Still We Speak
Coming Soon…
This episode opens the second of a three-part series covering the Decolonizing Southeast Asian Studies Conference at Chiang Mai University. The gathering brought together scholars, activists, and cultural workers from across the region to examine how colonial legacies continue to shape scholarship, storytelling, and identity in Southeast Asia. These were not abstract conversations, but deeply lived ones—revealing the emotional, political, and ethical dimensions of reclaiming narrative power. In this episode, listeners hear from three voices—Thiti Jamkajornkeiat, Kyaw, and Khaing— each of whom approaches decolonization from a distinct perspective, yet all are united by a shared commitment to reimagining how Southeast Asia can tell its own stories.
Thiti Jamkajornkeiat, a Thai scholar-activist, brings a sharp and layered critique of how global academic power continues to define Southeast Asian knowledge production. He argues that decolonizing the field is not simply about reforming its content but about transforming its very structure. “The problem about Southeast Asian studies,” he says, “firstly, it has a colonial baggage, and secondly is exterior, meaning it’s been developed outside of Southeast Asia.” That historical exteriority, he notes, still determines what counts as legitimate knowledge and who gets to define it.
For Thiti, cosmetic diversity or token inclusion offers no real change. “It’s not just about inclusion, but it’s about structural change,” he insists. He elaborates that “the first step is to actually treat Southeast Asian thinkers as equal in the dimension of knowledge production. But secondly, it also [needs to] change or transform the structure of research to serve the interests, needs and livelihoods of Southeast Asians.” Decolonization, in this view, is about dismantling dependency and reclaiming autonomy over how the region is studied, narrated, and understood.
He links these intellectual challenges directly to political realities—authoritarian rule, capitalist extraction, and state control of education. In Thailand, Thiti reads the student protests and labor movements not as isolated phenomena but as part of a wider decolonial horizon. For him, democratic struggle and epistemic liberation are intertwined. Knowledge, he argues, cannot be separated from the people it affects. In other words, he frames decolonization as more than ideas on paper— it must cultivate solidarity, emotional truth, and care in practice.
Thiti also addresses the psychological legacies of coloniality in academia—the internalized deference toward Western authority that often shapes how Southeast Asian scholars measure their own worth. He urges a shift toward intellectual self-confidence and emotional ownership of one’s scholarship. To him, decolonization involves unlearning the habit of inferiority, recognizing that theory and sophistication can—and must—emerge from the lived experiences and languages of Southeast Asia itself.
He further critiques how global academic hierarchies and funding systems reproduce dependency through citation metrics, rankings, and donor-driven research agendas. These, he argues, reinforce patterns of dependency in who gets cited, funded, and recognized, rewarding compliance over innovation. Ultimately, Thiti’s vision of decolonization fuses the political, emotional, and structural. It is not an abstract academic project but an ongoing practice—one that redefines what scholarship can be when it is accountable to the people and places from which it emerges. Through his analysis, he calls for courage, tenderness, and sustained commitment to building a future where Southeast Asian thought does not need to seek validation elsewhere.
Kyaw San Min offers a vivid portrait of his journey through Myanmar’s monastic education system, grounding his reflections in a lifetime of lived experience. He recalls his early years as spent at a Buddhist rural monastery, surrounded by the rhythms of chanting, study, and community life. The monastery, he explains, was not only a place of spiritual formation but also of intellectual curiosity. “I grew up in a monastery as a novice,” he shares, “and my whole life, being educated in a monastery school as well... a monastery school that teaches [not only] Buddhist literature, but a monastery school that teaches secular education.” This integration of knowledge became, for him, a model for how Myanmar might one day rebuild its social fabric: education that forms character and community as much as intellect.
Reflecting on the present moment, Kyaw speaks with both grief and faith in his people’s endurance. “Despite everything going in a negative way,” he says, “the resilience of this community, this resilience of this society, is huge, and we have to look after it and think about how we want to build this future of the nation.” His voice carries the weight of Myanmar’s long struggle under oppression, but also its defiant hope—a belief that even in the darkest times, a shared moral foundation can light the way forward. He frames this resilience not merely as survival, but as an act of care: tending to one another, protecting the spirit of a people, and imagining together what kind of country they wish to become. Kyaw adds that since the coup, media freedom and expression have been blocked, the internet is often cut, and many independent outlets have had to leave; in that context, he feels that the voices coming through Insight Myanmar are “more than useful… it’s advocacy… and information awareness,” helping people access accurate and “proper” information.
Khaing’s reflections build upon this theme of endurance, focusing on the role of communication and advocacy in a country where truth itself has become dangerous. She speaks with the urgency of someone who has lived through the silencing of voices. For her, the mere act of speaking— of being heard— is itself an act of resistance. “As we are under an oppressive military regime, we cannot express [ourselves] freely,” she says. “So from this podcast, we somehow can express our situation, and we can advocate to the wider community.” Khaing stresses how the podcast is also able to regularly bring voices from the ground and updates from hard-to-reach areas.
Having listened to Insight Myanmar for years, Khaing describes it as more than a media outlet—it is a bridge connecting the inside and outside worlds. “When something happens in Myanmar, you regularly update that information,” she shares. “You bring the people from the ground to share about the situation in the apartheid areas.” She emphasizes how, under conditions of fear and censorship, this ability to speak and be heard has become precious.