The latest exchanges of fire along the Thailand–Cambodia frontier reveal why this conflict resists closure even when diplomacy appears within reach.
The use of BM-21 multiple rocket launchers — a system designed for area saturation rather than precision — underscores a grim reality: escalation is being driven less by battlefield necessity than by entrenched political–military incentives that reward brinkmanship.
BM-21 rockets can unleash up to forty projectiles in a single salvo, with ranges stretching roughly 30-40km.
Their inherent inaccuracy makes civilian harm a predictable outcome, even when evacuations are under way. That is precisely why reports of rockets striking a civilian area in Thailand’s Sisaket province — seriously injuring civilians who were running for shelter after sirens sounded — are so alarming.
These incidents are not aberrations. They are structural risks inherent in choosing such weapons. Once fired, intent is irrelevant. Effects spill across borders, blur responsibility, and harden public anger.
The conflict’s maritime turn compounds the danger. Reports that Thailand’s navy engaged targets in Cambodia’s Koh Kong province — while both militaries accuse the other of firing first — signal a widening theatre.
When land clashes draw in naval assets, the ladder of escalation lengthens. De-escalation becomes harder not because channels are closed but because the political costs of restraint rise sharply once new domains are engaged.
Why, then, does the fighting persist despite evident humanitarian and strategic costs?
The answer lies less in immediate tactical calculations and more in the enduring, shadowy command exercised by Hun Sen over Cambodia’s security establishment.
Even after formal political transitions, Hun Sen’s authority has not receded. It has been re-embedded through personal loyalty networks, patronage, and continued proximity to Cambodia’s most feared and battle-hardened generals.
These public appearances with senior commanders are not ceremonial. They are signals — clear messages to officers down the chain of command that ultimate authority still rests with the former strongman.
Civilian offices may sign documents, but real cues come from the shadow.
This shadow command matters because wars end only when commanders believe restraint serves their interests better than escalation. In Cambodia’s case, that threshold has not been crossed. Several dynamics keep the conflict alive.
First, dual power and ambiguous command. When a former ruler retains decisive sway over generals, ceasefires negotiated by civilian officials are easily undermined.
Field commanders calibrate their behaviour to the enduring patron, not the transient negotiator. Ambiguity over who truly commands creates space for “accidental” escalations that are anything but accidental.
Second, military prestige as regime legitimacy. For Hun Sen and his inner circle, the armed forces are not merely instruments of defence. They are pillars of political survival.
Standing firm against Thailand plays well with nationalist audiences and shields elites from accusations of weakness. In such settings, even limited de-escalation can look like capitulation.
Third, weapons choice as political messaging. The deployment of BM-21 systems is not militarily subtle; it is politically loud. Area weapons generate fear, headlines, and international concern.
Civilian harm, while tragic, internationalises the conflict and rallies domestic support by framing Cambodia as embattled and defiant. Precision restraint rarely delivers such dividends.
Fourth, spoilers thrive in the fog. Disputes over who fired first are not accidents of war; they are political assets. When attribution is contested, hardliners gain leverage.
Each incident becomes proof of the other side’s bad faith, justifying retaliation. Verification mechanisms struggle when senior figures benefit from ambiguity.
Fifth, external pressure hardens resolve. Thailand’s threat to ban the supply of fuel to Cambodia — intended to coerce restraint — may have the opposite effect.
For Hun Sen and his shadow command, coercive pressure reinforces a siege mentality. Rather than inducing compliance, it strengthens determination to upend Bangkok, escalate defiance, and demonstrate that Cambodia cannot be bent by economic strangulation.
Fuel restrictions would undoubtedly hurt Cambodia’s economy and civilians. Yet from the perspective of a shadow command anchored in military loyalty and nationalist mobilisation, such pain can be politically instrumentalised.
External pressure becomes evidence of hostility, legitimising further confrontation and tightening elite cohesion around Hun Sen’s enduring influence.
These dynamics explain why the conflict does not simply burn out. Appeals to cease hostilities, however sincere, falter because the incentives at the top of Cambodia’s command pyramid remain unchanged.
What would alter the calculus?
First, genuine civilian supremacy and unified command in Phnom Penh, demonstrably severing operational authority from shadow patrons.
Prime Minister Hun Manet needs to know how to take effective command from his father Hun Sen without which ceasefire is difficult to establish by all parties.
Hun Sen and his senior generals remain the spoilers. Without this, any truce remains provisional.
Second, robust verification with political protection, not just technical monitoring. Observers must be given time and access to establish facts before blame hardens positions.
Verification delayed is not verification denied — but it must be insulated from political impatience.
Third, weapons-restraint commitments, particularly the renunciation of area-effect systems near civilian zones. Choosing precision over spectacle would signal seriousness about de-escalation.
Fourth, domain containment, keeping naval and air assets out of land disputes. Once multiple services are engaged, bureaucratic momentum takes over.
Fifth, external pressure aligned with incentives, not blunt coercion alone. Sanctions, inducements, and guarantees must be calibrated to shift elite preferences away from escalation, not entrench defiance.
Until these conditions are met, Hun Sen’s shadow command will continue to loom large. It tells commanders that the old rules still apply: resolve is rewarded, restraint is risky, and ambiguity is useful.
In that environment, even when civilians run toward bunkers at the sound of sirens, the logic of escalation remains intact.
Wars do not persist because peace is impossible. They persist because power structures make peace inconvenient.
As long as Cambodia’s military remains anchored to a shadow command that profits politically from confrontation — and hardens further under coercive threats — the Thailand–Cambodia conflict will struggle to end, no matter how urgently diplomacy calls for calm.
The views expressed are those of the writer and do not necessarily reflect those of FMT.
