Thai-Cambodia Border: Mines, Mistrust, and Fears Threaten Fragile Peace
Why is peace, so often, less a destination than a high-wire act? A fragile performance, held together by threads of negotiation, suspicion, and the ever-present pull of reversion to something darker? The news out of the Thai-Cambodian border offers a stark, familiar reminder. A commander joking that the border might remain closed “until his retirement,” landmines violating international treaties, disputed territories — it all speaks to a much larger, more disheartening pattern: the inertia of conflict, and the glacial pace of building genuine trust after it. The Bangkok Post reports on the latest tensions, but the real story is the underlying system that perpetuates them, a system fueled by rational actors making tragically predictable choices.
Lt. Gen. Boonsin Padklang’s comments, along with the acting Prime Minister’s reconsideration of disbanding the Special Operations Centre for border situations, reveal the inherent instability. Even reassurance that there is no conflict between the government and the military only serves to highlight the fragility of the present arrangement. The devil, as always, is in the implementation, but more crucially, in the incentives underpinning that implementation.
The shadow of history hangs heavy here, a constant drag on progress. The Thai-Cambodian border has been a flashpoint for decades. Beyond overlapping territorial claims (like the Preah Vihear temple dispute), and historical animosities, are the lingering effects of the Cambodian Civil War and the Khmer Rouge regime — a trauma so profound that its ripple effects continue to shape the present. Consider the millions of landmines laid during those conflicts, a physical manifestation of distrust that continues to maim and kill civilians decades later. These aren’t abstract policy debates; they are tangible anxieties around sovereignty, security, and a very real, lived history of violence.
What we’re witnessing is a classic example of a “security dilemma.” Robert Jervis, in his seminal work “Perception and Misperception in International Politics,” argues that actions taken by one state to enhance its security can be perceived as threatening by another, leading to a spiral of escalating tensions. Landmines, troop deployments, fortified borders — they are all meant to protect, but they can also provoke. But the dilemma is sharpened here by a fundamental asymmetry. Thailand, with its relatively stronger economy and military, might view Cambodia’s actions through a different lens than Cambodia views Thailand’s. That perceived disparity in power further fuels the cycle of mistrust.
The landmine issue is particularly revealing. The alleged use of landmines by Cambodian forces, a violation of the Ottawa Treaty, is a deliberate act of provocation, especially if proven true. Lt. Gen. Boonsin threatens international protests and UN involvement should Cambodia deny responsibility, but the very need to address this point speaks volumes. It signals a profound lack of faith. It suggests that both sides believe the other is operating in bad faith, or, at minimum, is willing to prioritize short-term tactical advantages over long-term strategic stability.
Zooming out, the Thai-Cambodian situation highlights the inherent limitations of international law and treaties. While Cambodia signed the Ottawa Treaty banning landmines, its alleged deployment on the border indicates that adherence to international norms is contingent on perceived national interest, and, crucially, on enforcement mechanisms that are often weak or non-existent. The power dynamic that enables this is worth considering, not just in terms of military might, but also in terms of economic leverage and geopolitical influence.
The planned regional border committee (RBC) meeting at the end of the month offers a sliver of hope, but the agenda itself reveals the depth of the problem. Addressing the disputed territories and landmines requires a level of trust that simply isn’t present. It suggests these meetings are at least as much about managing expectations, and the fallout if there are none, than they are about creating a future where such security measures aren’t needed. They are a symptom of the disease, not a cure.
The deeper issue at play here isn’t just about a border; it’s about the stories that each country tells itself about the other, stories that calcify over time. These narratives, often shaped by historical grievances and geopolitical anxieties, influence policy decisions and perpetuate cycles of mistrust. And perhaps the most difficult aspect is that these narratives often serve domestic political purposes, reinforcing national identity and justifying existing power structures. Only by actively dismantling these narratives, fostering genuine empathy and creating new incentives for cooperation, can a lasting peace even begin to take root.
