With the doors of the ECCC firmly shut, Cambodia’s justice landscape has entered a transitional phase, shifting from the courtroom to the legislative chamber – but is the new Law worth the risk or even necessary?

Introduction

Commentary on Cambodia’s Law Against Non-Recognition of the Crimes Committed During the Democratic Kampuchea Period (the Law) has focused primarily on its punitive content and fears that it could be used by the CPP (Cambodian People’s Party) government to stifle opposition. Compared to its 2013 iteration, the Law, approved by parliament in February 2025, increased jail terms and fines for those found guilty of non-recognition, minimisation, denial, rejecting the existence, or glorification of Khmer Rouge (KR) era crimes.

However, the headlines conceal deeper currents. From the courtroom to the statute book, justice relating to KR crimes is in transition. With the conclusion of the ECCC (Extraordinary Chambers in the Courts of Cambodia) trials, generational change, and rising disinformation, Cambodia is at a memory crossroads – all against a backdrop which has been witness to a slide towards hegemonic authoritarianism. The Law, which leans heavily on the ECCC’s judgements, provides a window into the post-tribunal justice landscape. The shift has resurfaced tensions between the delicate work of truth and reconciliation, the blunt instrument of the law, as well as memorialisation and the state monopolisation of memory.

The Politics of Atrocity Memory

The memorialisation of atrocity in Cambodia is a contested space. As an infamous example, Tuol Sleng (S-21) possesses an illustrative biography. Since its transition from interrogation and torture site to museum and archive, the former prison has been central to official narratives about the horrors of Democratic Kampuchea (DK). It has long been used as a symbol of political legitimacy for the CPP and its predecessor the Kampuchean People’s Revolutionary Party. Among Cambodians, the site  remains emotionally charged, while the circumstances of its provenance and maintenance  have made it a magnet for scholarly criticism.

The Law and its seven articles demonstrate its deep connection with the final decisions of the ECCC. Article 1 refers to the crimes recognised by the court – the ECCC’s rulings functioning as a foundational framework for measuring if the Law has been broken. Article 2 provides further details, explicitly mentioning cases 001, 002/01 and 002/2, the latter including charges of genocide committed against Cham Muslims and Vietnamese – both Nuon Chea, DK’s second in command, and Khieu Samphan, the regime’s head of state, were found guilty of genocide.

The ECCC, too, is part of Cambodia’s KR period memory matrix, with its remit to prosecute only senior leaders and those most responsible for the crimes of the KR – an approach supported by then Prime Minister Hun Sen. International prosecutors wished to pursue cases against other, less senior, KR officials such as the regime’s naval commander and a senior regional commander. However, these efforts were blocked by the Court’s Cambodian judges. There were suggestions that Hun Sen was worried about a precedent being set and that trials going through the ranks of the KR would eventually implicate his political allies. The Law further cements the ECCC’s rulings as the official record of KR crimes and who was and was not culpable.

That said, the second- or third-hand memory of atrocity has shown evidence of fading amongst younger generations of Cambodians, one study identified ‘disbelief or denial’ among youth regarding the DK period – though others demonstrated an ongoing interest. This is a concern, particularly so given the wider context of the spread of misinformation.

In the Red, In the Black

With the conclusion of the KR tribunal, the Law has the potential to set in train a further stage of transitional justice. Applied astutely, it could help to ensure factual accuracy for younger generations navigating the ever-present risks of misinformation and disbelief. The wording acknowledges that we live in a digital age – Article 3 covers the spread of denialism via social media channels. Furthermore, the Law reinforces the ECCC’s rulings and the Hun Manet administration’s stated objective of justice for the KR’s victims and preventing a repeat of that regime’s many crimes. Morally, it positions the state and government against denialism and revisionism. Finally, building on the 2013 law, it demonstrates Cambodia’s alignment with international norms against genocide denialism.

Counter-balancing these potential benefits are several grave risks, compounded by the shift towards hegemonic authoritarianism. Concerns have been raised about the consequences for freedom of expression owing to vague definitions of non-recognition, denial, etc. The prospect of the Law’s politicisation is another concern. The allegations of misinformation levelled at former opposition leader Kem Sokha, who was accused of saying Tuol Sleng was a Vietnamese fabrication, provide hints into what a politicised genocide denial law might look like in practice. In this scenario, the Law could become an instrument of control, consolidating the state’s monopolisation of atrocity memory in the process.

Through a Global Lens

Cambodia is not alone in legislating against the denial, trivialisation or glorification of genocidal atrocities. Global comparison can act as an indicative pointer as to the course of travel Cambodia’s Law might take. It is helpful to distinguish between the intent and the effect of such laws. Several European countries have Holocaust denial laws aimed at preventing hate speech, ensuring the dignity of victims, and protecting post-genocide democratic values. Laws officially affirm historical truths, signal societal condemnation, and provide reassurance that denial is not tolerated. Such legal recognition can be seen as a form of reparative justice. Nevertheless, democratic societies have had to remain vigilant to too broad applications of denial laws.

Comparable laws exist in authoritarian contexts. Iterations of Rwanda’s laws on “Genocide Ideology” are illustrative. The 2018 Law on the Crime of Genocide Ideology and Related Crimes consolidates earlier legislation and criminalises various conduct including genocide minimisation and denial. It has been applied to prosecute denialism and suppress dissent. Vague wording around “divisionist” statements or those deemed likely to incite hatred has been turned against journalists and opposition politicians. The high-profile cases of opposition leader Victoire Ingabire and journalist Agnes Uwimana are but two examples where enforcement appears politicised.

Given the prevailing political atmosphere, it is a worrying proposition that application of the Law in Cambodia will more closely approximate patterns seen in Rwanda.

Is the Law Necessary?

We may fairly ask: is the Law necessary? As the government seeks to institutionalise a particular legacy for the ECCC via legislation, reinforced by the carefully stage-managed sites of Choeung Ek and Tuol Sleng, it is important to remember that the Law operates in an existing memory-work ecosystem. The Documentation Centre of Cambodia (DC-Cam) has long been a feature of that environment, conducting vital outreach and testimony-gathering work, providing an alternative avenue for memory, truth and reconciliation. The ECCC itself is in a transitional phase, shifting to numerous residual functions including archiving, record management, education and public outreach. The existence of this and other memory work does raise the question of the Law’s necessity beyond its function as an instrument for a state-driven narrative. While more than a decade old, the words of Youk Chhang, DC-Cam’s director, remain food for thought: “Truth does not need the law for protection”.

Conclusion

The new Law is an indicator of Cambodia’s emerging post-tribunal justice landscape. The winding down of the KR tribunals, the introduction of the new Law, and the country’s slide to a more tightly controlled authoritarianism suggest that the afterlife of the ECCC, the shift from international justice to national narrative management, is being carefully and intentionally curated.

Truth-seeking and reconciliation through education remains vital. If the Law is to persist, it is crucial that it does not unsubtly block public debate, but allows the space for it to flourish, including views unaligned with official narratives. Failure to do this will be detrimental to understanding and healing, resulting in discussion forums that are both stale and neutered, where no one dares say anything for fear of reprisal or prosecution. It would be a travesty to see the extensive truth and reconciliation work that has and is taking place to be choked by vaguely defined and administered legislation.