The history of wet-rice cultivation in Palokhi is best traced through an examination of the ways in which the abandoned Hmong terraces have been acquired and brought under cultivation as well as the numerous transactions in these terraces that have taken place.

The original means by which these terraces were reclaimed for cultivation involved clearing the secondary growth in the fields, burning the slashed vegetation after it had dried, and hoeing out the terraces again. It is a method which the Palokhi Karen still use in opening up new terraces. Because the terraces were cut before, the work of reclamation is less onerous than the opening up of terraces from the forest which some Palokhi households are, in fact, now doing as the last Hmong terraces have all been reclaimed. As the accompanying table (Table 5.2) shows, the Palokhi Karen were preceded by two Northern Thai households and one Burmese household in the reclamation of the wet-rice plots. Subsequent in-migration of Karen and the departure of the Northern Thai and Burmese households changed the pattern of land acquisition somewhat with the Karen either reclaiming the Hmong terraces or purchasing them.^[3] Purchases have been made from those who had opened up the terraces (partially or fully) for cultivation or, as it happened in some cases, from those who laid claim to plots of land but did not clear these plots for cultivation. The Palokhi Karen who purchased wet-rice fields have done so either from non-Karen who had preceded them in the Huai Thung Choa valley, or from Karen who for one reason or another left Palokhi after reclaiming, or purchasing, plots of wet-rice fields. The nature of purchases of wet-rice fields have consisted of various arrangements ranging from straight-forward cash payments to payments in kind (notably in buffaloes, the largest form of capital in Palokhi after, of course, wet-rice fields) which are essentially exchange transactions, to share-cropping, that is, rice payments, or a combination of share-cropping and cash payments. As the details of the various forms of land acquisition for the purpose of wet-rice farming are presented in the table, I shall therefore confine my discussion here to drawing out the more significant aspects of the process as it has taken place in Palokhi.

^* This is given in Thai units of measurement, that is, raj (1 raj = 0.16 ha), and the figures were obtained from the present owners of the fields. The figures in this column tally with those stated in receipts held by the owners for a tax (phasii bamrung thaung thii 6) paid by them (see text). These are estimates declared by the owners themselves as no cadastral surveys were conducted by the Department of Lands. More accurate measurements of the areas of these plots are given in Table 5.3 of this chapter where I discuss returns to land and labour in Palokhi.

^** The initials in brackets after the names that appear in this column indicate non-Karen owners: NT — Northern Thai; B — Burmese. All last named owners are Palokhi Karen with the exception of Kino, a Karen merchant resident in the large Northern Thai settlement of Ban Pa Pae, and Thaun, a Northern Thai living in the village of Ban Mae Lao.

^*** As discussed in Chapter IV, there are various share-cropping arrangements which are recognised by the Palokhi Karen and they are derived from the Northern Thai. The cash transactions are given according to their value when the transactions took place. The money value of buffaloes (in brackets), however, are given in terms of 1980–81 prices prevailing in Palokhi and Northern Thai villages in the area which would be, roughly, twice that in the years 1965–68. The rice measures taaj and pip, are Northern Thai units which the Palokhi Karen have adopted from the Northern Thai. A taaj is a jute sack (also known as kasaub) and 1 taaj is equivalent to 6 pip (which is otherwise called taang). In the highlands of Northern Thailand, 1 pip or taang is, usually, eqivalent to 22 litres rather than 20 litres as in the lowlands (Thannarong, et al., n.d.). The pip or taang actually refers to the large tins in which kerosene is commercially sold. It is now not uncommon, however, to find pip or taang defined in terms of 20 litres. In the Pa Pae hills area and the Mae Muang Luang-Huai Thung Choa area a pip is generally equivalent to 22 litres.

Note: About one third of the area used for swiddens lay further from the village.

Perhaps the most immediately obvious features of the general pattern of land acquisition in Palokhi are the increase in ownership of fields by the Karen, and the recurrent presence of Northern Thai in reclaiming and cultivating fields.^[4] It is clear that as the Karen migrated into the Huai Thung Choa valley, they actively opened up wet-rice fields in the area. This, however, was a gradual process in which the fields (where they were reclaimed or purchased, partially cleared, by the Karen) were brought under cultivation through small increments, during which time swidden cultivation was also practised just as it is up the present time. It should also be noted that not all the fields that were brought under cultivation in this manner were abandoned Hmong wet-rice fields; plots B1, C1, J, L, M, N, O and P were all cleared from the forest along the banks of the Huai Thung Choa. In other words, wet-rice cultivation through the years has now reached a stage when wholly new wet-rice terraces are being cut, and it is a process that will continue into the future as several households owning these new plots intend to do so in order to enlarge their fields. It may be noted, too, that in some instances, Karen families on moving into the area tended to “over claim” fields by acquiring more than they could cultivate with their domestic supplies of labour. As we have seen (Chapter II), most of the families that migrated to Palokhi, especially in the early part of the settlement’s history, were all young families with high dependency ratios. This was the case, for example, with plot B purchased by Lauy from Mauchwaelu in 1953. This also happened with plots B and D where D was worked, while B was left virtually uncultivated. The same happened in the case of plots E and K although under slightly different circumstances. Chwi’ acquired these plots when he was married to ‘Ae’ who owned D which was one of the largest plots in Palokhi, and which was able to support them to a large extent. The ownership of wet-rice fields by women is highly exceptional in the village (for reasons which I discuss later) and this was the only case. The plot was inherited by ‘Ae’ when her first husband, Kasa, died (see p. 344, n. 11). As can be seen, these “excess” plots were eventually disposed of by sale (the normal pattern of land transfers involving Karen principals) with Lauy selling plot B to Kasa, and Kasa selling it subsequently to Di, while Chwi’ sold plot K to Duang.

The transactions involving plot E, however, are unusual in that they entailed lease which is not typical of Palokhi land transactions in general. This was because of Chwi”s special situation. As I mentioned in the preceding chapter, Chwi’ and ‘Ae’ were divorced in 1976. By that time, Chwi’ had already leased out the plot to Taay for the period 1974–77 having found the labour commitments in ‘Ae”s field too great to allow him to also cultivate plot E as well. Although this is an exceptional occurrence in Palokhi, nevertheless, it indicates that it is only those households which already own sufficient wet-rice fields which can acquire more. When Chwi’ left Palokhi for Huai Dua after the divorce, he continued to lease out the field as an absentee landlord as a means of obtaining rice to supplement the rice from a wet-rice field which he acquired there.

The transactions involving plots J, L, M and N however, do not represent “over claiming”. They were all schemes thought up by Chi’ (the son of ‘Ae’) who was an opium addict, to obtain money in order to support his habit. None of these plots were actually cleared for cultivation at the time of sale. They were merely claimed by Chi’ who then sold them off when other Karen arrived in Palokhi and wanted to acquire wet-rice fields.

Nevertheless, this reveals an important aspect of land acquisition in Palokhi which characterises the acquisition of land by other Karen in Palokhi: the fact of claim immediately confers rights to fields.

This explains why Su Ghau and Thi’, for instance, who were vaguely aware that they were probably being taken advantage of, nevertheless, parted with their money.^[5] The only case of a dispute over land in Palokhi, however, concerns plot J. According to Toeloe, Chi’ agreed to sell the plot to him for Bht 60, but Chi’ claimed that he was only renting it out to Toeloe. Toeloe did pay Chi’ the money, and opened up a small part of the plot for cultivation. A few years later, however, Chi’ arranged to sell the plot to a Northern Thai of his own accord. When Toeloe learned of this, he attempted to stop the sale of the plot but the Northern Thai was not prepared to forego the use of the land. Eventually, the Northern Thai paid the money to Toeloe instead of Chi’ and the matter was left at that.^[6] Where plot N is concerned, however, Thaun a Northern Thai from the village of Ban Mae Lao was not convinced that Chi’ had any rights to the plot at all, despite Chi”s insistence to the contrary. After several attempts to induce Thaun to pay him something for the plot, Chi’ eventually gave up all hope of obtaining money from Thaun, who began cultivating the plot in 1981.

The Northern Thai (and Burmese) presence in the Huai Thung Choa valley is to be explained, according to Palokhi Karen accounts, by the fact that they, like the Palokhi Karen, were attracted by the prospects of acquiring wet-rice fields with the advantage of bringing them under cultivation with relatively low inputs of labour. Yet, the Northern Thai presence has not been a permanent one. With the exception of the two Northern Thai and Burmese cultivators who were actually resident in the area in the early fifties, all the Northern Thai who owned, or leased, wet-rice fields in Palokhi (that is, from 1968 onwards) only stayed to cultivate these fields during the wet season. So while they were interested in cultivating the wet-rice fields in Palokhi, nevertheless they were not interested in settling in the area, preferring to remain in their own settlements (Ban Pha Taek and Ban Mae Lao) along the Mae Malai-Pai road and cultivating these fields on a part-time basis. With the exception of Taan, who owned a small plot of terraces in Ban Tung Choa (the Northern Thai village nearest Palokhi), and Puu Taa a merchant in the village of Ban Mae Lao, all the other Northern Thai are said by the Palokhi Karen to have been landless in their own settlements.

Why, then, did they not settle in the Huai Thung Choa valley? I doubt very much if the reason is that they were displaced and later pre-empted by Karen in-migration as Karen movement into the area was in small numbers and then again only gradually, as I have shown in Chapter II. The reason is most likely to be found in Northern Thai attitudes towards the habitation of forests and nature. The Northern Thai, as Davis explains (1984:79–85), view the forest as being outside of “civilisation”, the epitome of which is the city, an extremely important feature in their cultural topography. In between are human settlements which are regarded as being more, or less, civilised according to their proximity to cities or roads which are the evidence of civilisation. In these terms, the Huai Thung Choa, at least from its middle section upwards, would most certainly be beyond the pale as far as the Northern Thai are concerned and it would account for their reluctance to settle in the area.

Nonetheless the Northern Thai presence in the valley is significant because it provides some indication of what socio-economic conditions were probably like in Northern Thai communities in the wider area. The fact that most of them who acquired land were landless suggests that even in their own communities resources were relatively scarce. By this, I am not however referring to a scarcity resulting from environmental deterioration.

Although some Northern Thai in the area do practise swiddening (for example, around Mae Lao), most of them seem to prefer wet-rice cultivation. In the Pa Pae hills, however, land suitable for such cultivation occurs in small pockets in little stream valleys such as the Huai Thung Choa. With the gradual increase in Northern Thai populations in the area, as a result of upland migration and natural growth, and with the Karen, and even Hmong in some cases (see Cooper [1984:77]), turning increasingly to wet-rice cultivation, there can be little doubt that land for wet-rice cultivation was gradually becoming scarce from the Northern Thai point of view. It is altogether likely that the number of Northern Thai not engaged in rice cultivation has been increasing despite the fact that the Northern Thai have migrated upland in order to seek out opportunities for wet-rice farming. A good indication of the availability of Northern Thai for labour employment may be seen in Kunzel’s study (1983) which shows relatively large numbers of Northern Thai being employed by units of the Royal Forestry Department compared to the Karen and Lisu in the Mae Muang Luang-Huai Thung Choa area. Similar reasons very probably account for the recurrent presence of the Northern Thai in the Huai Thung Choa valley: apart from cultural attitudes which would explain why they did not (and still do not) settle there, their off-and-on presence is related to alternative economic opportunities elsewhere, even before the units of the Royal Forestry Department offered employment for the surplus labour in Northern Thai settlements.

There is one other point to note about the presence of Northern Thai in the Huai Thung Choa valley. Northern Thai contribution to the development of Karen wet-rice farming systems in the form of irrigation technology has been widely reported (see, for example, Iijima [1979:104]; Hinton [1975:122]), although in at least one case the Lua’ have also assisted in the process (Kunstadter [1978:92]). In Palokhi, however, this has not been strictly the case because when the Palokhi Karen arrived and began to cultivate wet-rice fields, they were already familiar with the methods of irrigating wet-rice fields by building dams, irrigation canals, and so on. In a more general, historical sense however there is no doubt that the original source of this technology has been the Northern Thai. The terminology of wet-rice cultivation in Palokhi is essentially Northern Thai (see Appendix F), as is the case with the Pwo Karen studied by Hinton.

An important feature of the various transactions that have taken place from 1950–81 is the increasing costs of wet-rice fields. Although the increases have not been regular, the general trend has been for the price of wet-rice fields to increase over time. There are two reasons for this. First, the increases, and their irregularity, reflect the cost of labour in bringing the fields under cultivation through reclamation. Thus, the prices of fields have increased as the fields were progressively cleared. In other words, the fields have become more valuable according to the amount of labour put in to make them cultivable. The second reason has to do, of course, with general inflationary trends in the wider economy particularly with the construction of the Mae Taeng-Pai road which reached Ban Mae Lao in 1980.

It is also worth noting, in connection with the terms of transactions, that cash payments have played a part from the time when the first Karen settlers arrived, with the exception of the payments in rice and buffaloes. The significance of this is clear: the Palokhi Karen are no strangers to a cash economy and were able to raise to some extent the cash necessary to purchase land from their Northern Thai, Burmese and, subsequently, Karen predecessors. The cash payments, however, were rarely made in one transfer. In most cases, payments were made in instalments because insufficient cash was available. Indeed, the sharecropping arrangements that also include cash payments, and the payments in the form of buffaloes, all represent negotiated settlements because of insufficient cash. So, although the Palokhi Karen were no strangers to a cash economy they, nevertheless, lacked large supplies of cash to handle transactions which require it. This is still a feature of the economy of Palokhi.

This brings us to a consideration of land tenure and ownership in Palokhi. We have seen that ownership in its most general sense is established by the mere fact of claim. The claim to land for wet-rice cultivation is essentially no different from the claim to land for swiddening. As far as the Palokhi Karen are concerned, claims to land confer full rights of ownership and disposal as long as one wishes to use the land.^[7] There is, however, one obvious difference between ownership of land for swiddening and land for wet-rice cultivation. While land, in general, is a “free good” in both cases, the ownership of swiddens is relinquished after cultivation because of the availability of forests for further cultivation (see also Grandstaff [1976:157]), whereas this is not the case with land for wet-rice cultivation because the land may be re-used continuously, so to speak.

From a Palokhi perspective, we might say that the ownership of wet-rice land is the possession of usufructuary rights held in perpetuity as it were. From this point of view, however, the ownership of land for wet-rice cultivation is clearly an important one in terms of the ownership of personal property which is the only other kind of ownership recognised in Palokhi and this is the reason why land is transacted in the way it is, that is, by being bought and sold. When such land is claimed, cleared and cultivated it is withdrawn from the pool of land available to others in the community “permanently” unlike swiddening land which is withdrawn only for a year although, effectively, this would be for as long as it takes for the forest to regenerate sufficiently for swiddening to be viable again. In principle, therefore, ownership in a Karen context means absolute rights of use which may be voluntarily deferred, transfered or relinquished and it underlies all forms of land rights and tenure whether this concerns access to swiddens in ecologically degraded areas, ecologically favourable areas (such as the Huai Thung Choa valley), or wet-rice fields.

Legally, however, the Palokhi Karen do not in fact own or even possess their wet-rice fields. Under the Land Code which came into effect on 1 December 1954, with the Promulgation of Land Code Act B.E. 2947, a distinction now exists between land ownership and land possession.^[8] The former is recognised by a document of title (canood) which includes a land title deed with a map, a pre-emption title deed, and a pre-emption certificate (baj caung). Land possession, on the other hand, is recognised by the pre-emption certificate which is an “authorization of temporary occupation of land”. There is also a “certificate of use” in addition to these two documents which is merely a document by a “competent official certifying that land has already been put to use”. The Palokhi Karen possess none of these certificates or documents. All that they have are receipts acknowledging that they have paid a tax, the phasii bamrung thaungthii 6 which is a “tax for maintaining the upkeep of a locality no. 6”, similar to a conservancy fee. It does not specify the nature of the land or the use to which it is put.^[9] The tax is assessed at Bht 5 per raj and was first levied in 1977 when officials from the Mae Taeng District Office came to Pa Pae to register people in the area for the purposes of issuing them with identity cards. As far as the Palokhi Karen are concerned, however, they believe that the tax is paid specifically for their wet-rice fields. Indeed, some of them believe that these receipts, which they are instructed to “keep safely”, indicate that they own their fields. Others, however, are vaguely aware that the receipts do not do this but they believe that eventually they will be given documents which will certify ownership of their fields.

Although they are ignorant of the complexities surrounding the legal ownership of land, nevertheless, the Palokhi Karen are conscious of the importance of having their rights to wet-rice fields officially recognised and they are very conscientious indeed when it comes to paying the tax. They are also extremely concerned about having any land transfers officially witnessed. Given, however, the fact that in the eyes of the law they are only occupants of land who do not even possess pre-emption certificates or certificates of use, this means that the land transfers and transactions in Palokhi have no legal status whatsoever. Nevertheless, they make attempts to obtain “official recognition” of their land transactions by having the kamnan (the officially recognised headman of a cluster of villages) of Ban Mae Lao write up, on a sheet of exercise-book paper, a statement to the effect that a certain plot of terraces has been sold by one person to another (identified by name) at a certain price or according to certain terms, and which the kamnan himself witnesses by appending his signature along with that of two other witnesses. The Palokhi Karen themselves place their thumb-prints on the paper. These pieces of paper are kept as carefully as the tax receipts.

There is one further point to note about the ownership of wet-rice fields in Palokhi. With the exception of ‘Ae’, they are all “owned” by men. The explanation for this is that as men have opened up these fields for cultivation they, therefore, own it although of course the crops are shared by the household and in this sense the fields may be said to belong to all members of the household. There are, however, other reasons why wet-rice fields are seen to be essentially owned by men. Although most tasks in wet-rice farming are not marked by a sexual division of labour, as in swiddening, nevertheless the areas where such a division is far more conspicuous than in swiddening are tasks such as ploughing, harrowing and the construction and maintainance of irrigation systems. Furthermore, the performance of rituals — as in swiddens — is very much the prerogative of men. The identification of men as the owners of wet-rice fields in Palokhi is, therefore, very marked at the present time.

It follows from the foregoing that, in Palokhi, inheritance is an issue which has no legal status in the sense that it is not legally documented, nor does it follow Thai law.^[10] The inheritance of wet-rice fields — to the extent that it may be said to follow any semblance of formulable rules — is based on traditional custom and precedents set in longer established villages but, as I noted earlier, it is an issue that is still in the process of working itself out.

According to the Palokhi Karen, inheritable property, that is, wet-rice fields, buffaloes and cattle, should be equally shared by the surviving spouse and children of a person when he, or she, dies. This, at any rate is the theory in Palokhi, and it is a rule or custom that is reported for other Karen as well (see, for example, Hinton [1975:62–3]; Madha [1980:68]; but cf. Hamilton [1976:61]). In practice, however, there is considerable ambiguity surrounding what the Palokhi Karen actually do, suggesting that the “rule” which they enunciate is very much an ideal one. To understand why this is so, it should be noted that traditionally the Karen probably did not have immovable property that could be inherited in the first place, although they may have had livestock. Most property was, and still is, property for personal use, for example, bush knives, smoking pipes, muzzle-loading guns, looms, sling bags, silver bangles and earrings, and so on. In Palokhi custom as with that of other Karen, such personal effects are buried (or burnt in some other communities) along with the body on the person’s death. In other words, such property was not inherited.

In Palokhi, they do admit however that objects such as silver ornaments and Northern Thai muzzle-loaders (which are superior in construction and beauty to those made by the Karen) are too valuable to be destroyed in this way (cf. Hinton [1975:63]). What is usually done in such cases is that all the objects which are supposed to be buried with the corpse are taken along with the corpse to the burial ground; the objects which are regarded as being too valuable to be interred are then deposited just outside the ground while the body and other objects are buried. The next day, the objects are retrieved and they may then be shared by the spouse and children of the deceased.

It will be noted that most of these objects are sex specific, for example, guns, bangles, earrings, and so forth and they are, therefore, taken by wives or husbands, sons or daughters, accordingly. Alternatively they may be sold off and the proceeds divided among the inheritors. This underlies the elaboration to the rule that if non-partible property such as cattle, buffaloes and land cannot be shared equally, then they may be sold off and the money divided equally among the inheritors. In practice, however, a variety of arrangements may be entered into which allow inheritors to have a share in their inheritance without resorting to sale, namely, agistment of livestock, and sharecropping of wet-rice fields. These arrangements are, of course, conditional on practical considerations such as willingness to assume the responsibility of rearing the livestock, residence which would make cultivating the fields feasible and worthwhile, and so on.

These arrangements are all entirely sensible, rational and pragmatic given that the rule of inheritance, as an ideal, attempts to ensure an equal distribution of property and it is wholly consistent with, as Hinton has noted, the fundamentally egalitarian ethos of Karen societies. The problem about inheritance in Palokhi, however, is not what is (said should be) done to effect an equitable settlement among inheritors. The problem is what actually happens to land, specifically wet-rice fields, when a man dies and is survived by a wife and children, because it appears — from the three instances of inheritance that have occurred in Palokhi — that wives “inherit” but do not “own” such fields (see also Stern [1965]).^[11] Although I have been using the term “inheritance” thus far, I wish to make the suggestion at this point that it is not, perhaps, very useful in describing what seem to be fluid, or variable, sociological arrangements pertaining to the transmission and sharing of property rights where wet-rice fields are concerned. This will be self-evident from the three cases of inheritance that I consider now.

The first case of a death involving the transfer of property (Plot H) occurred when Lu Sa died in 1977. He was survived by a wife and five adult children. Of these children, two sons were resident in Palokhi with their mother, while the other children (two daughters and a son) were resident elsewhere. All of the children were said to have a share in the plot of terraces which Lu Sa had opened up, as did their mother. The plot was cultivated by Can Ta’ and La who were resident in Palokhi. Their siblings resident elsewhere retained their rights to the plot but at no point in time did they exercise them, nor did they ask that they be paid money as part of the share from Can Ta’, La, or their mother. Neither were share-cropping arrangements entered into. The plot was left as it was and cultivated by Can Ta’ and La, although in the end Can Ta’ became the principal cultivator because La lost interest in working the wet-rice field. According to Can Ta’, the field belonged to all of them, but clearly the field was being worked for the members of the household resident in Palokhi. For all practical purposes, however, Can Ta’ made all the decisions concerning the field. In terms of domestic arrangements and household economics, all of this makes sense. The point to note, however, is that Can Ta’ was the de facto “owner” and that his mother had little, or no, say in the use of the land. Undoubtedly, if his other siblings had wished to obtain their share of the plot, arrangements would have been made as I have already described so that this could be effected. This was not the case, however, because the plot was a small one and it was felt that the needs of the household left in Palokhi were great enough that they should continue to cultivate it for themselves. Besides, it would also have been difficult for Can Ta’ (let alone La, who was an opium addict) to raise the money to buy his other siblings out.

The second instance of inheritance in Palokhi occurred with the death of Thi Pghe in 1978. He was survived by his wife, his three children (the eldest of whom was sixteen years old), and his wife’s father Rae’, the ritual specialist in Palokhi. It was felt that Chi Choe, the eldest son, was still not old enough to work the field and, therefore, the land was leased out to Taan, a Northern Thai from Ban Thung Choa. Rae’ himself was too old to work the field, but in any case there was no doubt that he did not have any rights to the land. Nonetheless, he was responsible, in the main, for making the decision to lease out the field, although this was done in consultation with two other older men in the village who, along with Rae’, usually officiated at various agricultural rituals, that is, Su Ghau and, of course, the headman Tamu’. Here, again, the role of Thi Pghe’s wife, was marginal. Chi Choe’s younger brother and sister were far too young to merit consideration insofar as working the field was concerned, although their rights to the land, as well as that of their mother, were acknowledged.

The third case of inheritance arose with the death of Chwi’ who had gone to live in Huai Dua after his divorce as discussed earlier. The circumstances pertaining to the land transactions of plot E are outlined in Table 5.2 and I shall therefore mention only those aspects of this case which show something of how this property was disposed of.

In Huai Dua, Chwi’ left behind a wife and a three year old son. They were said to own his fields at his death. As Nae’ Kha wished to make an exchange of fields, Su Ghau was sent to Huai Dua to arrange the transaction. This transaction is very revealing indeed of how surviving wives may “inherit” land from their husbands but not “own” it. It was decided by the elders in Huai Dua that as Chwi”s son was far too young to work the field, and as it would be a very long time before he would be able to do so, short term arrangements such as leasing out the land (as in Chi Choe’s case) were impracticable. Chwi”s plot in Palokhi was exchanged for Nae’ Kha’s plot in Huai Dua, and this latter plot was eventually sold off and the money handed to Chwi”s wife. She was, of course, consulted in these matters.

These three cases do not, however, cover the range of possibilities in inheritance which can be generated by the kinship system of the Palokhi Karen and concomitant residential patterns described in Chapter III. They have also occurred at a relatively early stage in the history of Palokhi when marriage, residence and death have yet to throw up these possibilities as real issues which the Palokhi Karen have to consider in deciding how to apply their rule on inheritance. For instance, in none of these cases is to be found a situation where there is a married daughter and her husband resident in the household of the dead person. Given the workings of the kinship system, and the norm that married daughters and their husbands stay in the parental house in succession, this is obviously a situation that will arise eventually in the future. This sort of situation, according to the Palokhi Karen, is not very different from those I have already described. The only difference would be the presence of a son-in-law who would, then, be able to cultivate the field if he and his wife wish to do so, and if the wife’s siblings are agreeable. As far as ensuring equitable shares in the land is concerned, the elaboration to the inheritance rule would still hold. Competing claims to cultivate the field may, of course, arise if there is a brother or brother-in-law also resident in the village, but this would have to be decided upon through negotiations and pragmatic considerations. Accommodations, therefore, can always be worked out. Indeed, such accommodations or arrangements may be worked out before the death of the owner of the field — not necessarily deliberately with a view to settling the issue of inheritance, but because of the exigencies of household members’ life circumstances.

A good example of this may be seen in the case of Lauj and plot A. Lauj has two daughters, both of whom are married and live in Palokhi with their husbands, and an unmarried son also resident in the village. Lauj himself stopped working his field for several years because of his age and addiction to opium. When his first daughter married Nu’, the field was worked by Nu’ and Chae Wo, the son, and the crop was shared by all members of the household. When his second daughter married Ci, Nu’ and his first daughter set up house of their own and cultivated swiddens, although Nu’ continued to contribute his labour to the cultivation of the wet-rice field which was then cultivated by Ci and Chae Wo. Lauj however continued to perform the agricultural rituals associated with the cultivation of the field.

When Lauj’s wife died, the house was destroyed, and Ci and his wife built their own house, while Lauj and Chae Wo built a small hut for themselves. The field was, at this time, still cultivated by Ci and Chae Wo, but Nu’ began to assume a more dominant role in its cultivation as Ci and Chae Wo gradually became addicted to opium in turn. The year after Lauj’s wife died, Nu’ built a larger house into which Lauj and Chae Wo moved as well, and from that time onwards Nu’ took over the cultivation of the field, although Lauj still performed the necessary rites. Ci, on the other hand, did not cultivate a swidden or wet-rice field (although he assisted Nu’ occasionally) and supported his family and habit almost entirely through wage labour. In 1980–1, it was evident that Nu’ was, for all practical purposes, the “owner” of the field. There can be no doubt that this succession of events and the accompanying arrangements in residence and household economics will greatly influence the inheritance of Lauj’s field; it is almost certain that Nu’ will take over the field through his wife’s claim in the field.

Although these arrangements have been conditioned by the fact that three out of four men are opium addicts, nevertheless one significant feature relevant to inheritance issues clearly emerges: household composition and the presence of a man — whether he is a son or son-in-law — are extremely important in the development of conditions which would need to be taken into account in inheritance, because the cultivation of fields, where the Palokhi Karen are concerned, is dependent on a man.

Notwithstanding the particular circumstances of the four cases above, and the variability in arrangements that attended the three instances of inheritance, there is one prominent feature about inheritance in Palokhi: the relationship between men and land is all important, and it affects the application of the rule on inheritance in two ways. First, it is men who determine what is done with land, as in ritual life. Second, the presence of a man among inheritors who may cultivate the land is an important factor in determining the outcome of how land is disposed of under the terms that guide the application of the inheritance rule. These are the fundamental aspects of inheritance in Palokhi, regardless of the workings of the kinship system and associated residential patterns. Thus, while we may expect different outcomes in how land is finally disposed of, that is, according to whether or not there are resident sons and daughters, or married daughters and sons-in-law, and how sharing arrangements or sales of shares are worked out, the common denominator in the final analysis is the presence of a man who, then, becomes the de facto owner. The reason (as I discuss below) is that men are necessary for the ritual management of cultivated land.

Looked at in this light, perhaps it does not matter very much whether the transmission of land, or rights to land is talked about in terms of “inheritance” or “ownership” or not at all, in so far as individuals are concerned. It would be more accurate to speak of the “ownership” by households (that is, domestic groups), and where the death of a man occurs, a re-allocation of shares or rights to land must take place because a man is required to cultivate the land. Given the sociology of agricultural production and domestic arrangements, such a re-allocation would in general result in another household assuming the “ownership” of the land through the share of one person whether that person is a son, a daughter, or even a wife — but only if she has a son, or son-in-law, resident with her who could undertake the cultivation of the field.^[12] To put this another way, households “own” land, and “ownership” is transmitted through individuals, male or female, by their rights or shares in the land, to the new households that are formed at the death of men in the original households. But, in all cases, men are the “managers” (which women never are or can be) of the land, whether they happen to be sons or sons-in-law.

The importance of men in conditioning the outcome of the inheritance of land undoubtedly lies in certain conceptualisations of sex roles and gender relations integral to the ideology of agricultural production, which is itself an essential part of the ideology of Palokhi Karen religion. In wet-rice agriculture, the construction of irrigation systems, and ploughing, harrowing and smoothening wet-rice fields — all of which require the driving of buffaloes — are seen as distinctly male tasks and these tasks are, needless to say, fundamental to wet-rice cultivation. While women may assist in clearing or repairing irrigation canals, they never construct dams (the completion of which requires the performance of a ritual by the men who constructed it and share in its use) and it is inconceivable in Palokhi that women may drive buffaloes in order to plough, harrow and level wet-rice fields.^[13] Furthermore, with only one exception (which I discuss in the following chapter), all agricultural rituals are performed by men.

As we have also seen elsewhere, only men (the village elders and the headman) perform the Head Rite (talykho) which is specifically concerned with territorial spirits, and the tutelary spirit of the domain — the Lord of the Water, Lord of the Land. They are also the ones who attempt to impose the rules of marriage and officiate at marriage ceremonies. As I have shown however, an important part of the symbolic and ideological significance of marriage in Palokhi consists of the ritual management of “heat” and the infertility of land in the form of “hot” land. Land, in other words, is an essential feature or aspect of the “symbolic capital” of the Palokhi Karen. The inheritance of wet-rice fields in Palokhi, therefore, is not only concerned with the transmission of land for agricultural purposes to surviving kin. It is also concerned with religion and the dominance of men in the ritual life of the community, both of which are inseparable from agricultural production in the cultural ideology of the Palokhi Karen.

This, I might add, is one justification for a view which I expressed in Chapter I: that swidden agriculture has exerted a “priority” through which wet-rice agriculture has been subsumed within an existing ideological system. To the extent that wet-rice agriculture is a later historical development, where the Palokhi Karen are concerned, the ideological relationship between men and land embedded in the inheritance of wet-rice fields may be taken as a structural extension of a pre-existing relationship into a new form of land use.