Why Thailand and Cambodia Are Fighting — Again

On the surface, Thailand and Cambodia look like neighbors who should never fight. They share an 817-kilometer border lined with rice paddies, and jungle temples where people speak both languages and cross the border daily for work, or family.

But on July 24, 2025, that fragile friendship cracked open again. Thai fighter jets bombed Cambodian army positions. Cambodian artillery struck Thai villages. By sunset, at least 34 people were dead, including an eight-year-old boy, and more than 150,000 villagers fled their homes on both sides.

What triggered the latest clash? Why does this piece of jungle still cause so much pain, over a century after French colonizers drew it on a map? And why does no one seem able to stop the fighting?

The story begins in the early 1900s, when France ruled Cambodia. Back then, French surveyors mapped out a border with Siam, now Thailand. They followed rivers and ridgelines, and guesswork but rarely asked local communities where they actually lived or farmed. Something similar to what the British did in Africa, and for which Nigeria continues to suffer for today.

One trouble spot in this mapping sits high in the Dângrêk Mountains, where the 11th-century Preah Vihear Temple stands. For Cambodians, it’s a sacred link to the powerful Khmer Empire they are very much proud of. Many Thais, however, see the temple as part of their cultural heritage too.

In 1962, the International Court of Justice ruled that the temple belonged to Cambodia. Thailand accepted that decision but never agreed on who owned the surrounding land, a few rocky kilometers that have soaked up more bullets than any piece of forest should.

This year’s crisis started on May 28, when Thai and Cambodian troops clashed near what’s known as the Emerald Triangle, where Thailand, Cambodia, and Laos meet. A Cambodian soldier died. Both sides accused the other of firing first.

Tensions flared. Thailand claimed Cambodian forces laid fresh landmines. Cambodia denied it. But five Thai soldiers were injured in blasts while patrolling disputed ground. Border crossings shut down. Thailand stopped trucks carrying Cambodian produce. Cambodia banned Thai movies and cut internet links. Locals who once freely crossed to shop, trade, or work found themselves living in a fortress overnight.

On July 24, things boiled over. Cambodia claimed Thai troops opened fire first at a smaller temple site called Prasat Ta Muen Thom. Thailand accused Cambodia of shelling civilian areas in four Thai provinces. In hours, Thai F-16s flew bombing runs into Cambodian territory while Cambodian artillery answered back.

By nightfall, the fields were burning and families were fleeing through jungle trails, clutching children and bags of rice.

But why are they reacting this way? One reason could be that behind the tanks and rockets lie deeper political troubles.

In Cambodia, longtime strongman Hun Sen ruled for nearly four decades before stepping aside in 2023 for his son, Hun Manet. But many believe Hun Manet governs in his father’s long shadow. Fanning nationalism, including standing up to Thailand, is one way for him to show strength and silence critics who accuse him of being a stooge.

Thailand, meanwhile, is stuck in its own political storm. Prime Minister Paetongtarn Shinawatra, daughter of exiled ex-PM Thaksin Shinawatra, found herself suspended from office this July after a leaked phone call with Hun Sen. In it, she called him “uncle,” promised to “arrange anything,” and insulted her own military, an institution with a long history of overthrowing elected governments.

This isn’t new. In 2008, Cambodia’s push to make Preah Vihear a UNESCO World Heritage site triggered years of fighting that displaced tens of thousands. In 2011, the two armies shelled each other for days, sending families scrambling down muddy roads with what they could carry.

This time, more than 131,000 Thais have fled their homes near the border. In Cambodia, at least 35,000 people are living in makeshift camps, waiting to see if the bombs will stop before the monsoon floods arrive.

Many villagers don’t care about old maps. They grow rice, herd cattle, and worship at temples that predate both countries. They speak Khmer at home, Thai at the market, and pray for quiet nights that never last.

Could a cease-fire hold? Maybe. Cambodia asked the International Court of Justice to intervene, but Thailand doesn’t recognize the court’s role this time. The regional bloc ASEAN wants both sides to stand down but is known for its “non-interference”, in other words, polite words, little pressure.

China has offered to help mediate. It’s the biggest investor in Cambodia and a major trade partner for Thailand. But many Thais worry Beijing leans too close to Phnom Penh.

Even US President Donald Trump weighed in, bragging that he called both leaders and told them to cut it out. So far, the bombs haven’t listened.

Thailand’s caretaker PM insists this is not “war” but “incidents”, as though words could soothe the villagers waiting in crowded shelters for news that it’s safe to go home.

Every few years, the jungle goes quiet again. Soldiers step back. Ambassadors shake hands. The Joint Border Commission meets in a hotel ballroom and talks about lines on old maps. Tourists return to see temples older than most modern countries. The world forgets.

Until the ghost of that colonial map wakes up again.

As usual, I have a few reads if you want a deeper dive into this conflict and the history of it:

• A History of Cambodia by David Chandler — an excellent primer on the kingdom’s struggles and resilience.
• A History of Thailand by Chris Baker and Pasuk Phongpaichit — vital context for understanding the powerful role the military still plays.
• Cambodia’s Curse by Joel Brinkley — an unsparing look at how corruption and nationalism shape modern Cambodia.

So, what now? No one knows if the guns will stay silent. Families sheltering in Surin’s school gyms, or in Oddar Meanchey’s muddy fields, watch the skies for drones and the ground for mines. The fields they abandoned are waiting to be planted. The temples stand silent, ancient stones caught between two nations still struggling to draw a line that both can live with.

Borders are easy to draw on a map. They’re harder to erase in the human heart.