Drawing on STS, anthropological, and geographical studies of infrastructure and extended forms of media theory, this paper examines events and processes unfolding around the Belt and Road Initiative (BRI) in Cambodia as an ontological experiment. The initiate is elicited as a massively distributed arrangement for making futures the contours of which no one can foresee with much precision. After sketching some conflicting diagnoses of the BRI, I turn to its implementation in Cambodia. I move between two coastal towns, Kampot, where its impacts are still barely felt, and Sihanoukville, which has been greatly disrupted. These settings facilitate characterization of the BRI’s scale-making capacities as consequent upon fuzzy relations between the infrastructure core and heterogeneous companions and parasites attaching to the initiative in search of untapped potentials opening at the edges. These complex developments provide the backdrop for a more speculative extrapolation of an infrastructural strategy oriented to emerging potentials. Over time, I suggest in conclusion, this strategy of maturation is likely to have dramatic social, environmental and climatic implications in Cambodia and far beyond.
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Steady drizzle made the prospects of driving up Bokor Hills less appealing than it should have been. Located in Preah Monivong National Park less than an hour from Kampot in southern Cambodia, the hills are covered in green and known for magnificent views. In recent years, they are also known for untrammeled development. Though government owned and officially categorized as “protected,” the site is leased to the Sokimex Group for development and construction, supposedly including hotels, restaurants, golf, and casinos. The winding road up the hills is well-paved, certainly much better than most urban roads in either Kampot or Phnom Penh. There is hardly any traffic in either direction. For brief moments, as rays of sun pierce the clouds, the views are breathtaking. But as we ascend the skies darken and the rain gets heavier. Towards the hilltop, as the landscape plateaus, construction becomes visible. Large areas have been clear-cut, machinery and cranes are left ready for work, and an assortment of buildings protrude. There is the new casino hotel, a massive building fronted by a large empty parking lot. Further on stands the older, smaller one, closed. Rain is now so heavy that we can’t even see five meters ahead, much less down to Kampot. “What do you want to do,” the driver asks, “get out and take pictures of the view?” We laugh together at this suggestion. Amidst the clouds, the abandoned casino, empty hotel, and abandoned machines seem eerie. All that is lacking is the conventional appearance of a ghost. “Nah,” I answer, “but tell me—now it is so empty here but is it always like this? Do you have a lot of Chinese coming here, like in Sihanoukville?” “Not really,” he replies, “everything is pretty quiet, it is as usual.” As we make our way down through the clouds, towards the restaurant boats dotting the riverside in drowsy, central Kampot, I think about his answer, and about how long things will remain like this. I think about infrastructure, politics, business, time, and climate. And I think about the belt and road initiative.
