海角大神

Every school day starts patriotically in this dusty village with no electricity in the mountains near Myanmar. The students gather in the school鈥檚 open-air first floor to sing the Thai national anthem. One of them then raises the Thai flag into the wood smoke and fog still clinging to the canopy of the jungle.

It鈥檚 a ritual repeated each morning across Thailand. But this school is different: more than a quarter of these 440 students are not Thai citizens. In fact, they鈥檙e not citizens of any nation; they鈥檙e stateless, mostly born into ethnic minority communities that straddle Thailand鈥檚 remote border regions.

Millions of people worldwide are in the same situation 鈥撀爑ndocumented and unrecognized, even in the countries where they were born and raised.

Without Thai citizenship, these children can鈥檛 travel freely, get scholarships for college, access affordable healthcare, vote when they turn 18, or receive social security when they retire.

鈥淭hey become a second-class population,鈥� says Kokiatti Somsa-ad, the school鈥檚 principal. 鈥淚s it the mistake of the children? They didn鈥檛 choose to be born stateless.鈥�

One of these children is Wakuloo, a 16-year-old boy who likes to strum Thai country songs on the guitar. Wakuloo, who only has one name, is an ethnic Karen and was born in Thailand, in a rice-growing village 15 miles away. His parents and grandparents were born there, too. Like his parents, he has no birth certificate.

Even if he did, his nationality wouldn鈥檛 be guaranteed; Thailand has no birthright citizenship and his parents are stateless, too. According to a recent study, more than half a million ethnic minorities here are caught in this bind.

In 2008, Thailand changed its nationality law, creating a path to citizenship for some of its stateless people. It鈥檚 among several countries that have amended laws and policies over the past decade to document those who fall through the cracks. The UN鈥檚 refugee agency says these changes have led to 4 million people acquiring citizenship around the world.

A bunk and a dream

A teacher says Wakuloo is a talented student. But his opportunities in life are diminishing at an age when they should be expanding. Inside the stuffy dorm room that he shares with 40 other students, he shows a reporter his bunk. This will be his home until he finishes school. What happens next is less clear.

鈥淚 want to be a teacher,鈥� he says. 鈥淏ut I鈥檓 worried about my future. If I don鈥檛 have an ID card when I graduate, I won鈥檛 be able to study more.鈥�

There鈥檚 a glimmer of hope 鈥� an 82-year-old great-aunt is a Thai national and could be the key to his citizenship. First, Wakuloo must compile the right paperwork. Then he鈥檒l have to prove they鈥檙e related. The process can take years, and could be complicated if his great-aunt dies before it鈥檚 finished. But citizenship would change everything.

鈥淚鈥檓 always thinking about it,鈥� Wakuloo says.

A child born every 10 minutes

The Institute on Statelessness and Inclusion estimates that there are more than 15 million stateless people worldwide.聽Unable to study, get jobs, buy land, or even marry, stateless people are statistically poorer, unhealthier, and more vulnerable to exploitation than those with citizenship. According to the UN High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR), a child like Wakuloo is born into statelessness at least every 10 minutes.

Discrimination, changes in nationality laws, and shifting borders can all exacerbate the issue. The breakup of the Soviet Union, for example, left hundreds of thousands of people stateless in former Soviet republics. Decades of persecution in Myanmar spurred thousands of stateless Rohingya to flee to other countries. And Europe is home to an unknown number of stateless Roma.

Even when countries try to register their stateless populations, many stateless people go unrecorded. Government-supplied statistics can only account for about 3.5 million stateless people worldwide. According to the UNHCR, 6.5 million more are in the shadows. Thailand, for example, counts 443,862 in its database of registered stateless people, which is the number the UNHCR reports. Local nonprofits say the actual number exceeds 3 million, including stateless refugees and migrant workers.

'Statelessness is inhumane'

In 2014, the UNHCR launched a campaign to eradicate statelessness by 2024. The #IBelong campaign聽aims to publicize the issue and pressure countries to identify and protect stateless people, and to resolve their lack of citizenship. The campaign will deploy more than 20 specialists to help countries address their specific stateless populations.聽

鈥淪tatelessness can mean a life without education, without medical care, or legal employment,鈥� reads the campaign鈥檚 open letter, signed by Archbishop Desmond Tutu, actress Angelina Jolie, and others. 鈥淪tatelessness is inhumane.鈥�

Thailand has one of the largest stateless populations in the world, behind only Myanmar and Ivory Coast, although many countries lack reliable statistics. For decades people have migrated to Thailand for its relative prosperity and stability, and to escape violence or poverty. Many of them are now stateless.

鈥淕eographically, there鈥檚 often been a lot of movement into and through Thailand from neighboring countries,鈥� says Peter Trotter, the senior protection officer for UNHCR in Thailand. 鈥淏orders are a creature of government, and people don鈥檛 necessarily think in terms of lines on a map.鈥�

Mr. Trotter says Thailand is doing more than many countries to register its stateless people, which is a critical first step. 鈥淐an it be faster? It can be faster in every country,鈥� says Trotter. 鈥淏ut in Thailand it鈥檚 not a question of political will as much as infrastructure.鈥�

Since the 2008 law revision, local nonprofits are scrambling to teach people how they can apply for citizenship. On the Thai-Myanmar border, one of the greatest barriers to applying for nationality is the region鈥檚 remoteness.

鈥淩eal people have their day-to-day lives,鈥� Trotter says. 鈥淥ne of the challenges in accessing the process is accessing the office.鈥�

Follow the family tree

Fortunately for Wakuloo, the process came to him. In January he met with lawyers and advocates of the Legal Status Network Foundation, a group of 32 Thai nonprofits that organized a four-day registration drive in Ban Po Sor. People traveled from three villages to seek advice about gaining Thai citizenship.

Wakuloo waited in line with dozens of villagers before presenting his case to Santiphong Moonfong, the foundation鈥檚 director. At a wooden table in an open-air community center, Mr. Moonfong interviewed Wakuloo and accumulated a stack of paper an inch thick, including a family tree. The key to Wakuloo鈥檚 case, Moonfong says, lies at the top of that tree: the great-aunt, who has a Thai nationality card. If Wakuloo can prove the relation, he might be eligible for citizenship. But first, Moonfong has to find her.

A Monitor reporter joined Moonfong on a bumpy ride to Wakuloo鈥檚 home village. A rutted, winding road is the only access, a slash of red clay through vine-choked jungle. A four-wheel-drive truck takes two hours to cover the 15 miles. 鈥淲e鈥檙e inside Thailand,鈥� Moonfong says from the front seat, 鈥渂ut we鈥檙e outside the map.鈥�

Wakuloo鈥檚 village is surrounded by betel palms. Laundry hangs from lengths of bamboo, and an old woman sharpens a machete on a stone. Moonfong meets Wakuloo鈥檚 mother, who leads him past a pomelo tree to a wooden house on stilts with a foot-powered rice mill below, and two solar-powered bulbs inside.

Wakuloo鈥檚 great-aunt, Nothedu Namrueangloed, is squatting below a picture of the Thai king. A frail woman with few teeth, she鈥檚 dressed in a red woven Karen skirt with orange beads around her neck and silver bracelets on her wrists. Moonfong asks why no one in her family has applied for citizenship earlier. 鈥淲e don鈥檛 have a car,鈥� she says. 鈥淲e don鈥檛 have money. It鈥檚 a long way to walk.鈥�

She shows Moonfong her ID card. The lamination is falling off, but it鈥檚 tangible proof of her citizenship. She confirms that Wakuloo is her great-nephew. She says she wants to help him and his parents get citizenship. And she says if necessary she would travel all the way to Chiang Mai, the largest city in northern Thailand and an eight-hour car ride away, to prove their relation with a DNA test. The test would cost about $135 鈥� an exorbitant fee for the family.

Moonfong is confident this relation to a Thai citizen will strengthen Wakuloo鈥檚 application, and help Wakuloo鈥檚 parents get citizenship, too. 鈥淚f we look at the law, the law says Wakuloo is Thai,鈥� Moonfong says. 鈥淎nd if he gets Thai nationality, he will get the opportunity for education, travel, a job, equality, and a better life.鈥�

How to officially exist

Granting Wakuloo citizenship would also benefit Thailand, Moonfong argues. People who don鈥檛 officially exist are easy prey for human traffickers and criminal networks. (Statelessness can be the single greatest risk factor for Thai ethnic minority women to be trafficked or exploited.) Giving them a nationality gives them legitimacy, equality, and opportunity. 鈥淲e鈥檙e not just helping people, we鈥檙e developing our country,鈥� Moonfong says.

Ultimately, however, the fate of Wakuloo鈥檚 citizenship application rests in the hands of the district office in Mae Sariang. Ethnic groups in Thailand often report poor treatment in district offices like this. Discrimination, and linguistic and cultural barriers complicate the process, not to mention the long, costly journey to get there.

But Wakuloo is hoping he鈥檒l succeed. 鈥淚f they agree, they鈥檒l sign it,鈥� he says, 鈥渁nd I鈥檒l get Thai nationality.鈥澛�

He has faith in the law, and love for his country. And until he graduates, he will be at the Ban Po Sor school each morning, singing the national anthem alongside his Thai friends, pledging allegiance to a country that hasn鈥檛 yet pledged its allegiance to him.

鈥淚鈥檓 proud of Thailand when I sing it,鈥� he says. 鈥淚 feel I was born in Thailand, so I should be a Thai person, too.鈥�