Local Pride, Global Risks: Cambodia’s ‘Buy Khmer’ Campaign Under Fire

In Phnom Penh’s cavernous Koh Pich Convention Center, the air smelled of fresh lacquer and Kampot pepper. A teenager twirled in front of a stall, snapping selfies with silk scarves draped over her shoulders, while an elderly craftswoman explained the labor that goes into weaving a krama by hand. Loudspeakers blared the same phrase again and again: “Buy Khmer, Use Khmer.”

The September 2025 “Khmer Can Do” exhibition was designed as a carnival of national pride. Banners hung from rafters, declaring local consumption a patriotic duty. Shoppers were told that choosing a Khmer-made handbag over a Chinese one was not just a lifestyle choice but an act of loyalty. On the surface, it was festive—a marketplace of heritage. Beneath the cheer, however, lurked a more complex truth: Cambodia’s economy is deeply enmeshed in global supply chains, and attempts to wall it off could come with a steep price.

The “Buy Khmer” campaign has become a centerpiece of Prime Minister Hun Manet’s economic messaging, launched just weeks after border clashes with Thailand reignited one of Southeast Asia’s most intractable disputes. Thirty-eight people were killed, more than 300,000 displaced, and trade between the two countries ground to a halt. Amid the fallout, the government framed local consumption as both economic recovery and national defense.

H.E. Mrs. Eat Sophea addresses military and officials at a diplomatic briefing, highlighting Cambodia's response to the 2025 border crisis fueling the "Buy Khmer" campaign. Image supplied/amc

A Campaign Forged in Conflict

The campaign’s timing was no coincidence. For decades, the Preah Vihear Temple, perched on a cliff along the Thai border, has been a flashpoint. Skirmishes in May 2025 escalated into full-scale rocket barrages by July, echoing the deadly confrontations of 2011. Supply routes were severed, tourist numbers plummeted, and Cambodia faced an estimated three percent GDP contraction.

In this climate, “Buy Khmer” offered a narrative of resilience. “When outsiders threaten us, we rely on ourselves,” government spokespeople repeated in press conferences. National TV segments showed smiling farmers holding baskets of rice, artisans working at looms, and students pledging to buy Cambodian goods.

Supporters of the campaign insist it is more than symbolism. "When people buy Khmer, it feels like they are buying a piece of our culture," said Sokha, a silk weaver in Siem Reap. "It gives us hope that our traditions still matter."

(In photo - A vibrant display of Leang Leng Enterprise's tomato sauce bottles in a field, emblazoned with the Cambodian flag and "Buy Khmer, Use Khmer" slogan, fuels anti-import nationalism. Image supplied/amc)

Agriculture still employs over 40 percent of Cambodians, and small and medium enterprises form the backbone of rural livelihoods. By shifting consumer habits toward local rice, pepper, textiles, and pottery, they argue, Cambodia can nurture industries that preserve both heritage and employment.

Take Siem Reap, where Artisans Angkor trains youth in traditional crafts. For many, weaving or woodcarving is not only a skill but a ticket out of poverty. Trainers there say demand has ticked upward since the campaign began, with buyers increasingly conscious about choosing Cambodian-made souvenirs over cheaper Thai or Chinese imports.

The government sees in these anecdotes a pathway to something larger: graduating from Least Developed Country (LDC) status by 2029. A self-reliant Cambodia, they argue, would be less vulnerable to external shocks, better able to withstand regional rivalries, and more capable of charting its own course.

Visitors tour the "Khmer Can Do" exhibition, clapping amid booths showcasing local products. Image supplied/amc

Cracks Beneath the Surface

Yet beneath the optimism lie glaring risks. Cambodia’s economy is not inward-looking; it is outward-facing. Garment factories feed into supply chains linked to Europe and the United States. Exports account for more than 60 percent of GDP. Any policy that hints at protectionism, economists warn, could spook investors already wary of political uncertainty.

The campaign also struggles against a stubborn perception: Khmer products are often seen as less reliable than imports. Without investment in quality standards and logistics, local goods remain expensive and uneven. "National pride alone cannot make Khmer products competitive," argued Chenda Phan, a Phnom Penh-based economist. "Without investment in quality and supply chains, the campaign risks becoming expensive symbolism rather than sustainable growth."

Cronyism is a particular concern. In a country where state-business ties run deep, critics warn the campaign could concentrate benefits in the hands of elites.

A Region Caught in the Crossfire

Cambodia’s push is part of a broader Southeast Asian trend. Malaysia has run its “Buy Malaysian Goods” campaign for four decades, aiming to stimulate domestic demand and protect SMEs. Thailand has its own informal buy-local drives, often tied to provincial identities. All share a common thread: anxiety over cheap Chinese imports that threaten local industries.

That anxiety is well-founded. In the first eight months of 2025, China exported $435 billion worth of goods to ASEAN—20 percent of its total exports, up sharply from 13 percent in 2019. Many of those exports were rerouted from the U.S. market, after Washington slapped tariffs as high as 49 percent on Cambodian and other Asian goods under President Trump’s revived trade war. Subsidized Chinese steel, textiles, and electronics have since flooded ASEAN markets, squeezing local producers who cannot compete on cost.

Governments across the region have responded with varying degrees of protectionism. Malaysia imposed targeted tariffs. Thailand tightened import checks. Cambodia chose patriotism. Yet studies suggest such policies risk backfiring. An ASEAN-wide embrace of protectionism could shrink exports by 0.4 percent, disrupt supply chains, and cut regional growth.

Between Washington and Beijing

The U.S.-China rivalry adds another layer of complexity. On one hand, American tariffs have prompted Chinese firms to seek alternative manufacturing bases in Southeast Asia, offering opportunities for countries like Vietnam, Indonesia, and even Cambodia. On the other, the deluge of redirected Chinese goods creates overcapacity that overwhelms local markets.

Cambodia sits uneasily between these dynamics. Its garment sector has benefited from partial U.S. exemptions but remains vulnerable to sudden shifts in trade policy. Meanwhile, Chinese-backed infrastructure projects have deepened economic dependence on Beijing, leaving Phnom Penh with fewer options to push back against Chinese dumping. Nationalistic consumer campaigns may signal resistance, but they cannot resolve structural vulnerabilities.

For ordinary Cambodians, the “Buy Khmer” slogan carries mixed meaning. In urban markets, shoppers sometimes admit they buy local “when quality is the same.” In rural areas, farmers hope the campaign will boost demand for their rice or cassava, but many know imports will remain cheaper. For SMEs, the campaign offers free publicity, but whether it translates into sustainable growth depends on reforms in credit access, training, and supply chain efficiency.

Observers warn that the biggest danger is political. Nationalism is a powerful tool, but once ignited, it is hard to control. Cambodia has long relied on openness to fuel growth. If “Buy Khmer” tilts the country toward isolation, it risks alienating the very investors and trade partners it needs most.

The Tightrope Ahead

The stakes extend well beyond Phnom Penh’s exhibition halls. Cambodia’s choices will shape not only its recovery from the border war with Thailand but also its place in a region buffeted by superpower rivalry. The balance is delicate: how to celebrate Khmer pride without cutting off the global ties that sustain the economy.

At its best, “Buy Khmer” could be remembered as a revival of heritage—a movement that boosted farmers, empowered artisans, and stitched patriotism into prosperity. At its worst, it could be the start of a retreat into protectionism, where nationalism became a trap and Cambodia’s growth ambitions were quietly undermined.

In a region where borders flare and tariffs rise, the line between resilience and isolation is vanishingly thin. For Cambodia, the gamble of “Buy Khmer” will test whether local pride can truly coexist with global integration—or whether the embrace of nationalism, once lit, can ever be safely contained.

-Asia Media Centre