In an era where cybercrime increasingly dominates the global threat landscape, one particularly insidious form has taken root in Southeast Asia. Scam: Inside Southeast Asia’s Cybercrime Compounds reveals the origins and dynamics of the region’s industrial-scale scam operations. These operations are run out of office compounds by transnational criminal networks and are fuelled by forced labour. Types of scams range from ‘pig butchering’ romance scams, task scams, e-commerce scams, blackmail, investment scams to impersonating law enforcement. Of course, these workers are often held for ransom, with their families pressured to pay for hope of their release. These scam compounds absorb every novel digital technology, utilising sophisticated AI tools, phony crypto exchanges, ChatGPT conversations, and increasingly polished online personas. Yet, behind the screens and phishing emails lies something profoundly archaic: slavery. It is a fluid, international enterprise in which “… a Chinese perpetrator residing in Cambodia trafficked a Filipino individual to deceive a US citizen, using credit cards from Dubai for money laundering.’

People are being trafficked, coerced, or deceived into labour across borders and forced into defrauding people around the world through e-mail, phone, social media and even online multiplayer gaming. After being transported into compounds surrounded by guards and barbed wire, they are then subjected to militaristic discipline, physical abuse, sleep deprivation, stress positions, sexual abuse and psychological manipulation, all to serve as the human machinery behind these scams. This new book by Ivan Franceschini, Ling Li and Mark Bo offers a disturbing investigation into the expansion of these brutal compounds, combining extensive fieldwork, map surveys, financial investigations, survivor interviews, and social media reviews to present one of the most comprehensive portraits yet of this growing form of modern slavery. The authors’ regional expertise and understanding of the social aspects at play is undeniable. Bo and Franceschini have tracked Chinese investment and labour rights abuses in Cambodia since the early 2010s, while Li has worked closely with dozens of survivors since 2022. Throughout the text, the authors interweave their own personal stories and those of friends impacted by the scam industry, adding a human dimension to what might otherwise be a purely academic work.

This grounding enables them to draw out nuanced patterns in how people are recruited and trafficked. For example, they are not all highly educated or digitally literate, contrary to the previous news media portrayals of higher profile victims. Many are economically vulnerable individuals, driven abroad by financial desperation, job loss during the pandemic, or promises of work in industries such as construction, hospitality or office administration. Once recruited through legitimate seeming job ads or a personal referral, complete with professional interviews and onboarding, they are kidnapped, frequently transported across borders, and transported to a compound. One of the more horrifically ingenious methods included hiring people to start work at what appeared to be a normal company, providing training for the fake job and then offering them a “team-building” trip (not uncommon at all in corporate environments in the region) and taking them across borders to the scam compounds. Most victims enter the countries legally, as corrupt immigration and airport authorities work with traffickers. Many sign an employment contract, unaware of what is before them and how it will be later used to say their grievances are a labour dispute rather than human trafficking.

What unfolds is a dystopia. These compounds are often styled as “technology parks,” hiding vast criminal infrastructure behind hotel and casino façades. Victims describe rigid hierarchies, dormitory / prison style living conditions under constant surveillance, and reward systems where those who meet scam quotas may receive bonuses (which will never be enough to buy their freedom, as their ‘employers’ constantly increase the fees related to their meagre housing and food) or access to trafficked women as a “perk.” Violence, torture, malnourishment and sexual assault are commonplace. Rescue attempts are sporadic at best, hampered by corruption, lack of regional cooperation, and language barriers. Police are just as likely to prosecute rescuers and the victims, if they don’t simply hand back any escapees to their captors. In some jurisdictions, laws don’t even recognise men as victims of trafficking, further complicating their ability to seek help. Victims who manage to reach out to their country’s consulates are told to contact the local police and are then isolated and beaten in punishment for seeking to escape. Each chapter is a relentless nightmare of incompetence, disinterest, corruption and evil.

The authors carefully illuminate the economic and political ecosystems that allow these compounds to flourish. Far from being isolated, parasitic organisations, they are deeply embedded in local economies. These scam compounds have become economic lifelines during and post-COVID, employing local workers in auxiliary roles, propping up struggling restaurants and vendors, and stimulating real estate development. Local elites, enriched by years of land grabs and speculative investments, have a vested interest in enabling or at least tolerating the scam industry. The compounds offer yet another lucrative source of revenue. The result? A chilling inversion of public morality, where even the presence of corpses near compounds draws little outrage, and escapees are handed back by self-serving locals. If that doesn’t make you lose your faith in humanity enough, the authors also profile online influencers who cosplayed as ‘rescuers’ for internet clout, making it even more difficult for legitimate victims and their families to find the help they desperately need. In the beginning of the book, I would have liked a more general introduction to the origins and history of the influential families associated with these compounds. For example, the text refers to the “Four Families that have long been known to control the administration, police, military and organised crime…” These brief paragraphs introduce a dizzying array of names and groups, making it difficult to keep track of where the events were unfolding. The authors do come back around with further explanations in Chapter 4, Players and Enablers.

Crucially, this book refuses to flatten the complexity of its subject matter. Rather than place all blame on foreign investment, it highlights the complex interplay of push and pull factors. They discuss the regulatory gaps, corruption, porous borders, and the complicity or active participation of local authorities. At the same time, it offers a much-needed corrective to overly simplistic narratives about victimhood. The common assumption of a clean divide between “offenders” and “victims” does not hold here. Many victims are coerced into scamming others, creating what criminologists call a “victim-offender overlap.” This nuance is vital, especially in policy and legal frameworks that still struggle to classify these individuals as legitimate victims of trafficking. Law enforcement, consulates and immigration officials are typically complacent or criminally disinterested in helping any of these victims. When the victims find themselves released, they will typically be detained by the country’s immigration facilities. The profile of a very young woman who struggled to breastfeed her newborn while being held in immigration detention turned my stomach.

Contrary to previous publications, the authors challenged the perception of the Chinese state as a monolithic actor capable of controlling its diaspora or criminal elements abroad. Instead, what emerges is a fragmented picture of competing interests. Some scammers are fugitives from Chinese law enforcement, armed with foreign passports and bolstered by connections to triads, gambling magnates, and even political patrons across Southeast Asia. The Chinese government’s rhetoric, particularly its suspicion of “foreign hostile forces,” unfortunately deters victims from seeking help from NGOs and civil society actors, whom Chinese citizens have been increasingly conditioned to distrust. This creates a chilling loop where victims are vulnerable to exploitation, suspicious of aid, and often unreachable by foreign or local actors who genuinely want to help them.

As a Mandarin speaker, I found the inclusion of bilingual text and translations of official terms, puns and cultural idioms particularly enriching. Including new terms and slang also shows the humour, creativity and resilience of the people. These linguistic choices serve not just as translation aids but as cultural keys, unlocking deeper layers of meaning behind victims’ experiences and their hesitancy to engage with rescue channels. I was glad to see coverage of scams where an individual impersonates Chinese police officers or government officials in phone or online to intimidate overseas Chinese citizens into believing they are under investigation. These scammers often demand personal information or large sums of money, threatening arrest or deportation if the victim does not comply. Awareness of these scams is essential, as many of the techniques are able to flourish due to the vulnerability and isolation of Chinese citizens overseas. Many victims from Taiwan faced additional challenges due to the absence of formal ties between Taiwan and other countries in the region. This is just one of the many factors traffickers have taken advantage of to prey upon Mandarin-speakers. Issues in the Asia Pacific region are often underrepresented in criminological scholarship, making books like this not only timely but also essential. Such works contribute to a more comprehensive understanding of regional challenges and provide critical insights that are frequently overlooked in mainstream criminology literature.

The final chapters detail how the industry is adapting and expanding. From its origins in Taiwan and China in the early 2000s, the scam economy has now rooted itself deeply in Southeast Asia, morphing into an ever more sophisticated, decentralised, and elusive force. Pandemic-era desperation accelerated its growth, but the infrastructure, impunity, and profit motives were already in place. Today, hundreds of thousands may be trapped in these networks, fuelling a machine that manipulates victims and targets alike. The scale is staggering and deeply sobering. We are often urged to consider the slave labour behind our clothes or household goods, but how often do we stop to realise that the scammer we just hung up on may have been a slave, and that, for a fleeting moment, we were unknowingly connected to them across the miles?

I finished this book about a week before writing this review, and it has lingered in my thoughts ever since. It reminded me of Fatal Distraction, the 2010 Pulitzer Prize winning article by Gene Weingarten, which explored the stories of parents who unintentionally left their children in cars. That piece revealed how a simple change in routine can lead to devastating consequences, prompting many readers to reflect on their ideas of criminality and to question their assumptions about the kinds of people these tragedies happen to. Too often, scam and trafficking victims are dismissed as foolish, greedy, or naïve. But as I read, I began to reflect on how easily we could find ourselves in similar circumstances. I’ve travelled alone as a young woman to the places profiled in this book. I’ve accepted job offers or networking invites across the region based on referrals from acquaintances. I’ve met people from the internet. I’ve gotten into company cars believing I was heading to further interviews related to a recruitment process. This book is important because it shifts our perspective from judgment to empathy. This is an essential change, as it is the absence of empathy that allows such exploitation to persist and denies victims redress. By exposing the techniques used by traffickers, the authors equip readers with the understanding needed to prevent the creation of future victims.

This book is a brilliant display of investigative reporting. It is a vital resource for policymakers, journalists, human rights workers, and anyone trying to understand one of the most grotesque intersections of technology, global capitalism, and human exploitation. While the authors tread carefully, protecting survivor identities and never sensationalising their suffering, they do not shy away from the horror. Nor should they. In the end, Scam is a terrifying, masterfully researched, and urgently necessary read. It challenges our assumptions, demands accountability, and reminds us that even in our hyper-connected digital age, the most ancient forms of human cruelty still find new ways to thrive.

This book was provided by Verso Books for review.

This is a well-researched and nuanced expose of the appalling scam compounds in Asia. The authors do a good job of recognizing that some (not all!) people may willingly enter scam work (as a result of lack of other employment) - but are then not allowed to leave, and are forced to work in inhumane conditions. The strongest, most interesting, most heart-wrenching parts of the book are when it focuses on the stories of individuals. This is especially true of trafficked individuals who were deceived as to what type of work they were “hired” to do. However, the organization of the book made it, in my opinion, more dry in places. At the start, it took a “bird’s eye view” sweeping over many areas, rapidly jumping from one country to another. That made it difficult at the beginning for me to stick with the book, but it’s an important subject and I’m glad I read this to learn more. I sincerely hope this well-documented and thorough book will help end the atrocities at scam compounds.

Thank you to NetGalley and Verso Books for the free eARC. I post this review with my honest opinions.

Large-scale, online scam compounds are a human rights crisis, and nobody should have to experience the pain and consequence of being scammed or forced to scam someone.

This book primarily focuses on victims being coerced into committing online scams or risk being tortured, rather than the victims who lose money through pig butchering, crypto, or other forms of online scamming.

I appreciate the thorough investigation that went into this, as the authors drew from papers originally written in Chinese, Vietnamese, etc. I did have prior knowledge of these scam compounds being run by global crime syndicates operating out of Southeast Asia, especially in Sihanoukville. However, from my perspective, this isn’t something that is widely covered in American media. There’s a lot of good information here, including background, eyewitness accounts, rescue efforts, and research from multiple countries. However, this book is pretty dry as it’s written like an academic paper, complete with methodology section and conclusions.

My only qualm is that I felt the book could’ve been structured more fluidly. It also did feel like it was written by three authors as some parts were repetitive and with the amount of individuals introduced, it was difficult to keep track of their stories when they were mentioned again later.

Special thanks to Verso Books and NetGalley for providing an eARC in exchange for an honest, independent review.