Cambodia’s Landmines Expose Cracks in Global Human Security Promises on Thai Border
What’s a few landmines between neighbors? On one level, it’s a tragic, predictable story of post-conflict backsliding. But zoom out, and it’s a stark reminder that the international norms we believe are solid are often as porous as the poorest countries' borders. Thailand’s upcoming briefing for over 50 diplomats about Cambodia’s alleged use of anti-personnel landmines along their shared border, as reported by the Bangkok Post, isn’t just a localized border dispute; it’s a symptom of a much deeper ailment: the illusion of a truly global consensus on human security.
The core issue: the “repeated use of anti-personnel landmines is a serious breach of the Ottawa Convention, as well as basic humanitarian principles,” according to Thai government spokesman Jirayu Houngsub. That’s more than just diplomatic rhetoric; it’s a condemnation of Cambodia’s alleged behavior. What we need to unpack is why this keeps happening, even after years of international efforts to ban these weapons. And more importantly, why the consequences for such violations remain so muted.
The Ottawa Convention, formally the Mine Ban Treaty, prohibits the use, stockpiling, production, and transfer of anti-personnel mines. It’s been ratified by most of the world’s nations. But the United States, Russia, and China — three of the most powerful countries — never signed. This lack of universal adoption inherently weakens the treaty’s authority. But the problem runs deeper. These countries' reservations regarding the treaty, often couched in terms of national security and exceptional circumstances, subtly undermine the normative power of the ban, creating a space for countries like Cambodia, embroiled in complex geopolitical dynamics, to rationalize non-compliance.
The reality is that border disputes in Southeast Asia are often a proxy for larger power struggles. Historical grievances, competing economic interests (particularly over resources like timber and gems near the border), and simmering ethnic tensions contribute to a volatile environment. The lingering legacies of Cold War conflicts, where landmines were frequently used, are still felt today. And while Cambodia’s rationale isn’t explicitly stated here, it might see these mines as a necessary, albeit ethically reprehensible, defense against perceived threats, particularly given Thailand’s own history of periodic border incursions.
Cambodia’s history is essential. Decades of civil war, the Khmer Rouge regime, and Vietnamese occupation have left the country scarred and distrustful. Demining efforts have been ongoing for decades, with considerable international support, but the vast scale of contamination and persistent security concerns hinder progress. The UN estimates that millions of landmines were planted in Cambodia between 1970 and 1990, contributing to one of the highest per capita rates of landmine casualties in the world. Crucially, this history created a deeply embedded culture of militarization and a reliance on readily available, if indiscriminate, defensive measures.
Zooming out, we see a troubling pattern. Conflicts simmer in places where state capacity is weak, governance is fragile, and trust in international institutions is low. These are also the places where the demand for and the use of landmines continue. But it’s not just about a lack of resources or capacity. It’s also about a lack of perceived alternatives. As Dr. Margaret Karns, a scholar of international organizations, has argued, the effectiveness of international treaties often depends not just on enforcement mechanisms, but on creating viable pathways for states to achieve their security objectives without resorting to prohibited weapons.
This situation requires more than just diplomatic browbeating. It necessitates a sustained, multifaceted approach that tackles the root causes of instability. This includes investing in strengthening governance, promoting inclusive economic development, and fostering cross-border cooperation to build trust. It also requires confronting Cambodia’s alleged information controls.
As Foreign Ministry spokesman Nikorndej Balankura notes, “Cambodian citizens are not the enemy. But they are being denied their right to independent information.” If citizens are prevented from accessing diverse perspectives, they are less likely to hold their government accountable. But accountability also requires a free press and an active civil society, both of which are consistently undermined in Cambodia.
Ultimately, the landmines along the Thai-Cambodian border are more than just explosive devices; they are symptoms of deeper, structural problems. They are a signal that the promise of a universally accepted humanitarian order is further away than we’d like to believe. The solution isn’t simply removing them; it’s addressing the underlying factors that make their continued use seem, to some, like a necessary evil. And that requires acknowledging that the “international community” isn’t a monolith, but a collection of states with vastly different priorities, capabilities, and levels of commitment to the very principles it purports to uphold. Otherwise, we’ll be having the same conversation again next year. And people will keep dying.
