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“Sin City”

By Klairung Phromsupa

2025 opens with news of “Xing Xing,” a Chinese actor who flew into Suvarnabhumi Airport to work with a Thai film production company, only to mysteriously disappear into Myawaddy city.

Being somewhat of a well-known person, Xing Xing was quickly rescued from the criminal empire. However, there were attempts to distort the news, portraying him not as a victim of human trafficking but as a criminal or an accomplice. Thai information operations and online trolls had their fun spreading rumors, suggesting that the young actor had either run away from his girlfriend for a casino girl or intended to use his good looks in these illicit businesses.

In 2024, Thai society began to recognize that Myawaddy had long evolved from being merely a “casino city” into a hub of criminal activity. The city’s reputation was not only linked to various types of scams—both online and through phone-based call centers—but also to the disturbing reality that Thailand had become complicit in facilitating the operations of a brutal human trafficking network, exploiting its territory and a web of corruption and crime.

In the fast-paced culture of the cyber world, where everything is often seen in black or white, Myawaddy was viewed from two conflicting perspectives. On one hand, it was portrayed as a Sin City filled with criminals—armed militias, mafia groups, drug cartels, and every type of scammer. Anyone who walked out, escaped, or was rescued from these criminal empires was assumed to be a criminal. On the other hand, Myawaddy was also described as a prison for victims of human trafficking, On the other hand, Myawaddy was described as a prison for victims of human trafficking, often imagined as being visibly forced, such as with chains binding their hands and feet or being physically dragged to work. 

In reality, the vast criminal empire, stretching across dozens of locations along the Thai-Myanmar border and involving thousands of people, cannot survive solely on the efforts of business owners, armed guards, mafia groups, and either human trafficking victims or voluntary scammers. Rather, it is a collective, with all of them working together in the same workplace or “site,” alongside beneficiaries outside of Myanmar, including those in Thailand.

“Dao,” who grew up and graduated from a migrant school in Mae Sot without any legal status to this day, was once a “worker” in Sin City. Two years ago, when she was still working there, “grey jobs” were understood as jobs that are illegal in Thailand but cause no harm to others. These included roles such as an administrator for an online gambling page that didn’t aim to scam, casino work, bar hosts and hostesses, sex work, and administrators and accountants for businesses that cannot legally operate in Thailand.

“I used to think ‘black jobs’ meant the kind of work where you had to lie, deceive people, beat them, or even sell drugs. When a job was offered, we’d usually ask if it was a ‘grey’ or ‘black’ type of job. But most of the time, people didn’t explain it clearly. For example, a security guard job sounds pretty ordinary, right? But actually, a security guard works at a casino, or worse, as a ‘site guard’—someone who has to punish, beat, or even torture people who don’t follow the rules or try to escape.”

When asked if most people truly understand what such a job is, she paused for a moment and replied, “Anyone who thinks will know. But most people don’t want to think much. For their children, wives, or parents, we mustn’t think about it. My friends told me to stop thinking—don’t think too much, they said. Especially now that more and more friends are working there, I see that all jobs are viewed as grey. It’s just a job! There’s no such thing as black jobs anymore.”

Dao’s life in Shwe Kokko was distant from the reality of human trafficking. She had heard rumors about it and knew the crime existed, but she never witnessed it firsthand. Whispers circulated about Laotian and Vietnamese women who refused to work—some were tortured with electric shocks, while others were chained to sit among ants, enduring painful bites. Yet, since she didn’t see it with her own eyes, it was easy to push the thought away. Her world was filled with friends from her old school working in administration and accounting, along with Korean and Indian programmers handling online transactions, and Thai workers in the same site.

“Everyone was just busy with their own lives there. I’d hear people talking about this site or that one, but I never actually saw anything. I heard that some sites were better than others, or which ones had people from which countries, or which ones didn’t pay their workers. But it wasn’t possible to tell who around you was forced, sold, or lured into the job. I didn’t really understand the term ‘human trafficking’ all that much either.”

At the sites Dao knew, her friends were recruited through a network of acquaintances and were provided with accommodation, food, and some pocket money during the trial period. “The contracts said something like, if they hit a certain target during the six-month trial, they’d earn a 20,000-baht salary. But not everyone was good at it. Some people could do the job but couldn’t meet the target, so they’d only get 8,000 baht a month. Then there were all these deductions—for housing, food, and the pocket money they’d already received. Some even borrowed extra pocket money, and after all the deductions, they were left with nothing.

Dao hesitated when asked if such contracts were fair. “I saw Thai brokers doing the same thing in Thailand, and they didn’t even use written contracts. We don’t know if it’s right or wrong, but we don’t have many options. A friend of mine wasn’t good at his job and hadn’t read the contract properly before signing. He tried to escape the debt but was caught. They sent him to the BGF to be beaten up. I feel so sorry for them. Nobody wants that to happen to anyone. But when you’re there, right or wrong is beyond your thoughts.”

After quitting her job at her Thai boyfriend’s request, Dao returned to Mae Sot. Visiting her friends and attending parties thrown by those who had succeeded in the dark business gave her a perspective on Sin City that she hadn’t dared to consider before.

“There was this Thai woman at one of the parties. She heard me speaking Thai and figured out I was from Thailand. She came over slowly and asked if I could help her get out. I was stunned. She had jewelry on, an expensive bag—she looked like she was doing fine. But she really wanted to leave. I felt so bad for her, but there was nothing I could do. If I helped her escape, maybe she’d be saved, but I’d probably get killed—and the person who invited me, along with some of my friends, might get killed too.”

“In the open Thai casino, they don’t keep women there. But there are Thai, Burmese, and Chinese brokers who offer them to clients. These brokers house the women at other sites.” Dao tried to explain that she didn’t fully understand the term ‘human trafficking’ and only used the word ‘selling’ as people in the area described it. “There are Thai girls who cross over at 9 PM or 3 AM to work at the casinos. I didn’t hear they were sold. But to work there, the brokers give them drugs. If they want more, they have to go there. At parties, drugs are given out for free. The Burmese hostesses in Mae Sot earn only 500 baht per hour, plus paying off Thai police. But in Myawaddy, they earn up to 100,000 kyats (around 800 baht) per hour and get to dance happily with drugs—some of which they can get for free. Once they’re hooked, they keep working. The broker makes money, but no one ever told me if this was human trafficking.”

Dao had a conversation with a Lao woman who had been brought to serve at one of the parties. She shared how she was initially sold and forced into prostitution by a broker. From there, she was repeatedly sold from one gang to another, enduring endless exploitation until her body deteriorated from drug use, which lowered her “value.”

“She told me that for every sale, the broker took 70%, leaving her with only 30%. After deducting the cost of food, living expenses, and drugs, there was no way to pay off the debt. But she also said that even if she could pay it off, where could she go? She said she’s not going anywhere now.”

The woman’s story reminded Dao of a junior friend who had left a refugee camp to join the same migrant school as her. The girl had once been beautiful, reserved, and deeply religious.

“I was so shocked to see her at one of the parties. Her hair was cut short, and she had tattoos all over. She looked thin and sickly, and she didn’t even try to hide her drug addiction. She told me that a senior at our school, who had joined the BGF, suggested she become a ‘rented wife’ for a rich Chinese guy in Shwe Kokko. She said she made enough to build a house for her mom. But now, he’s left her for a younger girl—someone that same senior introduced to him.”

“When I was working there, I rarely heard about things like this. I only learned about them after I was no longer part of it.”

Dao could come and go from Shwe Kokko for a while, using a card that was “like a city ID card,” which people with money and connections could renew annually. Her friends still worked and lived in Shwe Kokko. The house rental rates were much higher compared to the income levels.

“You have to show the card to get through the checkpoint in order to enter. There are so many Buddhist monasteries in Shwe Kokko, so you can go there to pray or make merit. The bar, massage parlor, and casino areas are too dangerous; I don’t go. The work sites there are like regular private companies; it’s their private space. You can’t enter unless you have friends to bring you in. No outsiders can see what happens inside.”

Dao pointed to the city across the Moei River from the famous China View Café in Mae Sot. “It’s like us here in Mae Sot,” she said. “We live among those benefiting from Sin City on the other side, but we just sit and look at it, feeling like outsiders. The people working there live their lives and see the evil and consequences of the crimes as something distant, like outsiders too.”

A large number of the voluntary workers in Myawaddy are ethnic Karen and Myanmar citizens from the area, which follows the common human trafficking principle: people are less likely to exploit those from nearby communities with strong supporting networks. The job-seeking networks in Myawaddy are similar to those in Thailand, often connected to one’s home region and ethnicity. In her case, it’s a school network. A school with close ties to power has more opportunities for well-paid jobs, while some schools may have no connections to these criminal networks at all.

My friend speaks five languages. She graduated from the same high school as me. It would be good enough if she earned around 10,000 baht a month in Mae Sot. But over there, she has a job doing accounting, managing workers, and handling things for her Chinese, Burmese, foreign, Singaporean, and Thai bosses. She gets a base salary of 50,000 baht, plus a percentage based on the profits the business earns. If they hit the target, there’s a bonus. When I visited her at the site, if the workers hit their target, they’d ring a bell. If I heard it ring three times in a row, that meant a million baht was earned. My friend makes hundreds of thousands of baht a month, so she probably doesn’t want to think about anything else, right? Another senior friend of mine became a Chinese man’s rented wife and gets 200,000 baht a month. The guy even bought land for her parents. So why would she care how that Chinese guy makes his money? I don’t dare blame her.”

“It all started with the headmaster of my school introducing one of my seniors to work for the BGF in a pretty good position,” she said carefully. “He became powerful and rich very quickly. Then he recruited his friends—both seniors and juniors—to work there. The ones who went on then invited more people in a chain. The scam business needs people who are good at talking, speak several languages, and are computer-savvy. Those who bring skilled people in get commissions and tips.” A substantial number of her friends, both seniors and juniors from school, ended up working as security guards or in online scam businesses and call centers.

“Think about it. Since the coup in Myanmar, how many people have fled to Thailand? Jobs are scarce, rent is high, food is expensive, and even the police demand higher ransoms when they arrest people. It’s hard and expensive to get a work permit, CI, or passport. If you go to Bangkok, not only do you have to pay thousands to agents, but you might also get caught and sent back to the Myanmar military. But if you just cross over to Myawaddy, there’s work, good money, and safety—as long as you don’t get involved with politics,” she explained.

She added, “The important thing is, when you have money, it’s considered a success. These people can shut down bars to throw big birthday parties, invite all their friends and teachers from school, donate money to the school, get certificates of appreciation, and take photos that get posted at the school. They can earn respect.”

“I think they see it as just a job,” she said. “They tell themselves they’re just doing the tasks assigned to them. They’re not taking anyone’s money. The people who pay aren’t paying them directly. When someone commits suicide because they were scammed, they don’t think they’re the ones who killed them. When it comes to beating people, human trafficking, or scamming people into working, they’ll see it as having nothing to do with them. And if they’re the ones assigned to do the dirty work, they’ll just tell themselves it’s part of the job. They’re just following orders. I think people just stop thinking, because I was also told to stop thinking too.”

She believes that the schools receiving donations would also be willing to “stop thinking,” using the excuse that it benefits the education of many children.

When asked why, if the syndicate business offers a platform for those with no other opportunities to stand proudly, it is still necessary to lure so many victims from countries like China, Thailand, Taiwan, Laos, Vietnam, Kenya, Russia, Uzbekistan, Uganda, India, Malaysia, and others, Dao immediately responded that Sin City has a huge demand for labor at all levels, especially for lower-paid positions. Expanding the scam’s reach to other countries helps increase the labor pool from those regions. Additionally, since the voluntary labor network can’t keep up, they have to turn to people they don’t know and even exploit profits from higher recruitment fees.

My friend’s Chinese boss believes that when someone leaves the job or is sold to another place, there must be an immediate replacement. The chair has four legs; if one leg is missing, the chair can’t stand. They need to find a replacement quickly, or they’ll lose their luck. When they rush, they don’t care. They don’t bother explaining the work anymore—it’s too much trouble. They just find someone to sit there, thinking it will be fine. Some people accept it and continue to scam. Others can’t accept it or can’t do it, so they’re sent to BGF or similar groups to handle. After that, the people working at the sites won’t need to know about them anymore. These poor victims are beaten or sold to other places, and no one knows where.

Today, as Dao wanted to leave her past in Myawaddy behind, with no intention of returning to visit anyone, she admitted to herself, with courage, that she could finally say what happened in Sin City was something that “should not have happened in this world.”

“And I also admit that I used to benefit from it. I regret that I couldn’t help anyone. You can say what my friends and I did was wrong, and that’s true. But how was this city established? Who made it happen? Which powerful Karen or Thai were involved? When people are sold, who profits? When people cross back and forth, who profits? When my friends send money to be laundered in Thailand, who profits? Who profits from the exchange rates when dollars come from there to Thailand? Who profits from ordering SIM cards? Who profits when my friend orders Thai women from other provinces to serve her Chinese bosses? By letting Myawaddy stay this way—who profits? Will anyone take responsibility for this?

In addition to the crucial question about the life opportunities and choices of people in the border areas—who have been marginalized for a long time due to a lack of legal status and ineffective migrant labor and refugee crisis management policies—will the Thai government, instead of merely cutting off electricity, internet signals, or hunting for satellite internet equipment like “Starlink” to ‘cut the criminals’ bridge,’ dare to confront the criminals within Thai society?

Is it time for Thailand to dare to give the green light to all armed organizations in Myanmar, formally declaring that Thailand is not Sin City and that we are ready to let them dismantle the entire criminal empire along the border—without fear of angering those who benefit from it on the Thai side?       

This is a translation of original Thai article https://transbordernews.in.th/home/?p=41016

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On Key

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