It’s the same year and another conflict has escalated. But this time, it wasn’t where the world was looking. While eyes remained fixed on Ukraine or Gaza, a conflict erupted in the far east between two southeast Asian neighbours: Thailand and Cambodia.
There has been no shortage of headlines, calling it a “religious war”, a “Hindu temple clash,” a “culture conflict.” But let’s not be misled by the simplicity of slogans. The escalating conflict between Thailand and Cambodia may have reignited around the Preah Vihear temple but to call this war over a temple is to misunderstand both history and the present moment.
The truth is messier and far more political. The temple is very ancient and sacred. But it is not solely a Hindu site. The conflict is not solely about faith, it is about territory, military positioning, and unresolved trauma from colonial cartography. Religion, in this case is the backdrop not the battleground.
The Preah Vihar temple, a UNESCO World Heritage site perched atop the Dângrek Mountains, was handed over to Cambodia in a 1962 ruling by the International Court of Justice (ICJ). But the 4.6 square kilometres surrounding it were left undefined, becoming symbolically sensitive and contested ever since.
The roots of this hostility go back over a century. In 1907, French colonisers drew the border between Cambodia and Thailand with ambiguous, imprecise maps. Thailand has long argued that the boundary was unfairly set. Diplomatic attempts have flickered over the decades, but resolution has never arrived. Instead, blood has.
Between 2008 and 2013, the dispute exploded into deadly skirmishes. Jungle warfare flared near Preah Vihear and other temple sites, with both sides blaming each other. In 2011, a ceasefire halted the violence, after 15 people were killed and thousands displaced. The International Court of Justice (ICJ) stepped in, ordering a troop withdrawal and establishment of a demilitarised zone but stopped short of settling who controls the larger disputed territory. The troops never really left.
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Presently, in 2025, the fire has been lit again.
On May 28, a Thai soldier was ambushed. Tensions, already high, turned volatile. A Cambodian soldier was killed in a subsequent skirmish. Accusations flew and each side blamed the other. Later in June, a diplomatic call between Thai Prime Minister Paetongtarn Shinawatra and Cambodia’s de facto leader, Hun Sen aimed to dial things down. However, it only made matters worse.
A leaked recording of the call went viral. In it, Prime Minister Shinawatra appeared to disparage her own military and referred to Hun Sen as “uncle,” offering to “arrange anything” he wanted. The reaction in Thailand was explosive. Lawmakers from her own party called for her resignation. On July 1, she was suspended by Thailand’s Constitutional court for alleged ethics violation.
Meanwhile, the war on the ground intensified. On July 23, a Thai soldier lost a leg in a landmine blast. Thailand retaliated, not only militarily but diplomatically recalling its ambassador and expelling Cambodia’s. Phnom Penh responded in kind. By the time artillery fire echoed across the forests, at least 12 people were reported dead, including 11 civilians and more than 40,000 villagers had fled their homes. Schools and markets were shut down. The fear of unexploded landmines once again gripped the region.
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The fog of war has now thickened. Neither side’s account of the fighting matches the other’s. Thailand claims Cambodian trooped deployed surveillance drones and fired rockets near a Thai post striking civilian areas. While Thailand responded with six F-16 fighter jets targeting the latter’s military positions. Clashes erupted in six locations along the border, and Thailand reinforced its positions in Sisaket province. Acting Thai Prime Minister Phumtham Wechayachai insists there has been “no declaration of war” but warns that hostilities must stop before talks can begin. However, danger goes well beyond these two nations.
Southeast Asia is already on the edge, from civil war in Myanmar to tensions in the South China Sea, another full-blown war, this time between ASEAN members, threatens to expose the limits of regional diplomacy. ASEAN has long prided itself on “quiet consensus,” but in moments like this, that consensus sounds suspiciously like silence.
The memory of the 2008–2011 standoff, which left over 40 dead, looms over this moment. Back then, too, there were ceasefires and court orders. But even after the dust settled, nothing changed. Today, we risk repeating history only at a greater cost.
Leaders on both sides have portrayed the skirmishes as matters of sovereignty and pride, but at the heart of it, this isn’t just about lines on a map, but people caught in crossfire of pride and power. The only question now is, how many more borders will bleed just to keep maps clean, while real lives are erased on the ground?
By Shyna Gupta