Thailand Business Bombed: Global Instability Leaves Civilians Uninsured, Adrift
The price of war is rarely paid by soldiers alone. It’s paid in shattered supply chains, displaced populations, and the creeping precarity that spreads long after the last shot is fired. In Kantharalak, Thailand, it’s being paid by Kamolrat Phonsetthalert, owner of a PTT petrol station and 7-Eleven store, after a Cambodian rocket strike left her with at least 14 million baht in damages and a lifetime of trauma. “The attack was something that could not have been predicted and was not the fault of business operators,” she argues, a plea for justice that exposes a fundamental flaw: We’ve built a globalized world but haven’t built the global safety nets to catch those who fall victim to its inherent instabilities.
Her story, reported by the Bangkok Post, reveals the cruel paradox of modern conflict. International law meticulously outlines jus in bello, the right conduct in war, but offers scant guidance on jus post bellum, justice after war, particularly for civilians. Insurance companies, citing “war damage” exclusions, are shirking their obligations, and government assistance remains nebulous. Fifty employees face uncertain futures while Ms. Kamolrat is left reeling. But even those obligations they are fulfilling — paying out for damage caused by extreme weather, for instance — ultimately deepen the problem. The payouts, funded by higher premiums, further burden vulnerable communities, making resilience even harder to achieve.
The insurance industry, like many financial behemoths, operates on the principle of calculated risk. War, however, is rarely calculable. The inherent uncertainty surrounding armed conflict, the unpredictable nature of its escalation, and the potential for widespread devastation render it, from an actuarial perspective, nearly uninsurable. This highlights a critical market failure. Private entities are ill-equipped, and perhaps even incentivized not to handle systemic risks driven by political instability. They’re designed for specific risks, not systemic ones.
'The attack was something that could not have been predicted and was not the fault of business operators."
But what happens when these systemic risks, once considered remote possibilities, become increasingly commonplace? The world is entering an era of fractured globalization, characterized by heightened geopolitical tensions and increasingly frequent localized conflicts. The Thai-Cambodian border dispute, rooted in historical territorial claims dating back to the French colonial era, serves as a stark reminder that simmering disagreements can ignite with devastating speed. Consider the Preah Vihear Temple dispute, a recurring flashpoint that has triggered armed clashes for decades, demonstrating how historical grievances can persistently undermine regional stability and economic security.
It’s easy to see this as a localized tragedy, an unfortunate consequence of a border skirmish. But consider this: What happens when climate change accelerates mass migrations and resource scarcity, fueling further conflict around the world? The World Bank estimates that climate change could displace hundreds of millions of people by 2050, creating unprecedented humanitarian and security challenges. Who will bear the costs of rebuilding after climate-fueled natural disasters decimate entire economies? Insurers are already raising premiums and pulling out of disaster-prone regions, placing the burden squarely on individuals and governments.
This requires a paradigm shift in how we think about risk. We need to move beyond a purely market-based approach to insurance and explore alternative models that prioritize collective responsibility. As political scientist Francis Fukuyama argued in his work on state-building, a strong and legitimate government plays a critical role in providing social safety nets and protecting its citizens from unforeseen shocks. He’s not just talking about basic welfare; he’s talking about the fundamental ability of a state to project power and guarantee security. A potential solution is a government-backed catastrophic risk pool, funded through taxes or a national insurance scheme, to cover losses from events that are simply too large for the private sector to handle.
The story of Ms. Kamolrat is a harbinger, not just of more frequent border skirmishes, but of a world where cascading failures become the norm. It exposes the fragility of our current system and the urgent need for a more equitable distribution of risk in a world teetering on the edge of instability. The next war might not be between nations, but between the interconnected systems we’ve built and the mounting pressure they’re under. And the Kamolrats of the world will be the ones left picking up the pieces, wondering why a world that celebrated globalization forgot to insure itself against the consequences.
