First established a few years before a formal military directorate seized power in Burma in 1988, the refugee camps strung along Thailand’s western frontier quickly became a defining feature of Myanmar under its junta. Symbolizing all that was amiss with a nation cut off from much of the rest of the world and visibly forcing out tens of thousands of citizens, they also provided some of the few access points to eastern parts of the country peopled mainly by minority ethnic groups. In short, the camps have long been an integral part of Myanmar’s political landscape. Now, however, it looks like quite rapid change is in prospect.

Following the Thai coup of May 22, 2014, news reports soon indicated that this military regime was likely to have a greater impact on regional relations than its immediate predecessor created in September 2006. In the southeast, for example, a period of no more than a month saw maybe a quarter of a million migrants move back across the Cambodian border. Prime Minister Hun Sen claimed the influx had hit his country like a “flash flood”. Today arrangements are being made to stabilize the situation and return workers to their jobs, preferably on a legal basis. Nevertheless, there has been clear disruption.

Along the Thai-Myanmar border, the knock-on effects are likely to be even greater. Two weeks ago, Thailand’s National Council for Peace and Order locked down the nine refugee camps, imposing a general travel ban and a dusk-to-dawn curfew. At the same time, it expelled foreign aid workers and called to camp anyone claiming refugee status. Currently it is undertaking a full registration exercise that has nothing to do with UNHCR procedures, but is rather a strictly Thai audit. Although discussions also opened between the Thai authorities and aid agencies grouped around The Border Consortium, they were cast in a new light by the announcement on Monday that the junta intends to close the camps.

Last week I travelled up the border from Mae Sot to Mae Tan and beyond, on the way passing Mae La, the biggest of the refugee camps. Certainly security was tighter, and activity along the road was reduced. Students on my MOEI programme, which every year since 2008 has taken interns and volunteers to teach English to refugees and migrants living in and around Mae Sot, had been required to leave Mae La along with every other foreigner.

It is still early days, and from time to time over the past three decades there have been other flare-ups. Nevertheless, with Myanmar now officially democratic and the Thai military elite apparently determined to shut the camps, it seems that this time things will be very different. In these circumstances, attention must turn to ensuring the process unfolds with as much sensitivity as possible to the basic needs and expressed desires of the estimated 120,000 refugees.