Homeless National Treasures: Thai Elephants in an Era Where Forests are Scarcer than Concrete

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When we think of "Thai elephants," the default image portrayed in the media is often one of grand fruit banquets. We see people feeding them bananas, snapping photos for social media, and praising them as our "national animal" that has stood by the country since the Sukhothai era.

But that is merely a romanticized facade.

If we strip away the beauty and look deep into the daily reality, we will find that our national treasures are facing a painful "structural crisis." Captive elephants have been reduced to online beggars, elephant camps are facing bankruptcy, and wild elephants have become "trespassers" paying the ultimate price with their lives.

The documentary "Humans and Elephants... A Three-Way Crossroads" (available on VIPA) takes us on an uncomfortable journey into this reality through the lives of three different groups. They are all struggling to survive at an intersection where there are no villains—only beings forced into a corner by hunger and changing times.

Crossroad 1: "Captive Elephants" and the Loss of Dignity in the Live-Streaming Era

For James Salangam, a young Kuy mahout from Baan Ta Klang in Surin province, an elephant is not a pet; it is a "family member." The Kuy people share a deep, spiritual bond with elephants. They have the "Pakam Shrine" honoring ancestral spirits, strict taboos, and a way of life intertwined with elephants since the days of capturing wild ones in Cambodia.

However, as eras shifted, the fate of Thailand's approximately 3,800 captive elephants has been dictated by changing state policies:

Pre-1989: They were "logging elephants," overworked until the government banned commercial logging.
1990s-2000s: They became "street-begging elephants," roaming the dangerous streets of Bangkok, risking traffic accidents and falling into open drains.
2010s-2019: They entered the "tourism industry," working in elephant camps nationwide.

Then came the pandemic and economic collapse, wiping out the tourism sector. James and his elephant were left unemployed and forced to retreat to their hometown. The scariest thing wasn't the virus, but "hunger." A fully-grown elephant eats 150-250 kilograms of food (about 10% of its body weight) and drinks nearly 200 liters of water daily. This means James must earn at least 1,000 to 1,500 THB a day just to keep his 4-ton child from starving.

Today, the only way out is becoming a "Digital Beggar." James has to set up a camera and live-stream on Facebook and YouTube to sell bananas for donations, competing with hundreds of other channels in his own village. It might not be a dignified way to make a living, but it is the last resort to keep this interspecies family alive.

Crossroad 2: "Elephant Camps" on the Fault Line of Morality and Capitalism

Cutting to the North, Anchalee Kalmapijit, the heir to "Maesa Elephant Camp," is facing the darkest hour of her business. Once one of the largest and most lucrative elephant camps in Chiang Mai, it is now struggling to stay afloat.

Modern elephant camps are squeezed by two immense pressures. First, the moral demands from Western NGOs. They argue that riding or making elephants perform is animal cruelty, pressuring camps to transition into "Ethical Sanctuaries" (no riding, free-roaming). However, what most people don't realize is that running a sanctuary requires massive amounts of land and capital—resources that traditional camps simply do not have.

Second, the outdated legal system. Under Thai law, captive elephants are classified under the Beast of Burden Act of 1939 (meaning they are treated as property or livestock that can be bought and sold), not as protected wildlife. Thus, government support is heavily limited.

With tourists gone and revenue hitting rock bottom, Anchalee was left shouldering the massive debt of feeding dozens of elephants. Mahouts began to resign due to unpaid wages, leaving her with no choice but to sit in front of a camera and live-stream to sell elephant food just to survive. Her story teaches us a harsh truth: Idealistic conservation is nearly impossible when both humans and elephants are starving.

Crossroad 3: "Wild Elephants," Starving Refugees, and Borderless Territories

The fiercest battlefield of the Human-Elephant Conflict does not lie in the camps, but at the edge of the forests. Thailand currently has about 3,000 to 4,000 wild elephants. In the forest complexes of the five eastern provinces, the wild elephant population is growing by 8% annually. This is deemed a conservation "success," but the fatal flaw is that "the forest area has not expanded with them." When the forest exceeds its carrying capacity, the elephants inevitably spill out.

The most heartbreaking representative of this crisis is "Phlai Sidao Hu-pub" (Folded-Ear Sidao), a celebrity wild elephant in the East famous for raiding orchards and tearing down villagers' kitchens for food. Tragically, its story ended in sorrow when Sidao Hu-pub was relentlessly chased by villagers and authorities, ultimately leading to its death. This loss is a painful reminder that this is an escalating war over resources.

Why do they raid farms? The answer lies in the Optimal Foraging Theory. Human crops like corn, sugarcane, jackfruit, and durian offer significantly higher calories and sugar than natural forest foliage. They are also much easier to find. To a wild elephant, human agriculture is simply a "24/7 supermarket."

Nong Janburi, a young woman from Kaeng Hang Maew, used to view wild elephants as "enemies." She once ran for her life when a herd surrounded her cornfield at dusk. But over time, she realized this is a zero-sum game. The bloody statistics show that hundreds of villagers have been killed by wild elephants, while just as many elephants have been poisoned or electrocuted by farmers' fences.

Nong discovered that electric fences and firecrackers cannot stop hunger. Turning her vengeance into observation, she gathered local farmers to find ways to "peacefully push the elephants back into the forest." She now understands that wild elephants are not villains; they are starving refugees desperately trying to survive the human encroachment on their habitats.

The Direction for Fellow Earthlings

Whether it is James swallowing his pride to eat bananas in front of a live-stream camera, Anchalee fighting to keep Maesa Elephant Camp breathing, or Sidao Hu-pub paying the ultimate price for being an intruder.

Every story traces back to the same root: a severely imbalanced "three-way crossroad." As long as forests are replaced by concrete and plantations, as long as elephant laws remain outdated, and as long as we only view the problem from a single lens (the state seeing them as wildlife, while villagers see them as either pets or pests), the tragedy will continue.

Is it time we ask ourselves a new question? Will we let our national animal become "homeless strangers" in the next century? Or will we finally take action to create a new balance, where the footprints of elephants and the footsteps of humans can walk side by side once again?

📌 Uncover the harsh reality behind the national symbol in the documentary series Marginal People, episode “Humans and Elephants... A Three-Way Crossroads” (คนกับช้าง...ความสัมพันธ์สามแพร่ง). Available to watch now on the VIPA