"There is peace; there is everything, like today."
Tuol Tompung Ti Mouy
"Thank You, Peace
Thank You, Win-Win Policy
Grateful for the founder, the leader, and the implementation of the win-win policy that brought peace and complete national unity."
A Personal Reflection on my Recent Trip to my Broken Homeland, Cambodia
My month in Cambodia, from July 20 to August 20, 2025, revealed a pervasive and deeply ingrained culture of fear and division. In countless conversations with ordinary citizens, academics, government officials, monks, local NGO officers, doctors, and family members, one theme emerged again and again: silence is a survival strategy.
Under the dynastic, multi-generational rule of the Cambodian People's Party (CPP), many ordinary citizens told me they stay quiet to protect their jobs, businesses, homes, and livelihoods from the government of Prime Minister Hun Manet, President of the Senate Hun Sen, and their inner family circle, who portray themselves as the nation's savior and guardian. For many, employment is tied to political loyalty. Civil servants, teachers, journalists, and even small business owners seeking licenses are all expected to show loyalty to the CPP. Dissent—sometimes even the mildest criticism—can mean job loss, denial of opportunity, jail time, or worse.
This fear is not limited to official positions. I saw and witnessed it in conversations with tuk-tuk drivers, street vendors, and market sellers who all understood the risk of being labeled “opposition.” One teacher who assisted me with my fieldwork captured this reality perfectly: “We remain silent not because we don’t care, but because we fear for our lives and our families.”
The government reinforces this control through a pervasive system of surveillance and intimidation. Local officials and party networks—village chiefs, informants, and neighborhood monitors—regularly track who speaks out. Cambodians know that a single careless remark, or even a Facebook post, can be reported and lead to arrest. This creates a powerful chilling effect on free expression, silencing voices before they are even raised.
What I witnessed was a starkly divided nation: on one side, the powerful and wealthy; on the other, a marginalized population bound by necessity and fear. A mid-level government official summarized this dynamic bluntly when he said, “If you want to be their dog, they won’t let you. Don’t even think of saying you want to join them.” His words revealed a system so closed and corrupt that even obedience and subservience are not enough to gain entry.
This inequality fuels deep resentment. A tuk-tuk driver, struggling to feed his family, bitterly confided to me: “The dogs of the rich and powerful officials eat better food than my family does.” In that single sentence, he laid bare the profound chasm of class and opportunity that divides Cambodia today.
As I reflected on these encounters, I realized that while the Khmer Rouge regime was a uniquely brutal chapter in Cambodia’s history, its shadow still lingers. The legacy of fear, control, and division has not yet fully left the country. Today’s deep corruption, greed, wealth and widening gap between the powerful and the powerless feel like a continuation of that tragic past, only in different forms and various essences.
Cambodia is no longer under the Khmer Rouge, but too many people remain trapped in the same cycle of silence, fear, and survival.
This blog was written with the assistance of AI.
