Phchum Ben, a popular 15-day festival in Cambodia, is a time when people gather with their families to honor their ancestors. Dressed in traditional Khmer clothing, they bring meals to pagodas where monks chant and pray. Some, hoping for luck and good health, release birds into the sky as they make a wish.
During a recent Phchum Ben celebration, however, the reality for Mech Dara, one of Cambodia’s best-known investigative journalists, was the opposite of that of those free-flying birds: he was headed for a metal cage.
Dara had been on his way home from celebrating the festival last September with relatives in Sihanoukville province — a popular coastal tourism area where his investigative reporting has exposed the inner workings of global scam operations — when he was surrounded by vehicles, many of them unmarked, and swarmed by officers. Screaming orders at him, they pulled him from his car, handcuffed him, and slapped him with an arrest warrant for “incitement” with the intent of causing public disorder.
While friends and family frantically searched for him for more than 20 hours, Dara was locked in a cell. “I did not sleep,” he recalled. “I just stared at the handcuffs they [had] locked to the metal bar.”
A Warning for Journalists
Dara’s arrest was viewed by supporters as a warning to journalists in Cambodia, where experts say a once-free, independent press has been in decline, increasingly stifled by an authoritarian government that continues to tighten its grip on the small Southeast Asian country.
“Dara is a frontline investigative journalist whose stories over the last decade have uncovered corruption, environmental destruction, and human trafficking at scam compounds across the country, and has consistently pushed for accountability and justice,” said a joint statement by more than 45 human rights groups demanding Dara’s release. “The arrest … is a clear attempt to intimidate and silence him and other journalists in a country where press freedoms are routinely curtailed.”
The government filed charges against Dara for social media posts they claimed were “spreading fake news” for the purpose of “incitement.” Friends had warned him to be careful of the tone of his posts, which sometimes included sarcastic observations about public figures or, in this case, the re-sharing of a photo. Arrests were on the rise, they warned, not only of journalists, but of political opponents, activists, or anyone critical of the government.
“The Cambodian government regularly targets journalists and independent media outlets that publish information critical [of] its policies,” Aleksandra Bielakowska, the Asia-Pacific Advocacy Manager of Reporters Without Borders (RSF), said via email. “Meanwhile, numerous journalists have been targeted with abusive legal proceedings.”
RSF’s World Press Freedom Index ranked Cambodia 151st out of 180 countries in 2024, “placing it in the category of nations where threats to press freedom are deemed ‘very serious,’” according to the report.
A spokesman for the Ministry of Justice, Dyna Seng, said that criticism of the government’s treatment of the press — whether from individuals or international organizations, including RSF — is aimed at harming the Cambodian government’s reputation.
“The allegations made by a small number of extremist opposition groups are baseless, and composed of slanderous characterizations to smear the government for political gain,” Seng said.
Seng also said the arrests and convictions of any opposition party members, activists, or journalists — including in Dara’s case — occurred because they had violated Cambodian laws, not because they were targeted.
“In a society governed by the rule of law, whether it’s Cambodia or any other country, the exercise of the individual’s right must be done in accordance with the conditions set by law,” Seng said.
But Dara’s supporters say there is little doubt he was targeted for his groundbreaking work exposing global, multibillion-dollar virtual currency investment and online schemes, as well as documenting the illicit online scam centers that have gained a strong foothold in Cambodia.
Experts say these kinds of operations have been wreaking havoc in the country since emerging in the mid-2010s, when an influx of Chinese investors in Sihanoukville province and other areas led to a proliferation of new construction of large-scale scam compounds and casinos.
Dara has continued to relentlessly expose the powerful people who get rich off the schemes, the political corruption that enables them, and the victims who are trafficked to staff these huge operations — and who often find themselves unable to escape horrific living and working conditions.
Jacob Sims, a transnational crime and modern slavery expert, said Dara has played an important role in uncovering and documenting this illicit industry.
“Dara’s arrest can be looked at as a death knell for open civil society reporting on this issue,” said Sims, who added that the Cambodian government “continues to deny and cover up the scale and nature of the issue.”
“Dara was a victim of that, and a particularly important one, given the pivotal role he also played in global reporting on the issue,” Sims said.
As these large-scale, multinational criminal enterprises have been on the rise in Cambodia, a government crackdown on media coverage has intensified, according to Chhan Sokunthea, the executive director of the Cambodian Center for Independent Media.
According to Sokunthea, many media outlets have had their licenses revoked, their reporters increasingly targeted, or heavy financial penalties levied against them.
More recently, the government’s Information Ministry instituted a “Charter for Professional Journalism,” a set of rules and regulations journalists must follow — including not disseminating what the government deems “fake news” — which Sokunthea and other free press advocates say is cause for concern.
The arrest of a high-profile journalist like Dara, who dares to question the official narrative, is also meant to encourage self-censorship, Sokunthea added.
“When the authorities arrested [Dara] and jailed him, it affected other journalists who dare to report sensitive issues as he does,” she said.
After being detained for more than 20 days — and enduring hours of questioning — Dara confessed. The authorities recorded a video statement in which he said he had posted “fake news” that could have a bad impact on the country, and concluded with him asking officials for forgiveness.
Following a groundswell of national and international pressure, Dara was eventually released on bail. Having lost four kilos, become ill with the flu, and been deeply traumatized by his detention experience, he said during his first post-jail interview that he felt like giving up on the profession he had dedicated his life to.
“After this case, it affects my feelings; even when I see a phone, it terrifies me,” he said, speaking through intermittent coughs. “I quit being a journalist,” he added, blaming himself for his arrest. “I posted those [social media] posts. The arrest [happened] because the authorities exercised the law.”
Journalism ‘In His Blood’
That version of Dara — sick, exhausted, and sounding defeated — was nothing like the crusading, brave journalist I had come to know as a friend and cherished colleague.
I first met Dara in 2008, when we were both working at The Cambodia Daily, surrounded by like-minded people eager to report on issues other media outlets were not paying attention to. We were lucky enough to be part of a brief free press renaissance in Cambodia, when the country was opening its doors to an influx of outside investment and influence. Hundreds of foreign reporters, NGOs, investors, and others were flocking to the country to help rebuild its economy, infrastructure, and civil society, which had been left in tatters by the Khmer Rouge, the communist military group that ruled Cambodia from 1975 to 1979.
That meant new media outlets cropped up throughout the 1980s and ’90s, attracting foreign reporters, who came to Cambodia to explore its culture and to help bolster its journalism, and Cambodians, like Dara and myself, eager to learn the profession.
The Cambodia Daily and the Phnom Penh Post, in particular, fostered environments that were unique hybrid spaces for foreign journalists to learn about Cambodian culture and for Cambodian journalists to learn about reporting, interview techniques, documentation, and other skills necessary to carry out their daily work.
Although far from perfect — we worked long hours for little pay — these newsrooms were exciting places that gave us the opportunity to learn from some of the best reporters and thinkers in the business, improve our English, and gain solid journalistic training that many Cambodian reporters no longer have access to today.
Dara’s path through journalism would go on to closely track the rise and fall of the profession in Cambodia. It was not an easy road.
He was born into rural poverty in 1988, one of four children. After his parents divorced, Dara and a sister went to live for a time with their alcoholic father and a grandmother who struggled to make ends meet. Dara recalls walking from village to village collecting leftover produce and vegetables such as radishes and peanuts so that his grandmother could turn them into preserved food.
“Sometimes I picked up some bottles and cans at weddings and other festive places so I could sell [them] and use the money to buy food,” he recalled.
Dara’s grandmother died when he was about 10, leaving him to live for a few years in a local pagoda before moving to Phnom Penh, where he lived with relatives and enrolled in high school.
One of his sisters, Mech Choulay, recalled how her brother never asked their mother or family members for money but insisted on working through high school at all kinds of odd jobs, from selling newspapers to taking care of people’s dogs.
“My brother is my role model,” said Choulay, who, like another of his sisters, was inspired by Dara to become a journalist. She recalled spotting his byline on the front page of The Cambodia Daily. “I told myself that one day, I would be like my brother, able to write news, so my name could appear on the printed newspaper like his,” she said.
Dara got his first break as a teenager when Erik Wasson, then a reporter at The Cambodia Daily, noticed him intently studying a copy of the newspaper that was placed each day in an outside display case for the public to read. “The boy … said his name was Dara and he wanted to know how to become a reporter,” Wasson recalled. “We talked for a while and decided he should come by the newsroom and see if there was anything he could do to help around the office.”
That eventually led to an entry-level position as a kind of news assistant, or “gofer,” at The Cambodia Daily in 2004, where one of Dara’s first jobs was in the archives, organizing folders of news clippings for reporters to use for research.
The then-16-year-old Dara was constantly asking for a shot at becoming a reporter, and would grill others on how he might get that chance. Colleagues recall a charming, enthusiastic young man who always had a huge smile and often worked so hard that he would sleep in the office. He was also very ambitious, and after a few rejections from the reporting team for being too green, he applied multiple times until finally being accepted into a journalism program at a local college.
He went on to become one of the most prominent investigative journalists in Cambodia, garnering international awards and recognition, including the Trafficking in Persons Report Heroes award from the U.S. State Department in 2023.
“Dara brings such a vital energy to all his reporting, and it’s infectious,” said Erin Handley, who worked with him at the Phnom Penh Post. “He has such a passion for sharing stories about the struggles of Cambodian people whose voices are too often unheard or overlooked.”
It was shining a light on his own country that inspired him to continue, Dara said, and wanting to “help innocent and weak people who suffered injustice, to get justice.”
“I imagine if I had relatives who were pushed off [a] building, or tortured close to death,” Dara said, recalling cases he had covered of those trying to escape being trafficked. “I listened to the stories; it makes me feel sad, and you could feel pain and anger. It makes me want to continue to do the story.”
At the online news outlet Voice of Democracy (VOD), where Dara also worked, colleagues not only recalled his great investigative skills, but also his intense energy and generosity.
“It took something almost otherworldly in Dara for him to stay as undeterred as he was for so long. But he kept trying, mentoring young journalists and flooding them with ideas, tips, and sources,” said Michael Dickinson, the former managing editor for VOD English. “With every batch of new trainees and interns and new hires we’d hope to find a ‘new Dara,’ someone with as much drive and fearlessness and integrity,” he added.
One of the Cambodian colleagues Dara mentored at VOD, Keat Soriththeavy, recalled him asking her to work on a story and join the English team on the very first day of her fellowship in 2021.
“His arrest affected my feelings, as I have known him for a long time now, and he’s the one who pushed me to become a journalist when I was a student in the newsroom,” Soriththeavy said.
Although Dara helped inspire a new generation of Cambodian journalists, he has confided in friends and colleagues that he no longer feels he can continue in the profession.
“Journalism is in Dara’s blood,” said Sims, the transnational crime expert who identified Dara’s work as having played an essential role in documenting illicit scams in Cambodia and globally. “That he would consider leaving the profession at 36 years old just speaks to the sense that there is no further room to operate under the hand of a regime that is existentially vested in the industry he has worked to expose.”
A Journalism Renaissance, Then a Crackdown
Dara, who spent more than a decade working in journalism in Cambodia, has seen every outlet he has worked for either be shut down or defanged by the government. It didn’t always seem to be heading that way.
The Cambodian People’s Party (CPP), which has been in power since being installed in 1979 by the Vietnamese government, was initially led by Hun Sen, a former Khmer Rouge soldier who became prime minister — and whose family and associates have ruled Cambodia for nearly four decades.
In the early days of the government, a thriving independent media ecosystem was allowed to develop, and experts say Cambodia had been making progress since the 1991 Paris Peace Agreements and the resumption of democratic elections in 1993.
But that progress began to backslide, starting with a CCP-led coup in 1997, followed by a series of dramatic political developments over the years that saw the crackdown on press freedom expand beyond Khmer- language outlets to French- and English-language media.
Neil Loughlin, senior lecturer in comparative politics at the City University of London, said the current ruling party has “effectively dismantled the formal political opposition and shown that criticizing the government is dangerous, making it very risky for those who might want a different Cambodia in the future.”
“Cambodia now isn’t a democracy in any meaningful way,” Loughlin added.
Hun Sen initiated a brutal crackdown on the press in 2017, an effort that experts say has continued under his son, Hun Manet, who succeeded his father as prime minister in 2023.
According to RSF’s Aleksandra Bielakowska, Hun Sen’s initial crackdown led to the forced shutdown of several radio stations and newspapers, culminating in February 2023 with Voice of Democracy (VOD) being forced to close, a move that the RSF said had “dealt a near-fatal blow to the country’s independent media environment.”
VOD was not the only outlet forced to shut down. Dozens of local media had their licenses revoked, reporters have been arrested — often on similar allegations as those leveled against Dara — and some journalists have fled the country or stopped using a byline.
Other news organizations — such as The Cambodia Daily, where Dara and I had worked — saw the government levy hefty bills for allegedly unpaid taxes, which the editors said were not based on financial audits but were politically motivated. In the case of the Daily, the bill was for more than $6 million, forcing the newspaper to cease operations. And the owner of the Phnom Penh Post had to sell that paper after the government levied a tax bill against it for nearly $4 million dollars.
Rethinking His Calling
Before his recent arrest, Dara had had his fair share of trouble reporting on sensitive and dangerous issues, including environmental stories, deadly protests, and murders of prominent government critics. He had been beaten during protests, including once when he was attacked with a large rock. During another protest, he saw a man get shot and transported him to a hospital on his motorbike. Dara had even been detained previously, in 2022, while covering a cyber scam story in Sihanoukville.
Through it all, he maintained his passion for journalism. He loved news in all its forms, and was even a big fan of John Oliver’s show, “Last Week Tonight.” He recounted his joyous daily routine as a reporter: waking up early, hopping on his trusty Honda Dream motorcycle, and heading for breakfast at the noodle shops, where steam rose from pots of broth and motorbike taxi drivers and street vendors swapped gossip over coffee.
This recent arrest changed his mind.
He is haunted by memories of sitting in a dank jail cell in an orange jumpsuit, crammed in with 100 other inmates in conditions so overcrowded that detainees slept next to each other in side profile, or with their knees up.
He recalled being moved from cell to cell, seeing inmates beat one another, and bodies being carried out of the jail — dead or alive, he did not know. Two people died in the cell next to his, Dara said.
It made him think hard about his life, he added, especially his family — and his mother having to live in constant fear for his safety.
The pressure became so intense, Dara said, that he made his confession to authorities in hopes of getting released.
“I’ve seen that life there was miserable. I was lucky because [my case] got a lot of attention, but some don’t have anyone to care for them,” Dara said.
“My body is safe, but my mind was affected, seeing the surroundings.”
While sitting at home recovering from his ordeal, Dara told me how his prison experience had worsened physical and mental health issues he had already been suffering from the last few years. His health had deteriorated, and he was having trouble sleeping. “Sometimes, it’s too much,” he said. “I want to take my own life.”
Although Dara said he would not consider “running away from the issue” by seeking asylum, he did not think he could endure another prolonged incarceration.
“I really respect those who sacrificed years in jail for the interests of the country and the people,” Dara said. “They are amazing. I could not do that.”
He added that many friends and colleagues had been urging him to stay in the fight. “People don’t want me to quit journalism,” Dara said. “But I think it’s enough.”
