After months of disquiet, Prime Minister Hun Manet announced on Sept. 20 that Cambodia would be withdrawing from the Cambodia-Laos-Vietnam Development Triangle Area (CLV-DTA), a major investment pact.
Sophal Ear, a U.S.-based analyst, described the move as "almost Brexit-like" – a nice sound bite, but far from the case. Cambodia hasn't left ASEAN, nor withdrawn from important regional bodies like the Mekong River Commission.
A report from February claimed that Vietnam had invested in 45 projects in Cambodia, worth around $1.7 billion, through the scheme since its inception in 2004. Yet, much of this investment likely would have happened bilaterally without the CLV framework.
In fact, a 2017 study showed that the majority of the program's benefits went to Vietnam. Chhengpor Aun, an analyst, summarized it well: Cambodia's leadership concluded that the CLV-DTA carried "higher political risks domestically than transnational economic and diplomatic gains it promised to deliver."
Granted, Hanoi won’t be pleased with Cambodia’s decision, especially given the ongoing controversy over Phnom Penh’s decision to progress with the Funan Techo Canal despite Vietnam’s concerns.
The China-backed megaproject could have a major ecological impact on southern Vietnam and would reduce Cambodia’s reliance on Vietnamese ports.
Hanoi will be wary about the narrative that Cambodia’s exit from the CLV-DTA now opens the door for more Chinese investment, at the expense of Vietnamese influence.
However, the communist parties of Laos and Vietnam understand that authoritarian governments sometimes need to placate domestic dissent, even at the cost of international investment.
In 2019, Hanoi canceled a special economic zone (SEZ) law that would have granted Chinese companies greater access to northern Vietnam, following public outrage.
Dogged by history with Hanoi
It is likely that both Vientiane and Hanoi were briefed by Cambodia about the move beforehand. Hun Manet said that he informed both capitals that the decision was made "to disarm the opposition and maintain peace and solidarity."
The bigger question is what this means for Cambodian domestic politics.
Sources within the government say that the intensity of the anti-CLV reaction caught the ruling Cambodian People’s Party (CPP) by surprise.
Following last year’s leadership transition — when Hun Sen stepped down as prime minister after 38 years in power and appointed his eldest son as his replacement — the CPP hoped that it would be less vulnerable to anti-Vietnam rhetoric.
Hun Sen was perennially dogged by allegations of being a Vietnam lackey, given his history as the head ofHanoi-installed Cambodian government in the 1980s. Few things stir the Khmer as much as claims that Vietnam is encroaching on Cambodian territory.
Anti-Vietnamese sentiment dates back several centuries, when Cambodia was carved up by Vietnam and Siam.
Under French colonial rule, the Vietnamese were perceived as having privileged status over the Khmers. Pogroms against ethnic Vietnamese took place during the 1970s, and the Khmer Rouge, a genocidal regime, exterminated much of the Vietnamese diaspora.
Hun Sen, a former Khmer Rouge general, marched alongside Vietnamese troops in 1979 to help overthrow that regime. The Vietnamese soldiers stayed for a decade, and in 1985, Hanoi helped install Hun Sen as prime minister.
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Exploiting a weak spot
Despite Hun Sen's dominance, anti-Vietnamese nationalism remained his weak spot, exploited by opposition parties since the 1980s. The now-dissolved Cambodia National Rescue Party found it easy to brand Hun Sen a lackey to the youn, a derogatory term for the Vietnamese.
It was hoped that such narratives would fade when Hun Manet took power. His rise to power was supposed to symbolize not only a generational shift in the CPP but also a generational change in culture, a new politics that no longer framed everything by the events of 1979.
Yet, the return of anti-Vietnam sentiment in the form of the anti-CLV protests suggests that some things remain unchanged. Worse, the anti-CLV protests coincided with the overthrow of Bangladesh’s dictator, which sparked fears of a “color revolution” in Phnom Penh.
The immediate response of Hun Sen, who still calls the shots, was predictable. The government swiftly moved to suppress dissent.
According to the Cambodian League for the Promotion and Defense of Human Rights (LICADHO), over 100 people have been arrested since late July, and more than 60 charged and imprisoned, for voicing opinions about the CLV-DTA.
Both Hun Sen and Hun Manet labeled the protesters "extremists," and Phnom Penh's propagandists stuck to their brief: "We are not losing our land, and we are not losing our sovereignty."
But clearly, Phnom Penh decided this was not a battle worth fighting.
A more aggressive crackdown would have succeeded, but with foreign governments beginning to take notice – especially as the Cambodia authorities were targeting activists who were agitating against the CLV abroad – the risks outweighed the rewards.
One goal of Hun Manet’s leadership is to improve Cambodia’s image internationally after relations with the West had deteriorated since 2017.
Nagging criticism
Many Western governments have bought into the notion without evidence that Hun Manet is more of a liberal reformer than his father – someone they no longer need to pinch their nose when doing business with.
Phnom Penh eventually chose the easier route: withdrawing from the CLV-DTA, trusting that most people wouldn’t focus too much on the contradiction—if it didn’t jeopardize sovereignty, why quit?
Hun Sen is a protean politician unconcerned with contradictions.
Attempting to put the matter to bed, Hun Manet emphasized in a September 26 speech that the country was now united, saying, "There's no more division. Let's not dwell on the DTA issue anymore…There's no more fuss over minor issues."
It's probably no coincidence that the announcement came a week before Pchum Ben, one of the country's most important holidays, when many Cambodians return to their home villages. Likely, Hun père and Hun fils didn't want the CLV-DTA dominating village conversations.
Quitting the scheme has taken some momentum away from anti-CPP circles, though protests remain planned among the diaspora.
And by pulling out of the pact, even some of the government's most ardent critics have had to grudgingly voice a "yes, but" response. Yes it was good to quit the agreement, but the authorities must release the prisoners or but the CPP is still unpatriotic.
The government’s propaganda machine is running with only the first part of that: ‘Even our critics agree with our decision.’
Hun Manet’s young government, with his father still pulling the strings, appears to have defused this crisis, arguably the most serious domestically of his short reign, but it remains highly susceptible to the same anti-Vietnamese barbs that stuck throughout Hun Sen’s rule.
Indeed, not even Hun Manet’s endorsement of the Funan Techo Canal – arguably Phnom Penh’s biggest snub to Hanoi in decades – can negate the claims that the ruling CPP remains a Vietnam vassal.
David Hutt is a research fellow at the Central European Institute of Asian Studies (CEIAS) and the Southeast Asia Columnist at the Diplomat. He writes the Watching Europe In Southeast Asia newsletter. The views expressed here are his own and do not reflect the position of RFA.