Ten years ago this April, five Cambodian human rights defenders were arrested in a case that shook the country’s civil society and made headlines around the world. Staff from the Cambodian Human Rights and Development Association (ADHOC), along with a former official of the National Election Committee, were arrested and imprisoned for assisting in a $204 bribe related to an alleged affair by Kem Sokha, the vice president of the opposition Cambodia National Rescue Party. They were held in prison for 427 days before being released on bail.

It was a politically charged, fabricated allegation. The case was widely seen as a warning to civil society that the government’s tolerance for human rights advocacy in Cambodia had effectively ended.

Many observers have expressed alarm about Cambodia’s shrinking civic space, but I am alarmed that few seem to understand what civil society actually needs to survive. Attention should also focus on the disappearance of the lawyers needed to defend it. This is not simply because lawyers are unwilling to take on human rights cases out of fear. Rather, the entire ecosystem that once supported human rights lawyers has collapsed. Lawyers report widespread harassment and isolation, increasing professional restrictions, and an increase in security risks linked to declining financial support and resources.

Over the past five years, I have repeatedly sounded the alarm about the rapid decline in the number of lawyers able or willing to represent human rights defenders. I have called for urgent action to protect access to justice. These calls have largely gone ignored.

When I have raised these concerns with diplomats who fly in and out of Phnom Penh, the response is often not just dismissive but irresponsible and privileged: “What is the point when the justice system is not independent?” That attitude encapsulates the despairing reality for Cambodian lawyers: the infrastructure meant to protect them is weak, while those with the power and resources to strengthen it fundamentally misunderstand the situation.

Donors often complain about “lack of impact,” but true impact isn’t measured in reports or numbers; it is measured in presence, accountability, and the willingness to stand by those under threat. If donors can afford to train civil society, they can afford to ensure civil society is protected.

This reflects a deeper systemic failure. The international human rights system depends on local defenders to document abuses, sustain advocacy, and give meaning to its institutions. Yet it offers little protection once those defenders become politically inconvenient. Support is often conditional, and attention is always fleeting.

Words of concern continue to flow from diplomatic missions, but there is little action on the ground. Over the past decade, many foreign embassies have issued repeated statements expressing alarm at Cambodia’s shrinking civic space. But for activists living under surveillance, harassment, and intimidation, these declarations have done little to change their reality. Is the United Nations Human Rights Council meant to hold governments accountable?

Former Australian High Court Justice Michael Kirby, the first U.N. special representative for human rights in Cambodia, warned in his 1994 report “Cambodia – Unequal Suffering, Unique Opportunity,” that the country “is struggling to rebuild the infrastructure that will protect human rights. It deserves more support from the international community than mere words. Words are cheap.” Kirby’s words remain painfully relevant today.

The human cost of the government’s crackdown is real. Two of the ADHOC 5 are now professionally marginalized and socially isolated. Their suffering did not end with their release from prison, and a decade later, it continues – long after the international concern for them has faded. For those who remain in the sector, the combination of political risk and deteriorating international support has left them increasingly isolated. Civil society remains dangerously dependent on attention that is fickle and can disappear overnight.

This deterioration did not happen in isolation. The arrests of the ADHOC 5 in 2016 marked the beginning of a dramatic closing of civic space, alongside a withdrawal of international funding and leadership support. This created a perfect storm that severely exposed defenders to government repression. Today, the problem of resources has been compounded by the loss of institutional memory and awareness. Many of those now making funding and strategic decisions affecting Cambodian civil society – particularly at the international level – were not present when the ADHOC 5 were arrested. While they may recognize that the environment is more repressive, international responses are fragmented and they often lack a deeper understanding of how risks manifest in practice and what defenders need to navigate them safely.

At the same time, the country has seen a shrinking of the supporting structure for a flourishing civil society: a cadre of civil society lawyers willing to defend rights defenders, a thriving civic space with sustained funding and protection, the operational space to work safely, and leadership attuned to the real risks defenders face.

The consequences of this neglect are systemic. Civil society lawyers who once defended human rights defenders, including ADHOC 5, are increasingly leaving the profession. Meanwhile, few new lawyers are willing to enter the field, leaving a generational gap in human rights legal defense that cannot be easily filled. Civil society organizations have been forced to stop programs, removing vital accountability from the system. Fear is pervasive.

Cambodian civil society now faces the reality that adequate funding is not coming to sustain key organizations, and some will not survive the year. While donors like the European Union and Australia continue to provide support, the amounts are insufficient to replace the large gaps recently left by the withdrawal of SIDA and USAID, and smaller grants from other governments are administratively burdensome and fail to cover basic operational costs. Moreover, the need to repeatedly apply for small, low-probability, one-year grants consumes time and resources that could otherwise be devoted to human rights work, further weakening civil society’s capacity to operate effectively.

Diplomatic outrage about government crackdowns increasingly appears performative. The mechanisms designed to protect human rights are weakening, and the international system cannot be relied upon to protect those it depends on. The question that now hangs over Cambodia is urgent: if that system and the international community are no longer dependable, who will stand up for human rights?

The international community must move beyond statements of concern to immediate, practical action. Development agencies must prioritize access-to-justice programming over capacity-building workshops that defenders can no longer safely attend.

The anniversary of the ADHOC 5 arrests is a reminder that words without action are useless.