The Thai justice system is slipping into a new era: inmates are being paid to weave fishing nets for relentless corporate clients— all while looming threats of bat‑on‑baton beatings and delayed freedom sit heavy on their shoulders.
Former inmates–now calling themselves “ex‑convicts”–talked straight up.
“(The officers) would say that if we didn’t make five nets a week, we would be punished,” one ex‑prisoner whispered over the phone.
At 2 p.m., after a long day, a former inmate at Surin Central Prison was left lying in the sun, rolling on tar‑dry dirt, because the due was missed. “I was forced,” he said, “to lie down and roll in the dirt.”
He was only paid a mere 3 baht (about 12 ¢) for each net.
Compare that to the national minimum wage (313–336 baht per day, province‑by‑province).
Most talk about cashing in only about 30 baht a month—or, to put it bluntly, a complete paycheck‑blank.
Corrections Department officials – who were asked to weigh in – stayed crisp in their silence. They politely declined to comment up until publication.
While the customers get cheap, quality nets, the prisoners are stuck in a cycle that still costs them freedom, dignity, and decent remuneration.
This is a story that probably should stay out of a supermarket aisle but right now it’s sneaking in from the shadows of Thai prisons.
Threats
Thailand’s Overcrowded Jail System and a “Work‑and‑Earn” Scheme Gone Bad
Inmates Behind Bars: The Reality
Thailand tops Southeast Asia with roughly 282,000 prisoners packed into 143 jails. Most of them are there for drug offences, and the cells are so cramped it’s hard to imagine a proper “home.” According to the International Federation for Human Rights (FIDH), the facilities fall far short of basic international standards.
The “Training” That Turns Into Torture
Official marketing materials paint the Corrections Department’s work programme as a step toward reintegration—learn a skill, earn a paycheck, walk free with a future ahead. In practice, however, it looks more like an endless grind with little reward.
- Low wages: Inmates are paid pennies for hours of labor.
- Heavy conditions: From folding paper bags for retailers to stitching clothing, the tasks are physically demanding.
- Punitive quotas: Missing targets can trigger punishments.
Fishing Nets, Blisters, and Bribes
Former convicts describe making fishing nets as the toughest job: sharp fibers leave painful blisters and cuts. Most inmates feel compelled to work because the only way to dodge it is bribing a guard or hiring someone else to do it for them.
Legal and Ethical Concerns
A senior judge warned that this forced labour could violate Thailand’s anti‑trafficking laws, especially when private companies benefit from the inmates’ sweat. “These prisoners are not working voluntarily and can’t refuse due to threats of penalty or physical harm,” said public prosecutor Pravit Roykaew.
Exported nets
Prison Workers in Thailand: The Hidden Net‑Forging Gang
Picture this: a swarm of inmates turning bars into fishing nets, all under the thin veil of bureaucratic secrecy. Sounds like a plot from a spy thriller, but it’s a fact‑checked reality that the Thomson Reuters Foundation just uncovered.
First Act – 142 Jails, 54 Nets
- Thomson Reuters sent Freedom‑of‑Information (FOI) requests to 142 prisons across Thailand.
- Out of those, 54 were honest enough to confess: they’re handing out contracts to keep inmates churning out fishing nets.
- Another 30 did answer but their contracts dealt with other paraphernalia.
- The remaining prisons either kept quiet or affirmed they don’t use prison labour.
The Redacted Mystery
Most prison authorities buried the company names in a thick mask of redaction, citing a Department of Corrections order. However, the Foundation didn’t back down. After a few appeals, the truth slipped out.
The Big Player: Khon Kaen Fishing Net Factory (KKF)
KKF – Thailand’s top net maker – emerged from the shadows with a full‑blown record:
- Last year, they shipped 2,364 tonnes of fishing nets.
- The haul was worth roughly US$12 million (or S$16 million, according to Maia Research).
- The contract’s destination? Hard‑hit the United States.
KKF wasn’t thrilled about the FOI leak. They sent a formal note to at least one prison, asking the government not to announce the deals. The company refused to say anything more after they were contacted.
USA’s “We’re Not Buying This” Response
The United States Department of Labor weighed in, sounding off like a stern teacher. They said the allegations—prisons in Thailand producing nets for private firms—are “a cause for concern.”
Key points they highlighted:
- The Tariff Act outright bans importing goods made with prison or forced labour.
- The Department states it constructs a bi‑annual list of goods suspected to be produced with child or forced labour.
- They pull data from research, investigative journalism, and other sources.
Bottom Line
It turns out that behind those concrete walls, there’s a whole ecosystem that profits from district‑level inmates. And while some governments comply with FOI (or at least pretend to), the truth can’t stay hidden forever.
For now, the playground of prison labour continues to be a secret factory—until the whistle blows and the nets are re‑examined, both literally and figuratively.
Scrutiny
Thailand’s Seafood Industry and Prison Labor: A Disturbing Reality
For years, Thailand has faced mounting pressure to clean up its multi‑billion‑dollar seafood sector, which has long been a breeding ground for human trafficking, forced labour, and violence—both on the high seas and inside processing plants.
Progress—and the Road Ahead
The U.S. annual report highlights that Thailand is gradually improving its fight against modern slavery. It praises the government’s better coordination with civil society, yet warns that entrenched corruption still hampers anti‑trafficking efforts.
Forced Labour in the Prison System
Prisoner exploitation isn’t a new phenomenon. From dredging in 18th‑century England to Soviet gulag weapon‑making, forcing inmates to work for private entities is a long‑standing, often hidden, problem.
Anti‑slavery organization Alliance 8.7 reported that in 2016, roughly 560,000 prisoners were involuntarily employed by private companies—a figure that remains the latest available.
The United Nations’s Nelson Mandela Rules urge member states to establish fair pay for all prisoner work. Yet reality says otherwise.
Case Study: Yala Central Prison
- Fishing Net Production – Inmates spent about six hours a day, Monday through Friday, weaving fishing nets for private companies.
- No Official Penalties – Even though prison staff were supposedly prohibited from physically disciplining inmates, actual practices diverged sharply.
- Witnessed Punishment – Former prisoners (released this year) recounted daily beatings, solitary confinement, and restraints meant to silence the voices of inmates.
- Restricted Visits – Officers allegedly suppressed visits, fearing that inmates might reveal the truth to family members.
According to an anonymous former inmate:
“I watched my friends being flogged every day. They said officers shouldn’t hurt us, yet the reality was starkly different. A bat would hit the back, followed by a swift move to solitary.”
Such stories paint a grim picture of a system where exploitation thrives under the guise of “rehabilitation.” My hope is that increased scrutiny and genuine reform can finally bring an end to this hidden injustice.
‘Direct power’
Thai Prison Work: A Questionable Labor Practice
When it comes to what former inmates do after their sentences, none of the people interviewed by the Thomson Reuters Foundation ended up heading a fishing‑net factory. That’s the plain truth.
Legal Experts Sound Alarm
Mr. Papop Siamhan, a lawyer who fights for workers’ rights, warning that forced production could bite Thailand deep into the illegal territory of trafficking laws. “If prisoners bag goods for private outfits, it might break the country’s ban on forced labour,” he says. “They’re under the officers’ thumb – a tough spot to push back.”
Union Calls for Investigation
Ms. Andrea Giorgetta, Asia director of the International Federation for Human Rights, urged the Thai government to look into these allegations. Her words echo the same findings that the Thomson Reuters Foundation spotlighted – low wages and harsh punishments for missing targets. A researcher with a network of 192 human‑rights NGOs says the evidence could mean Nepal‑level violations of international guidelines, and possibly forced labour. “All the clues point to a real breach,” she claims.
Industry’s Take‑away: “No Forced Labour Yet”
The International Labour Organization, part of the UN, states its checks so far haven’t yet proven that Thailand’s prison work violates the Forced Labour Convention. The Convention clarifies that compulsory prison work isn’t forced labour as long as it’s supervised by a public authority and the inmates aren’t being handed over to private companies.
While it may sound textbook, many watchdogs see the real problem hidden behind bureaucratic jargon. In the end, the job is a grim reminder of how the system tries to squeeze value out of those who owe. The question remains: will the next generation of Thai inmates find a fair trade or a fishing net?
‘Worst type of work’
When the Work Table is Actually a Prison Cell
Across Thailand’s penitentiaries, there’s a hidden factory – a place where inmates grind out fishing nets that eventually powder dust off the “KKF” logo in the U.S. market. Yet, for many former prisoners, the job feels less like a productive gig and more like a never‑ending prank with a hard‑knob punch.
Who’s Making These Nets?
- Three former inmates bragged they knew fellow prisoners working at the Khon Kaen Central Prison
- They keep an eye on the KKF‑branded boxes that come out of the prison kitchen
- Some even spotted KKF on delivery receipts tucked inside the prison’s own paper stash.
The Daily Grind – and the Threats That Come With It
“If you don’t hit the target, the prison wardens will strip you of your shirt, make you roll on the floor, or yank you with a baton,” a former net‑maker recounted. He added, “I’d also hear the guards shouting, ‘If you don’t finish… you’ll get it!’”
I’ve been there, says Petch. In the heart of Songkhla, he served six years while being coerced into producing nets under threat of punishment. He never learned the company’s name – until he saw the KKF emblem scribbled on the net bags.
“It’s a moneymaker for the officers,” he murmurs. “Everyone knows it. My fingers are sore, my wrists bleed – it’s torture. The worst kind of work you can get stuck in.”
Financial Perks for the Guards
Contracts that the Thomson Reuters Foundation snagged back in 2020 often only listed the net count, the total payout, and the deadline. They said nothing about where the money goes. But three insiders revealed that a slice goes straight to prison officers.
- Example: In 2020, Si Sa Ket Prison signed an agreement that carved out 15% of the net takings for officers.
Life Inside the Pen Factory
Beyond just nets, the inmates also point out that prison guards have an oversize slice of the pie – no surprise. What’s chilling is that these guards used to keep a “book of punches” under their arms, a rule meant to curb excessive beating. According to the former inmates, the guards didn’t follow this rule, and it turned into a brutal and sensational daily routine.
“It’s exhausting – my fingers are raw, my skin has bruises, and every day feels like a nearly impossible Jenga game,” the 27‑year‑old, the only one who prefers to be called by a nickname, says.
Final Thoughts
When the very grass‑cutting that is supposed to help people shouldn’t, the net‑maker’s story walks a razor‑edge of industrial exploitation and human rights violations. Yes, the entertainment is cruel, the guards benefit, and the inmates endure relentless physical abuse. Behind the dusty nets lies a sobering reality: a contract that pays 15% to guards and 85% to prisoners. The rest? An unpaid slab of sweat, pain, and, in short, a public‑services nightmare.
So next time you reach for a fishing net or catch a fish, just remember—the industry’s hidden cost might be a sad fact of life inside a pen.
