The Guardian
July's elections once again highlighted the discrimination that ethnic Vietnamese people born in Cambodia so often encounter
Cambodia's opposition leader Sam Rainsy greets supporters in Freedom Park, Phnom Penh, in the runup to the recent elections. Photograph: Nicolas Axelrod/Getty Images
When Ly Sieng, 60, arrived at her local polling station in Cambodia on 28 July, she was shocked to find a mob of hundreds blocking her way.
She realised the group was targeting her as a Yuon, a racially charged but commonly used Khmer word for Vietnamese; she was terrified.
"The opposition youth blocked us, yelling: 'Yuon! Yuon! Go away! Don't let them vote.' I tried three times with help from police officers but couldn't vote," says Sieng, a grandmother who lives in a fishing village outside the capital, Phnom Penh.
"I have voted in every past election, but this time could not, even though I have enough legal documents. [Perhaps 30] of us could not vote. We were so frightened. So we gave up."
Though born in Cambodia, fluent in Khmer and descended from a family who has lived in the country for generations, Sieng and others in her ethnic-Vietnamese community are not treated like Cambodians.
Official numbers are hard to come by, but an estimated 5% of Cambodia's 15 million-strong population is thought to be of Vietnamese ethnicity.
Sieng's experience of Cambodia's disputed poll is a nasty byproduct of an anti-Vietnamese sentiment that runs deep in Cambodian society. Bound with historical grievances, fears of uncontrolled immigration, and political populism, such antipathy has led to violence in the recent past.
Numerous similar incidents of "ethnically motivated disenfranchisement" on election day were catalogued (pdf) by a leading human rights group. This vigilante action was often based on the idea that "strange", pale-skinned, Vietnamese-looking voters unable to speak Khmer had been issued with temporary election IDs to cast ghost votes for the ruling party – a claim widely believed, but not thoroughly substantiated, by many opposition supporters.
Prime Minister Hun Sen's Cambodian People's party, which emerged out of a Vietnamese-installed regime in the 1980s, is seen as cosy with Hanoi. This relationship vexes many Cambodians and has long been exploited for political gain by opposition leader Sam Rainsy, whose pre-election return from self-exile was accompanied by a resurgence in his party's anti-Vietnamese rhetoric.
"Numerous ethnic Vietnamese have Cambodian ID documentation and have integrated well into society – however, it is true that others continue to live at the margins of society and face difficulties substantiating their legal status," says Lyma Nguyen, an international civil party lawyer representing ethnic Vietnamese victims at the Khmer Rouge tribunal.
"Authorities need to distinguish between individuals who have resided for many generations in Cambodia and those who migrated to the country more recently, some for economic purposes."
Many long-term ethnic Vietnamese once possessed Cambodian citizenship or legal residence, but were kicked out of the country when the Khmer Rouge took power in 1975. The 20,000 or so that stayed behind were all systematically killed (pdf).
A Vietnamese invasion brought an end to the regime in 1979 – an intervention seen by many as a humiliation rather than a liberation – but hundreds of thousands of ethnic-Vietnamese who, like Sieng, returned to their homeland, were treated like immigrants. They still are.
"We missed our homeland [Cambodia]," says Phang Thy Ang, 62, who was also blocked on polling day, "so we secretly returned [in the 80s], but our properties were lost. We started our lives [again] with nothing but our bare hands."
Boat Without Anchors (pdf), a legal report co-authored by Nguyen, concludes that many long-term ethnic Vietnamese in Cambodia could be considered stateless, as they are not recognised as citizens under either Cambodian or Vietnamese law.
This is compounded by a lack of knowledge about their rights, discrimination by the authorities, and the high costs (due to corruption) of obtaining legal documents, the report says.
The weak application of the nationality law and the lack of a clear naturalisation process leaves many ethnic Vietnamese Cambodians in a legal grey area, according to Ou Virak, president at the Cambodian Centre for Human Rights.
"If you don't have a process to citizenship then you don't know who is what … you have to tell from the look and the language, the accent. And that's not appropriate," says Virak.
The consequences of this go beyond the right to vote. Without documentation, some ethnic Vietnamese people do not have access to many basic economic, political and social rights, says Nguyen. She adds that some of these problems directly affect development in ethnic-Vietnamese communities. "Much of this appears to be connected to [their] existence at the margins of Cambodian society."
The Vietnamese issue has long reared its head at election time, a trend reinforced by the opposition's campaign this year.
"I pity Khmers very much," Rainsy was reported as saying three days before the election. "They have lost their farmland, because Yuons are always coming in, and the authorities do not protect their fellow Khmers at all, but protect the invading Yuons. Now they have brought Yuons to vote for Hun Sen, so Khmers should vote for Sam Rainsy to protect our territory."
In a post-election interview, Rainsy distanced himself from the Vietnamese issue that has long been a feature of his campaign rhetoric. "We do not think that the Vietnamese living in Cambodia is a problem," he said. "You have to open your mind and note that the Cambodia National Rescue Party [supporters] have blocked people from voting, including Khmer people, regardless of their ethnic group because … they want to be stringent in order to prevent ghost voters."
Three days later, Rainsy's party released a statement, aimed at the international community, saying it "opposes violence, racism, xenophobia and discrimination" and would comply with "international human rights standards" in addressing immigration issues.
For those who, like Sieng, have experienced first-hand the local consequences of nationalist political rhetoric, such lofty promises may have come too late.
"We wish to live [in Cambodia] for ever and die here and scatter our ashes here, because our parents died here too," she says.
She realised the group was targeting her as a Yuon, a racially charged but commonly used Khmer word for Vietnamese; she was terrified.
"The opposition youth blocked us, yelling: 'Yuon! Yuon! Go away! Don't let them vote.' I tried three times with help from police officers but couldn't vote," says Sieng, a grandmother who lives in a fishing village outside the capital, Phnom Penh.
"I have voted in every past election, but this time could not, even though I have enough legal documents. [Perhaps 30] of us could not vote. We were so frightened. So we gave up."
Though born in Cambodia, fluent in Khmer and descended from a family who has lived in the country for generations, Sieng and others in her ethnic-Vietnamese community are not treated like Cambodians.
Official numbers are hard to come by, but an estimated 5% of Cambodia's 15 million-strong population is thought to be of Vietnamese ethnicity.
Sieng's experience of Cambodia's disputed poll is a nasty byproduct of an anti-Vietnamese sentiment that runs deep in Cambodian society. Bound with historical grievances, fears of uncontrolled immigration, and political populism, such antipathy has led to violence in the recent past.
Numerous similar incidents of "ethnically motivated disenfranchisement" on election day were catalogued (pdf) by a leading human rights group. This vigilante action was often based on the idea that "strange", pale-skinned, Vietnamese-looking voters unable to speak Khmer had been issued with temporary election IDs to cast ghost votes for the ruling party – a claim widely believed, but not thoroughly substantiated, by many opposition supporters.
Prime Minister Hun Sen's Cambodian People's party, which emerged out of a Vietnamese-installed regime in the 1980s, is seen as cosy with Hanoi. This relationship vexes many Cambodians and has long been exploited for political gain by opposition leader Sam Rainsy, whose pre-election return from self-exile was accompanied by a resurgence in his party's anti-Vietnamese rhetoric.
"Numerous ethnic Vietnamese have Cambodian ID documentation and have integrated well into society – however, it is true that others continue to live at the margins of society and face difficulties substantiating their legal status," says Lyma Nguyen, an international civil party lawyer representing ethnic Vietnamese victims at the Khmer Rouge tribunal.
"Authorities need to distinguish between individuals who have resided for many generations in Cambodia and those who migrated to the country more recently, some for economic purposes."
Many long-term ethnic Vietnamese once possessed Cambodian citizenship or legal residence, but were kicked out of the country when the Khmer Rouge took power in 1975. The 20,000 or so that stayed behind were all systematically killed (pdf).
A Vietnamese invasion brought an end to the regime in 1979 – an intervention seen by many as a humiliation rather than a liberation – but hundreds of thousands of ethnic-Vietnamese who, like Sieng, returned to their homeland, were treated like immigrants. They still are.
"We missed our homeland [Cambodia]," says Phang Thy Ang, 62, who was also blocked on polling day, "so we secretly returned [in the 80s], but our properties were lost. We started our lives [again] with nothing but our bare hands."
Boat Without Anchors (pdf), a legal report co-authored by Nguyen, concludes that many long-term ethnic Vietnamese in Cambodia could be considered stateless, as they are not recognised as citizens under either Cambodian or Vietnamese law.
This is compounded by a lack of knowledge about their rights, discrimination by the authorities, and the high costs (due to corruption) of obtaining legal documents, the report says.
The weak application of the nationality law and the lack of a clear naturalisation process leaves many ethnic Vietnamese Cambodians in a legal grey area, according to Ou Virak, president at the Cambodian Centre for Human Rights.
"If you don't have a process to citizenship then you don't know who is what … you have to tell from the look and the language, the accent. And that's not appropriate," says Virak.
The consequences of this go beyond the right to vote. Without documentation, some ethnic Vietnamese people do not have access to many basic economic, political and social rights, says Nguyen. She adds that some of these problems directly affect development in ethnic-Vietnamese communities. "Much of this appears to be connected to [their] existence at the margins of Cambodian society."
The Vietnamese issue has long reared its head at election time, a trend reinforced by the opposition's campaign this year.
"I pity Khmers very much," Rainsy was reported as saying three days before the election. "They have lost their farmland, because Yuons are always coming in, and the authorities do not protect their fellow Khmers at all, but protect the invading Yuons. Now they have brought Yuons to vote for Hun Sen, so Khmers should vote for Sam Rainsy to protect our territory."
In a post-election interview, Rainsy distanced himself from the Vietnamese issue that has long been a feature of his campaign rhetoric. "We do not think that the Vietnamese living in Cambodia is a problem," he said. "You have to open your mind and note that the Cambodia National Rescue Party [supporters] have blocked people from voting, including Khmer people, regardless of their ethnic group because … they want to be stringent in order to prevent ghost voters."
Three days later, Rainsy's party released a statement, aimed at the international community, saying it "opposes violence, racism, xenophobia and discrimination" and would comply with "international human rights standards" in addressing immigration issues.
For those who, like Sieng, have experienced first-hand the local consequences of nationalist political rhetoric, such lofty promises may have come too late.
"We wish to live [in Cambodia] for ever and die here and scatter our ashes here, because our parents died here too," she says.
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