her leadership, violence was eliminated, surveillance gear removed, and welfare packages introduced. Those who could not adapt left, while the rest found new pride in their roles, shifting from security guards to counsellors.
One of Pa Mon's biggest challenges was receiving Yai, a youth offender who had come to Ban Kanchanapisek specifically to kill another boy, Lek, in revenge for his father's death.
"Here is not a prison, and you're not a criminal. We have the power to change. Isn't that what we believe in?" she asked during a group discussion, implicitly aiming at Yai.
News analyses and movie sessions during that period centred on the theme of change and forgiveness. When Yai showed signs of softening, she organised a forgiveness ritual where Lek asked for forgiveness from Yai's grandmother, who wished to end the cycle of revenge. After forgiving Lek, Yai wrote in his diary that he had never slept so well.
This incident led to other youths requesting similar opportunities to seek forgiveness, resulting in Ban Kanchanapisek's annual Peace Day. On this day, the youths participate in a sacred ritual to cleanse their souls for a new life ahead.
A study by Life Education of youths who left Ban Kanchanapisek more than five years ago shows a repeat offence rate of less than 5%, highlighting the effectiveness of the centre's approach.
"I'm not worried about being dismissed," said Pa Mon. "My concern is ensuring that Ban Kanchanapisek's achievements over the past 20 years can continue."
"This can be done by people who genuinely believe in the goodness of people and respect the voices of Ban Kanchanapisek youths. It's about understanding that authoritarianism is the root of our youths' life ruins.
"If we allow this toxic, oppressive legacy to continue, we deprive them of the light needed for their seeds of humanity to grow."