The Hidden Impact of the Thailand-Cambodia Border Conflict

The Diplomat

a day ago

Amidst the elite family intrigue and international implications of the Thailand-Cambodia border conflict, the real story risks being lost. That story concerns neither Paetongtarn Shinawatra and Hun Sen, nor colonial border demarcation, nor international court rulings; instead, it is about the innocent lives lost and the indigent rural communities on both sides of the border who have been driven further into debt and desperation.
On a recent trip to Surin and Sisaket provinces in Thailand, I witnessed and documented the impact of the conflict. At a convenience store in Sisaket that had been hit by a Cambodian rocket, for example, survivors told me it took two nights before they could recover all the bodies, fearing the presence of unexploded ordnance. Even though I had seen photographs and videos of war beforehand, nothing could truly prepare me for the heartbreak of standing in that space. A place that should have been bustling with shoppers was now completely silent.
Outside the convenience store, shattered glass lay scattered in every direction. Burned fragments of debris were strewn across the ground. A gaping hole in the ceiling allowed daylight to pour into the store, illuminating its charred remains. The smell of smoke still lingered, even though fire hoses and rain had washed much of the dust and ash away. Unfamiliar, haunting details stood out: a packet of peanuts, its plastic wrapper melted onto a twisted metal hook; fridge doors blown wide open, every glass pane shattered. The scene spoke volumes about the devastating power of the weapon used.
Many of the locals in Surin and Sisaket that I spoke with still remember the border-related violence that broke out in 2011. They said this year's conflict is the most serious escalation since then. Not just because of the weapons used, but because of what was lost. In addition to hitting military outposts, rockets also struck homes, farms, shops, and even a hospital. Many civilians have lost their lives from or because of the conflict, including a 65-year-old man, who took his own life, reportedly after being prevented from returning to his home along the border.
Just a day after a barrage of Cambodian rocket and artillery fire landed in four Thai border provinces, I spoke with a Thai rubber plantation farmer in a shelter for displaced people in Surin. With tears falling down her face, she told me:
I have 30 chickens, so my husband decided not to come to the shelter. …I still call him to check if he's eaten and ask how the situation is. … Because we've had to flee like this, villagers can't tap rubber and sell it. It's affected our income. We're grateful for the support we receive here [at the shelter], but can we really sleep peacefully at night? I worry about home.
This kind of testimony does not fit neatly into military briefings or diplomatic cables, but it is how war manifests for those in the firing line. Although I wasn't able to talk with people on the Cambodian side, I can only imagine their hardships mirror what Thai survivors are going through.
On Thailand's western border with Myanmar, where I am currently living, people are suffering the long-term impacts of a different war. Refugees fleeing decades of internal armed conflict in Myanmar are still stuck in limbo. They cannot return home to Myanmar, and now, with the wholesale withdrawal of American aid, they cannot even rely on the minimal assistance they once had. As of July 31, the Border Consortium, one of the few remaining lifelines for displaced people in the region, discontinued its support to all but the most vulnerable refugees in nine border refugee camps due to funding shortfalls. Many organizations have been working tirelessly to address the shortfalls, but without the political will, it remains nearly impossible to offer these communities a real way out.
Communities living on Thailand's borders must not be allowed to fall through the social safety net that, in many ways, marks this nation out as a leader in the region.
On the Cambodia border, a ceasefire is not enough. The two nations must not only end hostilities and resolve the territorial dispute, but also begin a real recovery process that centers the voices of those affected. This should include government-backed conflict insurance, compensation, and access to mental health support. We are not talking about the symbolic or procedural compensation under the law, but reparations and support that allow them to rebuild their lives and return to normalcy with dignity.
Along the Myanmar border, hundreds of thousands of people displaced by decades of war and repression continue to live without security or stability, made worse by the recent funding cuts. Thailand must provide them with legal status and sustainable livelihood, by promoting local integration that allows them to stand strong and self-reliant. True peace and freedom within a federal, democratic Myanmar must remain the ultimate goal.
We must invest not only in border security, but in rebuilding trust, restoring livelihoods, and returning dignity to people who have lived under the shadow of war for far too long – on both borders. It is the lasting traces of war, the ones that remain long after the gunfire stops, that we too often leave unspoken.