I am a 29-year-old environmental activist from Chaiyaphum, Thailand. I am passionate about people power and strongly believe that protests play a critical role in bringing about positive change. For many years, I have taken to the streets with other activists to draw attention to the ongoing war over Thailand’s natural resources and to demand constructive action from our political leaders.
Two years ago I paid a heavy price for my activism.
A police officer fired rubber bullets into the crowd during a protest for environmental justice and human rights outside the Asia Pacific Economic Cooperation (APEC) summit in Bangkok. One of these projectiles penetrated my eyeball. I immediately lost sight of that eye.
This bullet completely changed my life and forced me to relearn the most basic life skills. However, it had no impact on my passion for the environment or my belief in the power of protest. In fact, it convinced me to fight harder for environmental justice and demand more from our leaders — including better protections for peaceful protesters.
The day I was shot, I was at the APEC summit to protest the intergovernmental forum’s recent endorsement of the military-dominated Thai government’s Bio-Circular-Green Economy (BCG) greenwashing policy. My fellow demonstrators and I knew that the policy would increase the exploitation of Thailand’s natural resources and wanted to confront the APEC delegates directly about the damage they were doing to the lives of ordinary people in Thailand.
At first, the protest seemed like any other. As usual, riot police were on site to control the crowd, but we didn’t feel threatened. We had no weapons – just banners and a sound system – and posed no threat to anyone.
When it became clear that the police would not let us get any closer to the summit site, we decided to contact the officers at the front and try to negotiate a solution. We told them that we didn’t want to harm anyone and were just there for the environment. They didn’t listen and started arguing with us – threatening us.
“Hey, the one wearing the helmet,” one of the officers told me, “you’re definitely going to get a lesson.” Prepare yourself.”
Shortly after this threat, the police began using their batons against the demonstrators. In anger or by mistake, an officer fired a rubber bullet into the ground, which ricocheted and hit a protester.
Suddenly we were afraid. Something was wrong – this wasn’t normal practice. We accepted that we were not allowed to move any closer to the summit venue and decided to continue our protest where we were. After a quick lunch break, we began our “cursing ritual” – a symbolic act of burning dried chili peppers and salt on a stove.
When we were finished, we placed the charcoal grill we used in our ritual on top of a police car. The fire in the portable grill had already been extinguished, but the police still aimed their water cannon at it.
The demonstrators, hit by pressurized water, rioted and clashes broke out. Several police officers began shooting at protesters with rubber bullets and batons. Some officers tried to calm their colleagues and stop the violence, but no one listened. It was clear that the commanders had completely lost control of the situation.
At one point, several officers began firing rubber bullets at a car where several protesters were shielding themselves. I was afraid that the glass would break and harm the protesters, so I rushed there to help them.
As I walked towards her, I looked back briefly and a rubber bullet hit me in the eye.
At first I didn’t understand what had happened. It was a hot day and I felt cold blood running down my neck, but I was not yet aware of the extent of my injury. I could hear a buzzing noise, so I touched my face to understand what was causing it. I noticed a lot of blood coming out of my eye. An officer came up to me and told me to go to an ambulance.
That’s when I realized I was seriously injured.
On the way to the hospital, I briefly worried about whether I would be able to see again in that eye, but I didn’t panic. We had done a risk assessment before the protest and I was mentally prepared. During this trip, I didn’t think about myself, but rather about my family and how they would react to my injury.
My grandparents, who raised me, have been concerned about my activism for years, ever since I first joined a nonviolent protest group as a college student to support communities affected by coal mines. I really didn’t want them to be upset.
When we arrived at the hospital, my treatment began immediately. I didn’t have time to worry about anything.
My grandparents later told me that when they first heard that I had been hit in the eye by a rubber bullet, they were afraid I would die. They said they wanted to donate their eyes to me because they feared that even if I survived, my disability would prevent me from working and I would no longer be accepted in society.
Fortunately, after completing my treatment and returning home, I was able to show them that I could still live a normal life.
Of course, recovery wasn’t easy. Because I had lost sight in one eye, some basic activities were very difficult for me. My perception of distance and depth was disturbed. I often found myself unable to grab objects I wanted to pick up. I had to learn to use my body again and rebuild my confidence.
My biggest worry at the time was that I might no longer be able to drive. I love driving. I’ve always wanted to race and own a garage. In the first few days of recovery, I was really afraid that I had finally lost this dream.
Now I can drive a car again. In fact, I can do almost all the things that I love and that bring me joy again. I would say I’m 90 percent back to normal.
Most importantly, I can participate in protests again.
In fact, the experiences I have had have not broken my faith in the meaning and power of protest. After everything I’ve been through, after everything I’ve lost, I still believe that protest is the only means available to people to get their leaders to listen to them.
In my country, Thailand, people have been oppressed for a long time. Our natural resources have been robbed and we have little control over our lives and livelihoods. We have no power and no real voice. We urgently need a new constitution that gives more power to the people and their elected representatives in local government.
We tried to communicate this to our government, we reported issues and concerns through the channels made available to us, but the authorities never listened or took action. The only thing that ever worked, the only thing that ever pushed those in power to do something – the bare minimum – was protest.
This is why I believe protest is the most important means of people power, even after losing your sight to a police officer’s rubber bullet.
In Thailand, as in many other countries around the world, protesters are not safe. Peaceful demonstrators who exercise their democratic rights and advocate for the environment will be prosecuted. Worse, they are subject to police violence, just as I once was.
What happened to me shouldn’t happen to others. People should be able to protest peacefully and without fear. The Thai government, like the rest of the population, must ensure that policing of protests is consistent with international human rights laws and standards. It must hold police officers accountable for unlawful use of force and ensure an effective remedy for all victims.
To this end, Amnesty International is calling on governments to vote at the United Nations for a treaty banning the trade in torture, which aims to regulate the trade in police equipment to ensure that weapons such as rubber bullets, water cannons and batons are not used get into the air in the hands of abusive police forces.
As someone who has suffered irreversible damage from a rubber bullet, I fully support this call. Progress happens when we come together to demand change. Let’s work together to ensure that no protester anywhere is forced to endure what I went through.
The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect the editorial stance of Al Jazeera.