Opinion: The Danger of Conditional Ceasefires

Opinion: The Danger of Conditional Ceasefires

Ceasefires are often presented as moral gestures—symbols of restraint offered in the name of humanity. In reality, they are instruments of power. Like any instrument, they can be designed either to stabilise a conflict or to manipulate its trajectory. The renewed fighting between Thailand and Cambodia exposes this distinction with uncomfortable clarity. Much of the public debate has focused on familiar ground: who fired first, who violated which agreement, who bears historical blame. These questions matter politically, but they obscure a more consequential issue—how ceasefires are being structured, sequenced, and operationalised, and to whose advantage.

Under international law, a ceasefire is not a slogan. It is a mechanism. Its purpose is not merely to pause violence but to reduce risk, create space for verification, and prevent escalation by accident or design. When ceasefires fail to do this, they do not become neutral failures. They become tools of leverage, allowing one party to claim the language of peace while preserving military freedom of action.

Thailand’s current position illustrates this danger. As reported by Channel News Asia on December 16, Bangkok insists that Cambodia must announce a truce first, arguing that only then can hostilities cease. On the surface, this appears procedural. In practice, it is strategic. A ceasefire that requires one party to halt operations unilaterally while the other retains freedom of action transfers all operational risk to the first mover. It rewards delay and pressure, not restraint.

International practice exists precisely to avoid this trap. Effective ceasefires are reciprocal, simultaneous, and accompanied by verification. They are designed to freeze the battlefield, not tilt it. Unilateral sequencing does the opposite. It embeds mistrust into the architecture of de-escalation and incentivises continued force until maximum advantage is secured.

Thailand has sought to justify its posture by invoking Article 51 of the UN Charter and its inherent right to self-defence. That right exists, but it is bounded. International Court of Justice jurisprudence is clear: self-defence must meet the tests of necessity, proportionality, and immediacy. Force may be used to repel an armed attack and prevent its recurrence. It may not be used to pursue open-ended military outcomes.

Here, language matters. According to Reuters on December 8, Thai military officials stated that their objective was to “cripple Cambodia’s military capability for a long time.” This is not the language of immediate defence; it describes an end-state. Since then, reporting has pointed to continued air operations and expanding military activity. Cambodia has alleged strikes far from the border, including in Siem Reap province. These claims are serious and not yet independently verified, which is precisely why verification is indispensable.

From Bangkok’s perspective, caution is not irrational. Thai officials argue that past pauses were exploited and that ambiguity was used tactically. International law does not require states to accept blind risk. But it does provide tools to manage it. Verification exists for this reason. It does not require trust; it substitutes for it.

Verification need not mean an intrusive international presence. Satellite monitoring coordinated through ASEAN, time-bound observer missions, or humanitarian corridors facilitated by the UN or ICRC are all workable options. Refusing verification does not preserve security; it preserves ambiguity, and ambiguity is combustible.

Meanwhile, the civilian cost continues to rise. International humanitarian law applies regardless of who fired first. Displacement now numbers in the hundreds of thousands. Civilian deaths have been confirmed. Persistent resistance to neutral fact-finding carries legal consequences. In judicial practice, refusal to allow verification can itself erode credibility through adverse inference.

The real danger is not only continued fighting, but the normalisation of a ceasefire model that rewards delay, penalises restraint, and treats verification as a concession rather than a safeguard. Such ceasefires do not lead to peace. They lead to managed escalation.

If ceasefires are to mean anything in this conflict, they must be redesigned as instruments of risk reduction, not rhetorical cover. Anything less is not de-escalation. It is a trap—and civilians pay for it first.

Keo Chesda, Affiliate Researcher at the University o Cambodia