BEIJING: China’s gaze is drifting northward, toward Thailand’s misty mountains and remote borderlands along Myanmar. Under the banner of the Belt and Road Initiative. Beijing’s latest proposal is being pitched as a development lifeline—but it has stirred a mix of hope, caution, and quiet anxiety.
At the heart of the idea is an ambitious tunnel stretching 172 kilometres from Mae Hong Son to Chiang Mai. For Mae Hong Son, Thailand’s poorest province, the offer feels almost too good to ignore. A Chinese-linked company is reportedly ready to put up 30 billion to 40 billion baht (S$1.22 billion to S$1.63 billion) to fund the project, pending a formal agreement with the Thai government.
For residents, the appeal is intensely personal. Mae Hong Son has long felt severed from the rest of the nation, trapped by steep highlands and zigzagging highways that are sluggish, undependable, and sometimes blocked during the rainy period. Getting goods to market or accessing services can take hours, even days. A tunnel that slices through the terrain promises shorter journeys, year-round access, and a chance to finally be part of Thailand’s economic mainstream.
Many residents point out that help from Bangkok has often arrived late—or not at all. Projects have stalled, budgets have shrunk, and political attention has shifted elsewhere. Against that history, a massive infrastructure investment offers something rare: a sense of possibility.
Yet not everyone is convinced the tunnel is just about helping a forgotten province.
Behind the scenes, China Highway Engineering Consulting—a subsidiary of China Communications Construction Company (CCCC)—is said to be actively pushing the project. CCCC has been under U.S. sanctions since 2020 for its role in creating non-natural islands in the South China Sea and is extensively viewed as an important instrument in China’s tactical ambitions under the BRI.
The firm’s repute has led to raised eyebrows. In various countries, it has been confronted with repetitive accusations of exploitation and wrongdoing tangled to huge infrastructure ventures. For critics, this history alone is reason for Thailand to slow down and take a closer look.
Experts also warn that the tunnel should not be viewed as a standalone project. Instead, it appears to fit into a growing web of cross-border transport routes linking northern Thailand with corridors inside Myanmar. Better roads and tunnels in Mae Hong Son would naturally connect to routes heading west, quietly reshaping how goods—and resources—move across the border.
Minerals are a particularly sensitive concern. Faster, cheaper transport could make it easier to move minerals from Myanmar, possibly including rare earth elements, into Thai and Chinese-linked supply chains. That, in turn, could fuel more mining in Myanmar, a country already grappling with political turmoil and a conflict-driven economy.
Then there is the environment. Northern Thailand’s forests and river systems are fragile, and large-scale tunnelling could leave lasting scars. Environmental groups warn of knock-on effects for the Mekong and Salween river basins—lifelines for millions of people downstream. Damage there would not be easily reversed.
Detractors contend that this strategy is familiar—local communities get the brunt of the environmental consequences and social costs, while the strategic benefits and economic advantages drift somewhere else.
