PHNOM PENH – Between their anodyne pageantry and colorless mission statements about regional economic cooperation, Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN) meetings are rarely known for their excitement. But on the last day of this month’s annual summit in Phnom Penh, the current chairman of the 10-country bloc, Cambodia’s long-serving Prime Minister Hun Sen, did his best to inject some verve into the proceedings.

Speaking at an hour-long press conference at the close of the April 3-4 summit, Hun Sen unleashed a fiery broadside against his domestic opponents, labeling them “crazy analysts” and “stupid philosophers”. At the center of the strongman’s crosshairs was a “bald-headed doctor”- a thinly-veiled reference to Lao Mong Hay, a local rights activist – who has made critical comments in the media about China’s growing influence in this nation of 15 million.

The ASEAN summit had opened a day after the four-day visit of Chinese President Hu Jintao, prompting some to speculate that Hu had pressured Phnom Penh to keep the sensitive South China Sea dispute off the formal summit agenda. Hun Sen shot down the suggestion, telling his critics they “should learn more about the processes of ASEAN”.

“What I hate and am fed-up with is talk about Cambodia working for China and must be under some kind of influence. That is completely wrong,” he said. “We are a country full of dignity.”

That’s not how it seemed, however, to some of the regional correspondents covering the ASEAN meet. Writing in the Wall Street Journal, Martin Vaughan noted that Hun Sen “seemed to forget” that he was speaking as the chair of a major regional bloc. “Mr Hun Sen’s outburst was all the more surprising, given that this week’s summit represents a powerful opportunity for Cambodia to burnish its reputation on the international stage,” he added.

But it is less surprising than it seems. After 30 odd years in the rough-and-tumble world of Cambodian politics, Hun Sen, now 59, has learnt to talk the talk – and talk it well. He first became premier in January 1985 of the government Vietnam installed during its decade-long occupation following the defeat of the Khmer Rouge in 1979.

The prime minister’s dramatic public speeches have over the years become a central part of the political strategy that has kept him in power for more than a quarter-century.

At regional talk shops and overseas trips, Hun Sen is all charm: the very picture of restraint and diplomatic poise. But back on his home turf, all bets are off. High school graduation speeches, ribbon cuttings, political party meets, even ASEAN summits – no event is too innocuous or important for Hun Sen to call out a local critic or deliver a dramatic verbal lashing.

Hun Sen has many strings to his rhetorical bow, and has used the podium to harangue everyone from rival Cambodian politicians and human-rights activists to corrupt generals and “meddling” United Nations officials. In recent years, he has called former Thai Prime Minister Abhisit Vejjajiva “stupid”, and referred to Mu Sochua, an up-and-coming opposition politician, as a jeung klang, a derogatory term meaning “strong legs”. Referring to Cambodia’s self-exiled opposition leader Sam Rainsy – one of his favorite targets – Hun Sen has grown fond of employing insulting canine metaphors.

“When the dog bites my leg, I don’t bite the dog’s leg – I use my leg to kick the dog,” he said in a transparent reference to Rainsy in September 2010. The following January, after Rainsy compared Hun Sen to the teetering autocrats in the Middle East, the premier shook his finger and scolded him for making the comparison. “I would like to tell you that if you want to strike as in Tunisia,” he warned Rainsy in a speech, “I will close the door and beat the dog this time.”

Observers say the premier’s speeches – beamed around the country on TV and radio – are particularly well-attuned to the worldviews of Cambodia’s mostly rural population. Peppered with village aphorisms and earthy turns of phrase, they help reinforce the political status quo and Hun Sen’s own position at the apex of Cambodia’s system of political patronage.

Ou Virak, president of the Cambodian Center for Human Rights (CCHR), said the premier’s use of language was gruff and basic, the sort of language “that the military normally use”. “It’s strongman language … In the Cambodian political culture we have now, that’s basically what works,” he said.

Threats and broadsides

The premier is especially intolerant of outside criticism. When former United Nations human-rights envoy Yash Ghai said in 2006 that Cambodia’s government had become too personalized around Hun Sen and was not “very committed to human rights”, Hun Sen responded by calling him “totally deranged” and labelling UN staff in Cambodia “long-term tourists”. The next year, at a bridge inauguration in Takeo province, Hun Sen warned Yash Ghai that “if I live 1,000 more years, I still will not meet you”.

However, it is Thailand – which many Cambodians see as a traditional enemy – that has brought out the best in Hun Sen. In a speech to the military in February 2010, at the height of the two countries’ heated standoff over Preah Vihear temple, a uniformed Hun Sen described Abhisit as a “true power thief” with “no family honor” and “chicken egg-yolk stars” on his uniform.

“If you don’t tell the truth about Siem [Thai] troops’ invasion in Cambodia on 15 July,” Hun Sen said, addressing the Oxford-educated Abhisit, “let the magic objects break your neck, may you be shot, be hit by a car, may you be shocked by electricity or [may you be shot] by misfired guns.” On another occasion he called Abhisit’s foreign minister Kasit Piromya a “gangster”.

Hun Sen also uses the power of the podium to keep his own house in order, publicly naming and shaming officials who have stepped out of line. In a February speech, he threatened to fire Information Minister Khieu Kanharith and Fine Arts and Culture Minister Him Chhem after they suggested “swapping” ministry buildings situated on valuable Phnom Penh real estate with new locations on the outskirts of the capital.

He has also called out military officials for their involvement in illegal land-grabs, and senior officials for letting their “spoiled” children run wild across Phnom Penh. Critics say Hun Sen’s blandishments have done little to fix a system of political patronage that feeds off widespread corruption and nepotism, but the tactic is in some ways Hun Sen’s own way of preserving the stability of the system-and creating a veneer of strongman-centered accountability.

“Such speeches represent his centralization of power,” said Lao Mong Hay, the target of Hun Sen’s outburst at the ASEAN summit. He said the strongman leader uses “personality-killing phrases” to publicly destroy his opponents’ reputations.

Far from being a “leadership style” or intended strategy of any sort, however, CCHR’s Virak believes Hun Sen simply can’t help himself. “It’s a part of who he is now,” he said of Hun Sen’s often blistering rhetoric. “It’s predictable but chaotic. It works. He rules by creating fear, and by making the public believe he has all the power.”

While this might account for Hun Sen’s headlining performance at the ASEAN summit, Yim Sovann, the spokesman for the opposition Sam Rainsy Party, said the high-profile meeting was an inappropriate venue for settling domestic disputes. “It damages our image a lot,” he said. “Cambodia is like our house and Mr Hun Sen and Mr Sam Rainsy are members of the house. They should close the door and solve it internally.”

Responding a few days later to the criticism, however, Southeast Asia’s longest-serving leader was having none of it. “I exercised maximum patience, waiting for the ASEAN summit to be over so that I could respond, but they say ASEAN is not a place to criticize others,” Hun Sen said in an April 9 speech broadcast nationwide. “Oh, so when I became prime minister, they took away my right to talk? When I became the ASEAN chairman, I lost my right to speak out? Excuse me!”

[Published by Asia Times Online, April 24, 2012]