Thailand and Cambodia, two nations that have repeatedly displayed cordiality in ASEAN forums, are now accusing each other with bullets, not words. We seem to be returning to the politics of trenches and fences, where national borders are determined by who can hold out on a hillside the longest, not by peacefully established legal lines. In this grim choreography, ASEAN seems like an orchestra without a conductor. Each player still holding the score, but no one knowing when to start or where to stop.

ASEAN, once hailed as a cornerstone of peace in Southeast Asia, now drifts uncertainly as mortar shells fall along its member states’ borders. In meetings, its leaders speak of harmony and consensus. But at Preah Vihear, silence reigns louder than principle.

ASEAN is not lacking in principles. It has a Charter, a Treaty of Amity and Cooperation (TAC) and a lexicon rich with promises of peace. But those documents sit dust-covered in drawers while the very peace they once pledged lies fractured at a border. What is the point of a grand house if its doors remain closed to neighbors at war?

This is not to say ASEAN is devoid of intent, but it suffers from a lack of tools. The much-vaunted Troika mechanism, where three neutral states might intervene, has remained largely theoretical. Its High Council, enshrined in the TAC, exists mostly on paper.

But papers, no matter how finely worded, cannot substitute for action. There are no enforcement mechanisms, no binding decisions and most responses end in polite appeals. The ASEAN way, in moments like this, feels closer to ASEAN delay.

And while the mortars fall and ASEAN says little, the world watches. So too do its people. For Indonesians, thousands of whom live and work in both Cambodia and Thailand, this is not a geopolitical abstraction. It is personal. They are not passive observers in diplomatic circles. They are vulnerable.