Cambodia's Innocence for sale

Ethnic discrimination fuels a vile trade

THE virginity trade can sound as innocuous as the clink of ice in a glass. Roving young women equipped with ice buckets and tongs have long been a fixture of Cambodia's karaoke parlours. Now scores of “ice-pickers” are being groomed to supply a thriving market for virgins.

Capitalising on an influx of foreign visitors, Cambodia has become the region's prime destination for purchasing “unbroken” under-age girls. Among the foreign clientèle, the vast majority are Asian nationals: Chinese, Korean, Thai, and Japanese men who believe that deflowering a virgin will rejuvenate and purify them.

Meeting the demand is a growing number of ethnic Vietnamese—a group historically reviled by the ethnic-Khmer majority, but prized by the visitors for their pale complexions. Though ethnic-Vietnamese are estimated to make up no more than about 5% of Cambodia 's population—the government has never issued official figures—they represent almost one-third of virginity sales, according to “Ties That Bind”, a new study by the International Organisation for Migration (IOM).

Helen Sworn, of the Chab Dai Coalition, a network of Christian anti-trafficking groups, says that some are still trafficked across the border. But most are Cambodian-born daughters of Vietnamese migrants who arrived in the 1980s and 1990s, lured by the prospect of jobs. Many migrants have instead fallen into debt. They suffer discrimination from Khmers, who associate the newcomers with centuries of Vietnamese colonisation.

Entire families have chosen to build their livelihoods around the country's sex industry. “It's the bread-and-butter of daily life,” says one Vietnamese woman who sold her 14-year-old daughter to a brothel. “Most of us think it's just a job, a career to earn our living...And the girls try to do whatever their parents tell them.”

Such sordid realities were once in plain view, when notorious red-light districts were in full swing on the outskirts of Phnom Penh. But nearly four years ago, Hun Sen, the prime minister, led a much-publicised campaign to curb brothels. Resourceful traffickers, madams and pimps responded by pushing low-end sex work underground and infiltrating more up-market hotels, casinos and bars. So Keo Thea, of the Phnom Penh police's anti-trafficking division, says it is now harder to trace traffickers and their victims. “We need to dress our officers up like businessmen to reach them.”

Unlike in a dingy brothel, work in a boisterous karaoke parlour can appear to be voluntary. The girls are not locked up by managers who arrange to sell their virginity. But recruiters still routinely use deception and force, says the IOM, and the proportion of under-age girls is far higher, particularly among ethnic Vietnamese.

The repugnance the trade provokes among both local authorities and international aid donors has helped expedite the progress of a much-delayed anti-trafficking bill. Its passage would bring Cambodian law closer in line with international norms. Given the complicity of Cambodian officials in the sex industry, this would be no small accomplishment.

But such forward momentum is also undercut by Cambodians' popular disgust for the ethnic Vietnamese and the political acrimony they inspire. The migrants are routinely demonised by the opposition Sam Rainsy Party.

“They're an easy scapegoat,” says J.K. Reimer, a consultant to anti-trafficking groups in Phnom Penh. “There is the perception that Khmers have a higher standard of purity than Vietnamese—that the Vietnamese are selling their daughters, but the Khmers are not.”

San Arun, a senior official in the Women's Affairs Ministry, says the government holds no bias against trafficked Vietnamese. She cites an agreement with Vietnam to protect all victims, whatever their status. But without more concerted intervention, says Ms Reimer, the community risks becoming more ghettoised. The supply of girls—and the rings that traffic them—will be unbroken.