Corruption and the New Airport in Phnom Penh

Phnom Penh’s Techo International Airport opened in September 2025 with great fanfare. Inaugurated by government officials and presented as a symbol of Cambodia’s modernization, it is a $2 billion project designed to handle 13 million passengers in its first phase, with plans to expand to 30 million and eventually 50 million. On paper, it positions Cambodia alongside regional aviation hubs. In practice, it has become a lightning rod for controversy, illustrating the country’s chronic issues with governance, corruption, and misaligned priorities. Beneath the gleaming terminal, marble floors, and runways capable of handling the largest aircraft lie stories of land grabs, displacement, questionable financial arrangements, and a stark mismatch between ambition and reality.

Ownership and Operational Control

Techo International Airport was developed by the Overseas Cambodia Investment Corporation (OCIC), a conglomerate owned by tycoon Pung Kheav Se, long known for close ties to the ruling Cambodian People’s Party. The project was financed largely through a loan from the China Development Bank, giving China a near-controlling stake in the venture. Construction was undertaken by China’s Third Engineering Bureau Group, while British firm Foster + Partners provided the architectural design. The political and financial entanglements ensure that this airport is as much a tool of influence and wealth consolidation as it is infrastructure.

For years, the French multinational VINCI Airports operated Cambodia’s main airports, including Phnom Penh, Siem Reap, and Sihanoukville, under long-term concession agreements. VINCI had invested in upgrading terminals, security, and navigation systems. Yet with the announcement of Techo International Airport, Cambodia disrupted that balance. The government terminated parts of VINCI’s concession, effectively sidelining the company while simultaneously inviting them back to manage operations on a limited basis. This compromise allowed the government and Chinese financiers to retain ultimate control while maintaining some continuity in operations. The result is a delicate balance, but it exposes the underlying reality: decisions were made to serve political and financial interests rather than public necessity.

Land Rights and Compensation Issues

Perhaps the most immediately visible controversy has been land acquisition. Techo International Airport occupies roughly 2,600 hectares across Kandal and Takeo provinces, areas historically devoted to agriculture. For generations, farmers in these districts cultivated rice, vegetables, and fruit, providing not just food but livelihoods for entire communities. Many families had been on these plots since the late 1970s, surviving decades of upheaval only to be confronted with eviction in the name of progress.

Compensation was offered at rates as low as one dollar per square meter, a sum that residents described as insulting. Some households demanded three to five dollars per square meter, citing the land’s productivity and market value, but these claims were largely ignored. Estimates suggest around 2,000 households were displaced, with inadequate alternatives provided. Villagers report that bulldozers arrived before formal agreements were signed, uprooting not just crops but homes and community structures.

One farmer, Thach from Takeo, said, “How can we accept that? If they pay only one dollar per square meter, what can we do with this size? We cannot buy another farm. We cannot live.” These words encapsulate the wider resentment. The airport may be celebrated in glossy PR images, but for these communities, it represents loss, broken promises, and the imposition of elite interests over ordinary lives.

Capacity vs. Demand

The government markets Techo International Airport as a hub for international flights, capable of propelling Cambodia into the ranks of regional aviation giants. Yet the numbers tell a different story. Phnom Penh’s older airport processed 4.75 million passengers in 2024, with the entire country welcoming approximately 6.7 million international tourists. Even the Siem Reap-Angkor International Airport, opened in 2023 with a capacity for seven million passengers, has struggled to attract significant numbers. These airports, individually and collectively, risk becoming white elephants.

This mismatch is not accidental. Cambodia’s leadership frames massive infrastructure projects as symbols of progress and tools of political patronage. Large construction contracts funnel money to elite networks, consolidate influence, and provide leverage with foreign partners, particularly China. The country did not require a 10-million-capacity airport last year, and it certainly does not need one now. Yet ambition, vanity, and vested interests combined to push a project that serves financial and political goals rather than public utility.

Tourism Policy and Visa Fees

If the government genuinely wanted to grow tourism, it could have implemented cheaper, more impactful reforms. Cambodia continues to charge a $30 visa fee on arrival. Neighboring countries have eased restrictions and waived fees for many nationalities, attracting far more visitors. The elimination of visa fees alone could have boosted arrivals more effectively than any new runway or terminal. Instead, funds were diverted to grandiose construction projects, while simple policy changes that could serve ordinary citizens’ and tourists’ interests were ignored.

Travel analysts point out that tourism is less about infrastructure and more about accessibility and experience. Cambodia markets itself aggressively as a tourist destination, yet enforcement of visa fees, limited flight connections, and expensive internal transport undermine these efforts. Techo International Airport addresses none of these structural problems; it simply provides a physical space for planes to land. If those planes have nobody to board them, or even if the Kingdom becomes a transit point, it is still an egotistical failure.

Timeline of the Airport Project

June 2020: Groundbreaking of Techo International Airport. The project was announced as a $1.5 billion venture backed by OCIC and Chinese financiers.

2021–2022: Construction progresses amidst rising tensions with local communities over land compensation. Reports emerge of forced evictions and undervalued payouts.

2024: Negotiations with VINCI Airports over operational rights intensify. The Cambodian government terminates parts of VINCI’s concession but later agrees to a compromise that allows VINCI to manage daily operations at Techo.

Early 2025: Construction completion reaches over 90 percent, with reports that total expenditures have risen to approximately $2 billion.

September 2025: Official inauguration of Techo International Airport. Media coverage highlights modern terminals and potential for growth, but civil society and local farmers remain critical of displacement and governance practices.

White Elephant Risks and Political Economy

Techo International Airport exemplifies Cambodia’s paradoxical approach to development. Leadership often frames projects as national progress, yet the real beneficiaries are elites and foreign partners. Contracts funnel resources into private hands, while ordinary citizens bear the costs. Farmers are displaced, public funds are diverted, and tourism policy stagnates. The airport is less about necessity and more about political patronage.

Moreover, the airport demonstrates how Cambodia balances its international partnerships. Chinese financing dominates the venture, ensuring influence and long-term leverage. France’s VINCI Airports retains a role, but only in a reduced operational capacity. Such arrangements reflect a government keen to extract benefits from multiple partners while retaining political control. Infrastructure, in this sense, is inseparable from power dynamics.

The $2 billion spent on Techo could have had a far more immediate impact if directed toward infrastructure projects that directly benefit residents, such as improved roads, better public transport, water systems, or digital connectivity. Even small adjustments, such as eliminating visa fees, would have a measurable effect on tourism, creating broader economic benefits without displacing thousands of households or indebting the nation.

Conclusion

Techo International Airport is a cautionary tale. It showcases Cambodia’s ambition, but also its governance failures. Land grabs, inadequate compensation, political maneuvering over operational control, and a fundamental misalignment between capacity and demand reveal a project designed for the few, not the many. While the airport stands as a gleaming symbol of modernity, it is also a monument to the political economy of fiefdoms: where elites profit, ordinary citizens are displaced, and long-term strategic thinking is subordinated to short-term gain.

In the end, Cambodia could have prioritized policies that genuinely grow tourism, protect citizens, and build infrastructure that serves practical needs. Instead, it built a colossal structure whose emptiness mirrors the disconnect between government rhetoric and ground realities. Techo International Airport is not just an airport; it is a reflection of Cambodia itself—ambitious, politically entangled, and profoundly unequal.