Facebooking

Introduction

This article explores the political activities of young Cambodians on Facebook, which have become a ubiquitous part of daily life since the 2013 national election. Perhaps the most impressive feat of these new behaviours is the keen attention and engagement they have elicited from government. The explosive growth of internet subscriptions ¹ and deepening smartphone penetration ² provide the infrastructural mechanisms for the rise of new forms of civic engagement. Yet a more critical factor is the political opening that followed the electoral disappointment of the ruling Cambodian People’s Party’s (CPP). With its parliamentary majority reduced from 98 to 66 of 123 seats, the 2013 election can be considered a watershed moment in Cambodia’s political development given the party’s past landslide victories and monopoly of political power since the collapse of the Khmer Rouge regime in 1979. The outcome points to the unravelling of the electoral base that the party had controlled through a sophisticated combination of coercion, co-option (Craig and Pak, 2011; Hughes, 2006; Un, 2005), material development and appeals to collective historical memory. The electoral change propelled the CPP government to adapt its political strategy through a series of reforms. ³ A highlight of the revised strategy is the way government espouses Facebook as a means to connect with society. The initiative was formalised in October 2015 when Prime Minister Hun Sen endorsed a Facebook page that had long been thought to belong to him. Since then the Prime Minister has integrated Facebook into the conduct of government business by encouraging people to convey to him their grievances or requests. He also instructed government ministries to form Facebook working groups (krom ka-ngea Facebook) to monitor and address comments on his Facebook page.

Young Cambodians who were already active on Facebook, primarily for information seeking and networking (Phong et al., 2016), have capitalised on the government’s strategic turn. In Cambodia, youth is formally defined as persons between the ages of 15 and 30. Almost two-thirds of the population are under the age of 30, and the youth cohort constitutes more than one third. Such demography makes Cambodia the most youthful country in Southeast Asia (UNFPA Cambodia, 2016). The number of active Facebook users in Cambodia stood at 3.4 million in 2016 compared to just over one million in 2013. Facebook users between the ages of 18 and 34 amount to 80 percent of the total, and even more if those from 13 upwards are included. Thirty percent of Facebook users have attended university (Geeks in Cambodia, 2016). Facebook activism is hence very much a youth-driven phenomenon. This does not mean, however, that the activities of older Facebook users are irrelevant. Indeed, many well-known Facebook activists are older Cambodians. The range of viral Facebook posts explored in this article inevitably involves users across age groups. The specific reference to youth merely reflects their significance as the largest social group on Facebook. As we go on to elaborate later in this article, size is an essential attribute that defines everyday politics. The crowd effect of spontaneous and unstructured activities is possible only through the collective actions of this dominant group of young people.

Nurtured by the twin processes of political opening and socioeconomic modernisation, the emergent political arena stands in sharp contrast to young people’s narrow involvement in formal organisations such as community groups, youth associations and other civil society organisations. ⁴ Unlike formal organisations that carry rigid structures and rules and expect long-term commitment, online political activities in the form of clicking ‘like’ and ‘share’ or mocking government policies are a part of everyday life experience that can be undertaken spontaneously in the private sphere. But from another perspective, Cambodian youth may have fallen into the trap of ‘slacktivism’. As politically orientated online activities expand, there is an ongoing debate about the role of social media in civic participation. Critics refer to these activities as slacktivism: ‘a feel-good online activism that has zero political or social impact…for a lazy generation’ (Morozov, 2009). This view calls into question the effectiveness of online activism in demanding change, and at the same time argues that it derails attention away from the traditional conception and practice of citizen engagement and substitutes it for shallow commitments underpinned by narcissism. This line of argument is predicated upon the fundamental assumption that effective political activism requires centralised leadership, real-time participation and constant confrontation with the state. This assertion is challenged by proponents of online activism, who tend to value decentralised leadership and the loose nature of online activism and its efficiency in mobilising support for social and political activism.

This article aims to contribute to the debate about online activism from the perspective of everyday politics. Drawing on the experience of subaltern social groups, everyday politics emphasises quotidian, spontaneous behaviours without structured organisation or clear leadership. From peasants’ everyday resistance and modification (Kerkvliet, 2009; Scott, 1985), to quiet encroachment by the urban poor (Bayat, 2013) and the electoral impact of local discourse (Walker, 2008), analyses of everyday experience can help ground a rethinking of what counts as political activism, and how seemingly mundane actions can be politically consequential. The remainder of the article develops this two-fold argument in the Cambodian context. The next section reviews in more depth the debate between detractors and advocates of online activism. An elaboration of everyday politics to qualify the political nature of the Facebook activities of Cambodian youth follows. The empirical sections then provide data and examples of Facebook’s constructive role in promoting conventional political participation and inducing government response to public criticism.

The debate

Critics contend that not only is social media activism ineffective in producing political change, but it also diverts citizens’ attention away from offline political participation, the engagement paradigm that is more efficacious in furthering political preferences. Among the early sceptics is Robert Putnam (2001), who warns about the decline in North America’s social capital as a result of the individualisation of leisure via the internet, including online forms of political participation. Putnam contends that this mode of civic engagement demeans the essence of real-time civic participation, which is fundamental to sustaining democracy (Putnam, 2001; Putnam et al., 1994).

Through the use of the term ‘slacktivism’, contemporary sceptics refer to social media activism whose main function is to make those engaged in it feel useful and important (Morozov, 2009, 2011). This antagonism is an effort to isolate impassionate in-person participation from the online alternative which requires little effort and whose genuine interest is hard to verify. In the same vein, White (2010) coins the notion of ‘clicktivism’ which perpetuates a false consciousness that simply clicking ‘like’ or signing online petitions will solve the world’s problems. He compares clicktivism as a political means to McDonald’s as food, with the former not producing effectiveness and the latter failing to provide life-sustaining nutrients.

Criticism of the ineffectiveness of slacktivism is premised on two assumptions. The first is that impactful political activities have to be carried out by highly centralised and organised collective actors who are committed to the cause and aware of the political significance of their actions (Morozov, 2011). These qualities, or lack thereof, can be determined by the process through which the group is formed and sustained. As Morozov (2011: 196) argues, genuine revolutions champion centralisation and ‘require fully committed leaders, strict discipline, absolute dedication, and strong relationships based on trust’. With digital interventions, the deep commitment required to form collective spirit can hardly be attained. This is because online platforms have made it far too easy for people to express their commitment without having to prove it. Such grouping does not count as willingness to sacrifice themselves to force an issue, and is ineffective in cultivating serious commitment to the cause. ‘The problem with political activism facilitated by social networking sites is that much of it happens for reasons that have nothing to do with one’s commitment to ideas and politics in general, but rather to impress one’s friends’ (Morozov, 2011: 186). Following this line of argument, Gladwell (2010) uses the example of the civil rights movement in the United States, ascertaining the necessity of tight personal connection between activists who share the same passion and show real-time commitment. The centralised and organised nature of the movement facilitated by pre-existing personal relationships and newly developed ones during sit-in protests, he argues, are the attributes of the movement protesting anti-black sentiment in the 1960s.

The second assumption about slacktivism is that only through physical confrontation, entailing street protest and expecting life-threatening danger and arrest, can activism affect political decision-making and succeed in inspiring further movement. Morozov questions as to whether slacktivists or ‘narcissistic campaigners’ have what it takes to make the sacrifices that political life requires, especially in oppressive states, due to the lack of mechanisms to cultivate personality and commitment. Violence or bloody confrontations during the civil rights movement in the United States exemplify a powerful and sincere movement. By degrading such forms of activism, online activism transforms individuals from participants to spectators, and real political activism to ‘an act of passive, harmless personal entertainment’ (Morozov, 2011: 202).

Proponents of social media activism, on the other hand, have come up with new evidence and arguments to highlight the constructive function that social media has in public life. For example, Landman (2008) argues that slacktivists can be well-meaning people who search for an easy way to feel that they are making a difference, which is in itself positive. In this case, there is a net positive in terms of increased civic participation if these people had never before been informed of social and political issues as they are now. As Christensen (2011) puts it, the internet is at worst harmless fun and at best can help invigorate citizenship. Khamis and Alwadi (2015) discuss the relevance of social media to the rise of protests and pro-change movements in the Arab world. From Egypt to Bahrain, the use of social media to mobilise and organise protesters was significant. In Bahrain, the idea of protest to demand political reform and democratic transition originated from the online public forum Bahrain Online. Contrary to critics’ assertion that decentralised leadership as embedded in the structure of online activism lacks the organisation and discipline necessary for effective street protests, Kavada (2010: 104) suggests that this characteristic facilitates the development of transnational, diverse and loosely connected activist networks that are now able to organise protests and wage campaigns ‘without a formal membership base, physical headquarters, or identifiable leaders’. Golkar (2015: 63) concurs that online activism’s function is to replace hierarchy with network, which accelerates group formation. This also sets the stage for a fluid construction of collective identity by reducing ‘linguistic barriers and [by] eliciting strong emotional reactions’ via the use of videos and photos (Kavada, 2010: 107). With regard to political impact, Shirky (2011: 29) warns that ‘attempts to yoke the idea of Internet freedom to short-terms goals – particularly ones that are country-specific or intended to help particular dissident groups or encourage regime change – are likely to be ineffective on average’. In other words, pursuing a short-term perspective vis-a-vis social media politics risks trivialising micro activities that take time to accumulate before their significance becomes visible.

What can be concluded from this brief review is that the concern over the distractive and corrosive effects of social media on traditional forms of civic engagement is overstated. As the experience of the Arab Spring shows, social media was used with great effect to mobilise and coordinate social protests that led to the collapse of repressive political regimes. What is less established in the literature, however, is how social media in itself can exert influence on political decision-making. Existing studies focus on its interventionary role in feeding into social mobilisation. Outside the context of social protest, its political significance is underexplored. Therefore, what we want to achieve in this article is to outline how Facebook activities lead to changes in government behaviours and decisions. In doing so, we argue that Facebook use can engender a political dynamic of its own which is best assessed through the lens of everyday politics, the topic we turn to next.

Facebooking as everyday politics

Underlying the criticism of slacktivism is a macro worldview of politics. By this, we mean a view of politics that prioritises organised activities such as interest group lobbying and civil society advocacy aimed at influencing government policy. More critically, it is a view of politics concerned with structural or revolutionary changes – the social change par excellence (Bayat, 1997) – achieved through contentious mass movements, where participants are willing to risk their safety or their lives for a common cause. For example, Morozov (2011: 199) comments that ‘significant political change requires an embrace not only of conventional politics but of its most hyperactive and brutal elements: arrests, intimidation, torture, and expulsions from universities’. Politics so conceived, however, emphasises explicitly political individuals and organisations, namely politicians, bureaucrats, activists, interest groups or non-governmental organisations, while excluding the vast majority of society and hence a wide array of quotidian and subtle political activities (Kerkvliet, 2009; Scott, 1985).

Drawing upon Scott’s earlier research, Kerkvliet (2002, 2005) broadens the scope of politics to encapsulate informal and everyday practices of discussion, complaint, gossip and criticism revolving around the control, distribution and use of resources. Walker (2008: 87) comments that the novelty of this approach derives from its emphasis on ‘the localised day-to-day debates…rather than the more exceptional cases of mobilisation under the banner of civil society organisations’. In exploring everyday politics in a village in Northern Thailand, he goes a step further by blurring the distinction between everyday politics and formal politics since, he contends, the permeation of formal politics, such as election-related matters within the populace, is so far-reaching that a clear-cut separation of the two spheres is not very meaningful. Bridging the two arenas, Walker (2008: 87) argues that:

…discussions about ‘elections,’ ‘candidates,’ ‘policies,’ and ‘campaigns’ are a regular feature of day-to-day life. Electoral contests are embedded in local social relationships, and values that relate to the day-to-day politics of the village readily spill over into the electoral arena.

Surveying 401 new media users between the ages of 18 and 34 in Cambodia, Chan (2015) finds that expressing political opinions is the most common practice on Facebook and the internet in general. Those opinions encompass an array of social and political issues: border disputes, the repression of political opposition, violations of traffic rules, the suffering of the weak, crime, land conflicts, poor public services, personalisation of public properties and so on (Asia Foundation, 2015). The expression of political views involves liking, discussing and most importantly sharing content such as commentaries, photos and videos, making content go viral as it spreads to an ever widening audience. Several factors underpin youth’s relatively higher willingness to express political opinions on Facebook (Chan, 2015; Pin and Sok, 2014; Thun, 2014). First, they can use privacy settings to minimise the publicity of their political comments, allowing only their Facebook friends or people they trust to access their posts, and thus control their online presence. Second, collective actions of noncollective actors (Bayat, 2013) make individual behaviours more elusive. For example, sharing a Facebook post about a government official’s misdeed leading to the issue ‘going viral’ constitutes a collective projection of loathing. It is a collectivity that while engendered by individuals diffuses attention away from them. Attention instead concentrates on the content generator who is legally responsible if the content or act is deemed illegal. Finally, youths are conscious of the limits to freedom of expression in Cambodia and generally refrain from making controversial political comments that could constitute legal grounds for prosecution. A number of young people, for example, have been arrested for making death threats against government leaders on Facebook.

Everyday politics on Facebook unfolds without structured organisation or clear leadership. Rather, ‘amplifiers’ are central here. These are Facebook pages closely followed by a large number of people who in turn become conduits for the rapid transmission of information. Many of these pages are operated by anonymous individuals or groups, some with more obvious opposition leaning than others, while other pages are operated by supporters of the ruling party who, apart from countering the opposition’s online political campaigns, are also willing to expose misbehaviour within their own ranks deemed detrimental to the party’s reform effort and electoral prospects. These amplifiers supply sensitive and hard-to-obtain information that can easily tap into the emotions of their followers and of the wider audience. ⁷ Some of these information blasts become the themes of everyday talk and newsworthy headlines picked up by both online and traditional media.

Applying the lens of everyday politics, this section sought to accentuate the political dimension of Facebook use in Cambodia. Contrary to the contentious portrayal of politics, politics as it transpires on Facebook represents everyday practices perpetuated by ordinary people or ‘micro-activists’ (Marichal, 2013) amplified by more resourceful social and political activists. The core characteristic of these practices is the propensity to operate at the discursive level by expressing opinions on a variety of political issues that emerge on a daily basis, rather than a deliberate focus on advancing an instrumental goal such as social and political change. For this reason, Marichal (2013) argues that instead of holding them to the standard of traditional activism, these ‘expressive political performances’ should be conceived as ‘micro-activism’ where participants are neither fully-fledged activists nor passive citizens. Emphasising politics as an omnipresent everyday experience, Kerkvliet (2009: 240) contends that politics ‘is not a place or activity that people can opt into or out of’. Although one may not be conscious of it, everyday politics is often ingrained in the routines of making a living, raising a family, coping with daily problems and interacting with others (Kerkvliet, 2009: 232). In short, facebooking needs to be put into proper perspective to appreciate its distinctiveness and assess its significance more objectively. The sections that follow address critical issues raised by opponents of online activism. The first issue concerns the ‘feel good’ effect that renders Facebook a distraction to conventional political participation; and the second one relates to Facebook’s trivial political impact.

Facebooking and offline political participation

Similar to earlier studies, there is evidence pointing to the positive role of Facebook in promoting youth’s conventional political activities in Cambodia. In a web-based survey with 105 Facebook users between the ages of 18 and 30, Thun (2014) finds that Facebook use promoted their participation in the 2013 election and to a lesser extent in post-election street protest. Because the election law does not allow exit polls, we do not have official data about youth voter turnout in the 2013 election. However, an election watchdog points to growing interest in voting among youth, with estimates from a number of provinces that more than 70 percent of youth who were registered to vote went to vote in 2013 (COMFREL, 2013). From qualitative interviews and group discussions with 15 young people in rural Cambodia, Heng and colleagues (2014) similarly observe youth interest in voting.

Thun’s (2014) evidence shows that only a minority of the youths surveyed participated in protest activities in 2013 as a result of Facebook use. Although most of them did not take part in any such activity, their reasons for not doing so were unlike those given by critics of online activism. Most of the study respondents were employees of local and international NGOs and foreign embassies, who, despite their willingness to join protests, were regulated by internal organisational policy. Also, some were government officials who avoided opposition-led protests out of concern for their job security.

More than organisational barriers, the debilitating political atmosphere plays a more critical role in impeding protest activities. An illustrative example is the Black Monday campaign launched by civil society groups to advocate for the release of human rights activists imprisoned for their alleged role in a sex scandal involving CNRP’s president, Kem Sokha. The campaign appealed to sympathisers of the imprisoned activists to wear black shirts every Monday, and to protest in front of the prison until they were released. The call to protest was answered by a group of about 70 social activists, but in the face of political suppression the protest was short-lived. The online campaign, however, was livelier, with some young activists changing their profile pictures to the campaign’s banner and posting photos of themselves wearing black on Mondays. This example suggests that the retreat from street protest was not driven by the ‘wrong impression’ that Facebook is an adequate substitution (Morozov, 2011: 201), but that it is necessitated by unfavourable political conditions, where open and direct confrontations are dangerous. ⁸ As a young activist elaborated:

I know for sure there are lots of young people interested in causes of social justice. But the courage of people within my network and their friends to march in the street or assemble in Freedom Park depends on the political climate at a given time. If it’s high-risk, they don’t participate in person, but take to Facebook. If not expressing their opinions [due to fear of retribution], at least they share [the stories]. ⁹

The power of facebooking

Both critics and supporters of social media activism conceive of its efficacy with respect to its instrumental role in mobilising social protests. This article takes a different tack to capture political effects that arise directly from Facebook use, that is, how politicians or public officials react to viral Facebook posts. ¹⁰ One of the best examples of the power of facebooking involves traffic. This issue was heavily talked about at the beginning of 2016 when the new Land Traffic Law took effect. The new law is a response to the prevalence of road traffic accidents that injure and kill more than 2000 Cambodians every year. To curb this deadly phenomenon, the law puts in place stricter regulations requiring motorists to hold a driving licence, a provision that affects millions of unlicensed drivers. The problem, however, was the high cost incurred by motorbike drivers in obtaining licences. The Prime Minister initially ordered a significant fee reduction. He declared in a Facebook post: ¹¹

I have received comments from people through Facebook requesting help to reduce driving license fees…I have ordered the Minister of Public Work and Transport to suspend the process…I have also ordered the Minister of Economy and Finance to talk with other relevant Ministers to reduce fees and stamp out people’s expense that wastes their money…I hope that the reduction of driving license fees will cut down significantly people’s expense especially for youths in great need of driving licenses…

Another traffic-related Facebook criticism emerged when a report surfaced that the Phnom Penh governor planned to ask the government to ban the import of used cars to control vehicle growth and reduce traffic congestion in the capital. The proposal quickly drew fire from Facebook users. One criticism came from a prominent pro-ruling party Facebook activist who is followed by more than 100,000 Facebook users:

…Traffic jams are not caused by too many used cars but by the authorities selling sidewalks to businesses and being incapable of organising order on the streets. If there is a ban on the importation of used cars it will affect the people with medium and low income travelling…and the government will also lose import tax…What is the percentage of people who can afford new cars with a starting price of $50,000? No one…Please note that traffic jams or accidents are not because of used cars, but because people don’t obey the rules. If there is a lack of capacity to solve the problems please don’t blame used cars…

Facebook virality has also landed some government officials in hot water. In August 2016, an official of the Passport Department was demoted a day after a video went viral showing her checking Facebook on her smartphone while passport applicants were waiting in a queue (Touch and Mech, 2016). A more high-profile case involved an altercation between a Lieutenant General and a traffic police officer. The police officer turned to Facebook to appeal to the Interior Minister to intervene as his superior had suspended him from duty after stopping the general for not observing the traffic lights. A video showing the two quarrelling, with the General seen using derogatory words to belittle the police officer, drew public ire. The incident reached the Prime Minister, who reacted by issuing an order posted on his Facebook page dismissing the General from his position, reasoning that he had disrespected all traffic police officers with his language. The Prime Minister later softened his position by suggesting that the two meet face-to-face and resolve the dispute peacefully. The two obliged and the Prime Minister subsequently nullified his decision (Mech, 2016).

Why do state authorities pay attention to Facebook stories? We argue in this article that the political clout of micro-activities on Facebook stems largely from the sheer number of young people and the electoral consequences of their votes. A product of the youth bulge since Cambodia emerged from war fatigue at the end of the 1980s, 70 percent of the population are under 30 and about one third are between the ages of 15 and 30. Petty acts of these private individuals cultivate forceful public sentiments that feed into political considerations. The beach re-naming incident, for example, would not have drawn reactions from the provincial and national governments if only a handful of people had complained about it. Similarly, the government’s willingness to amend the traffic law was driven by discrete acts multiplied many thousandfold.

Yet unlike peasants’ passive resistance, the power of everyday activities is more institutionalised in the context of electoral contest. The discontent expressed by Cambodian youth can be channelled through their ability to withdraw ‘a crucial contribution on which others depend…’ (Piven and Cloward, 1979: 24), which is, for the ruling CPP, electoral legitimacy. In the 2013 election, youths between the ages of 18 and 30 comprised more than one third of the eligible voters. They exhibit characteristics distinct from the older generations, tending to be less expressive of political gratitude, less susceptible to manipulation and more socially mobile (Hughes, 2015; Un, 2015). What this means is that a significant section of society is ill compatible with a political strategy dominated by gift giving, rural infrastructure development and the imperative of political stability. Young people are more eager to put Cambodia’s tragic past behind them and focus their energy on substantive reforms that lead to concrete improvements in living standards. Hence they are more inclined towards the opposition’s populist policies. Galvanised by its slogan of ‘change’, huge crowds of motorbike-riding, smartphone-carrying young people attended the opposition’s street campaigns in 2013. On voting day, many remained at the polling stations long after they had cast their votes to witness vote counting and ‘guard’ the ballot boxes to prevent electoral fraud. ¹² This political orientation is widely considered a critical factor in the CPP’s electoral slump. Against this backdrop and the looming 2018 parliamentary election, sporadic Facebook-driven government decisions are put out carefully to score political points to strengthen the party’s electoral position. In democratic elections, youths have the institutional means to impose cultivated values on the political agenda at regular intervals. So, unlike historical peasants, Cambodian youth has the opportunity to shorten the time their everyday politics takes to exert major impact.

Measured by the standard of critics, these changes do not seem to matter. Without the revolutionary flare, they are unlikely to be considered to have any ‘political impact’ at all. Yet as Marichal (2013) argues, micro-activism should not be held against such a standard. In the face of popular protests, the state might revise its policies to better align with popular expectation, or enhance incentives to encourage voluntary compliance with policies it wants to retain, or simply use coercion to force compliance. But regardless of how the state responds, cumulative everyday practices have brought about changes in the state’s policy options (Scott, 1985). In other words, state authorities can be driven into cost-benefit analysis of the political price after popular inputs have gained a critical mass. Concern for social instability, incentives for re-election or the need for legitimacy building are behind the state’s willingness to respond to social signals. It is also important to factor in the temporal dimension when considering the influence of everyday politics. Using Scott’s (1985: 36) simile, everyday politics resembles the formation of coral reefs that can wreck the ship of state. But, Scott (1985: 36) observes, ‘whenever…the ship of state runs aground on such reefs, attention is usually directed to the shipwreck itself and not to the vast aggregation of petty acts that made it possible’. The point is that if major policy reforms or transformative social changes do unfold in the long term, chances are that the outcomes can be traced to the seemingly insignificant acts of micro-activists that incubated the momentum for change. Everyday politics refocuses our attention on this much neglected part of political life.

When put into the historical context of Cambodia, in which a recurring pattern of social hierarchy, distance between state and society and deference and obedience to authority has been part and parcel of Khmer state-society relations (Mabbett and Chandler, 1996; Ovesen et al., 1996), the fact that Facebook has been used as a forum to question government decisions and behaviours should be viewed positively. It partially reflects and arguably enlivens subtler sociological changes in rural Cambodia among adults and youth alike. For example, Öjendal and Kim (2006) point to a shift in everyday expressions in rural Cambodia with regard to public authority. Nearly a decade later, insights from field discussions with young people in rural areas reinforce the above argument with regard to a ‘discursive paradigm shift’. Heng et al. (2014: 18) observe that the new discourse of youth surrounding local authorities contains benign terms like neak dassray panhha (problem solvers) and neak damnang (representatives) in addition to still popular hierarchical words of me euv (parents) and anapyeabal (custodians). Some elements of these values are embedded in facebooking when youths show discontent, for example, over government officials’ abuse of their privileges or when youths advocate for government officials’ moral imperative to serve. The widespread accessibility of Facebook has opened up a space where values embedded in everyday discourses can be conveyed, and reinforced when they succeed in influencing political decision-making.

Having said that, the influence of facebooking could still be shallow and subject to political manipulation. Given the incentives for re-election, the so-called government responses can be viewed as merely low-hanging fruits picked skilfully to pacify voters. Most eye-catching perhaps are the Prime Minister’s elaborate act and public statement in relation to paying the traffic fine. With such theatrical politics, the Prime Minister was appealing to people’s aspirations for the rule of law, showing that just like ordinary people he is subject to law enforcement. The performance promotes the Prime Minister as samanh (ordinary), an attribute for which political leaders or public figures are often praised by Facebook users when they display friendly and unrestrained behaviour in public. The imagery of an ordinary leader arguably resonates better with younger people who are more exposed and receptive to modernist and egalitarian concepts of governance (i.e. democracy, rule of law) through their education and information access. The change in language usage among young people alludes to this orientation. For the younger generation, the imagery of neak mean bon (person of merit) constructed by the Prime Minister as a legitimation strategy, which draws on the Buddhist notion of karma (see Norén-Nilsson, 2016: 39–64), would appear backwards and distant. It seems therefore that Facebook as a political space features not only a bottom-up, expressive political activism but also top-down, active construction of political domination.

Conclusion

This article has attempted to put into perspective a new form of state-society interaction mediated by the online platform Facebook. Heavily populated by youth, Facebook has emerged as a remarkable forum for political contestation between supporters and critics of the CPP government, which has (since the 2013 electoral upset) confronted somewhat uncharted regions of the political landscape characterised by a resurgent opposition backed by a new generation of young voters. Outside the election cycles, Facebook use has been extended by youth, including those who might not be conscious of politics, to encompass discourses on myriad everyday issues. In the literature, this form of micro-activism has attracted both criticism and appreciation. Rooted in a traditional political framework, detractors assert that political activism has to be formally organised and confrontational if necessary. Being active in virtual space, or slacktivism, only imbues a false sense of political efficacy that makes individuals feel good but fails to affect political decisions in real life. Advocates, on the other hand, have identified positive contributions of social media to contentious politics, most noticeably the Arab Spring, and at minimum its ability to expand the civic space for would-be activists.

This article concurs with the latter school of thought. But in addition to buttressing the argument on Facebook’s constructive role in political participation, we have explored how facebooking per se has induced changes in government behaviours and decisions. The bottom line is that the everydayness of facebooking is fostering youth’s political awareness and creeping into the government’s political equations. Our analysis shows that online activism in the form of spreading news or expressing opinions on Facebook has had a positive impact on youth’s engagement in conventional political activities, primarily voting. Although the link is tenuous, there is no evidence showing that youths who have been politically active are deserting the traditional arena because they misconstrue Facebook’s effectiveness. And when a massive crowd of young people converge on Facebook, a form of everyday politics is set in motion with important consequences. Online protests such as the naming and shaming of government officials and public outcry over inconsistent policies have succeeded in attracting government attention and to a certain extent in generating a response without enduring physical confrontation with the state. In other words, micro and spontaneous acts of expressing social and political discontent by disparate individuals in large numbers have on occasion succeeded in imposing values on political decision making, which is increasingly bound by electoral incentives following the 2013 election. The change represents progress from the portrayal of youth apathy marked by a loose engagement in formal organisations and from the historical distance between an unaccountable state and a docile society. Although far from revolutionary, our evidence suggests that facebooking can drive political evolution. On the other hand, with its popularity Facebook serves as an ideal platform for staging political theatre. Apart from being influenced, state authorities also seek to influence, incentivised by electoral victory. Government decisions or behaviours in response to online complaints may simply be quick fixes that paper over deep-seated institutional and structural challenges but are satisfactory enough to support re-election efforts. This possibility delimits the power of everyday politics in the short and medium term, although it is more open-ended in the long term. In other words, the Prime Minister may have paid a fine for breaking the traffic law, public officials may have been disciplined for misbehaving and power abuse on the street may have been ridiculed, but institutional breakthroughs are out of reach of the influence of everyday facebooking. As the political order currently stands, young people and others cannot realistically expect that they can facebook the state into major reforms that alter how it functions and relates to society.

Lastly, a few topics for future research are suggested. The analysis touches on our observation that facebooking reflects value change among young people vis-a-vis state authorities. Facebook as an emerging arena for political engagement has become the site for the application of new values (e.g. the consideration of state authorities as people who represent rather than those who control) nurtured by long-term political and socioeconomic change. It would be interesting then to examine the potential of Facebook as common ground for the cultivation of new values by virtue of people’s increasing ease of access to information and preference for online discussion and information sharing. Finally, if this is a study about the bright side of Facebook, it is certainly necessary to study its dark side. So far in this article, information access on Facebook has been taken for granted. While the volume of information promotes exposure to new ideas, important questions need to be asked about the patterns of information consumption and their implications for political attitudes and behaviours. In South East Asia, for example, fake news shared on social media has been blamed for stoking ethnic and political tensions in Myanmar and Indonesia (BBC, 2015; Kwok, 2017). This aspect of facebooking would be a useful research topic to shed further light on the challenges of social media in Cambodia.