One-party Cambodia

The Cambodian election is over except for some vote-counting in remote areas. There was no shock. Prime Minister Hun Sen and his ruling Cambodian People’s Party (CPP) won easily, and will apparently rule legally for yet another five years. Thais must hope and work to ensure that this country does not go the lamentable direction of Cambodia.

The false element in the Cambodian process is that the people did not receive a free and fair election. Hun Sen did not win consent to continue as his country’s strongman. He stole the right to stay in office through a variety of means ranging from intimidation to outright shameful use of his office and his loyalists. Neighbours and the world at large are forced to deal with a prime minister and government that have become an abusive one-party state, if not a downright dictatorship.

At 65, after 33 years at the head of the Cambodian government, Hun Sen is one of the longest-serving national leaders. He is not, however, a statesman. As election campaigning ended last week, Hun Sen unleashed a tirade against the exiled and imprisoned political opposition leaders. He called them “destroyers of democracy”, which in other circumstances might be laughable if it were not so shocking.

The last five years have been the worst time for Cambodian politics and democracy since the Vietnamese gave up attempts to control the country and left for home in the early 1990s. Hun Sen has lived up to the constitutional requirement of an election every five years. But after voters curbed both the CPP’s parliamentary majority and prestige, Hun Sen turned ruthlessly on every popular opposition figure. Those who weren’t jailed on trumped-up charges of treason or obviously fake criminal accusations fled the country.

Heavy pressure also was applied to citizens across the country. The government initiated a campaign to identify everyone who voted by having every voter dip his or her finger in indelible, purple ink. Ostensibly a tactic to prevent multiple voting, the “clean finger” campaign was an intimidation tactic. The exiled opposition called for a boycott of the polls. But the lack of a purple finger made it easy for Hun Sen’s loyalist police and military to identify possible boycotters.

According to government figures, which are somewhat credible, more than 80% of eligible voters cast a ballot. That is an extremely high percentage, especially in an election with an obvious, known outcome. In 2013, without coercion or fear of retaliation, voter turnout was under 69%. And that vote had heavy consequences.

There is no denying the survival skills of Hun Sen. They cover an entire lifetime of setbacks and exceptional adaptation to new circumstances, followed by triumphs. He was forced to join the Khmer Rouge as a boy soldier, and rose to become the commander of a vicious battlefield battalion.

When paranoid Pol Pot and companions turned on him, Hun Sen turned for survival to Vietnam, who made him the world’s youngest foreign minister in Hanoi’s puppet regime in Cambodia. In less than six years, he not only clawed his way into the prime minister’s chair, but both fought off political opponents with deadly force, and saw the Vietnamese backs as they retreated home.

The danger is that there are those in Thailand who admire Hun Sen’s often unrespectable rise to the top. There are those who believe the ends justify any means, and that is a dangerous attitude in today’s Thailand. Prime Minister Prayut Chano-cha once promised to return country to both happiness and a democratic form of government. That is looking less unlikely by the year. It must be hoped fervently that no political aspirants in Thailand believe intimidated voters, violence and made-up charges against other political leaders are the proper way to gain power.

There are those in Thailand who admire Hun Sen.