Prison – Shackles – Shoes: Stories Between the Lines of Thai Corrections

Prison – Shackles – Shoes: Stories Between the Lines of Thai Corrections

“I don’t see Bung’s protest as what led to her death. Society’s and the state’s neglect caused her death. The rotten correctional healthcare system caused her death. The hunger strike did not cause Bung’s death.”

Part of a keynote speech by Professor Emeritus Dr. Thongchai Winichakul, historian, at the event “Bung Netiporn: The Day She Disappeared – Remembering her, Remember us”, marking the 1-year anniversary of the death of Netiporn “Bung” Sanesangkhom, a political activist imprisoned and on hunger strike to demand bail rights, until she died.

Thongchai’s lecture that day was widely shared in the media for its criticism of the justice system, which creates injustice and impunity. What he strongly emphasized was the problem in the correctional system. He explained that Bung’s death revealed the cruel and inhumane nature of corrections. Even after her death, no report of her death has been released. This possibly reflects either an effort to conceal the truth or sheer inefficiency of the corrections system.

“Corrections”: The overlooked end of the justice system

Generally, when talking about the justice system, we think of courts and police, with visible roles in the media. Corrections, on the other hand, is only thought of as the agency that punishes wrongdoers—especially prisons, seen as the place where criminals pay for their sins. What happens to inmates’ lives rarely interests people outside the prison walls.

Many people are unaware of, or choose to ignore, a critical fact about the prison population in Thailand. Out of the total number of inmates, there are 211,138 who are convicted prisoners, meaning their guilt has been legally determined. However, there are also 80,224 pretrial detainees who are still awaiting trial and are legally presumed innocent.

Despite their legal status, these detainees are treated as if they are already convicted criminals. They are forced to wear prison uniforms, shackled at the ankles when transported to court, and even made to walk barefoot into the courtroom. Their living conditions are often cramped, unsanitary, and substandard.

These issues have long been overlooked, and as a result, there has been no scrutiny of them. The death of Bung is one of the consequences of turning a blind eye to the problems within the Department of Corrections.

Thongchai called these inmates “ghosts” in society’s eyes:
“Do you even know how many inmates there are in Thailand now? At least over a hundred thousand. These people have disappeared from society’s awareness. These are Thai social values from ancient times. We’ve always seen prisoners as not fully human. We’ve inherited that belief, not just the state but ordinary people like us. They are ghosts, hungry spirits, sub-humans, and easy to overlook.” Thongchai told CrCF in an interview.

Thongchai Winichakul explains that the legacy of treating inmates as less than human is not only reflected in the neglect of their overall welfare but also in small details like footwear. Inmates and prisoners in Thai correctional facilities are generally required to wear sandals. However, when they appear in court, they are often forced to remove their sandals and walk barefoot. Adding to the bizarre nature of this practice, the regulations for wearing shoes vary among different courts.

“We, the lawyers, and the inmates from the prison, we wear shoes to court. Suppose I were to appear as a witness,  while the lawyers are arguing for their client. If the lawyers take their shoes off in front of the court, what do you think would happen? It would be considered contempt of court, right? So why isn’t it considered contempt when an inmate doesn’t wear shoes?”

“If removing shoes is considered contempt of court, then where is the contempt? The inmate who goes there doesn’t wear any. It’s a different grammar. The grammar for people like us is that we have to wear shoes when we leave the house. Besides the reason for not stepping on things, another reason is that it’s simply a matter of decency. If you were to take your shoes off in front of the court, it would be contempt because it’s disrespectful. But the grammar used for inmates is another set of rules entirely. Because once you’re from prison, you’re not a person anymore. Therefore, when you come to the court, you cannot even asking for the same level of civilized humanity”

Abolish Foot Shackles, Restore Humanity to All Prisoners

The Corrections Act B.E. 2560 (2017), Section 21, states: “It is prohibited to use restraints on prisoners, except when the prisoner shows behavior likely to cause harm to their own life or body or to others; the prisoner shows behavior or symptoms suggesting insanity; the prisoner shows behavior likely to escape custody; when the prisoner is taken outside the prison and the state officials in charge of custody deem it appropriate to use restraints; or when the Director-General orders that it is necessary to use restraints.”

Nevertheless, even today there are still images of prisoners wearing restraints known as “leg irons” when being taken to court. This has become a general practice, and if there is to be an exception for any prisoner not to wear leg irons, special permission must be sought on a case-by-case basis. This can be said to be completely contrary to the spirit of the law.

Wearing leg irons may be considered ordinary for convicts who must be restrained to prevent escape. But when they are still legally considered “innocent,” the use of leg irons may constitute a violation of human rights. In Thongchai’s case, he recognized this violation of human rights when he saw “Arnon Nampa,” a human rights lawyer imprisoned in a political case, forced to appear in court in leg irons. Thongchai viewed the wearing of prison uniforms, leg irons, or chains during trial proceedings as violations of human rights, contrary to the principle of presumption of innocence, and diminishing human dignity.

Therefore, on May 28, 2025, Thongchai and lawyers from the Cross Cultural Foundation (CrCF) filed a petition requesting the Criminal Court to immediately hold an inquiry and review the use of restraints on prisoners, especially those awaiting trial, to ensure compliance with the prohibition under the Corrections Act B.E. 2560 (2017), Section 21. This was done by exercising the right under Section 26 of the Prevention and Suppression of Torture and Enforced Disappearance Act B.E. 2565 (2022), which grants the right to petition the court to order the cessation of acts of torture, cruel, inhuman or degrading treatment, or enforced disappearance.
The goal of the petition is toensure that no prisoner is made to wear restraints. The use of leg irons must be an exception under the law, and the Department of Corrections must undergo judicial review before leg irons are applied to prisoners.

On that same day, the duty judge called Thongchai and the lawyers in to talk, to discuss and to understand. Thongchai recounted what happened in the room that day:

“The judge who called us in said: Do you know, if you win, it will shake the whole system.”

For Thongchai, what he proposed was not abstract. He aimed to propose both systemic change and practical change: that there must be an inquiry before putting leg irons on prisoners and detainees. In practice, this might be complicated. One solution would be to stop putting foot shackles on all prisoners and detainees, and instead reserve the restraints only for exceptional cases—such as serious criminals or those with escape behavior—in line with the spirit of the law, which does not intend to restrain or torture people. But in reality, shackling all prisoners and detainees is an administrative problem and a problem of insufficient personnel.

“I gave one answer: We solve practical problems, solve administrative problems, by spreading the torture of prisoners; so that all of them are tortured with leg irons. Is this the solution? It’s already clear that this solution is wrong. However long it takes, whether you add policies or add staff, add budget, I don’t know. One solution is: stop putting shackles on everyone, use them only in exceptional cases.”

However, from Thongchai’s research, he found that the weight of the shackles used on prisoners has steadily decreased over the past hundred years, and the materials have changed, from large iron chains to stainless steel leg irons.

“Forty years ago, when I went to court, they still used chain shackles. But they were iron rings that had to be carried with rope because they were heavy. See, after 40–50 years, they’ve gotten smaller. You might say, for someone like Arnon, it’s already more merciful. But comparing like that is wrong. The real question is: Should they be worn at all? Not who has the smaller or bigger ones.”

Beyond the practical burdens on guards and the courts, the use of leg irons on prisoners and detainees reflects the attitudes of the state and society that are accustomed to not seeing prisoners as fully human. It is compounded by a stereotyped attitude that prisoners and detainees are people who committed crimes and thus “deserve” to be shackled, stripped of freedom, so as not to reoffend. On this point, Thongchai explained by going back to the name “Ratchathant” (กรมราชทัณฑ์), which has a different meaning than the English name “Department of Corrections.”

“Ratchathant” means punishment under royal authority (in the ancient sense). It refers back to ancient traditions of torture methods we’ve often heard of: squeezing temples, driving nails, putting people in rattan balls, forcing them underwater. The principle was this: suspects or prisoners were presumed guilty until they proved their own innocence. Therefore torture was allowed to extract confessions. If the prisoner refused to confess, he had to prove he was truthful, upright, honest—willing to go underwater, walk through fire, endure torture. If he survived, it meant he was innocent.”

“The idea that it is proper for prisoners to be shackled. I argue that this is an inheritance from the old belief system about corrections. That’s why even today we still see corrections in Thailand carrying the connotation of the old royal punishment.”

Although the current official name of the agency means punishment by the state, the present-day purpose of corrections is rehabilitation, changing the behavior of offenders before their return to society.

“The purpose of corrections today is rehabilitation. This type of punishment—think about how much it helps rehabilitation. And if we realize this, we’ll see that the number of people who should be exceptions, because they cannot be rehabilitated, is actually very small.”

“Many comments on social media say that it’s appropriate. But I think you cannot make such generalizations. It’s like generalizing that every prisoner will try to escape, so you put shackles on all of them. You cannot generalize like that. As I said, spreading torture to everyone in order to solve administrative problems is wrong. You cannot generalize like that.” Thongchai said.

Corrections through the eyes of a political prisoner of October 6, 1976

Thongchai is not widely known only as a historian. Another role that made him known was as one of the political prisoners from the October 6, 1976 massacre, held in Bang Khen temporary prison. He served a sentence for 2 years. That fragment of his life at the time gave him the opportunity to experience the suffering of prisoners in nearly every sense.

“My case was at Bang Khen. The good thing was that it wasn’t overcrowded. It was crowded for about 4–5 months. After people were released, there were only 10–20 of us left. They were afraid we would stir up trouble with other prisoners, so they locked us separately in a slightly larger room. I was okay with that. So I didn’t have to face prison overcrowding. The bad part of being at Bang Khen was that I never saw the sun or the moon. Bang Khen was a building with no space. We had to go up to the rooftop. We never touched the ground. Going to court meant getting on the vehicle, getting off the vehicle, and going into the court. I can’t remember if I ever stepped on any grass. In terms of conditions, we were better off than ordinary prisoners, less crowded. But it wasn’t good in every respect.”

CrCF asked Thongchai what has not changed in the correctional system over the past 40 years. Thongchai answered: the first thing is “kha yai” (big shots) in prison—a term referring to influential figures in different parts of the prison, usually prisoners who serve as assistants to wardens. There are big shots in the cell, big shots in the zone, or big shots for the whole prison. Their stories often appear in films many people consume for entertainment, but in real life, few pay attention to this problem.

Food is another terrible memory for prisoners, unchanged even after decades.

“Prison food has not changed in 40–50 years. Don’t ask me what it’s like. I still remember its smell to this day. It’s boiled vegetables. I can remember exactly what kinds of vegetables: cabbage. You’ll never get an ivy gourd. It’s only cabbage, only Chinese cabbage. We had to tell ourselves it was jab chai (mixed vegetable stew), though it wasn’t really. At best, sometimes there were tiny little red shrimp paste prawns, but often none. If they had some, it was just a little. At best, sometimes tofu. If it was pork, they had to give you fatty bits so it had at least some taste. You’d see the pork fat floating. And when it was served, it was always cold.”

But among the cruelties in prison, healthcare is probably the biggest problem. Thongchai witnessed this problem through the fate of his fellow comrade Orissa Airawanwat, a vocational student from Bangkok Technical College at the time. Orissa was shot during the crackdown on the protest at Thammasat University, Tha Prachan. Two bullets hit his mouth, leaving him seriously injured. He was treated at the hospital for a short time before being brought back to prison.

“Not long after that, no more than 2–3 months, he got better. To put it simply, he didn’t die. But the wound remained, it didn’t heal, it was inflamed. He asked to be treated at the Corrections Hospital. It was extremely difficult to get to see a doctor even once. And every time he went, he wasn’t admitted to the hospital. He went once, came back; went once, came back. Each time was so hard to get. Sometimes there was even a saying in prison: you are forbidden to get sick. If you do, you get only one thing: paracetamol. You don’t get antibiotics.”

Orissa’s suffering led fellow political prisoners to secretly write letters, translate them into English, and send them to international organizations to create pressure for him to be properly treated. Eventually, Orissa was allowed to receive treatment at the Corrections Hospital. Although he did not completely recover, his condition improved until he could eat normally. By the time he finished his sentence, he underwent surgery, and it took around 2 years until he fully recovered.

Another health problem that many prisoners suffer from is gastritis, caused by food that lacks quality and is insufficient in quantity. Moreover, to receive medical care, prisoners must prove that they are truly sick, truly in pain, before they can get painkillers.

“Inmates with gastritis asking for treatment are very common. But they just give you paracetamol, which makes gastritis worse. I don’t know if it’s changed now, but giving paracetamol to someone with gastritis, any ordinary person would say it’s wrong.” Thongchai said.

If ordinary people get sick, they already have to wait long hours, even days, to see a doctor because of shortages of medical personnel. Imagine how long people without rights or voices in prison must wait for medical care. The Corrections Hospital itself only has regular doctors occasionally, and most of the time there are only on-duty doctors rotating through. This is not enough to meet the need. And with doctors stationed temporarily, even when they see the problems, they cannot continuously solve them.
“Most doctors sympathize with prisoners and try to help, but with limitations, they cannot do much. If I were to criticize, I’d say they’re like ordinary Thai people, living under fear, under the feeling that they are small and powerless. The judge who called me in to talk about Arnon said it many times: I’m small, this is for the higher-ups to decide. If even a judge says he is small, then how big do you think a doctor at the Corrections Hospital feels? They don’t dare either.”

Reform Corrections by Abolishing Leg Irons – Allow Shoes in Court

In the past, traditional prisons were places used to punish offenders. But today, although the objective of prisons is rehabilitation and behavioral change, the way prisoners and detainees are treated still inherits the legacy of treating them as less than human—subhuman, different from ordinary people. Thus, they must eat food that is not truly human food, live in overcrowded spaces unfit for humans, and receive medical treatment inferior to that of ordinary people. This is like Bung’s fate, who had to die because of a system that ignored the dignity of prisoners and detainees.

“The struggle over prisons, in this sense, also continues Bung’s intentions. Because the improvements you demand in the corrections process would benefit far more than just political prisoners. They would benefit all prisoners in Thailand’s prisons. For example: One – Can we abolish leg irons? Thailand is one of the few countries that still uses leg shackles. In the U.S., they still exist, but only for special cases like serious criminals or those with escape history. But in Thailand, everyone wears them. Two – When prisoners go to court, can they be allowed to wear shoes?”
“In these two cases, how many beneficiaries do you think there would be? How many prisoners across Thailand would oppose them? How many would benefit from abolishing these two practices? I believe the whole prison would cheer, because both practices exist to diminish humanity. The main purpose is not to prevent escape. That’s just an excuse. The main purpose of shackling and not allowing shoes is to reduce their humanity.” Thongchai said in conclusion to his speech that day.