In a sweeping crackdown that has sent shockwaves across Asia and beyond, authorities are dismantling the sprawling web of online scam compounds that have flourished in the region’s loosely governed corners. From Myanmar’s infamous KK Park to the bustling streets of Delhi and the courtrooms of Morocco, the story is the same: vulnerable individuals lured by promises of lucrative employment, only to find themselves ensnared in a world of forced labor, cybercrime, and human trafficking.
On November 9, 2025, Myanmar’s military junta announced the demolition of nearly 150 buildings in a notorious internet scam hub near the Thai border, according to The Global New Light of Myanmar. The targeted structures were not just makeshift offices—they included a gym, spa, karaoke parlour, dormitories, and even a four-floor hospital. These amenities were designed to attract and retain workers, some trafficked against their will, others lured by the prospect of high earnings and a luxurious lifestyle.
The crackdown comes amid mounting international pressure and a growing chorus of concern over the proliferation of scam factories in Myanmar’s borderlands. These operations employ thousands, tasking them with everything from romance scams to elaborate business cons that target unsuspecting victims worldwide. The scale is staggering: just last month, a military raid at KK Park uncovered more than 2,000 scammers and forced 1,500 people to flee across the border into Thailand. Locals in both Myanmar and Thailand have reported intermittent explosions as demolition teams continue their work, underscoring the operation’s intensity and urgency.
Yet, as AFP and regional analysts have noted, the junta’s actions may be more about optics than substance. The operation appears “limited and highly choreographed,” likely intended to placate international critics—particularly China, whose citizens have been frequent targets of these scams—while leaving the profitable core of the illegal enterprise intact. Earlier efforts, such as the repatriation of 7,000 scam workers to China and a Thai-led internet blockade, failed to stem the tide. Some scam centers even managed to stay online by using Starlink satellite receivers, which SpaceX eventually disabled in the area.
The roots of these operations run deep, entwined with powerful political and criminal networks. The story of Chen Zhi, chairman of Cambodia’s Prince Group, illustrates just how far-reaching—and protected—these syndicates can be. On October 14, 2025, the U.S. Department of Justice unsealed an indictment against Chen, accusing him of orchestrating a vast criminal network involving forced labor, human trafficking, and cryptocurrency fraud. According to the indictment, Chen controlled over $15 billion in illicit Bitcoin assets and operated scam compounds across Cambodia and Myanmar, employing trafficked workers to fuel his global fraud empire.
Chen’s meteoric rise—from his roots in Fujian, China, to Cambodian aristocracy—was built on a foundation of political protection. Multiple reputable sources, as cited by Sun Lee, report that Chen’s operations were allegedly backed by China’s Ministry of Public Security and Ministry of State Security, two of the most powerful arms of the Chinese Communist Party (CCP). These agencies provided cover and logistical support, enabling Chen to expand his operations with near-total impunity. Intriguingly, Chen is also said to be related by marriage to Huang Kunming, Party Secretary of Guangdong province and a key figure in Xi Jinping’s inner circle, further highlighting the elite connections at play.
The fallout from the U.S. sanctions was immediate and dramatic. Within days, Myanmar’s military launched its raids on KK Park, flattening buildings and forcing over 2,000 people—mostly Chinese and nationals from neighboring countries—to flee into Thailand. Thai authorities, meanwhile, intercepted a truck carrying 60 Starlink satellite devices, presumably intended to keep the scam operations running in Myawaddy. The sudden and effective crackdown achieved in days what years of Chinese diplomatic warnings had failed to accomplish. China’s response, for its part, has been conspicuously muted: no strong condemnations, no offers of humanitarian aid for the fleeing Chinese nationals, and no public disavowal of Chen Zhi. This silence, as some Chinese netizens have observed, speaks volumes about the CCP’s role and priorities.
The reach of these scam syndicates extends far beyond Southeast Asia. In India, the Cyber Police of Delhi’s North District made headlines on November 9, 2025, after busting a fraud syndicate involved in “online task” scams. The group, which promised victims quick money for rating hotels and restaurants, cheated a young woman from Burari out of ₹2.96 lakh. Three suspects were arrested following coordinated raids in Agra and Jaipur, but the mastermind—trained in cybercrime in Malaysia—remains at large, operating the network remotely using foreign servers and fake accounts. According to a senior Delhi Police officer, “The gang used foreign-based servers and encrypted platforms to target victims in India. Preliminary findings suggest links to organized cybercrime networks in Malaysia and other Southeast Asian countries.”
Such scams are on the rise, warn Delhi Police officials, with operations increasingly run by internationally trained cybercriminals using encrypted communication channels and digital payment gateways to avoid detection. The syndicates’ sophistication and reach are a testament to the global nature of the problem, and the urgent need for cross-border cooperation to combat it.
The human cost of these operations is staggering. In Morocco, a court handed down the country’s first conviction for luring people to work in Asian scam compounds, sentencing Nabil Moafik to five years in prison for human trafficking. Several young Moroccans were drawn in by online job offers promising good pay in Thailand, only to find themselves trafficked to Myanmar—some 15,000 kilometers from home—and forced to work in online fraud operations. Victims recounted harrowing tales of torture and degrading treatment in the Myanmar centers, with some securing their release only after paying ransoms in cryptocurrency. Moafik, who ran a Facebook group to help Moroccan immigrants, admitted to earning between $21 and $107 for each person he recruited, but claimed ignorance of the true nature of the jobs. The UN estimates that some 120,000 people are currently trapped in scam centers worldwide, with prosecutions underway across the globe.
From Southeast Asia to North Africa and South Asia, the fight against scam compounds and cybercrime is intensifying. The recent actions—raids, arrests, convictions—represent a turning point, but they also expose the limits of existing efforts and the daunting scale of the challenge ahead. As more victims come forward and authorities ramp up their crackdowns, the world is left to grapple with a sobering question: how many more “Prince Groups” are still lurking in the shadows, and how many more lives will be upended before the tide truly turns?
For now, the demolition crews continue their work in Myanmar, police in Delhi pursue elusive masterminds, and Moroccan courts break new legal ground. The global scam empire is under siege, but its resilience—and the suffering it inflicts—remain a stark reminder of the work still to be done.
