海角大神

The squatters who call this narrow raised strip of red clay home are largely not here by choice.

Some have left behind drought-affected farmland in the country鈥檚 south. Others have nowhere else to live, after falling into debt.

The 4.5-mile irrigation dyke, constructed with forced labor when the Khmer Rouge regime controlled Cambodia between 1975 and 1979, offered a small piece of free land on which to attempt to rebuild their lives.

Just 45 minutes north by car lies the booming capital, Phnom Penh, where skyscrapers and malls illustrate Cambodia鈥檚 ongoing economic transformation: today, the country enjoys about 7 percent annual economic growth, and the number of Cambodians is steadily dropping. But as land has been bought up, it often comes at the expense of residents鈥� land rights. Claims to land here are often unclear, in part a legacy of the brutal Khmer Rouge regime, and the loss of rights聽is exacerbated by long-term state land leases to business investors, human rights groups say, despite a moratorium imposed in 2012.

Officials tout Cambodia鈥檚 growth as a sign of improved living standards, but that 鈥渕asks the actual distribution,鈥� says Sophal Ear, a Cambodia expert and associate professor at Occidental College in Los Angeles. 鈥淭he authorities have managed to use land rights to give the wrong people the land: tycoons and the powerful.鈥�

Confusion about land rights has combined with agro-industrial development to make alleged land grabs a persistent problem. In what鈥檚 touted as a bid for growth, the government has utilized long-term leases of state land to private companies, which now account for . Some 700,000 Cambodians have been adversely affected by these economic land concessions (ELCs),聽according to the Cambodian Center for Human Rights, and many more live in legal limbo 鈥撀爈ike the families in this village.

Most villagers have certificates conveying 鈥榮oft鈥� land title that are meant to ensure compensation or relocation if the government moves them, but many don鈥檛 have the nationally recognized 鈥榟ard鈥� titles, says Meach Mean, who moved to Praek Tanoub in the mid-1990s. Some long-term residents, however, have neither.

鈥淓veryone has experienced hardship [in Cambodia]鈥� says Meach, now in his 70s. 鈥淚 wouldn鈥檛 want to live on the dyke [with the squatter families], but I understand what may have forced them to live here.鈥�

A roof, but no title

The tree-lined dyke is flanked by a patchwork of verdant rice and lotus fields, and is home to about 50 families, according to long-time resident Hong Pov. She and her family moved here in 1997 after they found themselves unable to meet loan repayments for their fish-farming business. The sides of the dyke provided the only unused land in the area on which to live.

鈥淲hen we arrived there were 15 families. Now it's 50,鈥� she explains, showing off the home they built four years ago for $2,000: metal sheeting for walls and roof, supported by a simple wooden frame; rough wooden floorboards; and decorated with family photos. Hong is resigned to the fact that this will be her home from now on.

鈥淭here is no choice,鈥� she said, as she cannot afford to buy land anywhere. Because her husband has a longstanding illness, she is the family鈥檚 only breadwinner, earning less than $15 per week as a pot-washer at nearby weddings.

Unlike villagers, the dyke families lack official titles to the land on which they live, despite many having lived there for at least five years before 2001 鈥撀爐he prerequisite for the land-titling process to begin. Hong, who claims the government only makes an effort to issue land titles in more remote provinces, says she was given a 鈥榮oft title鈥� certificate in 2005, but cannot locate it.

Village chief Von Pheach stresses that the families on the dyke may continue to live where they are, although provincial authorities have barred any new residents.

However, 鈥渢hey are not landless in the normal sense,鈥� he adds. 鈥淢any of them sold their land elsewhere due to debt. They destroyed themselves, and then had to move there.鈥�

Years in the making

Throughout Cambodia, land-rights conflicts stand poised to grow: the continued growth of Phnom Penh means land is at a particularly high premium nearby, with 鈥榥ew鈥� land created by filling the last remaining lakes of this former swamp with sand.

But land rights have been a persistent problem since the Khmer Rouge came to power on April 17, 1975, following a bloody civil war against the United States-supported government. The regime sought to turn Cambodia into a mythological agrarian utopia, and emptied the country鈥檚 cities 鈥撀爄ncluding Phnom Penh 鈥撀爐o achieve this. Millions were moved into the countryside and were forced to construct large-scale farming projects centered around communal living and eating. Money was banned, private property abolished, and all land titles were voided.

The combination of civil war, American bombing, and the executions and forced work perpetrated by the Khmer Rouge not only led to the fragmentation of Cambodian society, but also . The regime was removed from power in 1979, but the country鈥檚 recovery was hindered the group鈥檚 long-running guerrilla conflict, which did not formally end until 1998.

Since then, Cambodia has risen to qualify as a 鈥渓ower middle-income鈥� country, by World Bank standards, with one of the fastest-growing economies in the world. But if the land concessions known as ELCs 鈥撀爓hich include sugar cane plantations, cassava processing plants, mines, and tourism attractions 鈥撀爃ave contributed to that development, they have also compounded land-rights issues.

鈥淲ith secure property rights for the rightful owners, you could have much higher growth,鈥� says Dr. Ear. 鈥淪hort-termism has always been a problem in Cambodia. When you think you might lose power, your discount rate is high. The future is worth less than the present.鈥�

Along with resident displacement, ELCs can contribute to聽and loss of livelihood: In a country where almost 50 percent of adults work in agriculture, those without land can find themselves exiled to the extremes of society.

鈥淚t is not clear to what extent the people of Cambodia have actually benefited from land concessions,鈥� Surya Subedi, the former UN Special Rapporteur for human rights in Cambodia,, calling for ELCs to be better-documented and land laws better implemented.

Education and enforcement

Five years ago, Prime Minister Hun Sen imposed a moratorium on new ELCs, promising an investigation into existing concessions; the government also began a land-titling initiative. As of 2016, 4.3 million land titles, or 61 percent of total land plots, had been recognized, according to a paper from the . Licenses for a number of ELCs found not in compliance with their investment conditions were revoked, but rights groups argue that the government has never published a full list of the agreements.

Much of the problem, rights groups say, boils down to enforcing the law, and better education around land rights. Technically, anyone who inhabited land for five years before 2001, when a land law went into effect, may apply for a title. Most people do not know how to obtain formal documentation, however, according to a, which criticizes an official Cambodian commission for failing to clearly identify state land.

鈥淭here has been a lack of political will to respect ownership through occupation and titling programs have frequently fallen far short of genuinely respecting the rights of Cambodians,鈥� says Naly Pilorge, the deputy director of advocacy at local rights group Licadho. Political and economic interests often take precedence, she says, and authorities arbitrarily ignore land laws.

Meanwhile, human rights groups have accused the government of with threats, violence, and arrests, while entire communities have been subject to forced evictions and relocation.

For now, at Praek Tanoub, residents are free to stay.

Retired vegetable farmer Nut Yaen, who was born here seven decades ago, says he would love to have official title, to pass his land onto his children. However, he accepts that that is unlikely. For his day-to-day life, the lack of proof that he legally owns the land on which he has lived for decades does not bother him.

鈥淚 like it here; it is my hometown. I wouldn鈥檛 live anywhere else.鈥�

Huot Chanpav contributed additional reporting from Preak Tanoub.