Napon Jatusripitak

A brief border clash in late July kicked off an intense period of hostility between Cambodia and Thailand. The tensions stemmed from overlapping historical territory claims, but those disputes arguably flared to violent life due to the unique political moment in Cambodia and Thailand. Napon Jatusripitak – a political scientist specializing in politics in Thailand and Southeast Asia – told The Diplomat, “these flashpoints alone cannot account for the speed or scale of the escalation, or the intensity of the nationalist fervor it has unleashed.”

In the following interview Jatusripitak charts out the roots of the present tension, paying special attention to the political dynamics on both sides of the border that have turned a long-simmering issue into a flashpoint. He dives more deeply into the still-unfolding political consequences in Thailand, where the clashes are feeding into entrenched differences between the military establishment and the Shinawatra political dynasty.

Although a ceasefire was agreed to on July 28, Jatusripitak calls it “fragile.” As long as the political factors that drove the original clashes remain in play, a return to conflict cannot be ruled out. “Such a domestic climate is hardly conducive – in fact, it is prohibitive – for either side to engage in building the kind of mutual trust and cooperative mechanisms necessary for lasting peace,” he notes.

Take us back a few months. How and why did a minor border clash with Cambodia escalate to the point where we are today?

There are many ways one could answer this question, but none on their own feel fully convincing. The best approach, I think, is to identify a set of factors that appear to have contributed to the escalation and to tease out how they combine.

Much of the media attention has understandably centered on the recent incidents that served as immediate triggers for the conflict. These include Cambodian soldiers singing their national anthem at the Prasat Ta Muen Thom temple in February, an exchange of gunfire in May that killed a Cambodian soldier, injuries sustained by Thai soldiers in July from landmines alleged to have been newly planted by Cambodian forces, and, shortly thereafter, the use of BM-21 rocket artillery that struck a civilian area in Thailand.

However, these flashpoints alone cannot account for the speed or scale of the escalation, or the intensity of the nationalist fervor it has unleashed. After all, similar border skirmishes have taken place before, particularly during the 2008–2011 Preah Vihear dispute, without spiraling into a conflict of this magnitude or carrying such far-reaching consequences for domestic politics.

More academic explanations have turned to history: long-simmering tensions over territorial sovereignty along the undemarcated frontier, rooted in colonial-era treaties and conflicting maps that continue to fuel competing claims and nationalist contestation over sites of cultural significance. As Benedict Anderson and Thongchai Winichakul remind us, monuments and maps are not merely technical representations of reality or historical artifacts. Rather, they are constitutive of national identity and, hence, the very idea of the nation – imagined as limited and sovereign, bound together by a shared sense of history, geography, and collective belonging. This helps explain why the border dispute has proven so enduring and why it continues to produce periodic flare-ups and nationalist mobilization on both sides. In Thailand’s case, these dynamics are shaped by a long-standing discourse of territorial loss that gives rise to shared anxieties over sovereignty – one that predisposes the public to interpret even minor incidents along the border as an existential threat, while treating any government’s perceived failure to manage them decisively or any appearance of yielding on territorial claims as essentially treasonous.

Yet these two lines of explanation – trigger points and long-standing historical grievances – still leave something out. What is missing are the intermediate political dynamics that turned this episode into a full-blown crisis that is much larger and more consequential than it should have been. Two interrelated factors stand out: the failure of Thailand’s elected government to rein in its military, and the falling out between former Prime Minister Thaksin Shinawatra and Cambodian Senate President Hun Sen.

I will refrain from making definitive claims about internal Cambodian politics, such as the often-cited hypothesis that the Hun regime is leveraging nationalism to deflect attention away from the state of Cambodia’s economy and reconsolidate power under Hun Manet’s leadership, as that lies beyond my expertise. Still, I want to acknowledge that this side of the equation remains something of a black box – one that could help explain key developments pivotal to the escalation of tensions between Thailand and Cambodia, including the decision to increase Cambodia’s military presence in Chong Bok, to leak the phone conversation between Hun Sen and Thai Prime Minister Paetongtarn Shinawatra, and to submit the June 15 dispute to the International Court of Justice.

Let me turn to the Thai side of the equation, which is a bit less opaque and falls more squarely within my expertise.

First, it is important to recall that the Pheu Thai-led government emerged from a grand compromise between Thaksin Shinawatra and Thailand’s conservative establishment in 2023. Among the many implications of this compromise was a tacit understanding that the civilian-led government would steer clear of challenging the military’s prerogatives. This meant that meaningful reform of the military or military conscription was off the table, and no military officers loyal to Thaksin would be placed in key defense positions. As a sign that this understanding was being upheld, the Ministry of Defense itself was entrusted to civilian leaders who refrained from encroaching upon the military’s sphere of influence – first Sutin Klangsang, and later Phumtham Wechayachai.

The result was lopsided civil-military relations that became increasingly evident as the armed forces began to operate outside the scope of civilian oversight, and at times directly defied the government’s position on key issues. This included the proposal to resume negotiations with Cambodia on the Overlapping Claims Area (OCA) in the Gulf of Thailand under MoU 44, following Paetongtarn’s rise to the premiership, which reportedly met resistance from the Royal Thai Navy as well as from nationalist groups, particularly those of a conservative, anti-Thaksin bent.

It was against this backdrop that Second Army Region Commander Lt. Gen. Boonsin Padklang, as early as February, issued a series of public statements and undertook operational decisions that signaled an increasingly assertive military stance toward Cambodia. This led up to the closure of key border checkpoints, a move the government reportedly did not endorse or at least failed to halt in time, which caused significant friction with Cambodia and angered Hun Sen personally.

This is also where the feud between the two families enters the picture, in my view. The precise motivations behind the decision to leak the private conversation remain a matter of speculation. It may have been a calculated move to generate a rally-around-the-flag effect in Cambodia, to strike back against Thailand’s crackdown on Cambodian-linked scam centers, or to hamstring a Thai government that seemed bent on pursuing casino policies that could threaten Hun Sen’s business interests. The leak might also have been intended to express frustration over stalled negotiations – perhaps even a broken promise on Thaksin’s part – concerning oil concessions and joint development of the OCA in the Gulf of Thailand. Or it may simply have been an act of personal retaliation against Paetongtarn’s remark that the Cambodian side had acted unprofessionally, when in reality it may have been the Thai side that failed to call off its own military, allowing tensions to fester despite Thaksin having personally reassured Hun Sen otherwise.

Whatever the reason, the leak marked a turning point. It not only exposed the breakdown in personal ties between Hun Sen and the Shinawatras, but also appeared to vindicate Thai conservatives’ deepest fears: that a Shinawatra-led government could not be trusted to defend national interests and would be willing to subordinate them for personal and familial gain – a familiar accusation, if not a conspiracy, that now seemed more legitimate than ever.

At the same time, the leaked conversation confirmed broader concerns among ordinary Thais that the prime minister lacked the leadership, experience, and acumen needed to manage a crisis of this magnitude (if that was ever in doubt). Referring to Hun Sen as “uncle,” denouncing a Thai military commander as being “on the opposite side,” and offering concessions, “if you want anything, just let me know, and I will take care of it,” only lent weight to conservative suspicions that the Shinawatra family was back in the business of selling out the country, while for others it exposed a naïveté unfit for high office.

These sentiments were, of course, also amplified by an aggressive information campaign following the clashes that lifted the military’s popularity to heights unseen in more than a decade. The civilian government was painted as inept, the military as professional, and its assertive posture recast not as a key driver of July’s escalation but as strategic caution that readied it to act when the conflict erupted.

The net effect is such that the government was left a sitting duck in a crisis popularly seen as the product of a personal falling-out between the Hun and Shinawatra families. Pheu Thai proved both unwilling and unable to assert decisive leadership. It had little choice but to surrender what little authority it still retained and allow a military that was already operating with substantial latitude to set the agenda and manage the dispute as it saw fit – almost certainly at the risk of further escalation and a deepening of the crisis given the military’s overtly nationalist objectives.

These, at least on the Thai side, are the key factors that appear to have combined with long-standing historical grievances and recent trigger points to produce the crisis we are now witnessing. A ceasefire may hold for now, but the conflict is far from contained and could easily spill over into Thailand’s domestic politics even more than it already has.

Why do you think the “pact” between Thaksin and the conservative establishment has broken down? Is this the end for the Shinawatras, as some are predicting?

I don’t think it has broken down yet, actually, even in the aftermath of the Constitutional Court’s ruling on August 29, which removed Paetongtarn as prime minister over serious ethical violations. I think there has been considerable confusion about the exact nature of the deal that Thaksin struck with Thailand’s conservative establishment. Of course, we can infer its broader contours from what has already taken place:

1. Thaksin was allowed to return to Thailand and received leniency in his legal treatment.
2. Pheu Thai was allowed to lead the formation of government under a prime minister of its own choosing, with the backing of the junta-appointed Senate.
3. In return, Pheu Thai would work with conservative-backed elements to keep the progressive Move Forward Party out of power.

Yet, upon closer inspection, there are wrinkles in this story that have yet to be fully resolved.

First, Thaksin did not walk away with a full royal pardon. His eight-year sentence was instead commuted to one year, effectively barring any chance of his return to political office. Thaksin, of course, never spent a day in an actual prison cell. Before completing even his first night at Bangkok Remand Prison, he was transferred to a VIP suite on the 14th floor of the Police Hospital, where he remained for six months before securing early parole. It is far from clear, however, that this arrangement was part of the original deal that paved the way for his return. In fact, there is every reason to suspect that Thaksin abused the offer he was given. Rather than honoring the conditions of his return, he is widely perceived to have fabricated a medical condition, manipulated the system, and wiggled himself out of prison without any explicit endorsement from the conservative establishment. This has led to where we are today, with the Supreme Court set to rule on whether Thaksin’s sentence was properly enforced and whether any special treatment was granted by Corrections Department officials or medical practitioners.

Second, Pheu Thai has lost not just one but two prime ministers: first Srettha Thavisin, removed for appointing a former convict as a minister; and now Thaksin’s own daughter, Paetongtarn, dismissed from office over a leaked conversation with Cambodian Senate President Hun Sen. These court-ordered dismissals make clear that there are limits and conditions to the support the conservative establishment is willing to extend to Thaksin’s prime ministers – whether Srettha or Paetongtarn.

Taken together, these observations suggest that the deal between Thaksin and the conservative establishment may be far more minimal than many – and perhaps even Thaksin himself – had assumed. It may, as Duncan McCargo observed, be working exactly as intended: keeping Thaksin in a subordinate role while Pheu Thai acquiesces, trading away what remains of its political capital to uphold a lopsided power-sharing arrangement that leaves the conservative power nexus firmly in control.

Is this the end of the Shinawatras? I believe the Shinawatra family has become a spent force, having exhausted much of the political capital it once commanded. That capital rested on two pillars: first, Thai Rak Thai and its successor parties’ proven record of delivering tangible economic benefits to rural, grassroots, and working-class communities; and second, Thaksin’s populist appeal as a champion of ordinary Thais against entrenched Bangkok elites – an image polished largely during his years in exile, supported by the Red Shirt movement and strong popular mandates that Thais were constantly reminded of, election after election.

Both, however, have been eroding for some time and reached a new low with the grand compromise between Thaksin and the conservative establishment. To adopt Dan Slater’s terminology, that compromise was less a “democratic compromise” to reconcile differences than a case of compromised democracy, one that required Pheu Thai to abandon core ideological commitments to its constituents – including its pledge in the run-up to the 2023 general election to curb military influence in Thai politics. Not only did this power-sharing arrangement hollow out Pheu Thai’s political identity, it also left the party outnumbered by coalition partners who gain more from its failure than its success, and boxed in from the outside by independent oversight bodies that have consistently proven more responsive to conservative powerholders. The result is that Pheu Thai has been unable to deliver on its key promises to the electorate, despite having justified its partnership with former conservative adversaries as a necessary precondition for advancing its policy agendas.

Now, the Shinawatra brand no longer brings to mind its legacy – whether on the economic or ideological front – but could instead be overshadowed by the controversy surrounding Paetongtarn’s misstep. Nevertheless, this does not necessarily spell the end of the Shinawatras as a key political actor. They will remain in play so long as Thaksin and his party serve as a necessary buffer against the reformist forces represented by the People’s Party and the youth-led pro-democracy movements that briefly surged in 2020–2021. If they cease to be useful, however, Thaksin and his family could once again be pushed out of politics, as has so often happened in the past. That could occur if his party were to implode before or after the next general election, or if Thaksin were to become more of a liability than an asset by overstepping the limits tolerated by the conservative establishment. The former scenario now appears increasingly likely, as Thaksin’s Pheu Thai Party has no clear prime ministerial candidate capable of carrying the Shinawatra mantle to replace Paetongtarn, who is now barred from holding political office.

Given the history of military interventions in recent Thai history, it’s hard not to ask: what do you think the likelihood of another coup is?

In my opinion, an outright military coup seems unlikely at this stage for two main reasons. First, the current institutional arrangements already keep the elected government on a short leash while safeguarding the establishment’s core interests. If the need arises to cripple it, they can do so through the use of legal instruments, as illustrated by the Constitutional Court’s rulings against not one but potentially two Pheu Thai prime ministers, not to mention a whole arsenal of other tools still at their disposal, including the 20-year national strategy and pending cases concerning alleged violations of Section 144. Arguably, many of the extraordinary powers that once accompanied military coups and vested in military regimes are now embedded in the current constitution, making a military takeover a last resort.

Second, significant changes within the Thai military in recent years, along with shifts in its relations to other pillar institutions, have created uncertainty over what protocols a coup would even follow. In the past, the sequence was predictable: mass protests would erupt first, providing the pretext for the military to intervene under the banner of restoring peace and order. That playbook may no longer apply. This leaves the military without assurances that it could seize power without repercussions, unless a clear endorsement is given.

Nevertheless, if a deadlock emerges in selecting a new prime minister, with no candidate having a real chance, Thailand could face precisely the kind of leadership vacuum that would lend legitimacy to any coup-like extra-parliamentary intervention to install a new leader acceptable to the establishment.

The Move Forward Party performed surprisingly well at the 2023 general election, and if the election were held today, the Senate would be unable to veto it forming a government. Do you think its successor, the People’s Party, can recreate the energy that characterized that campaign? How has the party tracked so far?

In my opinion, the 2023 general election was essentially three referendums rolled into one: whether to allow General Prayut to remain prime minister after nearly nine years in office; whether to support or oppose Thaksin, who at the time was making a strong push to return to Thailand on the back of a landslide victory (which ultimately failed to materialize); and whether to support structural reforms of Thailand’s pillar institutions, with the proposed amendment to the lese majeste law as the centerpiece. Move Forward won a plurality of votes by taking clear positions on each that resonated with much of the electorate, driven by an innovative campaign strategy that completely disavowed traditional vote-canvassing networks in favor of more organic voter mobilization tactic through social media and social movements.

Lastly, one cannot discount the “Pita effect.” In the final stretches of the campaign, Pita Limjaroenrat, Move Forward’s party leader and sole prime ministerial candidate, sparked a surge in the party’s popularity. His charisma, polished public image, and knack for articulating a clear vision for change energized core supporters and drew in undecided voters, including many beyond the party’s traditionally younger base.

If a new election were held today, I believe the circumstances would be different enough that it would be very difficult for the People’s Party to replicate Move Forward’s success. Most Thais now see the government as a civilian one, while the most visible legacy of military rule – the junta-appointed Senate – is no longer in play, even if the junta-drafted constitution remains in place (without the transitory provisions, it is not immediately obvious to most Thais what is wrong with the constitution). Momentum for reforming the traditional pillar institutions has also waned significantly. The party can still count on its anti-Thaksin stance, but even that may face stronger challengers, particularly from forces that openly champion the same nationalist positions currently embraced by the Thai military in light of the Thai-Cambodian conflict.

Moreover, the current party leader, Natthaphong Rueangpanyawut, is nowhere near as popular as Pita and does not appear to crave public attention to the same degree. Taken together, these factors mean that even without a junta-appointed Senate empowered to vote for the prime minister, the prospect of the People’s Party winning enough seats to form a single-party government might very well remain a distant dream. More likely is a repeat of 2023, with Thaksinites and conservatives finding common ground in forming a coalition that keeps progressives out of power, even as the struggle for dominance within this elite consensus continues.

How has Thailand fared amid the shifting and contentious new tariffs coming out of the United States? What role has economic unease played in Thailand’s current political turmoil?

Thailand and the United States recently reached a trade agreement that lowers the threatened U.S. tariff on Thai exports from 36 percent to 19 percent, bringing it in line with rates applied to other Southeast Asian countries. In exchange, Thailand agreed to open its markets wider to U.S. products, address trade rerouting concerns, and boosting imports of certain U.S. products – including LNG, Boeing aircraft, and key agricultural commodities.

This outcome does not, in itself, make Thailand any more or less immediately competitive than its Southeast Asian counterparts, who face similar tariff rates. However, it has already dealt damage to confidence in the Thai economy at a time when the Pheu Thai-led government could hardly afford further setbacks, having already fallen short on core policy promises. This includes a digital wallet scheme whose third phase had to be shelved and whose implementation in the first and second phases failed to generate the economic whirlwind Pheu Thai had previously touted. This has made Pheu Thai an easy target on the economic front for both progressive and conservative critics, while chipping away at the legacy that once anchored its appeal – a legacy it may no longer be able to count on when the next election comes.

Zooming out, what social and political forces do you think underpin Thailand’s seemingly perpetual political instability?

At the heart of Thailand’s vicious political cycle is the fact that the most powerful institutions continue to hold the authority to check, override, or even dismantle elected governments without facing meaningful checks themselves. At the same time, they lack the legitimacy and hegemonic authority to govern directly for extended periods without relieving popular pressure through elections, which, even when held on an uneven playing field, can still yield unexpected outcomes such as Move Forward’s victory in 2023.

Nor are they capable of commanding popular backing or mobilizing support through robust party organizations with genuine ideological substance. Instead, they are often forced to rely on co-opting political factions and families whose loyalty depends largely on the resources and opportunities they are afforded.

This creates a paradox in which elections are necessary to diffuse political tension but are never permitted to produce outcomes that fundamentally alter the balance of power. Governments that emerge from the ballot box either contradict the voters’ mandate or are hemmed in by institutional constraints, legal challenges, and elite bargains that leave them chronically unstable and prone to collapse under the weight of political crises. Those crises, in turn, create openings for unelected power centers to reassert their dominance – whether to safeguard their interests or to renegotiate the terms of yet another unequal power-sharing arrangement.

On July 28 Cambodia and Thailand reached a ceasefire agreement and have continued to negotiate in the weeks since then. How stable do you think this peace is? What could trigger a return to conflict and relatedly, what are the keys to meaningful progress in the bilateral relationship?

The ceasefire agreement is fragile at best. It came about through international mediation initiated by Malaysia as ASEAN chair but ultimately enforced by great powers, specifically the U.S. and China. Their involvement succeeded in halting the fighting, but it has done little to foster the kind of dialogue between Thailand and Cambodia needed to return to the pre-2025 status quo, let alone to resolve the deeper issues of boundary demarcation.

If anything, as I noted in a recent piece co-authored with Tita Sanglee, the conflict has been turned into a stage for great-power diplomacy. This dynamic risks encouraging Thailand and Cambodia to compete in offering concessions to external powers in exchange for backing on questions such as who fired first or whether the mines were freshly planted, rather than developing mechanisms that could foster long-term conflict management. Once the attention of these powers fades, the fighting could very well erupt again.

Plus, the ceasefire has also done little to contain the information war, which has only escalated and further fanned the flames of nationalism on both sides. Such a domestic climate is hardly conducive – in fact, it is prohibitive – for either side to engage in building the kind of mutual trust and cooperative mechanisms necessary for lasting peace.