Cambodia tested by early, escalating electoral violence

Rights groups and political opposition accuse ruling party of masterminding violence to quell dissent.

Cambodian police line-up before a clash with anti-government protestors following elections in 2013. (Photo by Luke Hunt)

By Luke Hunt
Phnom Penh:  Ever since the United Nations did its best to end three decades of war and marched in with US$2 billion, 22,000 peacekeepers and unprecedented democratic designs, Cambodia has been squeezed into a deadly pattern of electoral violence.

It was a loose rule of thumb based on five year election cycles, which has reared its head again in recent months with the government pursuing its critics through the courts, while opposition politicians have been bashed and fled into exile — and one high profile critic shot dead in broad daylight.

These cycles began with the lead-up to UN-sponsored polls in 1993 when hundreds opposed to the dominance of the long-ruling Cambodian People's Party, headed by the country's Prime Minister Hun Sen since 1986, were killed ahead of elections it lost.

A heavily armed Hun Sen refused to accept the result and entered an uneasy alliance with the royalists and Prince Norodom Ranariddh as First Prime Minister that lasted until the next round of pre-election jockeying turned nasty, ahead of elections in 1998.

A grenade attack on a rally by opposition leader Sam Rainsy left 16 people dead; hundreds more from the lower-middle ranks of politics were also slaughtered, as political brawling descended back into open warfare. Hun Sen won that election and has not lost since.

The killings were dismissed as suicides, the result of old scores, unpaid debts or a lover's revenge but rarely investigated as politically motivated, upsetting human rights groups and donor governments like the United States, European Union countries and Australia.

Equally worrying was Cambodia's ability to sink into a political quagmire with the regularity of a routine calendar item; the addition of commune elections in 2002, to be held a year ahead of general elections, complemented that cycle.

Commune elections were billed as completing Cambodia's transition to a democracy. Communes are clusters of villages and there are about 10 million eligible voters from 1,621 communes who elect a council of five to 11 members every five years.

Held one year before general elections, the contest is fought over local issues with the results difficult to predict as communes provide local services so issues differ from place to place. Nor do they jibe with national sentiment.

In 2012, the opposition won less than a third of the available seats in commune election but took almost half of the popular vote at general elections a year later, sharply reducing Hun Sen's majority in the 123-seat National Assembly in a result that shocked the government.

It's now a year out from commune elections again and the lead-up provides major parties with an opportunity to clean house and position themselves ahead of the main event.

This ensures that any dirty campaign tricks, likely to upset election monitors, are already out of the way by the time voting gets underway for the top job. That's why — for the most part — Cambodian elections are nearly always quiet on the day and judged free and fair.

It doesn't, however, end there.

Typically each election is followed by protracted protests and accusations by the opposition Cambodian National Rescue Party (CNRP) — not without foundation — of cheating and their absolute refusal to accept any of the results.

Bitter street demonstrations, lasting more than a year, often ground the capital to a halt after general elections in 2003, 2008 and 2013.

In January 2014, the sheer viciousness of the government's security apparatus stunned Cambodians when five people were shot dead and 15 injured during clashes with police. It was only then that the CNRP entered talks with the government and the political climate cooled down.

The next commune elections are not scheduled until June 4 next year and general elections are not due until July 2018, a long way out by any reckoning.

But since the closeness of the last general election in 2013, a result that spooked Hun Sen most commentators, including this one, are saying campaigning has been pushed back even further. It effectively kicked off last October with a pro-government rally orchestrated by the military. It was an unofficial launch that also heralded a crackdown on dissenting voices.

As the rally ended two politicians from the CNRP were severely bashed on the steps of parliament and the home of its deputy leader Kem Sokha was terrorized.

Since then opposition leader Sam Rainsy has fled into self-imposed exile, once more, after being threatened with jail over a dormant defamation suit. His deputy Kem Sokha is in a similar position but is refusing to hand himself over to the courts. Some 18 opposition members and activists had been jailed.

Then on July 10, Kem Ley, a popular radio host and one of this country's few independent analysts, was shot twice from behind while enjoying a morning coffee in a convenience store.

His death was reminiscent of other high profile assassinations, including the trade unionist Chea Vichea in 2004 and the environmental activist Chhut Vuthy in 2012.

Human rights groups and the opposition accuse dark forces within the CPP of masterminding such violence to quell dissent and win elections by warning critics to shut up or risk dire consequences, a charge denied by Hun Sen who is suing the CNRP over such allegations.

But notions that campaigning is off to a much earlier than normal start were all-but confirmed by the prime minister's business-minded daughter Hun Mana, who boasts extensive newspaper, radio and television interests.

She recently accused corporate watchdog Global Witness of attempting to damage her father's re-election chances with a report detailing her family's fabulous wealth.

"We very much understand your intention toward my father and my family," she wrote, "as expected every time when we are near election time, your organization always come out with something to try to tarnish my father [sic] reputation."

Whether by accident or design, Cambodia again appears on the verge of a social meltdown ahead of an election. The cycle of electoral bullying and intimidation has come full circle, only this time it's earlier, and possibly nastier than at any time since 1998.

And as any student of Cambodian democracy has observed, any end to the current political turmoil is still some way off — cold comfort for those who yearn for peace and quiet in a country that is too often wracked by protests and violence.

Source: UCAN