In capital, protection still a thriving business
It may be a far cry from the Wild West days of the 1990s,
but whether hiring from among their own relatives or turning to
professional firms specialising in personal security, Cambodia’s elite
are as likely as ever to employ bodyguards
In a café in Phnom Penh earlier this year, a tourist encountered the
wrong person on the wrong day. What began as a verbal exchange with
another customer quickly escalated into a violent confrontation.
The tourist says that in a fit of rage, his adversary, an affluent
local man, stormed over to his bodyguard who was standing nearby. The
bodyguard pulled out a handgun, passed it to his “boss” and stood by as
he dished out a pistol whipping.
Prime Minister Hun Sen with a bodyguard. AFP
The use of bodyguards is a curious phenomenon in Cambodia. From the
late King Father Norodom Sihanouk’s entourage of North Korean military
men in the early 1990s to the minder who tried to accompany an observer
into the national exams last month, many bodyguards have been used in
many ways since peace was brokered.
Last month it emerged that taekwondo champion Sorn Seavmey, who won
Cambodia’s first-ever gold medal at this year’s Asian Games, had been
recruited into the Ministry of Interior’s special Bodyguard Unit.
“Phnom Penh has more than its fair share of crime,” says John Muller,
managing director of Phnom Penh-based Global Security Solutions. “A lot
of conflict in the capital results from business conflicts. You also
get jealousies, violence in the workplace, protests.”
Three men from the Prime Minister’s Bodyguard Unit guard a street in Phnom Penh. AFP
Set that to a backdrop of impunity, poor law enforcement and poverty,
Muller says, and “you really have to take your own security seriously”.
Across Phnom Penh, barbed wire is going up at a rapid rate and men in
navy blue uniforms – some alert, some asleep – are recognisable figures
outside businesses and apartment complexes. For many people, basic
security is enough. But for those who create enemies or have much more
to lose financially, the risks are greater, Muller says.
“To hire [a hitman] with a gun is not expensive, [but] I would say
the biggest threat . . . in this country is the roads,” Muller says. “We
get a lot of mysterious accidents.”
For Malis*, a businesswoman in Phnom Penh, being accompanied by a
bodyguard with a concealed firearm has become part of life. “When your
family has money, you need a bodyguard,” she says. “It doesn’t mean that
Cambodia is not a safe place . . . but they can protect you.”
In Phnom Penh’s Chamkarmon district, former RCAF soldier and military
trainer Yin Sararoth has recently set up a private security company,
Star World Security. Along with the usual services, Sararoth can source
armed bodyguards straight from the Ministry of Interior.
“We can get them on demand,” Sararoth says. “We write a letter to the
Ministry of Interior asking for bodyguards. It’s up to the client how
many and how long. We charge based on that.
“Those bodyguards have much more experience [than normal guards] when
it comes to personal protection.” And, unlike all other bodyguards,
they are allowed to carry guns.
Ministry spokesman Khieu Sopheak and Touch Naroth, director of the Bodyguard Unit, were unavailable for comment.
For those without – or not wanting – government protection, personal security can be a different story.
Members of a bodyguard unit under the Ministry of Interior umbrella. Heng Chivoan
“Cambodia is a self-governing country,” says Steven, an expatriate
whose company CambodiaBodyguard.com provides bodyguards for visiting
businessmen. “If something happens to you, who do you call? Who is going
to come and help you?”
Steven’s business is geared towards people who want professionals who
are calm and collected. “About 99 per cent of the job is psychological,
preventing an incident happening,” he says.
Clients need to have the same mindset. “You don’t want someone who wants to come here and disrespect the culture.”
Muller’s business, GSS, also offers “executive protection”. But such protection costs money and requests are rare.
Those who can’t afford trained professionals are left to hire their
friends and family, especially those with police or military experience,
Muller says.
“They might just be a traffic policeman who carries a gun.”
Malis, for example, sourced her bodyguard through her family
business, after learning he could be trusted – and that he had been
trained at the Ministry of Interior’s Bodyguard Unit.
“Life is better with a bodyguard,” she says.
Personal security begins closer to home for pop singer Khem Marak
Sreymon – a karaoke video star who has won more than his fair share of
hearts. When he ventures out in public, he likes his two cousins to be
with him.
“They protect me when people rush to welcome me,” he says. “They need to keep space around me. One of them is my driver.”
Employees of Star World Security, a private security firm. Vireak Mai
The other, he adds, acts as a personal assistant, a task that includes giving feedback about the singer’s performances.
The positions are paid, but they are by no means full-time, formal arrangements.
“Some people think the two are my bodyguards, but they have their own jobs as well. If they’re busy, I call my other cousins.”
In other industries, personal security can be equally ad hoc.
Known for corruption and worker unrest, the garment sector is
Cambodia’s biggest exporter. Since the independent union movement gained
traction in the 1990s, several union leaders have been slain carrying
out their work.
When Ath Thorn, head of the Coalition of Cambodian Apparel Workers’
Democratic Union (C.CAWDU), received death threats, he couldn’t afford
to hire professional bodyguards. So he employed the services of a couple
of fellow unionists to watch his back.
“When I have negotiations, usually one or two people follow,” he
says. “It would be better to have personal bodyguards, but right now, I
don’t have the money.”
Chuon Momthol, president of the government-aligned Cambodian Union
Federation, likes to know he is protected from any threats to his safety
– even if he doesn’t know what those threats might be.
“I have two bodyguards. I have not had anyone threaten me, but you never know who out there hates you,” he says.
The late King Father Norodom Sihanouk. AFP
Momthol’s men are trained in martial arts, but they also act as
personal assistants – one of them is a driver adept at fixing an engine.
While the Ministry of Interior provides protection for government
officials, some of them prefer their own men, especially if they have
business interests they want to protect.
“I do not hire people that I don’t know to be my personal
bodyguards,” says tycoon and ruling party senator Mong Reththy, whose
dealings include palm oil and livestock. “I have my two nephews follow
me – they have been doing it for 18 years. One is my driver; the other
is watching my back or looking after important documents.
“Are my two nephews bodyguards? I can’t say. They don’t carry guns.”
Given that professional bodyguards can be hired directly from the
Ministry of Interior, it is perhaps no surprise they loom large in the
public sector.
While one theory is that good bodyguards go unnoticed, a number
working for high-ranking officials have made headlines for embezzlement,
illegal weapons possession and other crimes.
In 1998, the bodyguards of the Kampong Speu provincial governor
killed a 16-year-old boy who had climbed the walls of the official’s
residence to steal chickens. The victim was allegedly tied up, tortured
and shot at least a dozen times, according to rights groups. No charges
were ever laid.
On the other side of politics, a bodyguard tasked with protecting the
Cambodia National Rescue Party president Sam Rainsy says he has
undergone party-funded martial arts training in Japan and China to help
protect the opposition leader from any threats.
“We need to think of how to protect and defend our boss,” says the
bodyguard, who requested anonymity. “When they sleep or when they’re
happy at play, it is time for us to be ready.”
CNRP lawmaker Yim Sovann, however, says the opposition does not fund
such training. The security force the party does have is mostly made of
volunteers who accompany Rainsy and deputy president Kem Sokha. Sovann
himself has a driver but no guard, he says.
“Before, there were a lot of assassinations,” he says. “Now they use the courts.”
Even so, during the tense deadlock that followed last year’s
election, Sovann says, he and other lawmakers regularly noticed men in
plain clothes watching them outside their houses. “They were there for
months,” he says. “At both ends of the street. I confronted them, took
photos of them and told them I knew they were watching me. We have to
show them we are brave.”
Random beatings or other acts of aggression at beer gardens, clubs
and restaurants, have helped shape a stereotype. It is one of a
high-ranking official or tycoon – or their son – wandering gangster-like
into establishments with bodyguards and throwing their weight around.
Though such cases may still be the exception, they concern some businesses.
“They are high-ranking people, they bring their bodyguards,” says
Reaksmey*, an administrative officer at a Phnom Penh nightclub. “They
think about their safety – or they try to show their power. Their
[bodyguards] are sometimes people in the military.
They carry guns. We’re worried about that.”
Like other clubs in Phnom Penh, BLVD on Sothearos Boulevard strictly
prohibits weapons. Security is tight and effective, owner Tyler Chan
says, but the clientele sometimes includes rich or high-ranking people
who bring with them a healthy entourage.
Their presence, however, does not necessarily denote trouble, he adds.
“We keep an eye on them,” Chan says, adding that this sometimes means
giving them their own space – not as special treatment, but to avoid
conflict with other customers. “There are no problems.”
For many people in Phnom Penh, that is the experience. Basic
precautions keep them out of trouble with someone else’s bodyguard – and
free from needing one themselves.
But if you do require some protection and you have the money, what should you look for in a bodyguard?
Muller, from GSS, says it’s an all-rounder, someone whose brains match his or her physical capabilities.
“You don’t have to be Bruce Lee or to have won the two-kilometre shot
with the military,” he says. “One of the biggest skill sets is using
your brain. If you have to pull a gun out, you’ve screwed up the whole
thing.”
Keeping a low profile, determining risks for a client wherever they
go – before they go there – is essential, he adds. Modern surveillance
equipment, too, is becoming increasingly important.
“What I advocate is the use of technology and a few good men and women.”
Additional reporting by May Titthara
*Names changed to protect identity
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