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Tag: Kris Janssens

  • Cambodia at a Tipping Point: Authenticity Makes Way for Progress

    Cambodia at a Tipping Point: Authenticity Makes Way for Progress

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    Seayeen Aum promotes ecotourism in the remote province of Ratanakiri, in Cambodia’s northeast. Credit: Kris Janssens/ IPS
    • by Kris Janssens (phnom penh)
    • Inter Press Service

    PHNOM PENH, Jun 28 (IPS) – Modernity is arriving rapidly in Cambodia, observes journalist Kris Janssens (48), who has lived and worked in the country since 2016. The predominantly young population is eager to move forward, embracing technology over traditional agriculture or fishing. Can Cambodians unite their country’s authentic soul with their aspirations for progress?

    Enormous changes throughout the years

    I arrived in Cambodia in the winter of 2015, on January 7 to be precise. At the time, I was unaware of the significance of this date in Cambodian history, marking the official end of the Khmer Rouge regime in 1979. To be honest, I knew very little about Cambodia.

    I planned to stay here briefly before returning to India, where I had just finished a series of radio reports. The unique Cambodian spirit changed my decision and my life course. This country immediately felt so familiar to me that I decided to move here permanently, about eighteen months later, in the fall of 2016. I’m still very happy that I can live in this magical kingdom.

    But throughout the years, Cambodia has changed enormously. In the capital city of Phnom Penh, small shops and cozy coffee bars make way for tall bank buildings. And the picturesque airport will soon be replaced by a huge terminal, further away from the city center, and out of proportion compared to the human-scaled city that I love so much.

    I have the feeling that the country is losing a part of its soul, and I want to try to capture and document this authentic spirit before it is too late.

    Very young population

    The fact that Cambodia is at a tipping point is primarily due to demography and history. More than one and a half million Cambodians died during the brutal Khmer Rouge era in the 1970s. The Pol Pot era was followed by a power vacuum and it took until the 1990s before peace and stability could return.

    Today, half of the Cambodians are under 25 years old. This is the first generation of twenty-year-olds to grow up without war or violence. These youngsters want to move forward with their lives. And that usually means moving away from the countryside. The population of Phnom Penh has increased from 1.7 to 2.4 million people in the past ten years.

    According to demographic forecasts, Phnom Penh will have more than 3 million inhabitants by 2035. More and more young Cambodians want to study in the city and switch from agriculture or fishing to technology or tourism.

    Harsh economic reality

    This shift is clearly visible in Kampong Khleang, a stilt village on the shore of the great Tonle Sap Lake, close to Siem Reap and the famous temples of Angkor Wat. Early in the morning, a rickety canoe takes me out to the open water, heading towards the rising sun. But what appears idyllic to me represents a harsh economic reality for the fishermen here. The catch is meager, and life is difficult.

    “My son is going to work in the city, away from the water,” says Borei. It is the end of a tradition because his ancestors have lived as fishermen for generations. “But living along the water has become difficult, there are too many fishermen.” His shy ten-year-old son gazes ahead quietly. I ask him where he would like to work. After some hesitation, he responds “with the police”.

    “That is a typical answer,” says Chhay Doeb. He is the Executive director of Cambodia Rural Students Trust, an NGO that provides scholarships to students from impoverished rural families.

    “When young people arrive in the city, they want to become police officers, soldiers, doctors or teachers,” he says. “But they gradually discover that they can also work in the real estate sector or as a lawyer, for example.”

    Noticeable distrust among parents

    Doeb believes that the Cambodian economy will evolve and diversify even further. “But the economic level of neighboring countries like Thailand or Vietnam is not yet within reach,” he says.

    At its founding in 2011, the organization had to go to villages and convince students of the NGO’s good intentions. Today, there are almost a thousand applications for twenty new places every year. The money for the scholarships comes from Australia.

    Doeb still notices distrust among parents, wondering what their offspring is doing in the city.

    I also experience this suspicion in Kratie, a small town on the bank of the Mekong River in the rural interior of Cambodia. The typical rural villagers look like characters sculpted from clay, with heads weathered by the sun and bodies wrinkled from hard work.

    I meet Proum Veasna, who is about to take his cows back to the stable at dusk. During our conversation, his close neighbor passes by on his moped. He teasingly squeezes Veasna’s bare stomach. “We are friends, we all know each other here,” he says. His son works as a construction worker in Phnom Penh, but he has never been there himself. “It’s polluted, I would immediately get sick.”

    Veasna has always worked as a farmer. “I had no choice because I have no education.” He wants a different future for his four children. “My daughter is learning English and Chinese.” The girl cycles by as we talk about her. “She can grow up to be whatever she wants, she is so smart,” says the proud dad.

    Boosting economy

    Upstream the Mekong River, in the neighboring province of Stung Treng, I meet Teap Chueng and Kom Leang, a retired couple living in a lonely house in a vast wooded landscape. “Covid never happened here”, they tell me with a big smile, “because we are never in touch with city dwellers”.

    They do not need to go to the nearby town, as they are completely self-sufficient. “We have four hectares of land”, says Teap Chueng, while his wife proudly shows home-grown winter melon, a mild-tasting fruit related to the cucumber.

    The region is also known for cashew nuts. “As we speak, new factories are being built, so the farmers will be able to scale up the production”. Although they realize that industrialization will change the landscape of their beloved home, the couple can’t wait for this development to happen. “It will boost our economy, which will benefit our children and grandchildren”.

    A country with a lot of energy

    Seayeen Aum is a typical example of someone who managed to work his way up. As a child, he learned how to survive in nature. “We didn’t always have enough money”, he says. “But if you know and understand the forest, you will always find something to eat.”

    Today he promotes ecotourism in the remote province of Ratanakiri, in Cambodia’s northeast. And with success. During our trek through the jungle, he constantly receives calls and orders on one of his two mobile phones. “We are a country with a lot of energy,” he says, laughing.

    This entrepreneur succeeded in marketing this region, with traditional ethnic minority groups, in a respectful manner to a Western audience. Authenticity and progress do go hand in hand here for the time being.

    This is a country with a lot of challenges, providing all these graduating students with satisfying employment, to say the least. The drive for stability is important to Cambodians, but I also see ambitious people like Seayeen, who have a plan and are progressively working towards the result. In another five to eight years from now, this country will look completely different.

    © Inter Press Service (2024) — All Rights ReservedOriginal source: Inter Press Service

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  • Centuries-Old Rituals Are Slowly Fading Away in Cambodia

    Centuries-Old Rituals Are Slowly Fading Away in Cambodia

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    The ancient village of Kbaal Romeas has been flooded. Credit: Kris Janssens / IPS
    • by Kris Janssens (ratanakiri province, cambodia)
    • Inter Press Service

    RATANAKIRI PROVINCE, Cambodia, Jan 18 (IPS) – “What on earth are you going to do in Tropeang Krohom?” The driver of the minivan turns his head and gives me a puzzled look. Few passengers want to be dropped off in a settlement between two provincial towns.

    Tropeang Krohom or ‘Red Pond’ is located at a junction of the main road. The name refers to the typical blood-red earth in this province of Ratanakiri.

    From this point, a motorcyclist will take me to his village. It is a ride of more than two hours, along bumpy and unpaved roads, with large trails of dust behind passing trucks. The leaves of the grayish-green trees are covered with a thick layer of the same red sand.

    Stretched out valleys

    Everyone is en route to somewhere. Some are packed lightly, others carry cartloads of vegetables, cassava or sugar cane stalks, to be transported from the field to the market. A street vendor travels from one village to another on his motorbike, loaded with small items for sale such as soap, candy, or soft drinks.

    About 1 percent of the total population of 17 million inhabitants live in this area. This province mainly consists of villages, each populated by 60-something families, spread across vast valleys. I go to Kbaal Romeas (literally ‘head of the rhinoceros’) next to Srepok, a tributary of the Mekong.

    Cambodia’s northeast is home to more than 20 ethnic groups or Indigenous People. They each have their own story and particular customs, from death cults to love huts, and they have specific languages, although nowadays rarely used.

    Young people prefer switching to Khmer, the language of the largest Cambodian ethnicity, which is slowly wiping out the others.

    In this province, the clash between tradition and development became painfully clear in 2017, when a huge dam was built at the confluence of the Srepok and the Sesan rivers in Ratanakiri’s west. The power plant turned an inhabited area of ??34,000 hectares into a huge water reservoir. Thousands of residents had to be relocated to a place with newly built houses and expansion options. But about 50 ‘Pounong’ families refuse to leave.

    At first, they used small boats to row over the flooded village road. Later, the typical shaded areas under the stilt houses slowly filled with water.

    Tompoun children want to show me the ghost forest, but they are still afraid. Credit: Kris Janssens / IPS
    Tompoun children want to show me the ghost forest, but they are still afraid. Credit: Kris Janssens / IPS

    Stubborn resistance

    Today, the villagers live a little further away, still within rowing distance of the old spot. Ironically, this area close to a hydroelectric power station is not connected to the grid. People here don’t want to pay for electricity from that ‘doomed’ dam anyway. A Cambodian NGO supporting the stubborn resistance is providing solar panels to power night lights and to charge mobile phones.

    “I have been to the new village a few times to visit a sick relative, but I will never live there,” says Poo, 64. He shows me his rice field, which has just been harvested. “This land is my identity,” he adds. I know a few Cambodian words for “tradition” or “origin,” but this man uses them all in one sentence.

    According to many ethnic traditions, bodies are not cremated as in the Buddhist culture, but buried. This also goes for Pounong people, who believe that the spirits of the deceased are still wandering around the burial site. This is the main reason why the community doesn’t want to leave.

    The cemetery of Kbaal Romeas is completely flooded and can no longer be visited. To find out more about this death cult, I travel to other villages in northeastern Cambodia, closer to Laos and Vietnam. The current borders between the three countries of former Indochina were established by the French in the 1950s, but these minority groups have been living here much longer.

    In the Tompoun village of Katai, about 20 kilometers in a straight line to the Vietnamese border, I ask a young woman to take me to the ‘prey khmaoch’ or ghost forest. She refuses. Once bodies are ritually buried, they are left to nature. Living souls shouldn’t interfere any more, she says.

    Five children are willing to guide me if I promise we will stay together as a group. I see two boys holding hands, one of them whispers he’s quite afraid. Once in the forest, the only sounds we hear come from the dry leaves under our feet and from cawing crows high up in the trees.

    Suddenly, the first grave appears in front of us. It is a wooden construction with decorations and a stone stating the date of death and a picture of a woman with a typical pipe in her mouth. Other small wooden graves, scattered around the trees, are in an advanced stage of decay. This place is macabre and peaceful at the same time.

    Water buffalo

    The burial tradition also exists in the Charai community. Leejapheuy, 68, sits on a bench in the sand under a canvas, in the middle of his village, Loom. A retired soldier who has lived in this village all his life, he has that confident attitude of someone who’s seen it all.

    It turns out he is the sculptor who makes the wooden animistic guards, protecting the spirits. In the death forest, I see a statue of a man holding a gun and a sculpted elephant. As the story goes, a water buffalo is to be slaughtered for every burial, but more and more families are abandoning this practice because the animal can easily cost a few hundred dollars.

    The journey continues along winding dirt roads and narrow bridges, crisscrossing the rough landscape, which turns into one big mud puddle during the rainy season.

    Along the way, we see workers on cassava plantations. 12-year-old Seth comes from Kandal province, more than 500 kilometers south, next to the capital city Phnom Penh. He says he is only here for the harvest and will return to school in his hometown afterward. “This is also a reason why traditional cultures disappear,” says Mana, 37, my motorcyclist. Seasonal laborers and temporary residents do not follow the ancient customs.

    The landscape changes and we pass miles of rubber plantations, recognizable by the black bowl on every tree trunk. “Ten years ago these roads were much narrower,” Mana recalls. “But these rubber companies have signed large land concessions and want to be able to drive their big trucks deep into the forest.”

    Original inhabitants retreating

    Around noon we arrive in Ta Veng, another village with elementary wooden houses on sandy soil. A few neighbors are crouched on the ground around a fire bowl with glowing charcoal. The lunch consists of home-harvested vegetables with sifted rice. Dogs come running towards us, barking at the top of their lungs. Pigs roam freely. Barefoot children shout from afar that visitors have arrived.

    We are welcomed by Makara, who has married into this Prouw community. He limps a bit (“an anomaly from my childhood”), but that doesn’t stop him from showing us around the village. He finds traditional culture interesting, but he thinks there is also an important practical aspect.

    “Monks in the Buddhist pagoda carry out cremations for free,” says Makara, “while funerals do cost a bit.” He also notices that more and more Khmer immigrants buy land and plantations in this area. “The original inhabitants are moving deeper into the forest.”

    Love hut

    On the way back we pass several Kreung villages. This community is known for its ‘love huts’, small private houses where daughters of marriageable age receive boyfriends. The tradition arose because it is difficult to ‘date’ in a remote village.

    “In my time, I had three lovers in a hut like that before I met my current husband,” says Semapohean, 60, laughing. “And yes, the boys were allowed to sleep over. One or two nights before I’d send them away.” Here, it was girls who got to choose their favorite candidates. The custom is notable in a country where marriages are not necessarily arranged, but often require family approval.

    But today the love huts no longer exist. “Every now and then we build one to show to tourists, but nowadays people use their phones to meet each other”. In addition, families now live in larger houses, where the children have a separate room and therefore sufficient privacy. Semapohean doesn’t seem to mind that much.

    Sookanjerai, 52, is more pessimistic. “This new generation is too lazy to continue the tradition,” he says. Young people do not necessarily want to leave the area, but they lose interest in the specific customs. Sookanjerai has little hope for the future “In a few years from now everyone will have become Khmer and our ethnicities will be gone.”

    © Inter Press Service (2024) — All Rights ReservedOriginal source: Inter Press Service

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  • Press Freedom and LGBTQ+ Rights: Benchmarks of Democracy Decline in Southeast Asia

    Press Freedom and LGBTQ+ Rights: Benchmarks of Democracy Decline in Southeast Asia

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    People took to the streets to protest against the military coup in Myanmar in February 2021. Credit: R. Bociaga / Shutterstock.com
    • by Kris Janssens (phnom penh)
    • Inter Press Service

    PHNOM PENH, Aug 21 (IPS) – Three notable events have boosted the democratic process in Southeast Asia in recent decades. The fall of the Marcos regime in 1986, the Reformasi that shifted Indonesian politics in the late 1990s, and Aung San Suu Kyi’s victory over the military junta in Myanmar. However, today Marcos’ son is president of the Philippines, Indonesian presidential candidates want to centralize power again, and Myanmar is embroiled in an armed conflict.

    What is going on in the region, and what does this mean for democracy?

    Countries like Cambodia or Thailand seem to ignore basic democratic rules. For economic reasons, they are trying to placate the West, but at the other end of the spectrum, Beijing is beckoning.

    China has been able to drastically reduce poverty rates in only a few decade’s time, without having to organize these fearsome elections. The dogma that you need a multi-party system to be a prosperous country seems to be false. Then why should Southeast Asian regimes care about it?

    Moreover, the state leaders hardly notice any disapproval from their neighbours. There is the loose-tight partnership ASEAN (Association of Southeast Asian Nations). But the ten member states basically do not interfere in each other’s domestic politics, to avoid being criticised for their own human rights violations.

    Humanitarian crisis in Myanmar

    This lack of decisiveness became painfully clear in the spring of 2021 when the countries, in the midst of the COVID-19 crisis, gathered to discuss the situation in member state Myanmar.

    In February, the army staged a coup there, resulting in bloody protests. ASEAN wanted to condemn violence against civilians in a compromise text.

    Coup perpetrator Min Aung Hlaing sat at the table on behalf of his country. The head of the government, Aung San Suu Kyi, was captured by the junta after she had won the elections and did not receive an invitation.

    Eventually, the meeting resulted in a 5-Point Consensus, without a clear timing and without agreements on political prisoners. The junta has recently pardoned the now 78-year-old Aung San Suu Kyi on five legal charges, meaning her 33-year jail term will be reduced by six years.

    But various ethnic armed groups are still fighting the army stubbornly to this day.

    Like father, like son

    Accurate reporting on Myanmar is difficult because the fieldwork for journalists is downright dangerous. But the press is also being restricted in other Southeast Asian countries.

    In the Philippines, former President Duterte revoked a broadcasting license held by ABS-CBN. The country’s largest broadcast company now works as a content creator but has lost much of its advertising revenue during the past three years.

    Critics say this attack on press freedom is maintained by current president Marcos Junior. Important detail: ABS-CBN had already been shut down in the 1970s, during the reign of his father.

    Dictator Ferdinand Marcos senior led an authoritarian regime for twenty years in which thousands were killed and billions of dollars of state money were said to have disappeared. He was finally ousted from power during a popular uprising in 1986. The impressive shoe collection, owned by his wife Imelda, symbolized his family’s exuberant wealth.

    Last year, son ‘Bong Bong’ Marcos was elected as the new president of the Philippines. So far, according to independent journalist Joshua Kurlantzick, there is little sign of the promised ‘change’.

    Kurlantzick works for think tank Council on Foreign Relations (CFR) and wrote the predictive blog post “Why democracy in Southeast Asia will worsen in 2023” late last year.

    Solid democracy in Indonesia

    In an interview with IPS, he says the crackdown on independent media in Southeast Asia is getting worse. “There are very few even semi-democracies left in a region where democracy was once on the rise, and tiny Timor-Leste is actually the freest state in the region”.

    Indonesia is also seen as a solid democracy, although it is very unclear what next year’s presidential elections will bring.

    Current president Joko Widodo has to make way after two terms in office. Defense Minister Prabowo Subianto is one of the presidential candidates. He has been linked to the killings of activists and journalists and has already made clear he doesn’t value democracy so much.

    “Prabowo could cancel the many local and regional elections that have become the lifeblood of Indonesia’s highly successful program of democratic decentralization to consolidate power in himself”, Kurlantzick says.

    The LGBTQIA+ community in Indonesia is also holding its breath. In an opinion article, gay rights activist Dede Oetomo points out that “morality is an important battleground for Islamist politicians”.

    President Widodo has always been able to maintain a balance, but Oetomo fears there will be more prohibitions in the near future, including a ban on same-sex intercourse.

    “Resistance in the streets and at the Constitutional Court are the best ways forward to preserve democracy in Indonesia”, he concludes.

    Gay kiss

    Sexual orientation issues are also stirring up emotions in other countries. Last month, a gig by the British pop-rock band ‘The 1975′ in Kuala Lumpur was cut short. Singer Matty Healy criticized the Malaysian law, which prohibits homosexuality, and then kissed his bassist. Subsequent concerts by the band in Indonesia and Taiwan have been cancelled.

    “LGBTQIA+ rights are certainly benchmarks for democracy”, says Belgian researcher Bart Gaens in an interview with IPS. He teaches at the University of Helsinki, with an expertise in EU-Asia relations. “However, the question is whether external criticism such as the protest by ‘The 1975’ does any good”, Gaens adds.

    He believes change can only be gradual and has to happen from within, for example through vibrant civil societies. “Along with democratic backsliding including in the US and elsewhere, Southeast Asian countries are now even more hesitant to accept external criticism”, he says.

    Global phenomenon

    Widespread homophobia and transphobia, and increasing bashing of ‘mainstream media’ can certainly be seen as symptoms of this global downturn Gaens mentions.

    However, a key point needs to be added. Supporters of Trump in the US and of the former French presidential candidate Zemmour are mainly democracy-weary.

    They prefer a strong autocratic leader over endless debates within a politically correct parliament or in-depth journalism with strong and valid arguments.

    In the Western world, the system seems worn out and frayed. In Southeast Asia it has never been able to fully develop.

    This article is the second in a series about declining democracy in Southeast Asia, read the first part here.

    © Inter Press Service (2023) — All Rights ReservedOriginal source: Inter Press Service

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  • Governments in Thailand and Cambodia Play a Poker Game for Power

    Governments in Thailand and Cambodia Play a Poker Game for Power

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    Cambodia’s prime minister, Hun Sen. He will hand power to his son later this month, after rigged elections. Credit: Shutterstock.
    • by Kris Janssens (phnom penh)
    • Inter Press Service

    PHNOM PENH, Aug 17 (IPS) – Democracy is declining in Southeast Asia. The Cambodian prime minister will hand over his office to his son later this month, after rigged elections. Meanwhile, Thailand’s largest political party is kept from power.

    ”What do you expect, he’s in the military!” My fellow journalist is quite firm when I ask her what she thinks about the prime minister-designate of Cambodia. We sit in her favourite coffee shop near the royal palace in the capital city Phnom Penh, where we occasionally meet to discuss political issues.

    Little alternative

    She doesn’t think Hun Manet (45), who will become the country’s next leader on August 22, will change the system. Not only because he is an army chief, but also because she thinks father Hun Sen (71) will continue to play an important role behind the scenes till his very last day.

    “Until then, the son cannot possibly tackle the widespread corruption, even if he wanted to,” she says, referring to a story about children of party officials who are on the payrolls of ministries without actually working there.

    My colleague has been living in Cambodia since the late 1990s and she knows that there’s little alternative. If the current rulers were to disappear today, the lights would go out in this country. Literally, because the prime minister’s family also owns the only electricity company.

    The dynastic succession from father to son raised more eyebrows among foreign observers than among Cambodian citizens. In recent decades, they have mainly been busy rebuilding their country after the devastating Khmer Rouge period and the turbulent 1980s.

    Hun Sen’s CPP (Cambodian People’s Party) has ruled the country since the late 1970s and has declared a landslide victory after last month’s national elections. This wasn’t a surprise, as all significant opponents had been eliminated in advance.

    A game of thrones

    In neighboring Thailand, the opposition was allowed to participate in recent elections. In May this year, the reformist and anti-junta Move Forward Party (MFP) even became the largest party. But leader Pita Limjaroenrat failed to gather enough support from the military-appointed senators to become prime minister.

    Limjaroenrat is even suspended as a member of parliament for allegedly violating electoral rules. The new prime minister will be a candidate from the second largest group in Parliament, Pheu Thai. This is the party of former Prime Minister Thaksin Shinawatra (74), who has been living in exile for fifteen years to escape convictions and will now return to Thailand.

    “So it’s confirmed”, writes political journalist and Thailand expert Andrew MacGregor Marshall on his X-account (formerly Twitter).

    “(King) Vajiralongkorn and Thaksin have done a deal (…) to pardon Thaksin if he keeps MFP out of power”

    A history of coups

    Thailand has a history of successive military coups, each time overthrowing civilian governments. The last one was in 2014 when outgoing Prime Minister Prayut took power. Five years later, he was able to stay in office as prime minister after doubtful elections. Future Forward, the predecessor of MFP, was sidelined.

    But unlike the Cambodians, the Thai people are not easily lectured by an old power elite. In 2020, student protests grew into national anti-establishment demonstrations. For the first time, the monarchy was also openly questioned.

    King Vajiralongkorn, who inherited the throne from his popular father Bhumibol in 2016, is accused of rapidly gaining powers never possessed by his predecessor. However, Thailand has strict laws against lese-majeste and several students were sentenced to prison for participating in these (peaceful) demonstrations.

    Behind the scenes

    Last month, dissatisfied MFP supporters gathered in the streets of Bangkok to express their anger. More protest is to be expected. In an opinion article for ‘Bangkok Post’, political scientist Thitinan Pongsudhirak says the voter has little to say, while the real political game takes place behind the scenes. He is referring to the Constitutional Court, which can easily eliminate (opposition) parties.

    “The commotion and seeming chaos among political parties and politicians, in contrast to the appointed agencies and established centres of power, has been used to discredit and weaken democratic institutions”, he writes.

    Same story in 2017 in Cambodia, where the Supreme Court outlawed the opposition party CNRP (Cambodia National Rescue Party). For this year’s ballot, political opponent Candle Light Party (CLP, the successor to CNRP) was simply disqualified. According to the election committee, “the party failed to submit a copy of the original party registration”.

    Nation’s biggest asset

    Meanwhile, in the coffee bar in Phnom Penh, we are finishing our coffees. The prediction about father Hun Sen’s interference seems to be accurate. In a recent speech, the outgoing prime minister hit out at election critics in the EU and the US. “Democracy has won,” he said. He called the family transfer of power “needed to ensure peace in the country and to prevent bloodshed”.

    This has always been Hun Sen’s strategy. Emphasizing he has brought peace and stability after the turbulent Khmer Rouge era, while mildly pampering the middle class to avoid any uprising. According to his successor, who also held a post-election speech, “the nation’s biggest asset is its human resources”.

    It is promising that the new leader recognizes the opportunities (but also the challenges) of his very young population, with a median age of 25 years well below the global average. Hopefully this Hun Manet will give Cambodian politics a more human face, even though he is ‘the son of his father’.

    © Inter Press Service (2023) — All Rights ReservedOriginal source: Inter Press Service

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