In this series, we highlight real-world stories of how participants of our Local Engagement, Action, and Dialogue (LEAD) training programs use community-based research tools to support communities in defending their human rights and managing their natural resources.
In 2013, six thick, technical feasibility study books arrived at a monastery in Pharlain, Mon State, Myanmar. Written entirely in English and filled with engineering jargon, they were unreadable to anyone in the community. The reports concerned a 1,280 MW coal power plant proposed by TTCL – a Thai-Japanese Company – that would affect seven villages and over 6,000 residents.
The monks turned to Mi Tri*, who at the time was studying at university and knew English, for help in understanding the documents. However, the reports were so technical that they were almost impossible to understand.
“I didn’t even know what coal was at that time,” Mi Tri shared.
This moment changed everything. Over the next two years, Mi Tri and her community would research, learn, advocate, and publish their own report in four languages. They would successfully block the coal power plant and transform how they saw themselves.
This is the story of Mi Tri and her community.
Photo by Mi Tri
The Cost of Development
The company was promising ‘development’ through the construction of roads, hospitals, and new jobs, and was offering payouts to community members to sell their land.
Through conversations with civil society researchers, Mi Tri and community leaders realized they needed to answer a fundamental question: What was the true value of what they would lose?
“Real development is somewhere you can stay freely, you can eat what you make, you can go everywhere in your community,” Mi Tri explained. “It is freedom. You have the power to make decisions in your community, not influenced by the outside. The values you have in your community are what you can transfer to the next generation.”
Photo by Sam Hofman/EarthRights International
Building Evidence: Abundance of Natural Resources in Mon Report
In 2014, the community started a Community Health Impact Assessment (CHIA) –
Abundance of Natural Resources in Mon – documenting the resources they already had. From the start, the report was a collaborative effort between youth, community, civil society organizations, and religious leaders working together across the seven villages that would be affected by the project.
The youth became the primary data collectors, trained in what questions to ask and what information to gather. “We guide the youth, and then the youth collect,” Mi Tri explains. Each evening, they compiled findings at the temple, with an outside researcher helping verify information.
Making the research accessible was crucial. They couldn’t repeat what the company had done, producing a report no one could read. Therefore, they used pictures, maps, and graphs to show how much rice production they had. Furthermore, the report was published in four languages: Mon for local communities, Burmese for the country, Thai because the company was from Thailand, and English for international audiences.
They created large visual displays showing their findings and presented them at the monastery and schools, where the whole community could see and verify the information. “We organized a consultation meeting with the community to show them that this is what we have, and it is from you”.
Community ownership is non-negotiable. “The community owns this research,” Mi Tri emphasized. “We wrote it in the report. If outsiders come to help with research, of course, they can support us with networking and technical support. But not with everything.”
Photo by Mi Tri
Overcoming Challenges
The work demanded enormous commitment and personal cost. “Every day, I’m not at home. I cannot be with my family, cannot work with my family.” Mi Tri remembers. But her family and the wider community supported her once they understood the importance.
Building trust across seven villages required strategic thinking and patience. The head monk became a crucial ally. “In our culture, the monk is powerful and respected,” Mi Tri explains. Having an educated monk who could communicate effectively opened doors to other villages and community members. The monk has great care for his community and has shown important and valuable leadership. He even opened the monastery for them, providing a community space for their work, meals, and meetings.
As a young woman leading this effort, Mi Tri faced particular obstacles. In Myanmar, community leaders are typically older men. She was overlooked and ignored in meetings and had to go the extra mile to earn respect.
“Before I studied at EarthRights School, I didn’t feel confident,” she admits. “After EarthRights, I think my voice is louder.”
However, her confidence was repeatedly tested. At one public consultation, when Mi Tri asked questions, company representatives dismissed her, “We don’t allow the outside people, the media, to ask questions.”
“They think I’m an outsider, really?” Mi Tri was annoyed. Just because she asked questions, the company representatives assumed she wasn’t part of the community since they looked down on its members.
Photo by Montree Chantawong
“We Found Their Weakness”
Mi Tri and her colleagues pursued multiple strategies simultaneously. Beyond the CHIA report, they worked to convince community members not to sell their land.
“Without land, they [the company] cannot do anything,” Mi Tri explained. She and other organizers spoke to families directly: “Does the outside investment really support your communities or do they destroy them? Without land, without your homes, where will you stay? If your community agrees with this project, then maybe in the future you won’t have your home.”
The community searched for procedural violations that could stop the project.
“We found their weakness,” Mi Tri said with quiet pride. The company had signed its Memorandum of Agreement before conducting proper public consultations, violating both Myanmar law and international investment guidelines. The community’s careful documentation of the timeline exposed this crucial failure.
After publishing their research report, they launched advocacy campaigns: submitting letters to Parliament, holding media events, creating large banners showing their findings, and organizing village meetings.
While the company and bank remained silent, the media caught wind of what was happening. “It was on the news every day,” Mi Tri recalls. Visibility matters as much as official channels.
Victory
By 2015, the coal power plant was suspended. The company couldn’t proceed without enough land, and the community refused to sell.
“The report also makes the community stronger,” Mi Tri says. The youth researchers gained confidence and skills that extended far beyond their villages. “When youth from our community go to attend a workshop or training, they say, ‘Oh, the [community] youth. They are different, youth [from this community] is smart.'”
(Sam Hofman/EarthRights International)
“Sharing with Others”
Other communities in Myanmar facing similar projects have reached out to share ideas and strategies. Mi Tri travels to share their community research experience.
“What I’m sharing with them is not only my opinion, it is evidence-based. I share with them my community report.”
She connected affected communities with resources and training, including supporting one community leader to join the EarthRights School program, where she had studied. The approach of community research has spread organically to other communities, all adapting it to their own challenges and needs.
At a recent LEAD Training of Trainers in Chiang Mai, Mi Tri connected with communities from Myanmar, Thailand, Laos, and Vietnam facing similar challenges. She emphasizes that “what is most important is community ownership, and we all share that in common.” Outside organizations can provide support, but cannot control the agenda or process.
Conclusion
Stopping the coal power plant was not the end of the struggle. New threats have emerged: a proposed seaport, a special economic zone, a changing political context, and ongoing pressures of “development” that prioritize profit over people.
But something fundamental has changed. Through the community report and years of organizing, the community now understands its own value in concrete, documented terms. Youth and community members have gained skills, confidence, and a framework for resistance that extends far beyond stopping one project.
Through this journey, Mi Tri had a profound realization. Her community was itself a university. “We see it every day, but we don’t record it. If we record, we can learn.” The process of documenting their rice yields, fishing practices, forest resources, and traditional knowledge revealed that education doesn’t come only from formal institutions but rather it can be discovered, cultivated, recorded, and protected within the community itself.
The approach that blocked a 1,280 MW coal-fired power plant is now spreading across Myanmar and the region, adapted by communities facing their own struggles.
“My community is my university. Many things I have learned from that,” Mi Tri reflects.
Her story offers not just hope but a practical roadmap. When communities research, document, organize, and above all, own the process, they can reshape power structures. Even a “small village,” Mi Tri says, “can hold many surprising things.”
*A pseudonym has been used to protect the identity of the program participant.
