The outside world may not know much about Cambodia, our history or our people, but the mention of Angkor Wat often brings immediate recognition — her majestic towers, intricate carvings and breathtaking scale, built nearly nine centuries ago. She stands as enduring testimony to a civilisation of remarkable sophistication in architecture, engineering, art and urban planning.
When visitors from around the world stand before her in awe, they are admiring the imagination, ingenuity and innovation of our Khmer ancestors. This is the legacy our ancestors built and passed down to us. What will be the legacy of our generation for those who follow?
There is tremendous pride in that inheritance, but also a sobering lesson from history. The civilisation that built Angkor Wat once extended far beyond the Cambodia we know today. Centuries of war, division, foreign intervention and shifting borders left us with a much smaller motherland.
There is no one to blame; the past is the past. What matters now is what we choose to carry forward. Our culture, traditions and identity endure only if we preserve them and pass them on. That is the responsibility our generation has inherited.
As a people, we have been through so much — war, upheaval, displacement and unimaginable suffering. Lives were lost, families were fractured and entire communities vanished. Some remained at home and rebuilt from the ruins, while others were forced to flee and begin again in faraway lands.
Yet each time we were knocked down, somehow we found the strength to rise again. This is the spirit I love most about our people. We were wounded, but we endured. We were scattered across the globe, but wherever we went, we rebuilt our lives, raised our families and carried our Khmer identity with us.
Survival alone cannot be the legacy of our generation
Our parents and grandparents taught us how to survive. They rebuilt from almost nothing, often in unfamiliar places and gave their children opportunities they themselves never had. Many Khmer people have gone on to succeed in remarkable ways.
But perhaps the next step in our journey is not simply to see how far each of us can rise individually. It is to see how high we can rise together. I include myself in this reflection. What if we measured our success not only by what we achieved, but also by whom we helped along the way?
What if the same determination we used to build our own lives were used to mentor a young person, share an opportunity, support someone’s dream or simply reach back and help another person rise?
It breaks my heart to see the things that sometimes divide us — politics, wealth, status, education, geography, jealousy and even personal differences that we allow to become larger than they should be. We may disagree deeply about what is right for Cambodia and how to get there, and each of us walks a path that others may never fully understand. Yet beneath all these differences, we share something much deeper.
We are Khmer. We carry the same history, inherit the same culture and share many of the same hopes — for peace, dignity, opportunity, happiness and a better future for our children. Unity does not require us to think alike or agree on everything. Perhaps it simply asks us to see the humanity in one another, to celebrate rather than resent another person’s success, and, when we are fortunate enough to climb higher, to reach back and help someone else rise.
Before our politics, our status, our geography or our differences, we are Khmer — and we belong to one another.
Perhaps the most important place to begin is with ourselves. There will always be things beyond our control, but there is also so much that each of us can do, wherever we are and with whatever we have. Governments and leaders have their responsibilities, but we have ours, too.
US President John F. Kennedy once challenged his fellow Americans: “Ask not what your country can do for you—ask what you can do for your country.”
Perhaps we Khmer can ask ourselves the same question: What can I do, with what I have, from where I am? Whom can I help? Whom can I lift up? We do not need wealth, power, position or permission to make a difference. We do not have to wait for someone else to begin.
We can begin with ourselves. We can begin with one another. And we can begin today.
Our generation is called upon to build something different — not another monument of stone, but a kinder, more compassionate and more united Khmer people.
Imagine if each of us reached out to just ten other Khmer people, and supported, encouraged, mentored or simply believed in them, and those ten did the same for ten more. One becomes ten, ten become a hundred and a hundred become thousands, creating a human network bound not by politics, class, geography or status, but by our shared responsibility for one another.
That is a bond no border, hardship or outside pressure can easily break.
At a time when events along our borders remind us how fragile peace can be, perhaps we need one another more than ever. Let the world continue to marvel at the magnificent temples and monuments our ancestors left behind, but let them also come to know the Khmer people of our generation for something equally enduring: our character, our compassion, our courage and the way we stood together and lifted one another.
Our ancestors built monuments of stone. Let the monument of our generation be one another.
Professor Danith H. Ly, is a director at the Department of Chemistry, Carnegie Mellon University, in Pittsburgh, the US. The views and opinions expressed are his own.