Deutsche Welle | 3 July 2013
Weeks ahead of the general election, Cambodia's ruling party has
attempted to make opposition campaigning more difficult; bans aimed at
independent radio stations have raised concern over press freedom.
Every day for the past week, people on motorbikes and trucks have plied
the roads of Cambodia shouting through microphones, urging the nation's
millions of voters to cast a ballot for their party come July 28.
Though the ruling Cambodian People's Party dominates the television,
radio, and newspapers, for the month leading up to election day, anyone
with a loudspeaker has a voice.
"We do not have access to TV. Eleven stations are controlled by the
government or by people related to the ruling party," said Yim Sovann, a
spokesperson for the opposition Cambodia National Rescue Party and a
lawmaker candidate in Phnom Penh. "So we travel to disseminate our
message. We use loudspeakers. We go from one house to another and speak
to people directly. This is the only way we can access the voters."
For all but the ruling party, this is their last, and best, chance to get word out.
Cambodia - while lacking the gags of many of its neighbours -
nevertheless regularly ranks among the lowest in press freedom listings.
Television, radio and newspapers are almost exclusively
government-aligned - owned, primarily, by family members or friends of
powerful officials.
The opposition claims it has no access to TV advertising
"Conditions for the media are critical in Cambodia, which fell
26 places to 143th in the index, its lowest ever position," Reporters
Without Borders warned earlier this year. "Since 2011, news
organizations, in particular independent local and foreign radio
stations, have been subjected to a policy of censorship orchestrated by
an increasingly ruthless information ministry."
For many Cambodians, the stations - which include broadcasters like
Voice of America (VOA), Radio Free Asia (RFA), Radio Australia, and
Radio France Internationale (RFI) - are the only opportunity to gather
non-party aligned news. Reporters regularly cover stories of land grabs,
cronyism, and corruption - in other words, precisely the type of
uncomfortable truths the government is keen to skirt ahead of the vote.
After news of the ban leaked Friday, June 28, the backlash was swift. A
US State Department official warned that the directive "call[ed] into
question … the credibility of the electoral process," while the stations
themselves howled. Barely 24 hours later, the government made a rare
decision and lifted the ban.
"The reason that the ministry allows [them] to re-broadcast is thanks to
the requests from those radio station owners," the Ministry of
Information explained, in a brief notice.
Progress on a second, narrower ban has been less successful. Though
rights groups have cried foul over a directive effectively shutting down
election coverage in the five days leading up the vote, government
officials have stood firm, saying quiet was needed during that week.
A silencer
Noise is the last thing the government can afford at the moment.
Set to be one of the fiercest in years, Cambodia's 2013
national election has sent the CPP scrambling. Though the ruling party
stands no chance of losing, a dip in its number of parliament seats
would prove a grave embarrassment following four straight mandates of
increasing power.
To seal the deal, the government has gone into overdrive in recent
months. TV rarely mentions policy or voter education; instead, coverage
focuses on achievements. Thousands of hours have been devoted to
breathless footage of government leaders handing out rice and kramas
(scarves) to impoverished villagers. In karaoke videos splashed across
the channels, singers intone about infrastructure projects and the
kindness of Prime Minister Hun Sen and his wife, Bun Rany, who serves as
president of the Cambodian Red Cross.
So it is unsurprising that any incursion on this media landscape would be viewed as a threat.
Although radio reaches less of the populace than television, it, too, is
a meaningful propaganda wing of the government. Of 160 licensed
stations, only two "could be considered truly independent," according to
the Cambodian Center for Independent Media.
"The government is very sensitive to different information," said
election watchdog Panha. "Most of the ministers here come from a
background of one-party control of the state, everything is positive,
and good from the government … there's only positive news from the
media. They really believe in the role of propaganda in the media which
is why they're so scared of the opposition having access to the media."
Slowly, however, they have managed to do just that. In most rural areas,
the status quo remains. But in cities and towns across the country,
independent radio is making a greater incursion; Internet - unimpeded by
self-censorship - is slowly edging in, and distribution of independent
newspapers is increasing.
In October of last year, independent radio station owner Mam
Sonando was sentenced to 20 years imprisonment on charges of stoking an
insurrection. Just weeks before the 71-year old owner of Beehive Radio
was arrested in July, he had reported on a dissident group who requested
the International Criminal Court investigate the premier. Sonando was
labelled a prisoner of conscience and his case pressed by US President
Barack Obama and French Prime Minister Jean-Marc Ayrault. Months later, the appeal court dropped the strongest of the charges and released him on probation.
Today Sonando's station, one of the two Cambodian broadcasters labelled
independent, sells airtime to the opposition, broadcasts reports from
RFA and VOA, remains dedicated to the cause of uncomfortable
information.
If the TV ran like that, said the opposition's Sovann, if "all political
messages were presented with balanced news, I think the opposition
would win."
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