Gun Jompalang: The Grey Zone of Influencers and Warfare in the Thai-Cambodia Conflict

When Malaysia brokered a ceasefire between Thailand and Cambodia in July 2025, many hoped the guns would finally fall silent along the border. Instead, new noises have filled the frontlines: the hum of drones, the whir of smartphones, and, in one surreal moment, the wail of “ghost sounds” blasted across the Cambodian side. The source of these sonic bursts was not a military psychological operations unit, but someone who goes by “Gun Jompalang”. Roughly translated from Thai as “Gun the Superpower”, Gun is possibly Thailand’s most controversial self-styled social media influencer. In an age when social media often shapes public sentiment faster than any press release, influencers have become powerful intermediaries between the Thai state, soldiers, and people’s screens. 

Gun’s rise from online crusader to battlefield personality reflects a striking shift in how wars are waged and witnessed. Calling himself a “justice crusader” with nine million followers on Facebook alone, Gun is apparently followed for his patriotic stunts and “justice missions”. He has made himself a fixture along the Thai-Cambodian border since the latest conflict broke out in May 2025. 

Gun’s popularity rests on his direct, performative patriotism. Through livestreams, short videos, and Facebook posts, he has chronicled at least 30 visits to different border towns, delivering supplies and tactical gear to frontline troops, reportedly paid for by public donations. His supporters praise him for acting more quickly than the Thai military, as the military is subject to a slow procurement process. In a sense, Gun fills a logistical gap, but this ‘efficiency’ is what makes him controversial – he operates outside any chain of command and is answerable to his followers but not to the laws of war. 

His presence on the border marks a disquieting evolution in how modern conflicts can unfold. In the past, battle frontlines were the domain of soldiers and authorised journalists but today, they have sometimes become stages for ‘influencers’ whose actions blur the boundaries between humanitarianism, nationalism, and spectacle. Their involvement in crisis or conflict zones poses urgent legal and ethical questions: when a so-called influencer crosses into a conflict zone, are they doing so as a private citizen (of any warring party), a media outlet, or an unauthorised combatant?

This influencer has trodden a thin line between humanitarian assistance and the militarisation of his influence. When Gun allegedly used loudspeakers on 12 October 2025 to project “ghost sounds” into Cambodian villages, it was more than a prank. His act arguably crossed into the territory of psychological operations (psyops), tactics that militaries use to scare civilians or demoralise troops on the enemy’s side. International humanitarian law (IHL) strictly prohibits the targeting of civilians: Cambodia’s Human Rights Commission, NGOs, and Thai human rights defenders have condemned Gun’s act as intimidatory, noting that his broadcasts spread panic among internally displaced persons (IDPs) sheltering near the border. 

Gun’s rise from online crusader to battlefield personality reflects a striking shift in how wars are waged and witnessed.

This episode exposes a deeper governance and applicability gap in the international law surrounding contemporary warfare. Traditional IHL frameworks, such as those enshrined in the Geneva Conventions, assume that states and their militaries are the primary actors in war. However, influencers like Gun occupy a murky or unclear legal and ethical space since they are neither soldiers nor journalists, and not even formally contracted private actors. These influencers’ participation in conflict spaces does not fit neatly within existing frameworks such as the Montreux Document or the Tallinn Manuals. 

This ambiguity raises thorny questions about attribution and responsibility. If an individual, such as an influencer, supplies troops, disseminates propaganda, or conducts psyops, the question of attribution arises. Could their conduct be linked to the state, thereby triggering state responsibility under international law? Could the individual be considered a direct participant in hostilities and thus forfeit the protection traditionally offered to civilians in wartime? These are not theoretical puzzles but the emerging realities of digitally mediated conflict, on which the existing provisions or customary rules of IHL are silent or insufficient. 

What makes this new frontier especially perilous is the logic of the attention economy used by social media giants. The more dramatic the footage from an influencer, the greater the engagement. By extension, revenue follows. In such an ecosystem, patriotism becomes performance. Gun’s supporters argue that he provides morale and material support when the state cannot. In a sense, he performs a civic function by raising awareness, galvanising domestic (Thai) audiences, mobilising resources, and humanising soldiers. However, critics point out that Gun’s viral videos risk inflaming Thai nationalist sentiment and hardening public attitudes at a delicate diplomatic moment. His acts may risk undermining the ceasefire agreement and expose more civilians to harm. 

What can be done? First, the Thai government should clarify its regulations governing civilian participation in defence operations, including transparency requirements for any individuals crowdfunding and donating to the armed forces. Second, social media firms should enforce stricter vetting and more robust content moderation in conflict contexts. The deployment of brief bans or social media ‘blackouts’ in contentious times that was ubiquitous during the recent anti-government protests in Nepal and Indonesia, for instance, were arguably political cop-outs, shielding these platforms from problems with their host governments and doing the due diligence of content moderation and risk monitoring. Finally, ASEAN can begin drafting a regional code of conduct for digital actors in crisis settings to acknowledge that the influencer economy is now part of the conflict landscape. 

Gun Jompalang may see himself as a Thai patriot, not a provocateur. However, his fame has crossed into a real conflict zone; he might have crossed the line between helping and harming. If Thai and regional policymakers fail to quickly address this grey zone, the next ceasefire may not be broken by gunfire, but by a livestream.

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