Why a ceasefire must also prevent unequal gains

 

 At first glance, the recent Nikkei Asia report on Cambodia’s annexation fears along the Thai border reads as a familiar post-conflict human story; displaced villagers, damaged homes, and families struggling to return after fighting subsides. Yet a closer reading reveals something more consequential. The article documents not merely the aftermath of war, but a deeper problem “the fighting has stopped, but the situation on the ground is still changing”.

The most striking point in the Nikkei report is not what happened during the fighting, but what happened after it ended. Following the December ceasefire, villagers in Chouk Chey found their access blocked by barbed wire, stacked shipping containers, and warning signs that banned entry. These measures were not put in place during shelling or air strikes. They appeared after the fighting had stopped. In ceasefire situations, timing is important.

Actions taken after a truce cannot easily be explained as part of the chaos of war. Instead, they raise questions about whether the ceasefire is truly bringing stability or quietly changing the situation on the ground.

From this point of view, the ceasefire described by Nikkei appears more tactical than restorative. It has stopped the violence, but it has not allowed civilians to return, move freely, or regain life as it was before the conflict. Cambodian officials quoted in the article warn that this situation shows how fragile the ceasefire is. A ceasefire that prevents people from going back to their homes risks becoming only a temporary pause, rather than a step toward long-term stability.

This is where a second, more subtle theme in the article becomes important: “salami slicing.” The term, used by a Cambodian official and reported by Nikkei, does not suggest a sudden or dramatic annexation. Instead, it points to gradual and incremental control. There is no single major action or official change to the border. Rather, control is built through small steps over time, such as putting up barriers, clearing land, restricting access, and allowing time to pass.

The image of a Thai military excavator destroying buildings behind container walls is very important. Demolition suggests that the damage cannot easily be undone and once houses are removed and land is changed, it becomes much harder to return to the previous situation, even if talks continue. In this way, the article suggests that control is being strengthened through physical structures rather than open force. Each action may appear temporary or administrative on its own, but when combined, they slowly change the reality on the ground.

Nikkei Asia does not take sides but it reports Thailand’s denial and its claim of protecting its own sovereignty, while also presenting Cambodia’s accusations. However, the way the article is structured highlights a key problem. A ceasefire is not only meant to stop fighting, but also to prevent one side from gaining an advantage during the pause. When barriers are built and land clearing continues after a truce, there is a risk that the ceasefire does not create peace, but instead locks in an unequal situation.

The Nikkei Asia article raises an uncomfortable question for this model. If ceasefires allow slow, ambiguous changes that reshape control without triggering renewed fighting, they may stabilize tensions in the short term while storing up greater disputes for the future.