A researcher asked farmers in the south what occupation they wanted for their children. Only 6 per cent wanted them to be farmers. In the northeast, the figure was only 4 per cent. In one village in Surin, already only 3 per cent of farmers' children are working on the land. In the central region, it's hard to find a farmer under the age of 40. Almost all the next generation has already left to do something else.

So is the Thai village set to disappear?

Some people assume so. After all, that has been the pattern in advanced economies. Industry expands. The rural population falls to 5 per cent. Independent small farmers are replaced by big agri-businesses and a few hobbyists. During Thailand's boom, that seemed to be the pattern. For five years running, a million people a year transferred from farming to other jobs.

The bust prompted a serious rethink. The urban economy suddenly seemed unreliable. The villages served as a cushion. Two arguments emerged in favour of thinking more positively about retaining a strong rural society. The first is cultural. The village is the cradle of the Thai heritage, especially social values of generosity, mutuality, and sharing. Surely there must be a way to retain these values rather than surrendering to urban individualism and anomie.

The second argument is more speculative. Perhaps the old model of industrial development has been superceded by globalisation. With ever higher technology, industry no longer needs so much labour. The world already faces a crisis of over-production. China's commitment to industrialise has big implications for its neighbours. It is less and less likely that countries will follow the old path to industrialisation.

For Thailand this is a big issue because the rural sector is still large, and its fate over future decades has big implications for society, politics, and culture.

Until only two generations ago, most people were independent smallholders. This was possible because the environment was so favourable. Growing rice, catching fish, and collecting materials from the forests supported a remarkably sufficient way of life. Colonial rulers did not mess things up by supporting planters or landlords. Even when population spurted, there was lots of spare land for expansion. This sufficient economy survived until so recently that it is very much part of the cultural memory.

Since then, it has taken a battering. Government and agribusiness promoted a Green Revolution to earn export revenue. The forests disappeared. The natural abundance diminished. Land reserves ran out. The city began to lure away people. Agriculture became less and less profitable compared to other activities.

Since at least the 1910s, observers of rural Thailand have predicted that the old smallholder society will soon collapse. But it hasn't happened. Thailand still has 5.6 million farms, with most close to the average of 20 rai. There are very few landlords and very few big business farms. Smallholder society is still there.

But it is not the same as in the past. It has survived by both resisting strongly and adapting in some rather major ways.

First, a remarkable number of farmers still grow rice for their own consumption as a first priority, and a lot still fish, hunt and gather to complete the family diet. Growing their own rice often makes no economic sense. They could buy it cheaper. But they retain the mentality of the old sufficiency economy. Having food security is the basis of a broader self-reliance. Farmers fight to retain the access to land, water, and forests which underpins this household economy.

Second, farmers now need cash -- for consumer goods, education, medicine, and even to invest in their uneconomic rice cultivation. To get this cash, they go to the nearby town, to Bangkok, to Taiwan. Some go for a few weeks, some for a few years, and some for their prime working life. A few separate from the family. But most retain a link because they need security when they are sick, unemployed, or too old for city work. They send money back to preserve this link. Now only about two-fifths of cash income comes from the farm, and three-fifths from elsewhere. Without these urban earnings, the smallholder economy would collapse. Farmers are no longer really farmers but "farmer-workers" or, in one researcher's phrase, "flexible peasants".

Third, rural communities have begun to invent new institutions and enterprises to bargain better with the outside world. Savings groups have been successful in the south. Weavers and potters in the north have adapted traditional crafts into profitable businesses. Community planning is becoming popular. A few places have invented health and social protection schemes. Vegetable and rice growers have formed community businesses to capture more of the value added.

These efforts display a strong desire to survive and retain a way of life in the face of jolting changes. But perhaps the biggest challenge is in the near future. Until recently, most children of farmers followed in their parents' footsteps because they had little choice. But over the last decade, the number of rural teenagers in school has increased from a quarter to two-thirds. This is a big change. Secondary occupation widens career possibilities.

So will it happen? The next generation abandons the land. Big landholders and agribusinesses replace the smallholders. The countryside becomes a factory.

It certainly will not be so simple. The urban economy cannot absorb so many people. Many may no longer want to work on the land, but find it difficult to get employed elsewhere. Leaving the smallholder society to crumble away will be socially messy.

The alternative would be to foster the desire for survival which has been evident over the past two generations, and create an environment in which the smallholder society can remain and continue to adjust. But that won't happen without a national commitment to make it happen.

[Based on the Project on the Economy of the Village Community, supported by the Thailand Research Fund]