Thailand-Cambodia Power Play: Hun Manet Seeks “Real Power” to Open Borders
Hun Manet is waiting for the call that matters. Not the formal channels, not the diplomats, but “someone with real power” in Thailand capable of “opening or closing border checkpoints.” It’s a blatant admission that the rules-based international order, that comforting fiction we often tell ourselves, is, in parts of the world, a gossamer thread easily snapped by entrenched interests. What’s unfolding between Thailand and Cambodia isn’t just diplomatic theater; it’s a brutal, real-time demonstration of the limits of democracy in a region still defined by dynastic legacies and the long shadow of extra-legal influence. The suspension of Thai Prime Minister Paetongtarn Shinawatra, following her leaked conversation with Hun Manet’s father, former Cambodian Prime Minister Hun Sen, is less a surprise and more a confirmation of what many suspect: elections are a stage, not the play.
The Thai Ministry of Foreign Affairs has, predictably, slammed Hun Manet’s comments as interference in domestic affairs. Nikorndej Balankura, the ministry spokesman, invoked the ASEAN Charter and international law. “Bangkok Post" reports that the Thai government wants Cambodia to cease its rhetoric to help bilateral relations. But such pronouncements feel like a Kabuki performance in the face of the raw power dynamics on display, a script recited while the real decisions are being made in back rooms.
‘We are waiting for someone with real power, someone with the legitimate authority to open or close border checkpoints,’
This crisis illuminates how profoundly personal politics remains in Southeast Asia. The interwoven familial ties of Hun Sen, who ruled Cambodia for decades, and the Shinawatra family, who have been central figures in Thai politics for years, demonstrate the enduring, and often corrosive, importance of dynasties. These are relationships that transcend formal diplomatic channels, bypass constitutions, and mock the idea of level playing fields. And that power, once accrued, proves remarkably resistant to the cleansing winds of democratic change, no matter what the electorate might say.
To understand the current situation, we must remember recent Thai history. While Thailand transitioned to a parliamentary system after decades of military dominance, the military establishment continues to be a silent and powerful participant in government decisions. Indeed, since the end of absolute monarchy in 1932, the Thai military has launched roughly a dozen successful coups, each a violent reminder of where ultimate power resides. Moreover, Article 112 in the Thai Penal Code, also known as lèse-majesté law, criminalizes defamation, insult, or threat towards the King, Queen, Heir-apparent, or Regent. The strict implementation of this law limits free speech and enables actors to repress political rivals, effectively silencing dissent and chilling political reform.
This echoes the ‘strongman’ politics that have characterized Southeast Asia for much of its post-colonial history. Consider Singapore’s long-ruling Lee family, or Malaysia’s own history of entrenched political dynasties. These legacies are not simply cultural quirks; they are reflections of weak institutions, rampant corruption, and a history of authoritarian rule that has made genuine democratic consolidation incredibly challenging. As Walden Bello, the Filipino academic and activist, once put it to me: "In Southeast Asia, democracy is often a carefully constructed façade. Underneath, the same old networks of patronage and informal alliances still dictate the real terms of power.” These networks, Bello argued, thrive because they bypass formal mechanisms of accountability, allowing elites to operate with impunity.
The long-term implications are chilling. Thailand is currently the second-largest economy in Southeast Asia and a major trading partner with Cambodia. A collapse in bilateral relationships will hurt both countries, impacting everything from tourism to supply chains. But more profoundly, for Thailand, it exposes a fragility at the heart of its democracy, a vulnerability to the whims and calculations of neighboring autocrats and its own internal power brokers. For Cambodia, it’s a stark reminder that its own internal power dynamics are inextricably linked to the fate of its neighbors, bound together in a web of personal relationships and opaque deals. In essence, the message is clear: in this corner of the world, regional stability still relies more on the calculations of individuals than on the strength of democratic institutions. And that’s a precarious foundation for any nation to build upon.
