On Monday, August 25, 2025, Cambodia’s National Assembly took a decisive—some say alarming—step, passing a new law that empowers the government to strip citizenship from anyone found guilty of conspiring with foreign nations to harm the country’s interests. The controversial amendment to the Nationality Law, approved by a near-unanimous vote of 120 lawmakers in the 125-member chamber, has sent shockwaves through the nation’s political landscape and drawn sharp criticism from rights groups, opposition figures, and international observers alike.
The law’s passage comes at a time of heightened nationalism in Cambodia, following a five-day armed border conflict with neighboring Thailand in late July that left at least 43 people dead and ended only with a fragile ceasefire. Against this tense backdrop, Interior Minister Sar Sokha urged lawmakers to support the legislation, arguing that it was vital for boosting patriotism and safeguarding national security. "People who directly or indirectly harm the interests of the nation and its people should no longer be qualified as Cambodian citizens," Sar Sokha declared, according to reporting by AFP and CNA.
Under the new law, citizenship may be revoked from lifelong Cambodians, dual citizens, and naturalized citizens alike if they are convicted of colluding with foreign powers, scheming against Cambodian interests, or committing acts deemed to threaten the country’s sovereignty, territorial integrity, or national security. The decision to revoke citizenship will rest with a committee established at the request of the Interior Minister—a structure that critics say leaves the door open to arbitrary and politically motivated actions.
Before the law can take effect, it must still be approved by Cambodia’s Senate and King Norodom Sihamoni, steps that are widely considered to be formalities given the ruling party’s dominance over the country’s political institutions. The Cambodian People’s Party (CPP), led by Prime Minister Hun Manet and his father, former Prime Minister Hun Sen, currently controls 120 of the 125 seats in the National Assembly and exerts influence over all major levers of government.
Rights groups wasted no time in sounding the alarm. On the eve of the parliamentary vote, a coalition of 50 Cambodian non-governmental organizations issued a stark warning, stating the law’s “vaguely written” provisions could have “a disastrously chilling effect on the freedom of speech of all Cambodian citizens.” According to their statement, “With this new amendment to the Nationality Law, all Cambodians risk losing our identities over our activism. If we are stripped of citizenship, we will lose the foundation for every right we have in our home country.”
The coalition’s concerns were echoed by international observers. Amnesty International labeled the legislation a “heinous violation of international law,” pointing to Cambodia’s failure to safeguard the independence of its courts—a point underscored by Montse Ferrer, Amnesty’s regional research director, who told CNA, “This has enabled the government’s authoritarian practices to continue unchecked, such as its persecution of opposition leaders, activists and independent journalists.”
Indeed, the timing and context of the law’s passage have fueled suspicions that it is intended less as a shield against foreign threats and more as a sword against domestic dissent. The Cambodian government has a long history of using legal measures to stifle opposition. The country’s main opposition party, the Cambodia National Rescue Party (CNRP), was dissolved by court order in 2017 after being accused of plotting to overthrow the government with foreign backing. Its leader, Kem Sokha, was arrested, convicted of treason, and sentenced to 27 years under house arrest in 2023—a charge he has always denied. Many other prominent opposition figures, including CNRP cofounders Sam Rainsy and Mu Sochua, have fled Cambodia to avoid arrest in the wake of what human rights advocates describe as an ever-intensifying crackdown.
Prime Minister Hun Manet, who succeeded his father Hun Sen in 2023 after nearly four decades of one-family rule, has defended the new law as both necessary and unremarkable. Speaking to villagers and government officials in Kampong Thom province last month, he asserted, “Among nearly 200 United Nations member states, 150 countries have laws allowing citizenship revocation, including the United States. Please don’t be concerned if you are a patriot and do not oppose the interest of country. But if you have conspired with foreign powers to destroy Cambodia then, yes, it is true you should be worried, and in such case you are not a Cambodian.”
Justice Minister Koeut Rith was even more blunt, telling reporters, “If you betray the nation, the nation will not keep you.” The government maintains that the law targets only those who pose a genuine threat to Cambodia’s security and integrity, not ordinary citizens or legitimate critics. Yet, for many observers, the context suggests otherwise. As Devdiscourse noted, the measure “reflects the ruling Cambodian People’s Party’s ongoing crackdown on political dissent,” and is widely seen as a tool for silencing critics and ensuring the CPP’s grip on power remains unchallenged.
International comparisons do offer some perspective. According to a European Parliament briefing cited by CNA, 15 European Union countries allow revocation of citizenship on grounds of treason or disloyalty, but in eight of those, the measure can only be applied to naturalized citizens—not to those born in the country. Cambodia’s law, by contrast, applies universally, raising concerns about statelessness and the potential targeting of ethnic minorities or political opponents.
Opposition voices and civil society groups are adamant that the law’s potential for abuse is simply too high. “The potential for abuse in the implementation of this vaguely worded law to target people on the basis of their ethnicity, political opinions, speech, and activism is simply too high to accept,” the rights coalition warned. “The government has many powers, but they should not have the power to arbitrarily decide who is and is not a Cambodian.”
The law’s critics argue that it will not only suppress dissent but also undermine the very notion of Cambodian identity and citizenship, making basic rights contingent on political loyalty. As one coalition statement put it, “If we are stripped of citizenship, we will lose the foundation for every right we have in our home country.”
For now, the bill awaits the expected rubber-stamp approvals from the Senate and King Norodom Sihamoni. But the debate it has sparked—about the limits of state power, the meaning of citizenship, and the future of democracy in Cambodia—shows no sign of fading. As the country recovers from its latest border crisis and braces for the next chapter in its turbulent political story, the fate of this new law will be watched closely, both at home and abroad.
