Jul 15, 2013
The Asia Times
PHNOM PENH - After nearly four years on the political margins, Cambodian
opposition leader Sam Rainsy will again take center stage when he
returns to his homeland on Friday in advance of national elections on
July 28.
The president of the Cambodia National Rescue Party (CNRP) has been
living in France to avoid an 11-year jail term for defamation and other
charges handed down in connection with a stunt in which he uprooted
demarcation posts along the Vietnamese border in late 2009. Following a
royal pardon last Friday, the 64-year-old can now return without fear of
arrest and will immediately throw himself into campaigning against the
country's long-serving prime minister Hun Sen.
For Rainsy, the pardon, engineered by Hun Sen and rubber-stamped by King
Norodom Sihamoni, is the culmination of four years of lobbying in
Western capitals, where he has struggled-often in vain-to keep Cambodia
on the international agenda. As the election has drawn near, his efforts
have started to pay off.
In the past few months, the US State Department has rebuked Cambodia for
glaring problems in its electoral process, including Rainsy's absence
from the country and the ruling party's expulsion of 28 opposition
lawmakers from the National Assembly last month. It also slammed a
government ban-since reversed-on the airing of foreign radio broadcasts
during the month-long campaign period. (A separate ban on foreign
election-related broadcasts in the five days prior to polling day
remains in place).
The US Congress has also upped the pressure. In a June 7 resolution, US
Senators Lindsey Graham and Marco Rubio called for a freeze on US aid to
Cambodia if the coming election is "not credible and competitive". A
similar resolution is also set to be introduced in the US House of
Representatives, where Congressman Dana Rohrabacher, a long-time Rainsy
ally, denounced Hun Sen as "a corrupt, vicious human being, who has held
that country in his grip for decades". The US politician added: "It's
time for Hun Sen to go."
The 61-year-old strongman, Asia's longest serving prime minister,
clearly has different plans. Hun Sen has been in power since 1985 and
his Cambodian People's Party (CPP) enjoys all the advantages of
decades-long incumbency: a pliant court system and government
administration, a near-monopoly on media coverage, the support of the
army and police, and the financial backing of a clique of friendly
crony-tycoons.
The CPP has increased its share of National Assembly seats at every
national poll since the United Nations-backed 1993 election-in 2008, it
won 90 out of 123 seats-and controls appointments to the country's
National Election Committee (NEC). Despite his rival's return, Hun Sen
will almost certainly win again by a big margin.
Even so, the CPP has spared no expense in its election campaign,
monopolizing public space with the party's blue campaign posters and
sending paid party activists through the streets of the capital to wave
flags and blare pro-government techno music. Earlier this month, the CPP
released a slickly-produced campaign video featuring karaoke star Nop
Panharith, which mixed homilies to Hun Sen's "iron-fisted" leadership
with footage of Angkor Wat and sweeping helicopter shots of party youth
activists forming a large number 4-the CPP's ballot number-on the roof
of Phnom Penh's Canadia Bank building.
For all its newfound multimedia-savvy the CPP has kept its message
simple, emphasizing the party's role in deposing the Khmer Rouge in
1979, forging peace, and fostering a period of impressive economic
growth. For the three-quarters of the Cambodian population who still
live in poor rural areas, it remains a convincing pitch, made all the
more so by memories of past horrors and conjured-up fears that the
country might somehow slide back into chaos.
In a poll conducted in Cambodia earlier this year, the US-funded
International Republican Institute found that 79% of respondents thought
the country was heading "in the right direction", while 74% hailed the
ruling party's road-building as a key achievement. For a large
percentage of Cambodians, politics generally remains a case, to
paraphrase German playwright Bertolt Brecht, of "first rice, then
democracy".
But Cambodia's political landscape is slowly changing. In the upcoming
election around 3.5 million of the country's 9.5 million registered
voters will be between the ages of 18 and 30, according to the NEC, of
which 1.5 million, or 15% of the electorate, will be voting for the
first time. What this means is that as much as half the Cambodian
population now has no memory of the horrors of the Khmer Rouge, who
ruled the country from 1975-79.
As a result, the opposition CNRP-formed last year from a merger of
Rainsy's eponymous party and the Human Rights Party founded in 2007 by
Kem Sokha (now the CNRP's deputy president) hope they will be more open
to a campaign focused on corruption and job creation. "[Young people]
feel that it's their future which is being challenged now," said Long
Botta, a former education minister who is running as a CNRP candidate in
western Battambang province. "Things have changed for most of them.
They're in a bubble of excitement."
Change or no change?
Lacking the CPP's financial resources, the CNRP has built its campaign
around a Barack Obama-esque mantra "change or no change?", which has
been taken up enthusiastically by young supporters at party rallies. The
party also hopes to capitalize on simmering discontent related to
state-backed land-grabbing, which by one count has affected 300,000
people across the country since 2003 and has escalated considerably
since the last national election in 2008.
There are signs that the CPP is growing worried about its hold on power.
Despite a convincing victory in commune elections in June 2012, the
party took some unexpected hits in its rural heartland. To mollify land
concerns, Hun Sen formed a troupe of paid "volunteer" students who
fanned out across the country handing out new title deeds to affected
villagers. In the first half of 2013, he also presided over the
inauguration of 22 Buddhist pagodas, many located in key "swing
communes".
Addressing audiences of rice farmers, he openly warned that the benefits
of CPP rule-particularly its infrastructure projects and patronage of
Buddhism-will come to an end if he loses power. "If people don't vote
for [the CPP], we will be disheartened and will stop giving," he said
during the inauguration of a national road in March. "All projects will
be eliminated. ... Even a project like pumping water to dry farms." The
next month he even warned of "internal war" if the opposition came to
power.
In the context of a close-fought poll, Rainsy's return to Cambodia
presents both pitfalls and opportunities for the opposition. Some
observers think that by energizing the CNRP campaign, it will help the
opposition build on the 29 out of 123 seats it currently holds in the
National Assembly. "It will give the party a big boost," said Lao Mong
Hay, an independent political analyst. "This party has generated what
might be called a mass movement for change across the country, and it
has been gaining momentum during the absence of its leader."
But Rainsy's return could also benefit the wily Hun Sen, who as always
has his eye on the long game. Elections are always a magnet for
international attention, and with the spotlight glaring some kind of
political arrangement to secure Rainsy's return was always likely for
the sake of appearances. But will the attention be sustained after the
polls?
In February 2006, a year after Rainsy was hounded out of Cambodia by
defamation lawsuits brought by Hun Sen and his then-coalition partner
Prince Norodom Ranariddh, he received a royal pardon and returned
hailing a "new chapter in Cambodian history". A few years later, after
the CPP secured a landslide electoral victory in 2008, the government
tightened the screws again by dragging journalists and opposition
figures through the courts. Following his border post stunt in October
2009, Rainsy himself was forced back into exile.
Optimistic observers hold out hope that this time things will be
different. "The pressure has been mounting over time," said Lao Mong
Hay. "It seems America means business."
But history suggests otherwise. As Hun Sen has consolidated his control
over the past 20 years, he has repeatedly used "royal" pardons as a
means of resetting the status quo by defusing pressure from abroad and
extracting political concessions from his rivals. In 2006, Rainsy
offered a public apology to Hun Sen and Ranariddh in return for his
pardon. The currency on offer this time is legitimacy: Rainsy's presence
is set to boost the credibility of what will remain a seriously flawed
election.
Rainsy himself has warned that "the mere fact of my return does not
create a free and fair election for Cambodia". But Hun Sen knows that
the main question for foreign governments is not whether the election
will be "fair" in absolute terms - no election since 1993 really has
been - but rather whether the poll is fair enough.
Ou Virak, president of the Cambodian Centre of Human Rights, said prior
to Rainsy's pardon that based on past practice foreign governments -
having long learned to live with Hun Sen - will admit "irregularities"
in the vote but probably accept the result. "My view is that the donors
... will see the injustice, will complain about it, but will never ever
take a stand," he said.
In 20 years, Hun Sen has lowered democratic expectations to such a
degree that the mere presence of an opposition leader on Cambodian soil
may now be enough get it over the line. Foreign Minister Hor Namhong has
already claimed that Rainsy's presence is in itself a guarantee of a
"free and fair" poll.
With or without Rainsy, the real long-term danger for the CPP will be
maintaining the political momentum generated by its own propaganda. Hun
Sen is characterized in increasingly superhuman terms-as a military
genius, a political mastermind, and man of overweening merit who rains
blessings on the people.
It is a myth that can only really be perpetuated by ever-greater margins
of electoral victory. If Rainsy and his reinvigorated party are able to
eat into the CPP's rural vote-bank, it is possible that Hun Sen's
carefully cultivated aura of invincibility might slowly, if
imperceptibly, begin to fade. If that were the case, the gamble of
Rainsy's return might just be worth it.
Sebastian Strangio is a journalist based in Phnom Penh who
covers the Asia-Pacific and is working on a book about modern Cambodia.
He may be reached atsebastian.strangio@gmail.com.
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