30 Asia The EconomistFebruary 1st 2020
2 gdpgrowth, which averaged 7.7% a year
over the past decade.
But in a study of sezs in 2017 Focus on
the Global South, a think-tank headquar-
tered in Bangkok, concluded that the “leg-
islative and governance structures” under-
pinning sezs in Cambodia and Myanmar
“have been skewed toward the interests of
investors and against those of locals and
the environment”. Alfredo Perdiguero of
the Asian Development Bank agrees that
sezs in Laos, Cambodia and Myanmar
“have not yet been able to spread the bene-
fits” to the broader economy.
In part this is because Chinese compa-
nies tend not to hire locals. By 2018 Laotian
workers had secured just 34% of the jobs
created by all 11sezs in Laos—a far cry from
the 90% the government had promised.
Chinese firms argue that local workers lack
skills, but civil society groups in Myanmar
respond by pointing to a technical college
near Kyaukpyu, a Chinese-inspired sezand
port; nobody from the college has been
hired to work there, according to a report
published last year.
There is little local sourcing of other in-
puts, either. The garment factories of Siha-
noukville sez, for instance, import their
cloth, buttons and thread. The Chinese
workers and visitors in South-East Asia’s
sezs often patronise Chinese-owned shops
and restaurants, and circumvent sales tax-
es by paying for goods and services via Chi-
nese apps like Alipay. “The money doesn’t
even leave China essentially,” says Sebas-
tian Strangio, author of a forthcoming book
on China’s growing influence in South-
East Asia. That, along with the tax breaks,
mean there is little benefit for host govern-
ments: in 2017 the Laotian exchequer
raised just $20m from its sezs—less than
1% of its revenue.Extraterritorial and unreasonable
As is common with big developments in
the poorer countries of South-East Asia, lo-
cals are seldom consulted about the con-
struction of sezs. Golden Triangle sezwas
built over the rice paddies of Ban Kwan vil-
lage; over 100 households were forced to re-
locate against their will. And then there is
the question of law enforcement within
the sezs, whose light regulation can be as
attractive to criminals as to legitimate
businesses. In 2018 American authorities
declared that the Golden Triangle sezwas a
hotbed of “drug trafficking, human traf-
ficking, money laundering, bribery and
wildlife trafficking”. They called the com-
pany that operates the seza “transnational
criminal organisation” and placed sanc-
tions on its chairman, Zhao Wei. He denied
the accusations, calling the move “unilat-
eral, extraterritorial, unreasonable and
hegemonic”. Many South-East Asians
might say something similar about the way
the region’s sezs are run. 7T
he deathof Anucha Thasako was sup-
posed to change everything. After sev-
eral sharp blows to the head during a Thai
boxing bout in 2018, the scrawny 13-year-
old fell to the floor, unconscious. The refer-
ee rushed to his side, to no avail. There was
no doctor in attendance. Anucha died soon
afterwards from a brain haemorrhage. He
had been boxing since the age of eight, and
had taken part in around 170 fights.
The footage of the deadly bout, which
circulated widely on social media, stirred
uproar. The government, which had any-
way been considering restrictions on child
boxing, pledged to rush through a bill to
ban children under 12 from participating in
formal competitions and to oblige those
between 12 and 15 to wear protective head-
gear. But the plan quickly lost steam.
Participants and fans protested loudly,
arguing that the only way to prepare for a
career in Thai boxing or muay thai, which
dates to at least the 18th century, is to start
young. Eliminate child boxing, they ar-
gued, and the whole sport would atrophy.
The government no longer talks of tighten-
ing the rules for young boxers. Gongsak
Yodmani, the head of the Sports Authority
of Thailand, describes child boxing as stan-
dard practice. The authority’s official tally
shows only 635 boxers below the age of 15,
although others put the number of chil-
dren who train and compete informally as
high as 100,000.For some children, boxing is a route out
of poverty. Those participating in public
fights earn 300-500 baht ($10-16) a bout
when they are starting out, says Samart
Payakaroon of the Muay Thai Naiyhanom-
tom Association, a lobby group. Profes-
sional boxers can earn thousands of dollars
a match. Muay thai“is a very honourable
way to escape poverty”, says Chatri Sityod-
tong, the founder of One Championship, a
martial-arts promoter.
But doctors say that blows to the head
from “the art of eight limbs”, which in-
volves punching, kicking, kneeing and el-
bowing, may stunt children’s development
and increase the risk of Parkinson’s and
Alzheimer’s. A study from Mahidol Univer-
sity found that boxers under the age of 15
had lower iqs than average; those who had
been fighting the longest were furthest be-
hind. The study’s lead author, Jiraporn
Laothamatas, considers putting children
in the ring a form of child abuse.
One force helping sustain the sport, un-
derage bouts included, is tourism. The
Tourism Authority of Thailand energetical-
ly promotes muay thai. Foreigners tend to
snap up the most expensive seats in the
biggest stadiums, looking for a slice of Thai
life. Many may not realise how young some
of the fighters they are watching are—al-
though the weight categories should give
them an inkling. Anucha was competing in
the under-41kg division. 7Despite a tragedy, the authorities allow children to compete in a violent sportThai boxingMuay too young