IN THE capital everyone still loyal to Hun Sen, Cambodia’s long-serving prime minister, was putting on a brave face. This was, after all, a time for cross-border backslapping to mark the 35th anniversary of the Vietnamese invasion of Cambodia which drove out Pol Pot and his murderous Khmer Rouge and installed a new government—the same one that rules today.

Ordinary Cambodians, however, were locked out of festivities carefully stage-managed by the Cambodian People’s Party (CPP) near the banks of the Mekong river in Phnom Penh. More than 20,000 schoolchildren, senior military officials and hand-picked members of the party faithful applauded on cue as Heng Samrin, an elder of the CPP, spoke of the harmonious and vibrant society that emerged back in 1979, following decades of war. Mr Hun Sen smiled and waved.

But he kept resolutely quiet about what is going on in his country today. At few points in his 30 years of rule has Cambodia been tenser. In particular he made no mention of his crackdown on dissent this month in which five people were killed and another 20 injured. It brought to a sudden halt months of protests—by the opposition Cambodian National Rescue Party (CNRP), by striking garment-workers from the factories around Phnom Penh, and by people objecting to land grabs by developers close to the government which had left them homeless.

The three strains of dissent were galvanising into a single force. Rallies of more than 60,000 were becoming common, with unions pushing to double the minimum wage (to $160 a month) as the CNRP continued to call for Mr Hun Sen’s resignation. They regard him as guilty of rigging last July’s general election.

Like Mr Hun Sen himself, most of the local media championed the Vietnamese victory of decades ago and ignored the repression of Cambodians today. However, footage shot by protesters and journalists went viral on social media. Even in the provinces, villagers watched images of the violence against the garment-workers. In addition to those killed and wounded, at least another 28 protesters have been detained; many more went into hiding after government thugs smashed their way through Freedom Park, a zone in the heart of the capital where demonstrators had established a semi-permanent base.

Two leaders of the CNRP, Sam Rainsy and Kem Sokha, have been summoned to appear in court. Meanwhile, general repression orders have been extended. Public gatherings of ten or more people have been banned, and universities have told students not to hold political rallies or even take part in “sensitive political discussion”. The army and police, wearing riot gear and brandishing automatic weapons, are out in the streets.

After more than $100 billion in foreign aid and two decades of oversight by the UN, the future for Cambodian democracy now looks uncertain. Some in the ruling party say that the usual democratic processes, including the right to demonstrate and perhaps even a working parliament, will be suspended until the next election, not due until 2018.

The economy is teetering, too. Foreign garment-makers such as Levi Strauss, Puma and Gap are among the brands reviewing their options following the violence against Cambodian workers. Combined, foreign firms have bought more than $5 billion-worth of Cambodian-made garments over the past year. The industry contributes around a third of the government’s annual budget.

For now, labour unions have told their members to return to work, and further street protests have been called off. Mr Sam Rainsy, for his part, is ignoring his summons. He vows to organise the anti-government forces into myriad small groups and spread them out across the countryside where they would be harder to detect and suppress.

This will not please Mr Hun Sen. His distaste for any form of dissent runs deep. But this month’s show of force will only sap the strongman’s popularity further. It was already declining: despite using all its resources at the most recent election to produce a good showing, Mr Hun Sen’s party lost a humiliating number of seats. The prime minister’s crackdown now will win him few friends. Away from events touting the glories of his party’s past, smiling faces will be rare.