THEY came across in dribs and drabs, eventually numbering as many as 1,500: all of them Chinese nationals, fleeing angry mobs in Vietnam. Well-dressed and relatively well-heeled, most arrived by coach at Bavet—a run-down Cambodian casino town on the border with Vietnam—and into the welcoming arms of convivial immigration officials on the Cambodian side. They seemed a far cry from that older image of refugees crossing Indochinese borders: those poor and persecuted families who were scrambling for safety a generation ago.


But the relief among these semi-skilled labourers was palpable. One Chinese citizen waved his Chinese passport to another foreigner and said “problem, big problem”, gesturing back in the direction of Ho Chi Minh City, the commercial centre of southern Vietnam. His travelling companion, also Chinese, raised a finger to his own throat, as if it were a knife, and drew a line across it. This was the danger they had fled. With their passports stamped at immigration, both men were hurried back aboard the air-conditioned coach that had brought them this far. The way to Phnom Penh took them past the gaming tables of a deserted Wynn Casino complex and another called Le Macau.

Popular protests against China broke out in Vietnam on May 14th after CNOOC, a Chinese oil giant, installed a mobile oil-drilling rig just 220km off the Vietnamese coast in the South China Sea. Territorial disputes there, including the question of sovereignty over the Paracel islands and the potentially petrochemical-rich waters around them, have led to the worst breakdown in Sino-Vietnamese relations since 1979, when the two sides fought a bloody border war.

The protesting crowds swelled to take in as many as 20,000 angry Vietnamese—and then they turned violent. Official accounts from both Chinese and Vietnamese sides say that two people were killed, and more than 100 injured. Dozens of factories, most of them owned by Chinese or Taiwanese firms, were looted and torched.

Vietnamese authorities have since clamped down on the rioting and arrested more than 1,000 people.But an exodus of sorts is already under way.The Chinese government has dispatched the first of five ships that are supposed to bring home citizens from Vietnam. It is thought that 3,000 have fled on their own over the past five days, about half of them into Cambodia.


Fully half of the states party to the Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN) have similar problems with China’s maritime claims. Vietnam, the Philippines, Malaysia, Brunei and Indonesia all have claims that clash with China’s view of its sovereignty in the South China Sea. According to its “nine-dashed line” doctrine (which is shared by Taiwan, officially), most of the sea belongs to China, including large swathes inside the 200-nautical-mile limit of other countries that adjoin it.

Two years ago Cambodia broke ranks with the rest of ASEAN. It effectively backed Chinese efforts to resolve maritime disputes with its neighbours on a series of bilateral bases. Vietnam would have preferred for ASEAN to unite as a front in its negotiations with China. Cambodia’s position split ASEAN, but it also seems to have established it as a haven for the Chinese who arrived on its eastern frontier this week.

Cambodia has long enjoyed unusually cordial relations with China, with whom it does not share a border. By contrast the ethnic majority of Cambodia, the Khmers, have a tradition of hostility towards Vietnam, their country’s powerful neighbour next door. This might be seen as a mirror image of Vietnam's own anxieties about China, the Chinese and their intentions, which are at least 2,000 years old.

A Cambodian lieutenant in Bavet, Prak Vibolochey, explained how the sudden migration of Chinese civilians appeared at his post. He said there were unusual movements shortly before dawn on May 14th, as the protests on the other side were riotous. Hundreds of frightened people appeared along the Cambodian side; some of Mr Prak’s comrades were deployed to determine what was happening. “The Vietnamese [border agents] were firm but polite; stamped their passports and told them to get out,” he said. The Chinese workers “came here with the other tourists; that's how they escaped.”

On a coach that pulled into Bavet on May 16th, a Vietnamese minder escorted a group of 20 Chinese. She explained on behalf of her charges that “there is lots of trouble and perhaps they don't want to speak about that. That is why they left.” She supposed there would be more Chinese coming in days ahead, despite the cessation of violence and assurances from the prime minister of Vietnam, Nguyen Tan Dung. Mr Dung said that the authorities would “conduct concerted and determined measures not to allow illegal protests that cause security and social disorder disturbances.”

Chen Qun, a petite 25-year-old woman from Hangzhou, in eastern China, worked till very recently in Ho Chi Minh City. Ms Chen, for one, was unconvinced by the prime minister’s words.

“The people in my hotel in Saigon [ie Ho Chi Minh City], were very kindly,” she said with a smile while boarding her bus for Phnom Penh. “They helped me a lot…But there were many young people, crazy people, who caused many problems, and we just had to go,” she said. “I’m not sure when it will be safe to go back.”