Youth Gangs,Violence,and Local Culture in Chiang Mai,Northern Thailand

Introduction

Chiang Mai is a booming, multiethnic, and cosmopolitan city in the northern province of Thailand. From the mid-1980s to the mid-1990s, Thailand had one of the most rapidly developing economies in the world, transforming from an agricultural-oriented export country to an industrial-exporting one (Pasuk and Baker 1998). Dramatic socioeconomic development and incorporation into a global market economy has seen a significant number of young people commuting or migrating from rural areas in northern Thailand and other provinces to the city of Chiang Mai for work, study, or leisure. This rural–urban mobility and migration has given rise to a conspicuous youth culture alongside a growing consumer culture in Chiang Mai’s urban center.

From the late 1990s to the early 2000s, there was also a considerable rise in the number of street youth gangs in Chiang Mai. In 2003, Chiang Mai had reportedly as many as seventy known youth gangs (Chiang Mai Mail, May 31, 2003). While there is a vast literature on youth gangs worldwide, there have been no anthropological, or ethnographic studies, of this growing phenomenon in Thailand. Furthermore, anthropologist James Vigil argues that while the literature on gang violence and street gangs is rich in certain areas, it lacks “the qualitative information and insight that tell us how and why people become violent” (Vigil 2003, 237). Youth violence has been attributed to issues of poverty and associated family and school problems, income inequality, urbanization, social marginalization, and racism (Bourgois 1996; Covey 2010; Vigil 2003). In the media, and in dominant Thai public discourses, the increase in the formation of violent youth gangs is commonly interpreted as negative responses to drastic societal change, including breakdown of the family unit and less moral and social control from busy working parents in the context of rapid socioeconomic development. Media reports that are heavily influenced by psychological and sociological discourses on youth violence tend to locate the cause of violent behavior in the family or individual. According to Stephen Reicher and Nicholas Emler, the British media and politicians often blame delinquency on factors such as psychological inadequacy, inner-city deprivation, and breakdown of values of any form of self-discipline (Reicher and Emler 1986,14). With reference to violence among young, inner-city Puerto Rican men in the United States, Bourgois similarly notes that US politicians and the media “have largely responded with traditional ‘family value’ crusades” and often point to the “psychological deficiencies of pathological individuals or the social pathology of ‘subcultures’” (1996, 412). A similar discourse resonates among Thai politicians and the Thai media. For example, one Thai newspaper, quoting a Thai psychiatrist, attributes the growing gang problem in Chiang Mai to conduct disorder, a psychiatric term for antisocial behavior (Khom Chat Luek, July 10, 2003), while a Thai psychologist states in the Bangkok Post that gang members “were often victims of domestic violence or were witnesses to strong family arguments, quarrels or beatings” (Bangkok Post, September 14, 2003). While the above factors may play a role in young people joining street gangs, I argue that the formation of gangs and their associated violence in Chiang Mai is not necessarily a means for psychologically coping with radical sociocultural shifts but rather active and creative ways of negotiating change. As Bucholtz aptly states:

Although young people’s experiences of potentially socially threatening phenomena are thought to be the result of dramatic cultural changes that create unprecedented psychological pressure, there is another, creative dimension to these responses to new cultural circumstances. It is in this sense that youths’ socially transgressive actions may be understood not simply as culture-specific manifestations of psychological distress but more importantly as critical cultural practices through which young people display agency. (2002, 530)

In line with this “anthropology of youth” approach, this article is not merely concerned with youth cultural agency but “how identities emerge in new cultural formations that creatively combine elements of global capitalism, transnationalism, and local culture” (Bucholtz 2002, 525).

Drawing on ethnographic research conducted between 2002 and 2004 and follow-up field trips in 2011 and 2014, my findings suggest “deviant” gangs in Chiang Mai exhibit certain styles and engage in specific practices for reasons not all that different from non-violent urban subcultures. For gang youth, violence may offer one means for “fitting in and sticking out” in an anonymous cosmopolitan city, a goal shared by many young Thai who have migrated from rural to urban areas. For many, this wish to belong and be visible is the primary basis for subcultural formation. However, while some Chiang Mai subcultural groups draw primarily on global cultural resources in order to stand out and enhance one’s status, violent gang youth rely more heavily on local culture to achieve status and a sense of self-worth, particularly in relation to enduring notions of masculinity. This is revealed through their reproduction of ideas and practices relating to invulnerability, which includes the use and display of magical tattoos, amulets, and an emphasis on honor, dignity, and loyalty to friends.

Anthropological Studies of Youth

The most pervasive model informing childhood/youth studies is the developmental model arising out of psychology. Psychological perspectives of adolescence have generally focused on the biological development of children. Stanley Hall (1904), a pioneer in the study of adolescence, suggests it is a time of emotional and psychological conflict prompted by inevitable biological changes. He defines this “natural” transition as a period of “storm and stress.” Apart from the distress that sometimes accompanies puberty, adolescence is viewed by Hall as a universal stage of human development whereby the child evolves into a civilized and rational adult. This stage-based model is also supported by the classic identity development theory of Erik Erikson (1968) who claims adolescents must come to psychological terms with biological changes and that the ensuing angst results in “identity crisis.” According to Erikson, a “central disturbance in severely conflicted young people” may result in “in confused rebels and destructive delinquents” (1968, 17). Thus, the developmental discourse assumes that young people need to pass through a series of tenuous stages, including physical, emotional, moral, and intellectual development, before “finding themselves.” Once identity formation is complete after the period of turmoil and change, they can then move on to becoming complete and rational adults.

The developmental model of childhood has been challenged by anthropological studies of youth. The most prominent and controversial anthropological research involving childhood in a cross-cultural context involves the work of Margaret Mead (1928) in Coming of Age in Samoa. Mead rejected traditional notions, based on models of development, that the “storm and stress” encountered by youth is universal and biologically determined. Mead’s findings revealed that Samoan girls went straight from childhood to adulthood without suffering any of the adolescent “crisis” that young people were purported to experience in the West. ¹ Other cross-cultural studies of youth following Mead similarly demonstrated that the changes young people experienced during adolescence were not ubiquitous, emphasizing the social and cultural construction of the key parameters of the adolescent experience (Barry and Schlegel 1986; Fuchs 1976; Whiting, Whiting, and Longabaugh 1975). However, Bucholtz claims that although such scholars, including Mead, explored adolescence in cross-cultural settings, their focus was on initiation ceremonies, sexual practices and kinship structures that highlighted adolescence as a life stage. Such research, she argues, focuses on children’s transition into adulthood while overlooking youth cultural production and youth-centered interaction. Thus, Bucholtz maintains, “anthropology concerned itself not primarily with youth as a cultural category, but with adolescence as a biological and psychological stage of human development” (2002, 526). In other words, despite challenging psychological theories of childhood development, early cross-cultural studies of youth were still clearly influenced by this dominant school of thought.

In keeping with Bucholtz, Wulff (1995) and Caputo (1995) call for anthropologists not only to make a greater contribution to the study of youth cultures but also to view young people as cultural agents and not simply on their path to adulthood in the process of becoming. They argue that because of the influence of socialization theories, youth still tend to be viewed as passive receptors of adult culture in the process of suitably absorbing these influences, rather than active agents in their own right. While there is now a growing body of anthropological research that draws attention to youth agency in various cultures (Allison 2009; Cole and Durham 2008; Lukose 2005; Shaw 2007), such studies are lacking on Thai youth culture.

Most studies on Thai youth have traditionally focused on issues such as rites of passage (e.g., ordination as a monk), gender socialization, youth sexuality, and courtship practices (Lyttleton 2002; Warunee 2002; Whittaker 2002), all of which underline youth as a transitional phase. Few studies have explored the social and cultural practices of young Thai people and Thai youth subjectivity in the context of Thailand’s rapid economic and social transformation. ²

Consistent with more recent anthropological approaches to youth discussed above, I aim to show how Thai youth actively and creatively form identities at the intersection between local culture and global markets. I also draw on sociological studies of youth, in particular Sarah Thornton’s seminal study of club cultures in the United Kingdom (1995) and her notion of “subcultural capital” to highlight the social hierarchies established within and between Thai subcultures. Drawing on and reworking Bourdieu’s “cultural capital,” Thornton shows us how aesthetics associated with youth leisure have become important markers of distinction for youth within their own social milieu. Focusing on British clubbers and ravers, she demonstrates how subcultural distinctions act as a means by which young people jockey for social power and status in order to achieve a sense of self-worth (1995, 163). Thornton’s research explores the way in which youth use the activities and tastes of other young social groups as a defining measure of their own cultural worth. Arguably, youth subcultures more easily characterize themselves by identifying a homogenous group to which they disapprove and don’t belong. Thornton claims that the “social logic of these distinctions is such that it makes sense to discuss them as forms of subcultural capital or means by which young people negotiate and accumulate status within their own social worlds” (1995, 163). Thornton sees subcultural capital as a “subspecies” of Bourdieu’s “cultural capital.” For Bourdieu (1984), “cultural capital” is the knowledge gained through education and social origin that grants one social status. Cultural capital plays an important role in a system of distinction whereby one’s personal taste is seen to correspond with one’s upbringing, education, and class. Unlike Bourdieu’s cultural capital, Thornton suggests subcultural capital is not necessarily class-bound. She does not deny the significance of class but argues it does not correspond in any specific way to levels of youthful subcultural capital. In fact, she claims that class is actually clouded by subcultural distinctions. She attributes this to the fact that subcultural capital is found in leisure rather than through formal education.

Thornton’s concept of subcultural capital is useful in understanding the social hierarchies that are formed within Thai youth culture. However, like others (Jensen 2006; Dupont 2014), I believe Thornton downplays the importance of the sociostructural positions of subcultural members. In Thailand, class and status are measured by a range of variables, including wealth, education, ethnicity, age, occupation, and provenance (Sophorntovy 2011). Terms such as inter (international), hi-so (high society), or lo-so (low society) are commonly used among Thai youth to describe one’s status and have become a critical means of social and class differentiation. While these terms have been borrowed from the English language, they cannot be easily explained in terms of Western-centric concepts of class, as Sophorntovy (2011) found in relation to her study of class and status differentiation in Bangkok. Gullette (2014) has shown that rural–urban distinctions are particularly pronounced in class and status hierarchies among northern and northeastern migrants in Bangkok. I have similarly found that class and status hierarchies among northern Thai youth are significantly shaped by rural–urban differences as illustrated by the modern and cosmopolitan “dek inter” (dek is the Thai word for child or kid) who construct their identity against a provincial “backward” Other, “dek saep” (Cohen 2009). For young Thai, one’s status within the youth cultural hierarchy is determined by a combination of style, leisure activities, and class, which is inextricably linked with rural–urban divisions. While Thornton’s concept of subcultural capital does not entirely correlate with my study of Thai youth in terms of the variables of distinction, it provides a framework for understanding the ways in which young Thai compete for social status within their own social milieu. In this article, I aim to demonstrate how violent youth gang members, often labeled dek saep, compete for status with dek inter by drawing on and reproducing local culture as a means for differentiating themselves and asserting a specific youth identity.

Methods

I conducted ethnographic research on Chiang Mai youth over a period of eighteen months during 2002–2004, followed by brief field trips in 2011 and 2014. The original aim of my research was to investigate the sociocultural context of methamphetamine use among northern Thai youth as Thailand has one of the highest rates of methamphetamine use in Southeast Asia, particularly in the northern region (Cohen 2014). Most of my findings derive from participant observation and informal interviews with a small sample of twenty people with whom I had ongoing contact. I met most of my informants through O-Zone, a casual drop-in center for former and current drug addicts in Chiang Mai. Two of my male informants from Ozone were former gang members, while four belonged to a gang at the time of my study. I first became aware of Chiang Mai’s gang phenomenon from interviews carried out in treatment and correctional centers as a number of males I interviewed were gang members. However, it was my network of informants from O-Zone that fueled my interest in the youth gang culture. I fostered a strong relationship with a couple of female informants who were dating gang members at the time of my fieldwork. This enabled me to meet several gang members and observe their behavior. Once I began to express an interest in youth gangs, a “snowball” effect took place in which people introduced me to several other gangs until I unexpectedly found myself conducting an in-depth study of Chiang Mai’s largest gang named NDR (also known as the Samurai gang). The name NDR initially stood for Na Dara which refers to the front of Dara School where most NDR members originally congregated. NDR is now an abbreviation for the gang’s No Drug Rule.

Of the roughly thirty NDR members (aged between sixteen and twenty-four years) I interviewed, the majority were studying at a technical college in the city. Of these members, most studied mechanics, while several others were studying computer science. The few members who were not studying were generally older group members in their early twenties. One was unemployed, and another two worked in low-paid manual jobs. What most members shared in common was their level of education and type of vocational training. Most NDR informants came from provinces outside of northern Thailand or from rural/peri-urban districts surrounding Chiang Mai. Based on Thai notions of class discussed earlier, most would be considered low to middle class.

O-Zone and the NDR office (a type of drop-in-center for NDR gang members) were my two key sites for recruiting informants. Informants were compensated for their time and travel costs in the form of food, drinks, gifts, or cash, except those I interviewed in institutional settings where this was not permitted. Prior to each interview, I ensured informants of their anonymity and confidentiality of the information they provided. Problems with anonymity have been mitigated by the fact that Thai people are usually referred to by common nicknames (chue len), which was all I requested from informants. Fortunately, very few people expressed concern with being tape-recorded despite the highly personal and illegal nature of the topics discussed. Had I not been Eurasian (luk khrueng) I possibly would have experienced more difficulties in securing trust from informants and eliciting such private information. I was told by a few Thai researchers that gaining trust with drug users was challenging because the researcher was often suspected of being an undercover police officer. In my instance, my slightly European features and my less than fluent Thai accent made me an unlikely candidate for an undercover police informant; therefore, people were less suspicious of my motives. Additionally, having a northern Thai mother provided me with some sense of shared identity with informants, enabling me to establish a level of rapport perhaps less possible for a complete foreigner. Having a general understanding of Thai norms and values and a basic grasp of the northern Thai dialect—which I often used to humor informants (although I studied and mostly spoke central Thai)—went some distance in strengthening relations and gaining acceptance.

Youth Subcultures in Chiang Mai

As noted, rapid urbanization and modernization in northern Thailand over the last few decades has led to the growing movement of young people from rural villages to the city. The sense of anonymity specific to urban spaces makes it essential for youth to create difference. In order to stand out from the urban crowd, many young males are turning to style-based subcultures as a means for shaping an identity and a sense of belonging as old forms of village community gradually disappear.

Cosmopolitan urban subcultures influenced by the west and parts of East Asia, especially Japan and Korea, became popular in Chiang Mai city in the early to mid-1990s. These primarily male subcultures include dek board/skate (skateboarders), dek Vespa (Vespa scooter riders), dek B Boy (break-dancers), dek bike (BMX bike riders), and dek punk (punks) (Cohen 2009). In contrast to violent teenage gangs (kaeng wairun), these subcultures are generally referred to as dek inter due to their borrowing from global youth subcultures. Of course, these subcultures shift with global trends as I discovered in my field trip in 2014, where subcultures such as the trendy “hipster” have taken center stage in Chiang Mai’s urban youth scene. The different styles adopted by these subgroups are instrumental in establishing symbolic parameters and constructing a specific subcultural identity. Nevertheless, the inter subgroups identified with each other based on a shared interest in global or inter fashion clothing styles, music, and social scenes. Although stylistic boundaries are erected between each of these inter subcultures, their sense of self is most notably defined against a generic category called dek saep, the denigrated Other (ibid). Dek saep is not a subculture as such but an imposed negative label against which inter subcultures have come to define themselves. Dek saep are typically associated with delinquent (antaphan) and violent youth gangs. They are also perceived as “uncivilized,” “backward,” provincial youth who typically commute from rural areas into the city in search of trouble. However, the members of gangs that I interviewed rarely identified with this label and frequently accuse members of rival gangs of being dek saep. Some gang youth proudly refer to themselves as dek saep because of their notoriety; however, many gang youth found the label to be insulting and were equally determined to construct an identity in opposition to dek saep in ways similar to dek inter.

In Chiang Mai a distinct youth cultural hierarchy exists among subcultural groups with the inter subcultures positioned at the top and dek saep firmly located at the bottom. The local/global or rural/urban distinction between dek saep and dek inter is determined in part by clothing styles, speech and leisure activities. For example, in contrast to the baggy pants and loose-fitting T-shirts worn by dek inter, dek saep are purported to wear narrow jeans, tight-fitting T-shirts, and flip-flops. Numerous informants also noted that dek saep watch and listen to Asian films and music as opposed to the western-style music more commonly associated with dek inter such as American hip hop. In addition, several informants noted that dek saep are more likely to speak the northern Thai dialect rather than the formal central Thai language more commonly associated with hi-so youth. It was implied that dek saep were less educated than their dek inter counterparts. Their limited literacy skills thus excluded them from participating in some “modern” youth social practices.

While Thornton’s subcultural capital, which is largely accessed through leisure, is integral in defining one’s youth status, Bourdieu’s notion of cultural capital and its emphasis on education still plays an important role within Thai youth culture. Thornton argues that subcultural capital obscures class background as “it has long been defined as extra-curricular, as knowledge one cannot learn in school” (1995, 13). This is where subcultural capital and Bourdieu’s cultural capital differ; the latter places more emphasis on education as a source of cultural knowledge. My observations of Thai youth suggest that formal education can to some extent limit one’s access to specific youth cultural entertainment and practices (e.g., Western music, film and social media), thus affecting their status among youth. The rural/urban division that informs the dek saep and dek inter categories is closely tied to education and ultimately class. While Thornton’s concept of subcultural capital does not equate entirely to the variables of distinction among northern Thai youth subcultures, it is nevertheless useful for understanding the ways in which young Thai compete for status within their own cultural hierarchy.

I interviewed several male teenagers who claimed to have made a progression from dek saep to dek Vespa and then to dek skate. The transition from one category to another may vary. However, I failed to meet one person who made a shift from being a dek inter to dek saep. This was because dek saep was considered by most youth to be “lo-so,” that is, low class, uncivilized, immature, etc. In other words, a transition from dek inter to dek saep would imply degeneration or a backward slide. Rural youth in their early teens (such as dek saep) may not be able to improve their social status (or subcultural capital) until they have regular contact with city life (e.g., through education or work) and have the means to become bona fide consumers. Low-class youth who cannot afford to purchase the fashion commodities necessary for elevating their social status within the youth cultural scene must find alternative ways to differentiate themselves and increase their subcultural capital. I suggest many gang members use violence and other traditional forms of masculinity to stand out from the crowd and climb the youth cultural ladder.

Youth Gangs in Chiang Mai

Street gangs can be found to date back to the 1950s in Thailand, as evidenced by popular films such as “2499 Antaphan Krong Muang,” also known as “Dang Bireleys and Young Gangsters,” a 1997 Thai film about a notorious young gangster and his cohort growing up in the late 1950s. ³ This was also confirmed by conversations I had with former gang members from the 1960s, one of who explained that gangs of the past fought against other village gangs and that fights usually erupted at village temple festivals, which continues to be a site of gang conflict today. While youth gangs are not new to northern Thailand, there was a significant increase in the formation of violent youth gangs in the late 1990s to the early 2000s in Chiang Mai (The Nation, September 24, 2002; The Nation, November 19, 2002; Bangkok Post, September 14, 2003; Bangkok Post, September 21, 2003). These subcultural groups typically congregate in clusters of ten or more around their motorbikes parked on the streets in front of schools, dormitory buildings, shopping malls, bars, or temples. The gangs of Chiang Mai, like many gangs worldwide, are associated with the specific landmarks and territories to which they claim ownership. Indeed, two gangs with whom I came into regular contact include the Hang Dong gang and the Mae Rim gang, both of which are named after village towns. One of the key characteristics that distinguish these youth gangs (kaeng wairun) from other subcultural groups (e.g., dek inter) in Chiang Mai is their orientation toward violence.

While I never actually witnessed a gang fight, I was privy to graphic details of brawls which many gang members related to me in interviews and conversations. On a number of occasions, I overheard gang members boasting to their peers about fights in which they were involved and I also observed gang youth proudly comparing scars of wounds inflicted by rival gangs. In addition to battles over territory, numerous informants claimed that fights usually occur over females. A fight often starts when other males (particularly from rival gangs) are caught staring at one’s female partner, or worse still, trying to “pick up” (cip) one’s partner.

Most of the gang members I spoke to preferred not to take their girlfriends out with them. This was not just to shield them from the wandering eyes of other males, but simply because they considered it to be less fun having their girlfriend present as it restricted them from flirting with or meeting other girls. Furthermore, some found the accompaniment of girlfriends to be a burden because they had to take care of them and also feared for their safety as fights take place almost daily, particularly at bars or while transiting between venues late at night on one’s motorbike. The duty to protect females from harm was first brought to my attention after “hanging out” with the Hang Dong gang one evening, an outing that I have detailed in the following extract from my field notes:

Last night at about 9pm Nok and I went to meet Nok’s boyfriend Maeo (the leader of the Hang Dong gang) who was drinking at a makeshift road side local whisky stall (lao tong) with three of his friends, including Chot whom I had already met at Ozone. The lao tong where they were drinking was located across the road from the photocopy shop where Maeo works and resides. When we arrived Maeo and Chot politely stood up from their stools to allow Nok and me to be seated. As we were deciding on a bar or nightclub to visit, Maeo received a mobile phone call from one of his nong (juniors) alerting him of a gang fight (most gang members are obliged to call the leader when a fight erupts). Without hesitation, Maeo and Chot scurried across the road to Maeo’s apartment to collect their weapons before departing on Maeo’s motorbike to assist their friends in battle. Nok and I watched them grab a “Sparta” knife and a steel rod which they concealed by strapping to their legs under their jeans. The fight was taking place near Hang Dong about 15 kilometres south from where we were in the city. It appeared to be a brawl regarding territory as Hang Dong is the area which Maeo’s gang control (most of the members grew up together in Hang Dong) and outsiders had clearly encroached on their turf. Nok and I, refusing to be excluded from the action, asked to tag along but Chot and Maeo tried to discourage us from going as they thought it was too dangerous for females. Determined to witness a fight, we decided to follow them closely on my motorbike. Despite the reckless speed at which Nok was driving it was not long before we lost them. Once we relinquished hope in finding them, we rode back to Maeo’s apartment to wait for them out the front as we had agreed. It was not long before they had returned; the fight, much to everyone’s disappointment, had been disrupted by policemen. We probed them about the fight and the reasons behind it but Maeo was very evasive and implied it was none of our concern, as though it was somehow secret men’s business.

It is evident that gang fights take place regularly (some gang members reported daily) and that there is a very real threat of violence between gangs. In 2002 police launched a crackdown on youth gangs in northern Thailand and confiscated numerous weapons including firearms, swords, knives, and metal chains (The Nation, September 24, 2002). During my fieldwork, the media created intense fear and anxiety among the general public regarding the “Samurai gang” whose members supposedly ride around the city at night on their motorcycles randomly attacking innocent civilians with a Samurai sword (The Nation, September 24, 2002; The Nation, November 19, 2002). This gang, also known as the NDR gang, is the most infamous youth gang in Chiang Mai and one that I came to know intimately during my field research. The media labeled the NDR gang the “Samurai gang” after members were photographed holding machetes staged by the police, inadvertently resulting in a rise in membership. ⁴ As one informant noted: “I joined NDR because I thought they were ‘cool’ (thae), I loved them after hearing about them in the media and seeing them on TV.”

The NDR received media attention due not only to their violent behavior but also the unconventional structure of the gang, with its formal organization and overarching female leader. By 2015 the NDR boasted more than four thousand members, divided into thirty-two subgroups, each with their own leader. These leaders and their followers are overseen by an elderly woman named Laddawan Chaininpun, known to members as Yai Aew (grandma Elle). A former English language teacher, Yai Aew, became involved in NDR in 1996 when her grandson joined and became the leader of the gang. As the group increased in size they became increasingly involved in fights and attracted significant media attention following a host of violent attacks resulting in serious injuries and even deaths. In fear of her grandson’s safety and risk of being imprisoned, Yai Aew established a place for members to hang out, where she offered them counseling and advice. She also assisted in mediating between rival gangs and police when members were in trouble. Yai Aew recognizes that many young Thais join gangs to achieve a sense of belonging and community that they are otherwise lacking. She does not condemn gang formation but aims to minimize their dangerous activities, including violence and drug use, by acting as a mentor and organizing various leisure and sports activities to keep them occupied. Yai Aew also established eight NDR gang membership rules, which can be found displayed on a large poster as you enter her office: (1) Will not get involved in drugs; (2) Will cooperate with the group; (3) Will pay respect to seniors; (4) Will not break the law; (5) Will do good for the community; (6) Will cooperate with private/NGO and government organizations that help society and the group as a whole ⁵ ; (7) Will consult sisters/brothers (phi norng) and friends when there is a problem with group members; and (8) Will not use violence to solve problems. It was divulged in my interviews with NDR members that most did not abide by all the rules, particularly those prohibiting law breaking and the use of violence. It seems that for members the rules provide a structure to belonging even if one only acknowledges them in the breach. Nevertheless, it was clear from my conversations with members and observations that despite not abiding by all her rules, Yai Aew was well respected and trusted by gang members.

In 2015 Yai Aew called for public funding support to organize camps for NDR members to help develop life skills and capacity building, as well as to discuss the causes and effects of violence. Upon my return field trip in 2011, Yai Aew explained that some of the subgroups had disbanded as leaders had finished school and began working in Chiang Mai and other provinces, got married, or were conscripted to the Thai Military. Thus, most NDR youth went on to lead fairly normal lives and become functional members of Thai society.

Masculinity, Invulnerability, and Subcultural Capital

Many urban youth gangs have a reputation for violence, and gang fights in and around Chiang Mai city are indeed common. However, this is by no means indiscriminate, nor is it a consequence of cultural decline or moral degeneration. Rather, like the spoken and unspoken rules of NDR, gang violence tends to be highly structured and reproduces, in urban and peri-urban contexts, enduring Thai values of masculinity that emphasize physical strength, courage, boldness, fearlessness, and risk taking.

Intrinsic to Thai values of masculinity is the notion of invulnerability. Turton argues, in relation to northern Thailand, that “ideas and practices of invulnerability . . . are far from being isolated or marginal phenomena.” To the contrary, they have a “pervasiveness, deep-rootedness, and connections with many other ideas and practices” and are “rather a persistent theme in unprompted conversations with villagers” (1991, 155, 156). The terms commonly used for “invulnerable” include khongkraphan (N.T.: khongkaphan) chatri and kham (specifically in northern Thailand).

Traditionally, the invulnerability of the warrior was achieved through skill both in the use of arms and magical practices. The latter most commonly comprised the use of magical spells (katha), yantras (yan), tattoos (sak muek), and amulets (phra khrueang). Katha are actually of Buddhist origin as they are, in terms of Buddhist orthodoxy, verses of discourses (sutra/sutta) of the Buddha (Tambiah 1976, 200). However, in popular culture katha are often used as magical formulae to gain protection or invulnerability against weapons, magic, spirit attack, and natural dangers. Yantras often serve similar purposes. They are composed of animal or human representations, geometrical designs, and sacred letters usually in Khmer script. Yantras may be inscribed on white cloth but also, as with katha, tattooed on the body. Bas Terwiel (1979) distinguishes two main types of tattooing in Thailand: “administrative tattooing” used for the control of manpower, dating back at least to Ayutthaya of the eighteenth century, and “religious tattooing” for magical purposes, including invulnerability (Terwiel 1979; Tannenbaum 1987). He reports a much stronger tradition of religious tattooing in the Shan states, the Chiang Mai area, and in some parts of Laos compared to central Thailand. The tattooing of katha and yantras on the body requires correct ritual procedures and due solemnity. The tattooer first pays homage to his “spirit teachers” (phi khru), then chants katha, which he blows on the tattoos to impart power (pluk sek). This ritual ideally creates an enduring teacher–pupil relationship requiring of the pupil respect for the teacher, the observance of a range of taboos, and appropriate mental attitude, including “good intention, an attitude of boldness and ideally concentration in meditation” (Turton 1991, 168). Amulets acquire their magical power by a similar process of sacralization (by famous Buddhist monks) but do not necessitate an ongoing spiritual relationship with a teacher. Efficacy also depends ideally on moral attitude, though this may be undermined by the modern commoditization of amulets highlighted by Tambiah (1984, 36).

The use of katha and yantras (in the form of tattoos) and of amulets for magical protection in fights with other gangs is a salient feature of Chiang Mai gangs. The first time I discovered these animist beliefs among youth gangs was during a picnic with the Kat Wiang gang (non-NDR) at a park surrounding a dam near Mae Rim. Most of the members of Kat Wiang reside in Mae Rim some thirty kilometers north of the city. There were about eight young males and two females present at the picnic. After the boys drank copious amounts of whisky, they frolicked around in the dam like frivolous children or sang cheerfully alongside one of the members, Yong, who was strumming his guitar. Those who were playing in the water removed their T-shirts when they returned to our picnic spot as their clothes were drenched. It was at this point I discovered two of the boys, Mac and Keng, wearing unusual amulets. They both wore a piece of long string with small and thin bronze scrolls covered in plastic hanging off the tip. Mac wore the amulet around his neck while Keng displayed it around his waist like a belt. Their leader, Bop, explained to me that they were charms (N.T.: takut) that used to be given to soldiers to look after them in war and that his friends similarly wore them for protection. Bop told me he has tattoos, which he believes have protected him from harm in many fights. On another occasion I was told by a young male (Tam) that all of the members in his gang, Bin Laden (named after the notorious founder of al-Qaeda), have tattoos. ⁶ I observed that a number of members of the Wang Tan gang (another NDR subgroup) had tattoos in addition to the wearing of amulets. The following conversation with the leader, Rung, of the Wang Tan gang, sheds light on the way in which contemporary gang culture reproduces traditional northern Thai ideas and practices of invulnerability as a form of local knowledge:

Rung, as head of the Wang Tan gang, took his role as a gang leader seriously. In many ways he embodied gang leadership qualities—bravery, courage, skill in fighting, honor (saksi khaorop), a commitment to defending other gang members (even a willingness to go to jail for them), and honoring his mum!

Clearly, invulnerability (through the use of tattoos, amulets, etc.) is perceived as an essential attribute of gang leadership or aspiration for leadership. Turton observes that in northern Thailand, in the present and past, arcane knowledge related to invulnerability is, in some contexts, linked to “competition for leadership or peer group pre-eminence” (1991, 162). He also asserts that ideas of (male) invulnerability are associated with “strong desires for individual enhancement, for acquiring special abilities and capacities,” and together with “ideas and practices of endurance, pain, confidence, courage and risk-taking,” are expressive of “individual potentiality and capacity for self-improvement” (1991, 163–64). This desire for self-development is epitomized by the gang leader, Rung—his longstanding, almost obsessive, passion for tattoos and amulets, his study of Thai boxing and other martial arts, and the value he placed on masculine virtues of fighting skills, bravery, and loyalty to the group. Rung, as an exemplar of the gang leader, also confirms Bucholtz’s emphasis on the “creative dimension” of youth culture and on the “critical cultural practices through which young people display agency” (2003, 530). Rung’s creativity is in part illustrated through his hybrid assimilation of local culture with global cultural resources and practices, which includes his practice of Thai boxing combined with Tai Kwando and Kung Fu and, as I observed, a back tattooed with katha and yan alongside images of a Japanese sakura flower and a Chinese-style dragon. Through “critical cultural practices” Rung shows us how traditional understandings of gender are reworked and how youth bring new meanings to these practices within their own world. These practices also support Anan Ganjanapan’s assertion that “popular knowledge seems to be a dynamic form of local culture which is most frequently revitalised by those in the new urban environment, in an attempt to adjust themselves to such global values as individualism, consumerism, and materialism” (2003, 139).

Rung obtained high social status within his group due to his supposed invulnerability, bravery, dignity, and above all else, his fighting skills. In a study of Chicago gangs, Short points out that “fighting prowess is especially status giving, individually and collectively . . . outstanding performance [in fighting] . . . is one of the few available avenues to achievement in gangs such as these” (1968, 21). Among Chiang Mai youth gangs, one’s performance in fighting is similarly one of the few available paths to achieving status within their own social worlds, especially in light of their perceived inferior status among other subcultural groups. Thus, for gang members, those who demonstrate skill in fighting and exceptional bravery may be seen as rich in subcultural capital, allowing them to assume a superior status, and possibly even gain leadership status like Rung.

Rung’s invulnerability also afforded him the title of nakleng, which was used within gang conversations on occasions to refer to Chiang Mai gang leaders or seniors. Turton comments that invulnerability powers were claimed by (or attributed to) “aristocratic leaders as well as lowly commoners” and either “with or against the established order” (1991, 172). This ambiguity in the conception of invulnerability is particularly pronounced in the notion of nakleng. The dictionary definition of nakleng highlights the ambiguity of the term: rogue, rascal, gambler, bold person, sporting person, big-hearted person, person who is an authority on something (Haas 1964, 261). This ambiguity is also apparent in David Johnston’s (1975) analysis of rural unrest in the frontier region of the Chao Phraya delta in the late nineteenth century. Johnston remarks that the popular conception of nakleng was that of a person of manly bearing and courage, determination to win victory in fights, invulnerability, faithfulness to friends, and loyalty and respect toward feudal lords and parents. Thus, when the state was unable to control crime in rural areas, villagers often turned to these young men for protection. However, a nakleng who was charged with guarding buffaloes might end up stealing them himself. “Suddenly the line between nakleng and bandit, between village protector and outlaw, might be a fine one” (1975, 142). Turton also confirms the potential sinister connotations of nakleng. He notes that the use of tattoos to achieve invulnerability (yukhong) in central Thailand coincided with increased cultural contacts between Siamese and Lao/Shan/Lannathai worlds in the early twentieth century and the greater mobility of Shan tattoo masters. He adds that this encouraged the adoption of khongkraphan practices among “gangsters and ruffians” (phuak anthaphan nakleng). This created some consternation in official circles and the Ministry of Education even printed a warning to young people, on the back cover of school textbooks, not to practice “the science of invulnerability” (wicha yukhong) because of its use by anthaphan nakleng (Turton 1991, 166). Similar negative images and stereotypes of urban gangs and gang leaders prevail today among government officials and the media. However, among the gang youth of Chiang Mai the term nakleng carries a more positive meaning of honor, dignity, loyalty to friends, and social responsibility, without any implication of rebelliousness or sedition. For example, Nat (a senior member of the NDR gang), referred to himself as nakleng, not dek saep. He said: “Gangs of the past (kaeng boran) comprised nakleng who were good people, unlike dek saep. They didn’t take drugs, play around with girls and didn’t look for trouble. They helped police catch thugs and only fought people that looked for trouble with them.” This again highlights how young gang members in Chiang Mai, such as NDR, are reproducing local and traditional notions of masculinity centered on invulnerability, which is epitomized through nakleng.

Apart from the positive role gang violence may be seen to play in affirming one’s invulnerability, where fighting alludes to one’s power, it also provides an opportunity to prove one’s honor and loyalty to the group. As Moore notes in relation to Perth skinheads in Australia: “Skinheads perform rituals of violence when their solidarity is threatened by outsiders. Symbolically, violence provides the chance to show worthiness as a skinhead, by ‘standing with yer mates,’ and reaffirms collective solidarity” (1994, 68). While it would be too strong to suggest all this violence is ritualized, it does have indispensable social requirements that say as much about one’s relations with one’s peers as it does about one’s relationship with one’s antagonists.

Chiang Mai gang members perform acts of violence as a means of demonstrating group loyalty, uniting members and creating a sense of community. For example, one of the unspoken rules of NDR gang membership is that if a friend is involved in a fight you do your best to help them and never abandon them (chuailue wela mi rueang mai thingkan). Many NDR informants expressed a willingness to die for friends, which provided members with a strong sense of protection. Indeed, one of the main reasons teenagers join gangs universally is for protection (Miller, Rainer, and McNeil 1968; Spergel 1990; Vigil 1988). In discussing friendships, one informant (Ta) made a distinction between “a friend to eat with” (phuean kin) and “a friend to die for” (phuean tai). Ta says: “Phuean kin are easy to find. When you go out drinking and you invite them they’ll come and drink with you but when you have a fight they don’t come . . . but with phuean tai whatever happens they’ll always be there for you.” Ta boasts that he has many friends like this, the kind that are willing to die for you. Another member (Num) describes group loyalty in the following: “When you run you run together, when you get hurt, you get hurt together, you love each other, you learn together, you know each others habits [nisai].” Not surprisingly, disloyal members are condemned. According to one gang member (Tor), those who change from one group to another are considered “birds with two heads” (nok sorng hua), meaning duplicitous or even traitorous, and may be beaten by members if caught. Traitors will not be tolerated because they are seen to lack dignity and honor.

Fighting to help or protect peer gang members is not only about demonstrating loyalty to the group but may also be seen as an opportunity to “stick out” and be noticed. As one gang member (Tik) explains, gang members are often violent “because they want to be popular (niyom) or well-known (dang). Kids join gangs because they want to be ‘cool’ and popular.” When I asked Tor why he replied, “Wherever you go you feel comfortable (sabai) and you don’t feel lonely . . . you get to know lots of people and girls, you want girls to know who you are . . . girls are also looked up to by other girls if she has a boyfriend that knows lots of people. It’s also for protection, they like boys that can protect them.” Thus for Tor, being popular and having a lot of friends and girlfriends was the ultimate objective of being violent. In other words, violence becomes a form of subcultural capital that enables many gang youth to enhance their reputation and, in turn, achieve a sense of group belonging.

While violence may play a positive role in improving one’s social status within Chiang Mai’s youth cultural hierarchy and establishing a sense of belonging, it also has many negative effects, including serious injury and even death. Indeed, one of my informants was incarcerated for shooting a rival gang member who he claimed was flirting with his girlfriend. However, the killing of gang members was more likely to be carried out by police according to Yay Aew, who implied that the police were responsible for a “missing” NDR gang leader. Not surprisingly, gang violence commonly leads to contact with the law; numerous informants were serving time in the Mae Rim Correctional Centre for Youth for causing serious injury to others. For some, this had a detrimental impact on family life, school, and future job prospects. However, according to Yai Aew, it is often family or school problems that prompts some youth to join gangs in the first place. My findings indicate that domestic violence or family conflict, while not irrelevant, cannot fully explain Chiang Mai gang members’ participation in violence. Rather, so-called delinquent activities, such as physical fighting, could also be viewed as embodied forms of subcultural capital (Thornton 1995) that enhances one’s status within the group and markedly distinguishes street gangs from other subcultural groups, such as dek Vespa and dek board.

Urban youth gangs do not only use violence as a way of differentiating themselves. The NDR have established specific rules and regulations as a way of constructing boundaries and defining one’s group identity against the Other. As discussed, among many Chiang Mai youth groups, dek saep has become the external Other against which they define themselves. This applies to many gang members. Although dek saep are often associated with violent youth gangs, rarely do members of gangs identify with this label. While some gang members proudly admit to being dek saep, most of the gang youth I interviewed found the tag to be insulting. Some informants were particularly offended by the dek saep label and, in fact, appeared determined to construct an identity in opposition to dek saep. Rung, leader of the Wang Tan gang (subgroup of NDR), for instance, insists on wearing black and so too do his followers. This clearly contrasts with the bright-colored T-shirts typically associated with dek saep.

The establishment of strict rules and regulations to which Rung and other NDR gang members adhere (or at least appear to) is also a way of defining themselves against the “uncontrollable” and “immature” dek saep delinquent, many of whom are believed to be drug addicts (khi ya). The NDR are distinct from other youth gangs in Chiang Mai because of their “no drug rule.” Rung states: “The Wang Tan gang don’t use drugs (except for alcohol and cigarettes). I hate drugs and I won’t befriend those who use drugs. I won’t allow any drug user into our group as they may infect the others.” Another important membership rule is “don’t look for fights.” This does not mean one is forbidden from fighting but that one should only fight if someone else provokes it; only dek saep are believed to search for fights without reason. This again highlights that the violence performed by gangs such as NDR is rarely indiscriminate, nor due to moral corruption. Rather, it is highly structured and reproduces enduring Thai values of masculinity that emphasize physical strength, courage, dignity, and honor.

Conclusion

Dramatic socioeconomic development in northern Thailand since the mid-1980s led to the increasing movement of young people from rural areas into Chiang Mai city. From the late 1990s to early 2000s various urban youth subcultures (such as dek inter) emerged in response to growing urbanization, including a proliferation of violent youth gangs. What the globally influenced dek inter share in common with the violent teenage gangs (or dek saep) is a desire to “fit in and stick out” in an anonymous cosmopolitan city. However, while dek inter draw primarily on global youth cultural resources as a means for standing out and enhancing one’s “subcultural capital,” I argue that northern Thai youth gangs have turned to forms of local culture in order to achieve status and a sense of belonging, particularly in relation to enduring notions of masculinity. This is exemplified through gang members’ reproduction of ideas and practices relating to invulnerability, including the use and display of magical tattoos and amulets and an emphasis on honor, dignity, and loyalty to friends. As illustrated, many youth gang members aspire to be like nakleng, gangsters historically renowned for their courage in fighting (without the influence of drugs), respect for seniors, and protecting the village, including their women. Thus for gangs, such as the NDR, violence is not necessarily used to psychologically cope as victims of drastic social change, nor is it a result of moral degeneration, as commonly espoused in the media and other dominant discourses. Rather, it may be viewed as one of various “critical cultural practices” appropriated and maintained by gang youth to establish difference, construct an identity, and achieve a sense of self-worth.