Reflections of An Expatriate on Cambodia's Past, Present, and Future; by Naranhkiri Tith, Ph.D.

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  • Harsh and sometime acrimonious exchanges between some of the authors of the posted reviews provide an interesting glimpse of the complexity of interpreting developments in the history of contemporary Cambodia:

    Introduction: One of the purposes of this site is to provide the most up-to-date information on recently published books on Cambodia. Along with the information of these books, this site also provides their related reviews by different experts in Cambodian affairs. It is very instructive to read these reviews as they reflect the complexity of the Cambodian contemporary history and politics. At the same time, the content of these reviews clearly reflected the reviewer's ideological background and orientation. Similarly, the content of the books reflects the authors 's ideological background and orientation.

    Historians have to interpret facts at their disposal to come up with any analysis of a given situation or event. The same facts can give way to totally different interpretations of an event. Facts can also be tailored to support the authors' argument in their books. For instance, the question whether the Khmer Rouge did massacre all the Vietnamese and the Chams who were then living in Cambodia during their rule from 1975-1978, as some authors stated in their books (M. Vickery or B. Kiernan) is a case in point. On this issue, other reviewers (Philip Short, Gottesman) came up with a totally opposite conclusion. More serious though are the misinterpretations of the facts by some of these authors. Again, regarding the supposedly massacres of the Vietnamese and the Chams by the Khmer Rouge, some reviewers showed that most of the Vietnamese were already evacuated to Vietnam at the beginning of the Pol Pot era.

    Regarding the supposedly Chams massacre, one can ask the question as to why there are so many Chams still living in Cambodian today, if they were supposedly all massacred in 1975 by the Khmer Rouge as some authors implied in their books. On the other hand, there is hardly any Chams left in Vietnam where the Chams used to live in their country of birth named Champa (Central Vietnam)? Perhaps, more importantly, one also can debate on the issue of whether the Khmer Rouge mass killing was uniquely Cambodian as many authors implied in their books reviewed here, or whether there is something to do with Communism and its well know method of wholesale killing by class instead of by individual, as suggested by Stephane Courtois in his book entitled "The Black Book of Communism."

    "Demonizing the demons" was certainly part of these authors intention to make the Khmer people, as a whole look so bad that all attention was only concentrated on the mass murderers perpetrated by the Khmer Rouge, while the other perpetrators against the Cambodian people, such as the Vietnamese and their proteges (Hun Sen and the CPP), not to mention the silent invasion (illegal immigration) of Cambodia by the Vietnamese with Hun Sen's approval and help - were intentionally left out of any serious analysis by these same authors (More on this controversies, please, see Marie Alexandrine Martin's book entitled 'Cambodia: A Shattered Society).

    This imbalanced analysis of contemporary Cambodia, in turn, does a great deal of harm to the Cambodian people, as a whole, who by the way are the greatest victim of Pol Pot's insanity, dark and murderous mind.

    These reviews clearly show a fair amount of open discord and recrimination among these reviewers who are also, whether one likes it or not, opinion-shapers and image-makers on Cambodia:

    The reviews that are posted here by different scholars or experts in the Cambodian affairs, provided a very interesting but disturbing and unclear picture of the Khmer Rouge and their impact on Cambodian history for most Cambodians who have been looking for the truth about this black chapter of their long and tragic history, for the last 25 years.

    The varied, contrasting, sometime even acerbic exchanges of views between these reviewers (Michael Vickery vs. Luke Hunt on Gottesman's book, or Craig Etcheson vs. Philip Short on Short's book) complicated further the already confusing and murky picture of this troubled period under a brief but bloody Khmer Rouge rule (1975-1978), and the period immediately after their fall from power following the Vietnamese invasion of Cambodia on December 25, 1978.

    In these debates between these experts, the Cambodian people are no more no less than a bystander. Their voice is not being heard because by tradition, Cambodians are totally unaccustomed to open debate and dislike criticism, whether from a foreigner or from fellow Cambodians. Thus, by habit and tradition, they have lost the control of their destiny. Those Cambodian leaders such as Sihanouk, Ranariddh, Hun Sen, Sam Rainsy who still have some voice are so busy in defending themselves for their past crimes or mistakes that they are swamped by the opinions expressed by these so-called experts in Cambodian affairs. This, in turn, has led to a long and protracted search for a lasting peace and justice for the much-deserved Cambodian people. Without peace and justice, there would not be any chance to return to normalcy in the life for almost all the Cambodian people who now are living either in Cambodia or abroad. Until such time when a real Cambodian voice can be heard, the destiny of the Cambodian people will always be threatened, and their life will remain traumatized.

    Washington DC, June 2004

  • Naranhkiri Tith, Ph.D

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  • Recently Published Books and Reviews:
  • Recently Published Books:

1. Osborne, Milton; Phnonm Penh: a Cultural and Literary History; (Signal Books, Oxford, UK. 2008)

2. Hinton, Alexander Laban; Why Did They Kill?; (University of California Press, Berkley, 2005)

3. Short, Philip; Pol Pot: the History of a Nightmare; (John Murray Publishers, London, 2004)

4. Fawthrop Tom and Helen Jarvis; Getting way with Genocide? Elusive Justice and the Khmer Rouge Tribunal; (Pluto Press, London, UK, 2004)

5. Gottesman, Evan R; CAMBODIA AFTER THE KHMER ROUGE INSIDE THE POLITICS OF NATION BUILDING (Yale University Press; New Haven, 2003)

6. Linton Suzannah B.; RECONCILIATION IN CAMBODIA; (Documentation Series number 5 -- Documentation Center of Cambodia, 2004)

7.  Wynne Cougill with Pivoine Pang, Chhayran Ra, and Sopheak Sim; Stilled Lives: Photographs from the Cambodian Genocide (Document Center of Cambodia, Phnom Penh Cambodia, 2004)

8. Ramji, Jaya , & Van Schaack, Beth; Bringing the Khmer Rouge to Justice: Prosecuting Mass Violence before the Cambodian Courts; (The Edwin Mellen Press, New York, 2005)

9. Benny Widyono; Dancing in Shadows; (Rowman & Littlefield Publishers, Inc. October 28, 2007)

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PHNOM PENH
A CULTURAL AND LITERARY HISTORY


Milton Osborne
  Foreword by William Shawcross

Source: Signal Books

(Comments: This new book written by Historian and scholar specialized on the hsitory and contemporary analysis of Cambodian affairs is another well-conceived and exceptionally well- book written on Cambodia's past and present, entitled "Phnom Penh: a Cultural and Historical History," is really a tour de force.

Only Milton Osborne could have written such a complicated subject and yet came out very clear and well conceived against the historical and contemporary events in Cambodia's often tumultuous and tragic life. 

I highly recommended this superbly written book which will help to better understand the multi-dimensional aspects of the Cambodian history. Naranhkiri Tith Ph.D. Washington DC. January 31, 2009)

"Phnom Penh until very recently (for visitors at least) was the prettiest major city in Southeast Asia. This absorbing study takes us from its humble beginnings through colonialism, independence, war and revolution and leaves us, in his final pages, facing the crowded, globalized and almost unbreathable metropolis of 2007."-David Chandler, Monash University

"The name Phnom Penh doesn't whisper and scream in literature as does that of Saigon, for all that the Cambodian capital has a darker recent history. Graham Greene didn't stay there, Norman Lewis did (but failed to have the same feeling for Cambodia as for Thailand), while Pierre Loti, Somerset Maugham and other languid fellow travellers were only in transit en route to Angkor Wat. André Malraux wrote a sneer about a 'land of decay', but then he had been detained after his attempt to smuggle out chunks of temple sculptures for sale in New York. And yet, as described by Milton Osborne, who has known it for 50 years, it does so deserve first-rank writing. Besides the Khmer Rouge evacuation of the metropolis in 1975 (a dystopian fiction made murderously real), there had been Sihanouk time, mid-50s to 1970, when, in response to Peter O'Toole publicly dissing him after location shooting upriver for the film of Lord Jim, the prince directed movies starring his circle and their Cadillacs. And the only place to stay, the Grand, Hotel de Madame Duguet, surely demands a novel of sustained deliquescence."-The Guardian

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Forever linked in the public mind with the Pol Pot tyranny, Phnom Penh only became Cambodia's permanent capital in 1866. Long neglected by Western travellers, in the sixteenth century it was home to Iberian missionaries and freebooters who briefly held Cambodia's fate in their hands. It faded in significance until France established a colonial protectorate over Cambodia in 1863. As the colonialists robbed the Cambodian king of his temporal power, their protection enhanced his symbolic importance, setting the scene for the emergence of one of the most intriguing rulers of the twentieth century, King Norodom Sihanouk.

The city Sihanouk ruled from 1941 to 1970 was a mix of traditional palaces, Buddhist temples and transplanted French architecture. In the 1960s Phnom Penh deserved its reputation as the most attractive city in Southeast Asia. But after 1970 all this was to change, and a terrible civil war was followed by the Khmer Rouge's capture of the city in 1975. Since the defeat of Pol Pot in 1979, Phnom Penh has slowly recovered, once again attracting perceptive travellers.

  • CITY OF ROYALTY AND COLONIZERS: Kings, courts and battles with French administrators; royal ceremonies, dancers and elephants; foreign intrigue and carpetbaggers who sought and failed to find riches.
  • CITY OF CULTURE: A rich local culture that became a headache for French officials; traditional architecture and colonial buildings that remain today; notable literary visitors from Somerset Maugham to André Malraux.
  • CITY OF EVIL AND REBIRTH: The terrible rule of Pol Pot; the Tuol Sleng extermination centre where 17,000 men, women and children were tortured and killed as "enemies of the state"; the return to a fragile normality.

MILTON OSBORNE first lived in Phnom Penh in 1959-61 and has continued to return regularly to the city. The author of nine books on the history and politics of Southeast Asia, he is an Adjunct Professor in the Faculty of Asian Studies at the Australian National University, Canberra.

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Friday, February 15, 2008

Osborne's Phnom Penh

A veteran of no less than nine books on Southeast Asian history and politics, Canberra professor Milton Osborne has this month delivered his latest book, Phnom Penh - A Cultural and Literary History, published by Signal Books. The author first lived in the city in 1959 and knows his stuff. He puts into context the birth of the capital in the 1800's and the Sihanouk years when Phnom Penh deserved its reputation as the most attractive city in Southeast Asia but all that changed during the Pol Pot tyranny. Now the city is recapturing its vibrancy and Osborne has been here often enough to be the johnny on the spot to encapsulate that into the 256 pages of his new book. Osborne's previous titles on Cambodia include: Politics and Power in Cambodia: The Sihanouk Years (1973); Before Kampuchea: Preludes to Tragedy (1979); Sihanouk: Prince of Light, Prince of Darkness (1994).
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CITY STUDY: Phnom Penh: A Cultural and Literary History
Milton Osborne
(Signal Books-Unireps, $29.95)
A FORMER diplomat, and an occasional contributor to Travel & Indulgence, Milton Osborne has had a fascination with the Cambodian capital since being posted to the Australian embassy there in 1959.

He has worked with the UN High Commissioner on Refugees, specifically on Cambodian issues, and is an adjunct professor in the faculty of Asian Studies at the Australian National University in Canberra. So his qualifications to write a scholarly guide to Phnom Penh are without reproach. What may surprise readers is his accessible style and talent for enlivening otherwise dry data.

The book is a mix of personal narrative and a thorough history of Phnom Penh from its days as a 16th-century outpost of "Iberian missionaries and freebooters" and French protectorate to the hideous rule of the Khmer Rouge and the city's revival in the post-Pol Pot era. Osborne obviously loves Cambodia but his glasses are not rose-tinted and this is a diligent addition to British-based Signal Books's fine Cities of the Imagination series.
www.unireps.com.au.
Susan Kurosawa
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June 11, 2008
 
Dear Milton:
 
Pat and I were very happy to have you over at our home for dinner, last Monday. It was nice to catch up with you and with more recent developments in Cambodia. Most of all, thank you for a copy of your most recent book on Phnom Penh. I just went through it and enjoyed very much reading it. Although I do have some comments on it in some parts of your assessment of the current situation of Cambodian under Hun Sen. I will write to you later on those, if you are interested to hear my comments.
 
While reading your book, I happened to spot something that you may want to take a look at it. This refers to a sentence in the second paragraph of your book on page 203 which reads as follows:
 
"This is the extent to which the government has co-opted the Buddhist hierarchy which the current Supreme Patriarch of the Mahayana sect occupying a position as a member of the CPP's politburo."
 
I think the word Mahayana should be read Maha Nikaya, instead. Please, for more details on the two main sects of the Cambodian Sangha, see the section extracted from Wikipedia pasted below on the two main sects of Buddhist Sangha in Cambodia.
 
 I hope you don't mind my observation on this word in your great book. Please, accept my apology in case I am totally wrong in this observation. Warm regards. Kiri
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The Cambodian Sangha

Since 1855, the Buddhist monastic community in Cambodia has been split into two divisions, excepting a brief period of unification between 1981 and 1991: the Maha Nikaya and the Dhammayuttika Nikaya. The Maha Nikaya is by far the larger of the two monastic fraternities, claiming the allegiance of a large majority of Cambodian monks. The Dhammayuttika Nikaya, despite royal patronage, remains a small minority, isolated somewhat by its strict discipline and connection with Thailand.

The Maha Nikaya monastic hierarchy- headed by the sanghreach (sangharaja)- has been closely connected with the Cambodian government since its re-establishment in the early 1980s [26] High-ranking officials of the Maha Nikaya have often spoken out against criticism of the government and in favor of government policies, including calling for the arrest of monks espousing opposition positions.[27] Officials from the Maha Nikaya hierarchy appoint members to lay committees to oversee the running of temples, who also act to ensure that temples do not become organizing points for anti-government activity by monks or lay supporters[28] Nevertheless, divisions within the Maha Nikaya fraternity do exist.

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Dear Kiri,

 

You are absolutely right and I can't explain how I made that mistake. I

feel chagrined.

 

I can only say that after a certain point in reading one's own material you

tend to elude the errors. It will be corrected in what I hope will be a

second edition.

 

More once I'm back in Australia next moth and now engaging in email access

on the run

 

Warmest wishes to you and Pat,

 

Milton

 
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REVIEWS

 

Dancing in Shadows 

The Phnom Penh Post, December 2007

 

(Comments: This article is unique as, for the first time, it reveals some of the most important historical facts about Sihanouk behind the scene's maneuvers to torpedo UNTAC-sponsored general elections in the summer of 1993, and to help Hun Sen regain his full power after his defeat by Ranariddh, in those elections. In so doing, Sihanouk has again showed that he is not at all interested in democratic process in Cambodia. His main concern was to regain the full power to rule that he once had, in Cambodia

 

First, Sihanouk, tried to hijack the costly UN-sponsored elections process by trying to take over the power and by forming a so-called government of Coalition with Hun Sen and Ranariddh as vice presidents and himself as President of the Coaltion government.

 

Then, after strong objection from the international community, especially from(UNTAC), he then orchestrated a secession movement in the Eastern Zone, using one of his many sons, Chakrapong along with a CPP member and minister, Sin Song, as leaders of that movement. Confronting by his own father machialellian plot, Ranariddh had no choice but to accept his father manipulations and accept a typical Sihanouk creation in the form of a unique government in the world with two prime ministers.

 

As you can see, Sihanouk, when not in power, never stops his evil intention to destroy Cambodia, by associating himself with Cambodia's worst enemies, such as; the Vietnamese, the khmer Rouge, and now Hun Sen and his murderous CPP. Naranhkiri Tith Ph.D. Wahington DC. December 7, 2007)

 

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The anxious exhilarating UNTAC days: Successes and failures.

 

Reviewed by David Chandler.


Benny Widyono, Dancing in Shadows: Sihanouk, the Khmer Rouge and the United Nations in Cambodia. xxxii+ 312 pp. Foreword by Ben Kiernan., Lanham and Boulder, Rowman and Littlefield, 2008.

The sub-title of this absorbing memoir promises more than the book is able to deliver. Dr Benny Widyono, a career official with the United Nations, has very little to say about Sihanouk or the Khmer Rouge as long-term political phenomena. He also fails to summarize the multi-faceted activities of the UN in Cambodia since the early 1990s.

Instead, what we are given and should be grateful for is an insightful record of a tumultuous period of Cambodian history in which Widyono was an astute participant-observer. Between 1992 and 1997 Widyono worked with the United Nations Transitional Authority in Cambodia (UNTAC) and as the UN Secretary General's special representative in Phnom Penh. These positions allowed him to observe the UNTAC operation and the unfolding opera of Cambodian politics at close range. Fourteen photographs and seven maps enhance his appealing text.

Widyono arrived in Phnom Penh in April l992 and soon became aware, as many did, that the Paris Peace Accords of 1991, which had established UNTAC, had barely papered over irreconcilable differences among the powers that signed them. They had also set unachievable agendas and ignored the animosities of the Cambodian political actors.

The Accords, Widyono reminds us, also placed some heavy burdens on the UNTAC operation. The first of these, pressed by the United States, China and their allies, was that the Democratic Kampuchean "faction" was to play a legitimate role in Cambodian politics. To smooth the path, references to "genocide" or the other horrors of the Khmer Rouge era were whited out of the Accords.

Secondly, the Accords enjoined UNTAC to oversee the day-to-day governance of Cambodia, an impossible task for people who knew next to nothing about the country, had little experience with such tasks and had no full time employees who were fluent in Khmer.
In any case, those who held power in the country, namely the Khmer Rouge and the State of Cambodia (SOC) were unwilling to relinquish it to the UN.

Finally, the four factions in Cambodian politics who had been roped together to form a Supreme National Council (SNC) despised each other and had no interest in working constructively together or in allowing UNTAC to succeed.
Prince Norodom Sihanouk, at the apex of the SNC, distrusted the factions and hoped to negotiate some power for himself.

With understandable trepidation, therefore, the largest UN operation in its history got underway, damaged at birth by conflicting mandates, exaggerated hopes, UN inexperience and intransigent, suspicious political actors.

In June 1992, Benny Widyono became the UN's "shadow governor" in Siem Reap. He had asked for this challenging job in New York, and for the next 13 months he performed a multitude of tasks in the run up to the elections with inventiveness and brio. The chapters that deal with this period stylishly convey the ups and downs of those anxious, exhilarating times.

In judging the UNTAC experience, Widyono agrees with most observers that its successes lay in the fields of refugee repatriation and organizing the elections.

He locates UNTAC shortcomings in the areas of disarmament, governance and its timidity vis-a- vis the Khmer Rouge.

Disarmament failed because the Khmer Rouge refused to disarm, triggering the SOC's refusal to follow suit. These refusals guaranteed the continuation of warfare between the two, which lasted until the Khmer Rouge movement collapsed in 1997-1998.

Governance never worked because UNTAC was unable to administer the country, and because the SOC and the Khmer Rouge (the factions controlling Cambodian territory) never relinquished any administrative control.

UNTAC's timidity sprang from the fact that none of the participating powers (except, perhaps, the French) were willing to take the casualties they feared might be inflicted on them by the Khmer Rouge.

In the elections of May 1993, more voters voted for the royalist faction, FUNCINPEC, than for the Cambodian Peoples' Party (CPP), which had governed Cambodia since 1979. For the first time in Cambodian history, a majority of the population peacefully rejected the political status quo. At this point Sihanouk, encouraged by the French, engineered a bizarre political arrangement whereby FUNCINPEC and the CPP agreed to enter a power sharing relationship with Hun Sen as the "second" prime minister, alongside the "first" prime minister Sihanouk's son, Prince Rannaridh, the chairman of FUNCINPEC.
What they expected or hoped for in its place was unclear.
In any case, the SOC refused to accept to results of the election and for a few days the entire UNTAC operation seemed destined to collapse.

At
Widyono returned to New York in late 1993, but became impatient with bureaucratic work, and in April l994 came back to Phnom Penh as the UN Secretary General's personal representative, tasked with monitoring the aftermath of UNTAC. The "national interest" of the UN is hard to define, but the position gave Widyono an ideal vantage point from which to observe the Rannaridh-Hun Sen "alliance" and the first few years of the newly renamed Kingdom of Cambodia. His assessments of personalities and events in this period are often shrewd and persuasive, and buttressed by observations made in the course of later visits to the country. Cambodia watchers will be aware that most of the problems raised in the book remain unsolved and most of the political actors in 1993-1997 remain on stage, so Dancing in Shadows has an up-to-date "feel". Widyono left in April l997, shortly before the "events " of July, so his reportage on them is necessarily second-hand.

Throughout the memoir, Widyono's writing is brisk, perceptive and accessible, although it's marred here and there by small historical gaffes and typographical errors. On balance, his insider's narrative is a valuable addition to literature about Cambodia's recent past.

In closing, however, it needs to be said that Ben Kiernan's gnomic 9-page foreword to Dancing in Shadows mentions Widyono only once and says almost nothing about the period of history dealt with by the book.
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David Chandler is the author of Brother Number One: A biography of Pol Pot and other books about Cambodia. He is currently affiliated with Monash University in Australia.

On sale at Monument Books

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Addtional Selected Reviews of 'DANCING IN SHADOWS'

         Sihanouk, the Khmer Rouge, and the United Nations in Cambodia

By Benny Widyono

"Benny Widyono has written a lively, sometimes passionate and controversial book from the perspective of a fellow Southeast Asian who was also a senior UN official through Cambodia's crucial post–Cold War years. His account is rich in detail, from scenes of his own life and work in the devastated country to his insider's analyses of its troubled politics." —Barbara Crossette, Former New York Times correspondent in Southeast Asia and UN bureau chief

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------"Benny Widyono brings us the remarkable inside story of the UNTAC operations in Cambodia after the conclusion of the Paris Peace Agreements, as well as the intrigues, turmoil, and political upheavals of the first years of a reborn Cambodia.

This book will be fascinating reading for anyone interested in the often tragic history of Cambodia and the history of big-power intervention in Southeast Asia."

—Ali Alatas, Former foreign minister of Indonesia and co-chairman of the Paris International Conference on Cambodia

------------------------------------------------------------------------------This fascinating book recounts the remarkable tale of a career UN official from Indonesia caught in the turmoil of international and domestic politics swirling around Cambodia during the tumultuous period after the fall of the Khmer Rouge.

Writing from his experience first as a member of the UN transitional authority and then as a personal envoy to the UN secretary-general, Benny Widyono re-creates the fierce battles for power centering on King Norodom Sihanouk, the Khmer Rouge, and Prime Minister Hun Sen. A simultaneous insider and outsider, he also untangles the competing and conflicting agendas of the key international players, especially the United States, China, and Vietnam. He argues that great-power geopolitics throughout the cold war and post–cold war eras triggered and sustained a tragedy of enormous proportions in Cambodia for decades, ultimately leading to a flawed peace process.

Widyono tells the inside story of the massive UN operation in Cambodia, the largest and most challenging in the organization's history to that time and long considered a model for UN operations elsewhere. He draws not only on his vantage point as part of the UN bureaucracy, but also as a local UN official in the rural Cambodian province of Siem Reap, the site of Angkor Wat. As a fellow Southeast Asian with no geopolitical axe to grind, Widyono was able to win the respect of Cambodians, including the once and future king, Norodom Sihanouk, whose decline after fifty years as his country's leading figure is vividly portrayed. Putting a human face on international operations, this book will be invaluable reading for anyone interested in Southeast Asia, the role of international peacekeeping, and the international response to genocide.

About the Author

Benny Widyono, born in Indonesia to ethnic Chinese parents, was a career UN diplomat. He was a peacekeeper with UNTAC from 1992 to 1993 and representative of the UN secretary-general in Cambodia from 1994 to 1997. He holds a Ph.D. in economics and wrote this book while a visiting scholar at the Kahin Center on Advanced Research on Southeast Asia at Cornell University.

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  • Ramji, Jaya , & Van Schaack, Beth; Bringing the Khmer Rouge to Justice: Prosecuting Mass Violence before the Cambodian Courts; (The Edwin Mellen Press, New York, 2005)

Description

This book explores the legal issues surrounding accountability for the crimes of the Khmer Rouge and crimes of mass violence more generally. Comprising chapters authored by legal academics, lawyers, historians, artists, and others, the volume presents a thorough analysis of the complex problems inherent to such accountability efforts, and novel ideas as how to address them. Three chapters take the important and unusual step of examining aspects of accountability from the Cambodian and/or Theravāda Buddhist perspective, a viewpoint that has rarely been considered before in this context. Other chapters present thoughtful explanations for the failure of past accountability efforts, examine holes in the law authorizing a tribunal for senior Khmer Rouge leaders, and outline the evidence available and how it can be used for such a trial. Thus, the book presents the case for accountability in Cambodia from multiple perspectives.

Table of Contents

Preface (Harold Hongju Koh)

Acknowledgements

Introduction

Prologue (Peter J. Hammer)

1. The Elusive Face of Cambodian Justice (Peter J. Hammer and Tara Urs)

2. “Onslaught on Beings”: A Theravāda Buddhist Perspective on Accountability for Crimes Committed in the Democratic Kampuchea Period (Ian Harris)

3. Preferences Matter: Conversations With Cambodians On The Prosecution Of The Khmer Rouge Leadership (William W. Burke-White)

4. Cambodia’s Judiciary: Up To The Task? (Brad Adams)

5. An Anatomy Of The Extraordinary Chambers (Scott Worden)

6. Documenting The Crimes Of Democratic Kampuchea (John D. Ciorciari with Youk Chhang)

7. The Cambodian Amnesties: Beneficiaries And The Temporal Reach Of Amnesties For Gross Violation of Human Rights (Ronald C. Slye)

8. The Tribunal and Cambodia’s Transition to a Culture of Accountability (Dinah PoKempner)

9. A Collective Response to Mass Violence: Reparations and Healing in Cambodia (Jaya Ramji)

10. Reassessing the Role of Senior Leaders and Local Officials in Democratic Kampuchea Crimes: Cambodian Accountability in Comparative Perspective (Steve Heder)

Epilogue

Appendices

Bibliography

Index

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  • Reviews

"This book presents fresh insights into the sad failure of accountability for the Cambodian genocide – an ongoing issue that should be central to United States human rights policy. In the wake of the Holocaust, the United States provided ideological, institutional, and financial support to the international movement that arose to hold human rights violators criminally accountable for their abuses ... Current efforts to promote accountability for the Khmer Rouge, including the Tribunal and other institutions proposed in this book, provide a perfect opportunity for the United States government to demonstrate its sustained commitment to a principled human rights society. By embracing the imperative of accountability for mass crimes, along with sensitivity to the needs of local conditions, the United States can at the same time promote global norms of consistency with regard to the past and support future improvement in the domestic rule of law. By sketching where Cambodian justice has been, and where it must go, this book provides both a sobering window into the past and a hopeful guide for a better and more just future in that troubled country."

- (from the Preface) Harold Hongju Koh, Dean of Yale Law School, Gerard C. and Bernice Latrobe Smith Professor of International Law

"This edited collection on accountability for atrocities in Cambodia provides an extremely provocative and useful series of essays. The impending trials raise important and difficult questions for human rights scholarship and policy. To answer these questions, the editors have assembled an impressive group of contributors, including a number who are leading figures in human rights theory and practice ... the interdisciplinary nature of the collection, which brings together scholars from law, international relations, politics, and religion, as well as leading practitioners and policy makers, adds a distinctive depth and vision to the work."

– (Laura Dickinson, Associate Professor, University of Connecticut School of Law )

"Few events in modern history can match the horror and incomprehensibility of the ‘auto-genocide’ committed in Cambodia by the Khmer Rouge. Three decades later, the attempt to hold its perpetrators criminally liable is finally beginning, as Cambodia convenes its Extraordinary Tribunal to try the aging architects of the genocide – those, at any rate, who are still alive ... this welcome book takes an important step toward helping us understand what it means to hold radical evil accountable. This book will be indispensable to students of Cambodia and international criminal law."

–( David Luban, Frederick Haas Professor of Law and Philosophy, Georgetown University Law Center)

Mellen Books by: Beth Van Schaack; Bringing the Khmer Rouge to Justice: Prosecuting Mass Violence before the Cambodian Courts About Beth Van Schaack

Beth Van Schaack is Assistant Professor of Law at Santa Clara University School of Law where she teaches public international law, international criminal law, and transitional justice. Previously, she was a law clerk with the Office of the Prosecutor of the International Criminal Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia and the Acting Director of the Center for Justice & Accountability. She was also in private practice with Morrison & Foerster LLP. She has been a legal advisor to the Documentation Center of Cambodia since 1995. She received her J.D. from Yale Law School and her B.A. from Stanford University.

Mellen Books by: Jaya Ramji; Bringing the Khmer Rouge to Justice: Prosecuting Mass Violence before the Cambodian Courts About Jaya Ramji

Jaya Ramji is a Clinical Teaching Fellow and Adjunct Professor of Law at the Center for Applied Legal Studies at Georgetown University Law Center. Previously, she was a staff attorney with the American Civil Liberties Union in New York and in private practice with Debevoise & Plimpton. She has been a legal advisor to the Documentation Center of Cambodia since 1997. She received her J.D. from Yale Law School and her B.A. from the University of California at Berkeley.

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  • Stilled Lives: Photographs from the Cambodian Genocide
  • by Wynne Cougill with Pivoine Pang, Chhayran Ra, and Sopheak Sim; (127 pages, Documentation Center of Cambodia, 2004,),

The Documentation Center of Cambodia's latest contribution on the Pol Pot years forsakes academic debate to reveal the lives of people who could never tell their stories in English. Base people, combatants and cadres

  • Review by Allen Myers

Walking among the booksellers on Sisowath Quay in the evening, it would be easy to think that the Cambodian genocide is reasonably well-documented. This book is a reminder of how much more there is still to say.

Most of what has been written about life in Democratic Kampuchea has, inevitably, been written by foreign academics or the members of the small group of survivors from Cambodia's educated class. Stilled Lives is something quite different and a very valuable addition to the existing literature. What we have here is in many respects a report from the other side of the lines, from people who could never have produced an English-language account of their experiences in the DK.

The photographs in this book are intriguing and often extremely moving. Nevertheless, the subtitle doesn't do the book justice. While the content and structure revolve around photographs from the period before or during the Pol Pot regime, the accompanying interviews are of at least equal interest. These are accounts, sometimes from survivors, more often from relatives, of the individual in the photograph. Together, photo and interview produce a total greater than the sum of the parts.

The book presents, in the words of the introduction, "the stories of thirty-five men and sixteen women who joined the Khmer Rouge revolution." But "joining" the KR, as is made clear, had many different meanings in the early 1970s, ranging from enthusiastic acceptance of the KR propaganda, through loyalty to the deposed Prince Sihanouk, to grudging acquiescence in conscription for fear of execution.

The editors help to clarify this reality by dividing the subjects of the stories into "base people", "combatants" and "cadres." Even within those categories, however, a range of motivations and understandings emerge.Frequently, these offer new insights.

For example, while it is not surprising that many whom the KR classified as "base people" found themselves in KR territory more or less by accident, I was struck by the number of KR fighters who had previously been in Lon Nol's forces (usually, but not always, via conscription).

Also noticeable is that significant material privileges for "cadres" were both common and taken for granted, even when most Cambodians did not have enough to eat. This appears to have been the case well before April 17, 1975.

It would, of course, be a mistake to try to draw mathematically precise conclusions from this material, and the editors wisely do not attempt to do so. The data here are necessarily biased in a statistical sense. DC-Cam's researchers had to begin from available records, and most of the surviving records of the KR regime are from prisons, so it was inevitable that the individuals whose stories appear here would mostly be people eventually deemed "hostile" to Democratic Kampuchea by the regime.

But what is striking, reading the interviews, is that the victims of the KR were so often combatants of the revolution or at the least ordinary villagers for whom the KR claimed to fight. Repeatedly, relatives say that KR soldiers, even cadres, warned them not to let other family members "join the revolution." The instructions from even high-ranking cadre were to work hard, ask no questions, and acknowledge no relationships - in case the cadre was arrested and the KR pursued his or her "connections."

I began reading Stilled Lives thinking that the "cadres" section would provide the most interesting information. But while that section was in no sense disappointing, I found the section on "base people" the most helpful in contributing to an understanding of Cambodia's post-independence history. In particular, the arbitrary and frequently changing designation of who was a friend or enemy in Democratic Kampuchea perhaps helps to explain how villagers from both sides seemed to reconcile themselves fairly quickly after January 1979.

This book is also technically well-produced and attractively presented. There is an occasional typo, but that's about all. Among other reader-friendly features, there is a family tree for each subject.

The testimonies in this book come only from Kampong Cham, Kandal, Kampong Thom, and Takeo. Presumably, this has to do with the material available to DC-Cam's researchers. It would be wonderful if DC-Cam were able to produce similar volumes based on other provinces. Buy this book (the real one, not the photocopy), and it may give them the resources to do more.

Book Review. Available at Monument Books at Quai Sisowath, Phnom Penh.Phnom Penh Post, Issue 14/05, March 11 - 24, 2005

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  • Yes, indeed! Why did they kill (so many)?

    Hinton's book "Why Did They Kill?" reviewed By Henri Locard

The title of Alexander Hinton's new book, Why did they kill?, commended by some of the best scholars on Democratic Kampuchea (DK), promised much. But although the book does deserve the praise lavished on it, I found the reading somewhat of an uphill struggle.

Perhaps the same interesting points could have been made more succinctly. When we read: "a genocidal regime must localize its ideological pronouncements so that they make sense", in one paragraph [p. 287], and in the next, "genocidal leaders must localize their ideologies in order to make them appeal to their followers," we wonder what the difference is.

Hinton set out to write an ambitious book that would "focus on the cultural dimensions" of the mass killings under DK, and he has given a number of convincing explanations, while others, it seems to me, could be shared by other civilizations or similar political regimes.

In the introductory chapter, Hinton reminds the reader of the main characteristics of the regime, and this sometimes leads him to assert as established fact some aspects about which analysts do not agree. Among the causes of death of a quarter of the population under DK, Hinton lists "outright execution" [1], but not the S-21-type of prolonged agonies that victims went through: arrests, imprisonment, interrogation, torture and finally execution. There were plenty of outright executions, but many too were delayed after days, weeks or months of intense suffering in the chains of Pol Pot-Nuon Chea-Son Sen's prison system.

When describing the purge of the northern and central regions in February 1977, Hinton looks at significant excerpts from the S-21 archives and adds, "These arrests were accompanied by the outright execution of tens of thousands of lower-level cadres, soldiers, and civilians from the Northern Zone [Region] whose allegiance to the Party centre was suspect" [153].

While I quite agree that the arrests and executions in those regions at the time did reach the "tens of thousands," what on earth enables Hinton to declare that they were executed "outright"?

Why should the regional leadership have been less paranoid than the party center?

They were just as persuaded they had to deal with networks of "enemies" and plots to launch local rebellions and they acted according to national directives; that is arrest, interrogate, torture and then execute in the numerous district prisons, being put in khnoh (iron shackles), just as in S-21, but, unlike in S-21, a few accused were sometimes released.

Those victims included some of the truckloads of citizens about to be bashed to death at Phnom Pros near Kampong Cham, the area of Hinton's anthropological investigation.

However, I would have liked to know more about where these people came from and who were their executioners. From testimonies in the province, it appears that some came from the Central Prison of the provincial capital itself, thus showing that too often under DK, there were no "outright" executions. Hinton also mentions [41, 157] that some of those victims had been "previously interrogated and tortured [in...] Kampong Cham city." As to who the dozen or so executioners were, Hinton does not say. I was told they were youthful soldiers in their twenties, exactly as in S-21.

I was recently told by N.S. (born in 1954), who used to be a KR male nurse at the KR hospital in Kampong Cham under DK, that many of those trucks came from the city's old Central Prison.

As in Siem Reap and Kampong Thom (but unlike in Phnom Penh), the old colonial prison was in use under DK and Phnom Pros might have served, for a time at least, as its Choeung Ek. It was the regional prison for party cadres and soldiers and there were hundreds of prisoners in 1976-77.

In fact, the prison was partly destroyed by explosions in September 1977, as Hinton interestingly explains [163], in the course of an abortive rebellion on the part of a soldier identified as Reap and others to free some of their friends who were inside. He was in turn arrested by Ke Pauk and sent to S-21.

N.S. himself had been arrested by the soldiers of Vey Reap (the same man, I assume, as Hinton's), because he was accused of being part of the network of his elder brother, who was a KR medic at the time, and put in Kampong Cham prison. This was in 1977, at the time of the Central region purge under the leadership of Ke Pauk after Koy Thuon's arrest. He was accused of being a CIA-KGB agent and executed.

As to the younger brother, he was put in a truck with some 30 prisoners and taken to a permanent structure near Ampoel commune, very close to Phnom Pros. He remained there for one month during which all were taken out to work in the fields during the day and went through reeducation meetings at night.

There were two spies among them who came out at night to receive supplementary food. One night, the prisoners were told they were to be taken to another place. In actual fact, 28 were massacred at Phnom Pros and two freed as their reeducation was said to have been a success.

Overwhelmed, like every researcher, by the horror of S-21 and its voluminous documentation, Hinton does not mention the zone (dambon) 41 prison that was situated in nearby Prey Chhor district at Takeo village, Kor commune, some 20 kilometers away from the village he investigated. It was known among the local population as "Comrade Sop Security Centre."

Prisoners could also have been brought for execution to Phnom Pros from there.

The prison consisted of several wooden, oblong buildings containing some 30 to 50 prisoners each along two rows of iron bars and sliding khnoh. It was opened during the Republic, as the area was under revolutionary control. For, when in charge, the KR started arrests, imprisonment and killings.

We are told that "already, by 1976, interrogators seem to have been readily using torture" [234]. Obviously Hinton has not read (it is absent from his bibliography) Francois Bizot's The Gate (2000, 2003) that will tell him that the KR prisons (with their accompanying fetters and torture) existed as soon as the revolutionaries controlled a significant portion of national territory.

Bizot was arrested in October 1971 and taken to Omleang prison. There were prisons in every KR controlled sector in the early 1970s, including the Sector 41 prison in Prey Chhor district at Takeo village, Kor commune.

To illustrate his points, Hinton used once again the testimonies of torturer-executioners from S-21 rather than investigating the prison-execution centers in the area of his anthropological inquiry. It would have been more innovative to trace the local Duch and Lor (his Tuol Sleng executioner).

I'm sure some were still alive, and in their prime, in 1994, when the author did his field research. But Hinton claims that in 1994 it was unsafe to live in a Kampong Cham provincial village [16]. Was it, I wonder? If Hinton does mention [20] a local "detention centre", he apparently made no attempt to identify it.

The summarized description of the 1970-75 civil war [8] is somewhat lopsided. The KR would never have spread chaos in the early 70s nor seized power without the context of the 2nd Indochinese War. But the mass of recruits could not have joined the revolutionary camp because of a desire for revenge after the American bombings. First, these certainly did not cause 150,000 deaths. The "perhaps" of page 8 becomes an "up to" on page 58. We are slowly creeping towards a proven fact. Printing again and again mistaken figures does not make them more valid.

First of all we must never forget that the aggressors in the civil war were on the one hand the 60,000 Vietminh troops that occupied the so-called "sanctuaries" inside Cambodia near its eastern border. The Cambodian army was about only half that number in the late 1960s and absolutely unable to face up to the threat. On the other hand, Nuon Chea from Phnom Penh in January 1968 and Saloth Sar from Ratanakkiri in March 1968 had launched their revolutionary struggle to seize power. The Cambodian government was defenseless in front of these two coordinated attackers. Those were the guerilla movements that spread chaos to Cambodia and not the American bombings, however massive and continuous they had been from 1969 to August 1973.

Like most historians, Hinton repeats the figure of 600,000 victims of the civil war that everyone quotes, but this amount has never been the result of a serious demographic investigation that I know of. The number was first launched by Pol Pot himself in the early days of DK and, by the end of his regime, it had grown in his rhetoric to 1.2 million. In other words, Pol Pot, like Stalin, passed on his own victims onto his enemies.

Hinton also repeats that the bombing resulted in roughly two million refugees by the end of the war. But I have never been able to understand why, if people fled the horrors of American bombing, they did not return home after August 1973 when those ceased.

No, the Cambodians were above all fleeing the Khmer Rouge radical collectivization, forced relocations of citizens from, among multitudinous market towns and villages, Kratie, Angtassom or Kampong Cham (when they briefly occupied it in July 1973) and the executions and imprisonment on the part of ruthless revolutionaries.

Hinton prudently puts a "perhaps" in front of the two figures he quotes of the casualties of the civil war - 150,000 deaths for the bombings and 600,000 perished between 1970 and 1975. Well, he can, for, as far as we can know, according to the only published demographic study I know [Marek Sliwinski, Le Génocide khmer rouge, Paris, L'Harmattan; 1995, p. 43-48], not mentioned in Hinton's bibliography, some 240,000 died a violent death during the civil war, and the number of the victims of American bombings were less than 50,000 - 50,000 monstrous war crimes, of course, when the victims were innocent civilians.

A similarly controversial view is developed when Hinton bemoans "the international isolation" of the PRK regime [13]. It was an isolation of its own making or one imposed by the Vietnamese Communist Party that was too busy establishing a Soviet-style regime and recycling civilian and military cadres from Democratic Kampuchea.

A host of NGOs and UN agencies would have been willing to help more if the Phnom Penh regime, in actual fact under the final authority of Le Duc Tho (the head of Vietnam's Politburo office of Cambodian affairs) from behind the scenes, had been allowed to have its say. Why again did so many citizens flee the new regime, further bleeding the country's small surviving elite?

Did they not run away from another - if much more humane - communist regime that curtailed most civil liberties? I am sorry, but I am not impressed like Hinton ("an impressive feat" [13], he claims) by a regime that, after one generation, has not been able to restore, for instance, the education and health systems to their pre-1970 level, not to speak of a diversified, budding industrial sector. Where are the Sihanoukville oil refinery, the Takhmau rubber factory, the Stung Mean Chey glass factory, the Chhlong paper mill, the Kampot cement factory etc.... of Sangkum days?

Apart from some of these details, Hinton gives the general reader a very vivid and compact picture of the DK regime.

As to the whys of so many killings, apart from the first chapter about "disproportionate revenge," Hinton's anthropological-psychological analysis goes a long way towards lifting the dark veil of the mystery of man's cruelty to man. But the specialist in so doing should not dismiss as superficial the explanations of historians and political scientists.

Those are valid explanations too. I am thinking of the fact that most of the killers were very young men who had been torn from their families when they were children.

Hinton has nothing to say about the age of the executioners and their youths when drilled. Nor does he sufficiently show, as Philip Short rightly pointed out, that they came from a background steeped in ignorance and above all superstitions.

One would have expected an anthropologist to explore the dark realm of Khmer folklore, as Philip Short had started to do. We would have had a picture of the world vision among young adolescent boys in 1970 in the rural areas of Cambodia.

Similarly, although Hinton does mention the question of totalitarianism, the relish of the pursuit of absolute power is not given the emphasis it deserves. I understand this is not the subject of the book. But one cannot quote Mao only once [144], the arch-model, the guide for the DK leadership. When Pol Pot eulogizes Mao at the time of his death in September 1976, he becomes an apologist for the greatest killer in the 20th century - 70 million deaths, according to his latest biographer, Jung Chang (Mao, the Unknown Story, 2005).

Hinton brushes aside the theory so often put forward that the perpetrators were "ideological automatons" [23] as too easy an explanation, and he wishes to go beyond what he regards as a superficial approach.

"Perpetrators are not automatons who, for identical reasons, blindly carry out the dictates of the State." In other words, Hinton wishes to reintroduce free will and personal responsibility into the criminal behaviors of the perpetrators. I wonder if this is not unconsciously projecting a Western conception of education into the Cambodian hinterland.

Before they fell prey to the KR trainers, these youths had never been educated in expressing their own views or opposing their elders, as in the West. The best proof that they had been turned into killing machines is that, for those who survived the regime, once de-conditioned, they settled down and lead normal family lives. They are among the ones who want a trial for they want to know why and by whom they were made to commit the monstrous acts they were forced to commit.

I would not be quite so certain this is a superficial explanation at all, as we can observe this in all totalitarian regimes. Those, from the Nazi variety to all shades of communist, have created youth movements where they radicalized impressionable adolescents and turned them into enthusiastic automatons ready to blindly obey the most criminal commands of their elders/superiors.

Hinton is right to claim that ideological brainwashing must operate within a favorable cultural background, otherwise the transplant will fail. "By linking their lethal ideologies to preexisting cultural knowledge, genocidal states provide perpetrators with an array of compelling discourses that may be used, consciously or unconsciously, in their genocidal bricolage" [30]. Among the "preexisting cultural knowledge", I would certainly put the superstitions, irrationality and ignorance of most of the younger perpetrators manipulated by semi-intellectuals trained by the Communist Parties of France, Vietnam and China.

In a summary of his main points [32-35], Hinton names disproportionate revenge and a society marked by patronage networks. I would add a slavish mentality or blindly obeying orders of people you regard as your superior. In the end, Hinton does mention the factor of "obedience" [277-280], but does he ascribe it the place it deserves?

The author wants to probe the motivations "beyond" [280] those usually put forward. This is interesting and ambitious, but that should not mean that the obvious explanations are not valid too. Such as the fact that Pol Pot, Ieng Sary, Son Sen, Nuon Chea were self-important, narcissistic academic failures, while others, like Ke Pauk or Ta Mok, were nothing but career serial killers. They were all ardent believers in Marxist-Leninism (for it rationalized their totalitarian power) and in a class war that would fuel the great leap forward of Kampuchea into the front line of history.

Some of the most interesting and perceptive pages in this book are those that analyze the perversion of Buddhist beliefs, on the part of revolutionary doctrinaires, lumping revolutionary consciousness and renunciation. Interesting considerations too are those about misguided conception of honor that make the perpetrator kill the enemy "burrowing from within" as a mark of loyalty to the Party and of honor.

There were indeed a certain amount of revenge killings. Some KR cadres took advantage of the sheer violence to settle personal scores, but I am not entirely convinced that this played a very significant role. I am not at all certain that, in pre-revolutionary Cambodia [46], the poorer Khmers were more exploited. They owned their land much more than today. Do we see "disproportionate revenge" today when farmers are deprived of their tiny land or exploited by monopolistic tradesmen or rapacious officials?

I believe the notion that KR leaders, like all fundamentalist ideologues, "had achieved enlightenment" is quite well-perceived, but no more than Mr Vladimir Ilyich who was not a Buddhist [50]. His "omniscience and clairvoyance", like Pol Pot's, enabled him to organize mass murder for the good of humanity, in advance of Hitler.

Similarly, the notion of "independence-mastery" [51] rings of Buddhist philosophy. But it also happened to be Mao's and Kim-Il-sung's refrain as well.

Hinton counts as specifically Khmer revenge killings in the early days of the regime, of all leaders, civilian and military, associated with previous regimes [59]. But Messrs. Robespierre, Lenin, Mao Zedong, Kim Il-sung did this too. Is this not a characteristic of all radical revolutionary movements?

In Chapter 3, Hinton looks at the vast amount of power concentrated in Angkar, the arch provider of all patronage. He draws a most interesting parallel between Buddhism and the KR brand of Marxism:

"In both systems of thought, human beings are said to live in a state of ignorance, false consciousness, and suffering. To free oneself from this dismal existence, one must understand certain universal laws (the Four Noble Truths and the Law of Dependent Origination, or class oppression and the Laws of Dialectical Materialism) and use certain methods (the Middle Path, meditation, Buddhist logic, moral discipline or [...] revolutionary ethics. The enlightened one who clearly understands this situation (the Buddha and monks or Angkar and the Party Center) can help lead the populace to salvation (nirvana or communism). By portraying Angkar as an almost divine, "clear-sighted," "enlightened" entity, therefore, the KR were revamping communist ideology in terms of local idioms [...]. Like the Buddha, Angkar was an enlightened and all-knowing center from which power radiated. Like the Bayon, Angkar was an axis mundi that encompassed all lands, seeing everything with its many eyes [...], enlightened with secret knowledge (Marxism-Leninism), to revitalize a degenerate order." [129]

Similarly worth quoting is the reality that "the indoctrination of cadres and soldiers was similarly geared to creating a relationship of personal dependency with the DK regime. Angkar was the parent-patron who did good deeds for cadres and soldiers by giving them rank, prestige, food and guns. In return, KR were expected to loyally support the Party organization and to 'cut off their hearts' from the Angkar's enemies." [131].

Hinton, in Chapter 4, follows up the same argument and adds: "the KR attempted to assume the monk's traditional role as moral instructor (teaching the new brand of 'mindfulness') and the DK regime's glorification of asceticism, detachment, the elimination of [...] desire, renunciation (of material goods and personal behaviors, sentiments and attitudes), and purity parallel prominent Buddhist themes that were geared toward helping a person attain greater mindfulness. [...] The KR blended " high-modernist, Marxist-Leninist, Maoist and local Buddhist thought" [197].

Hinton has interesting pages on the eating of human liver and in particular his assertion that "the process of disembowelment mimes the search for 'hidden enemies' and the DK regime's high-modernist attempt to render everything visible and thus subject to State control" [291].

Similarly, Hinton summarizes most of his findings about the motivations of a top leader like Pol Pot. "[His] actions were motivated by local understandings of patronage, the ideological doctrine he helped to formulate, the atmosphere of suspicion and anxiety he helped to create, his group interactions with others, and the narcissistic inflation he achieved through the destruction of impure enemies 'burrowing from within' [297]". Hinton does note indeed the self-aggrandizement that his position gave him, but all it boils to is the supreme relish (probably shared by Stalin, Hitler and Mao) of being in a position atop the pinnacle of the totalitarian state. He killed (or ordered other people to kill), and like his fellow dictators, he enjoyed the trappings of power.

This meant not only the relish in receiving state delegations from all over the world (not to forget his ex-King), but the absolute power of life and death over all his compatriots.

He stripped them of absolutely all their belongings first, but also 25 percent of their lives; no one had done better in modern life. He was the most powerful of the powerful.

Finally, when Hinton again aptly describes how perpetrators had "become increasingly desensitized," he fails to remind the reader of the obvious: that the KR leadership used children massively.

For instance, pp. 199-202 give a lengthy account of Lor, an interrogator at S-21 whose interview and life story is used throughout the book. But he fails to note here the main point: his age at the time of "joining the revolution" on 2nd October 1972.

Like most torturers at S-21, and like the executioners at Phnom Pros, he cannot fail to have been very young, and probably a child. Besides, he probably did not enter the revolution of his own accord, but his parents had been forced at gunpoint by the incoming KR guerrillas to give their son to the revolution.

This is what Norodom Sihanouk saw among the soldiers who were his guardians in the Palace. In War and Hope (1980), he describes the use of children: "once enrolled into the revolutionary army, those children are separated from their families and taken away from their native village. They are molded into the Pol-Potian indoctrination. The recruits start a military career at the age of twelve. As they are taken charge of by their leaders at a very early age, those yothea [soldiers] are soon convinced that they are granted the greatest honour by being appointed 'oppakâr phdach kar robâs pak' that is literally 'the dictatorial instruments of the Party'. [...] Being 'the dictatorial instruments of the Party' means to have the right of life and death over all the herds of slaves of all categories."

This is the kind of testimony from S.N. (born in 1951, interviewed in Kampong Cham on August 20, 1993) one can hear throughout Cambodia: "This is the story of a young orphan boy who has been adopted by the head of the collective. He is being given clothes, food and even a bicycle. In order to become a barbarian, he is asked: 'Do you love your class? Do you love your race? Do you love Angkar? Would you dare to smash the enemy?'

One day he is taken before a prisoner, with his hands tied behind his back. "Here is the enemy in front of you! He is the one who killed your mother and your father."

As it is the first time, the boy does not dare to move and looks down to the ground. The KR cadre adds: "If you dare not kill this enemy, it is because you are the enemy; you are opposing Angkar."

Then the boy looks up to the prisoner and starts to slap him in the face. Then he takes his sandal and bashes the scrawny, chained prisoner on the face until he bleeds.

The next day, the boy is taken to the prisoner again. "If you dare not kill him, it is because you oppose Angkar." And he bashes the prisoner to death.

This is how he started and is later able to kill prisoners every day. If there is none, he is bored and looks for some like a bandit.

In Cambodia, people tend to do what they are told by those in positions of authority.

Today the Ministry of Culture is selling the northern campus of RUFA to a town speculator. This is probably not because people there think it is a good idea to break up a university created in Sangkum days, but because they recognize who is the boss. Ministry of Culture officials are in the government to obey orders, and this is just what they are doing. Similarly, Duch was told by Nuon Chea that every single individual who passed through the gates of S-21 must be put to death - and that is exactly what he did.

Phnom Penh Post, Issue 14/18, September 9 - 22, 2005

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  • Another testimony by an expert on Communism on the crimes against Humanity committed under that ideology. Thus, Pol Pot's Killing Fields is not entirely due and specific to the flaws in the Cambodian society, as Hinton has suggested in his book entitled "Why Did They Kill?" 
  • From the Gulag to the Killing Fields:  An Interview with the author, Paul Hollander

By Jamie Glazov

FrontPageMagazine.com | June 5, 2006

 

FrontPage Interview's guest today is Paul Hollander, an expert on anti-Americanism and the author of two masterpiece works on the psychology of the Left: Political Pilgrims and Anti-Americanism. He is the editor of a collection of essays by America's foremost scholars and thinkers, Understanding Anti-Americanism. He has now gathered together an unprecedented volume consisting of more than forty personal memoirs of Communist repression from dissidents across the world in the new book “From the Gulag to the Killing Fields: Personal Accounts of Political Violence and Repression in Communist States. “

 

FP: Paul Hollander, welcome back to FrontPage Interview.

 

Hollander: Thank you Jamie.

 

FP: Tell us what motivated you to assemble this new collection.

 

Hollander: My motivation for putting this book together is quite straightforward and longstanding. I have been impressed (and dismayed) for many years, indeed decades, by the phenomenal and profound Western (esp. American) ignorance of communist systems in general and the deprivations they imposed on their people in particular.

 

I found especially noteworthy and puzzling the contrast between this ignorance (and the very limited interest) and the lively (and fully justified) preoccupation with the Holocaust. In the introduction to the book, I discussed at some length the differences and similarities between the Holocaust and the communist mass murders and tried to explain the different moral responses in the West.

 

I should also add here that in a sense the book originated in a 1994 article I wrote about the asymmetrical Western moral responses to these two major outrages of the past century.

 

More recently I also felt that this anthology may also offer some help for a better general understanding of the relationship between ideas(and ideals) actions, i.e. many forms of political violence and repression connected with the attempt to realize certain ideals, secular or religious, or secular-religious. Most recently this has been connected with Islamic terrorism and I also made some reference to that in the intro.

 

I decided to use for this anthology memoirs rather than statistics or social scientific discussions intending to capture the personal experiences and dimensions at the receiving end of this violence.

 

FP: One of the reasons why historical amnesia has been imposed on communist genocide is that the Left still clearly holds onto the dream of earthly redemption and to the faith that human blood can justifiably be shed to achieve it. Holocaust denial is always connected to the craving for the repetition of the Holocaust itself. Can you talk about this a bit? 

 

Hollander: I would put it somewhat differently, though probably we mean the same thing. Yes, the left - or elements of the Left - find it difficult to admit that Marxism, even (or especially) in its purest forms is unworkable. The Communist mass murders are played down because they were performed in the service of these great, noble ideals. Hobsbawm is a good example of some of these attitudes; he knows full well the horrors and doesn’t deny them but still retained a lingering nostalgia for the good intentions they were supposedly associated with.

 

But on the other hand many on the Left deny that Marxism had anything to do with the nature of communist systems and if so, they could freely admit or discuss the political violence these systems engaged in. But they don’t.

 

I am not sure that those on the Left still believe in earthly redemption but they are nonetheless emotionally attracted to past attempts to accomplish this. The good intentions continue to matter a great deal, esp. when there is so much cynicism, scepticism, disillusionment in the contemporary world. (Americans in particular find this painful; this is a very idealistic culture of high expectations).

 

I am not sure if the Holocaust denial is connected to a craving to repeat it although it may be connected to some sympathy to (another) attempt to purify the world. This would of course never be acknowledged.

 

FP: Because leftists publicly deny that Marxism inevitably engenders Stalinism does not mean they do not, deep down, know it to be true and that they do not support it for exactly that reason. (It is a given, of course, that I am referring to the hard Left that has represented and made up the Left throughout the 20th century, not to the liberal Left that was marginalized within the movement at large).

 

I don’t think that there was once a Left that was motivated by earthly redemption and that now there is a Left -- that is still a "Left" -- that doesn’t believe in it. There would be no point for a Left unless there was the ingredient of the Marxist faith that held that certain parts of the human condition needed to be annihilated and a certain world of social justice built on its ashes. A person who accepts that we are flawed human beings who live in world that cannot be made perfect, and that the road toward perfect “social justice” automatically comes with a form of terror, is no longer a part of the Left as we know it. If he thinks he is, then he robs the word of its meaning and imposes historical amnesia on what the Left has always historically been and what it has perpetrated. 

 

The Nazis who deny the Jewish Holocaust are always the ones who, in private, rub their hands in glee at the reality that it happened and are enthusiastic about how their denial may facilitate the possibility of another one. The leftists who deny the Gulag and all of its forms are the ones who have a vested interested in more gulags being perpetrated to build their vision of a future earthly paradise. We are just using different semantics here. The large-scale attempts to purify the world always entail the mass shedding of human blood, a procedure which has a label: Holocaust.

 

Hollander: I don’t think, and did not suggest, that the leftists deny the gulag (shorthand for communist violence). They are not as irrational as the Holocaust deniers. Rather, they overlook or deemphasize or minimize the gulag, or see it as flawed means to good ends. 

 

Communist misdeeds are perfunctorily admitted but they don’t stimulate the same kind of moral indignation as other moral outrages closer to their heart (racism, sexism, capitalist exploitation etc).

 

In this last comment you speak only about the hard, or more dogmatic and radical left. But there is a more moderate/liberal left with a diminished appetite for the kind of utopia that requires so much repression and regimentation, people like the late Irving Howe or Galbraith or Todd Gitlin; social democrats, non-violent, romantic anti-capitalists. Some people learned something from history.

 

On the other hand, it is true that at times the more moderate left tolerated ("understood") the radicals (and their "rage") because they seemed more "authentic", "their heart in the right place"  -- as for example liberal academics in the 60s and 70s felt about the SDS/Weathermen types (or Black Panthers) and their misdeeds.    

 

It is also true -- but again this applies to a minority - (difficult to measure these things) that for some intellectuals on the (radical) left violence was attractive because it proved the seriousness of commitment (Sartre, Mailer, Castro groupies etc)

 

FP: Fair enough my friend. We are branching out into a dialogue that will have to take place in another forum. And I am not even necessarily in disagreement with you, but just expanding on our discussion.

 

Just for the sake of crystallizing one main point about the Left: suffice it to say that the Noam Chomskys and Ward Churchills of this world represent the Left as we know it, and they have malicious and destructive intent in their hearts, and their driving impulse is to venerate and submit to our adversarial totalitarian enemies.

 

 

To suggest that there are some liberal leftists out there who are not represented by characters such as these is to suggest a given, but within this context it suggests that these lib-leftists somehow once had political influence on the Left as a whole, which they didn’t, and in so doing, it robs the term “Left” of its meaning and imposes historical amnesia on what the Left, as a mass, believes and what it has perpetrated throughout its history.

 

But let's get back one track. Tell us in what way this new collection represents a landmark.

 

Hollander: The Anthology may be considered a "landmark" because there is nothing like it; nobody has before brought together such writings in one volume; moreover these writings represent experiences from every single communist system, extinct or surviving, from Albania to Vietnam. Many of the selections are also of considerable literary merit.

 

Also among the unique features of the volume is the 75 page introduction in which I attempted to systematically examine the distinctive features of communist repression and compare it with the far better known Nazi case.

 

FP: The personal accounts are truly powerful and also extremely traumatizing. I just finished the book and it just depresses your soul to try to digest the mass genocide and torture along with the vicious brutality and sadism inflicted on millions of human beings for the sake of an idea. It is an idea, as you point out, that many are still in love with.

 

The memoirs always center on the horrifying reality of torture to extract a confession. Prof. Hollander, why do you think it is so important for communists to get the confession of guilt – even when they know the guilt is imagined and not true?

 

Hollander: I think that the obsession with the confession had three sources. One was practical: since there was no proof whatsoever of the horrendous, fantastic crimes many were accused of, confession was the only proof and it was easy to extract it under physical and mental pressure. (Of course the confession of those who were subjected to the show trials was far more important and elaborate than those of the anonymous victims).

 

Second, the confessions, when publicized, were didactic, intended to convey some political lesson: e.g. that the Soviet Union (or some other communist state) was menaced by totally depraved, unscrupulous enemies; the confession also served the purpose of informing the public who the enemies were (sociologically speaking); who was allied with whom. Sometimes the accused were used to explain domestic problems like food shortages (sabotage).

 

The confessions also served the purpose to discredit particular individuals since they had to confess to general moral failings as well as to particular political acts (dishonesty, treacherous behaviour, greed, being subject to bribes, envy etc)

 

Third, and perhaps most important, that the confession – although coerced, and as such something of a self-fulfilling prophecy – proved the existence of a certain moral universe: the polarized notions of good and evil. The accused colourfully personified the latter, the accusers the former.

 

One final reason: the evil attitudes and deeds of the more important victims had to confess to provided further justification for terror.

 

FP: What distinctive features of communist violence can be crystallized from the accounts?

 

Hollander: The distinctive features of communist political violence are quite numerous, the most important being that it was "violence of higher purpose" (I considered this for the title of the book). People were killed or mistreated because they were in the way of realizing certain political, economic or social goals or programs, or they were thought to be in the way of these measures and policies.

Also distinctive, that much of the repression and regimentation occurred because of the attempted creation of the "new socialist man". Another important feature was that people were mistreated for the most part not for their actions or behavior, but because they belonged to certain categories which were considered suspect or potentially hostile. Much of the violence thus was prophylactic or preventative. But depending on changing policies anybody could become classified as "the enemy."

 

Other features:

 

a) the vast scope of repression was unanticipated since communist theoreticians assumed that their systems will be widely popular, hence the state can "wither away" as Lenin put it;  (unlike in the Holocaust most victims of communist violence perished because of living conditions in the labor camps or were shot; there were no gas chambers)

 

b) Integration of repression with economic goals; slave labor on a large scale; (these 2 features, a) and b) vastly increased the scope of the repression)

 

c) Control over population movements both within the countries concerned and across international borders;

 

d) Elaborate dehumanization and demonization of the potential victims through propaganda and enforced confessions;

 

e) Lip service paid to the "rehabilitation" of those imprisoned (some variety of what the Chinese called "thought reform"). But these efforts were no consistent or serious.

 

Of course this is just a very brief summary.

 

FP: In the end, the lesson of the Left's attempt to remold the human being is that we ultimately cannot change who and what we are – and that the effort to build paradise on earth leads to the creation of hell instead. Can you talk a bit about that?

 

Hollander: Precisely my conclusions. The kind of social engineering communist systems attempted are inherently impossible to realize, they are also unpopular and the attempted realization produces vast amounts of violence and coercion.

 

These systems were also rejected by most of their populations because they created a huge, persistent and readily discernible gap between ideals and realities; the notorious theory and practice gap. But certain aspects of the theory (Marxism) itself lent themselves to distortion and were wrongheaded: e.g. the idea that nationalizing the means of production will make the economy more productive AND help to create a sense of community and social solidarity. State control over the economy accomplished neither.

 

There were many unforeseen results of such policies.

 

Yes, human nature appears to have certain features which resist the kinds of regimentation these systems attempted. Most people, most of the time, are unwilling to surrender the private/personal to the public/political realm; they put higher value on their family and friends than on imposed, artificial political communities.

 

Again, a lot more can be said about all this and I have done so in the introduction.

 

FP: Why do I have a feeling that this text will not be required reading in academia?

 

Hollander: You may well be right about this mainly because little is being taught about communist systems in general. If they are not taught why would a text focusing on their misdeed be used? Many academics would be concerned that dwelling on these misdeeds would/could divert attention from the misdeeds of their own society, the U.S., and other capitalist systems.

 

FP: I am always terrified reading texts like this, and we have an obligation to do so, of course, to reach out to the victims, to support them, and to be loyal to the truth and to fight evil. 

 

I will admit that when I put my feet in these victims’ shoes, I become very frightened and I wonder how I could have possibly survived what they survived. Would I have confessed right away just to avoid the horrifying tortures? Would I have tried to kill myself? Or would I have fought and endured the unspeakable sadism and brutality inflicted by the torturers?

 

I must say that a book like this reminds us of not only of the evil in life – and in humans (i.e. the sadistic torturers), but also of the heroism and courage and nobility that lurks in man. There are some incredible heroes in this volume that survived against all odds and, with tremendous stamina and courage, against all hope (to borrow the title of Armando Valladares’ memoir).

 

As you comment in your introduction, this evil experiment on humans also brought out the best in us, and what was also unexpected. And so while it is traumatizing and heart-wrenching to confront the evil of communism and the unspeakable pain it caused its victims, it is inspiring to see the beautiful virtues it brought out of man.

 

Can you talk about that a bit?

 

Hollander: I also thought about the matter of resisting torture and found it difficult to imagine how it could be withstood (not many succeeded).

 

As to what suffering brings out of human beings I don’t think that in most cases it brings out heroism and good qualities but sometimes it does. When people are reduced to concern with the basics of physical survival most of them have little emotional or physical energy left to act selflessly, kindly. But some do.

 

Of course very good conditions are not necessarily conducive to nurturing virtue either: people with a great deal of wealth, power, fame, comforts etc. often become more mired in selfishness and in self-centered notions of "self-realization" -- we have much of this in this society.

 

But there is also "noblese oblige" on the part of the rich (esp. the established rich, not the new rich).

 

It is very hard to know what conditions bring out the best or worst in people.

 

Most people need a certain level of stability, security and satisfaction of basic needs before they can rise to decent behavior.

 

FP: Very true. I’ll just say that I have in mind individuals such as Armando Valladares and Vladimir Bukovsky who could have avoided their terrible suffering if they had just recanted their belief in freedom and accepted what the regime wanted them to accept. But they chose unspeakable terror being perpetrated against them for the sake of their commitment to the right of human being to be free. What incredible human beings. Remarkable warriors, soldiers . . . heroes. 

 

Paul Hollander, thank you for contributing this priceless volume for the sake of keeping the truth alive and to keep alive the memory of the millions of human beings  who lost their lives and suffered unimaginable pain because of the attempt to enforce human redemption on earth. 

 

Hollander: Let me just say in conclusion that I am very pleased that I managed finally to put together this volume and get it published (after a long search for a publisher). I am far from certain what it will accomplish, how widely it will be read, but I felt strongly that such a volume had to be produced, perhaps for the sake of historical justice. As I also wrote in the introduction, one always hopes that more knowledge leads to better understanding and the latter might eventually make some difference to how people behave.

 

One final (and far from original point): I think that the main lesson of communist political violence and repression has been that good intentions can produce very bad results. Idealism is attractive but no guarantee of good results.

 

Of course one should not jump to the conclusion that all idealism is suspect and must lead to unspeakable horrors. The idealism associated with the communist misdeeds was not the only ingredient or precondition of these historic horrors, although a very important one.

 

Human lives and social systems can and should be improved but we must resist the tempting illusion, that human nature can be radically changed, that all scarcities and injustices can be eradicated, that that the many conflicts of human interest can be wiped out etc., etc. 

 

FP: Thank you Prof. Hollander.

 

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Jamie Glazov is Frontpage Magazine's managing editor. He holds a Ph.D. in History with a specialty in Soviet Studies. He edited and wrote the introduction to David Horowitz’s new book Left Illusions. He is also the co-editor (with David Horowitz) of the new book The Hate America Left and the author of Canadian Policy Toward Khrushchev’s Soviet Union (McGill-Queens University Press, 2002) and 15 Tips on How to be a Good Leftist. To see his previous symposiums, interviews and articles Click Here. Email him at jglazov@rogers.com.

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  • Contrary to Alex Hinton's assertion in his book" why Did they Kill?" that the Khmer Rouge genocide was due to a purely Cambodian character, this article article and the following Parliamentary Assembly of the Council of Europe's resolution clearly showed that the Khmer Rouge's crime against Humanity could not have been committed without the devious and misrepresentation of humanism in the ideology of Communism.                 

 

An Antidote to Moral Blindness
                  By ADAM KIRSCH - Special to the Sun
                  June 14, 2006

http://www.nysun.com/article/34399

 

             June 14, 2006 Edition > Section:  Arts and Letters

                  In Cuba, a completely sane 16-year-old student named Jose Alvarado Delgado is committed to a mental hospital, given electroshock therapy, and force-fed psychotropic drugs. In the Soviet Union, Evgenia Ginzburg is interrogated by the secret police for seven days straight, without sleep or food. In Vietnam, Doan Van Toai sees a fellow prisoner commit suicide by biting off his own tongue and choking on it. In Cambodia, Haing Ngor witnesses a Khmer Rouge soldier suffocate a pregnant woman with a plastic bag, then rip out the fetus with a bayonet.

                  As I read these accounts of victims of communism collected in "From the Gulag to the Killing Fields" (ISI Books, 760 pages, $35) - an anthology of memoirs from around the world and across the century, including famous writers and anonymous prisoners, ardent revolutionaries and innocent bystanders - I kept thinking of a phrase from Antonio Negri and Michael Hardt's influential 2000 book, "Empire": "the irrepressible lightness and
joy of being communist." Substitute the word "fascist" in that sentence, and you would have a sentiment that every civilized person would instantly condemn as not just evil, but insane. Yet "Empire," with its eleventh hour attempt to rehabilitate communism as a source of political hope, was widely hailed in the academy as a great achievement. Decades after Stalin's purges, Mao's Cultural Revolution, and Pol Pot's genocide, it is still possible for educated people to associate communism with lightness and joy, and to be praised for doing so.

                  The momentary celebrity of Messrs. Negri and Hardt is a
trivial matter. But the moral blindness of which that celebrity is a minor
symptom is anything but trivial. It is, in fact, the reason Paul Hollander,
the eminent scholar of Soviet communism, spent the last decade assembling this large, frightening, and important book. In his brilliant introduction, "The Distinctive Features of Repression in Communist States" - the best brief summary of the nature and crimes of communism that I have read - Mr. Hollander notes:

                  While there is a vast literature on the Holocaust ... and while it has justifiably stimulated a huge and continued outpouring of
research, moral outrage, and soul searching, the mass murders and other atrocities committed in the Soviet Union under (and after) Stalin have inspired little corresponding concern and interest.

                  Stalin, however, is at least recognized as a figure of almost unparalleled evil and cruelty; outside the lunatic fringe, he has as few admirers as Hitler. More perplexing is the continued willingness of Western intellectuals to make cult heroes of other communist despots. It is still not uncommon to find admirers of Lenin, seen as the pristine embodiment of communist virtue, or of Fidel Castro, seen as the daring patriarch of Third World liberation. Other communist regimes are simply missing from our moral radar. For all that has been written about the Vietnam War, most Americans know next to nothing about what happened in South Vietnam after the communist victory. The famine that struck Ethiopia in the 1980s is remembered here as a humanitarian crisis, not as the criminal result of Mengistu's collectivization policies. Finally, and most ominously, there is the People's Republic of China - usually portrayed in the news media these days as an emerging capitalist dynamo, but still governed by the Communist Party that gave its people famine and forced labor, the Cultural Revolution and Tiananmen Square.

                  In short, while it is common to speak of the defeat of
communism in the Cold War, that defeat has not been total, especially in the way communism is remembered and understood. It is still possible for Western intellectuals to deny the crucial lesson of the 20th century, that utopian politics are shortest route to dystopia. And this denial is all too easy to understand. After all, if the rhetoric and the declared intentions of communism are so good - universal liberation, perfect equality, an end to want - how can the reality be so bad?

                  That is the question raised, again and again, in "From the
Gulag to the Killing Fields." It is one of the common themes running through these eyewitness accounts of every communist regime in the 20th century, from Russia to Cuba, China to Nicaragua, Bulgaria to North Korea. Naturally, the details of what each author experienced - the methods of torture, the inflections of propaganda - vary according to time, place, and cultural background. Witnesses from Vietnam are especially shocked by the communist cadres' rudeness to their elders; in Ethiopia, Mengistu's refusal to allow his victims to be buried is seen as the worst possible outrage.

                  But the disbelief remains constant. Everywhere, the victim
of communism initially finds it impossible to believe that a revolution in the name of the people could oppress and destroy the people. How could it be that, in the words of the Bulgarian writer Georgi Markov, "no other political religion ... has ... a stronger impact on the baser human instincts and passions ... [and] has given such encouragement to human vice generally, as the Communist ideology"?

                  The shock is especially great for true believers, who so
often fall victim to their own revolution. Evgenia Ginzburg, an old
Bolshevik and wife of a high-ranking Soviet official, was shocked that an NKVD interrogator would manipulate her answers: "Why don't we have a stenographer to put them down?" she asks, only to be met with "peals of laughter." Anna Larina was shocked at the fantastic accusations brought by Stalin against her husband, the Soviet leader Nikolai Bukharin: "The sheer mass of crimes ... could not possibly have been committed by one criminal in his entire lifetime." Inevitably, given the audacity of the regime's persecution, the prisoner begins to wonder if he is guilty in some way he never suspected. "Was I a criminal?" Harry Wu wonders after being sent to a forced labor camp. "Perhaps my ideas had brought harm to the majority of the Chinese people."

                  The psychological and material techniques of communist
oppression are not, of course, a secret. They have been plain, for those willing to see, at least since Stalin's show trials of the 1930s. But for scope, comprehensiveness, and direct emotional power, no document of those techniques surpasses "From the Gulag to the Killing Fields." Any reader who begins reading the book with some lingering sympathy for communism will close it with the words of Teeda Butt Mam, a victim of the Khmer Rouge, echoing in his ears: "Silently, I berated myself, tortured myself, for being so gullible. Why had I allowed myself to believe the lies? Would I never learn?"

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            © 2006 The New York Sun, One SL, LLC. All rights reserved

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  • MPs vote to condemn 'evils of communism'


· Swedish member calls for victims' memorial day
· Left says Council of Europe motion 'neo McCarthyism'


Jon Henley in Paris

 

The Guardian
London
Thursday January 26, 2006

For some it was a vile capitalist plot aimed at rewriting the recent history of half of Europe, transforming wartime resistance heroes into villains, and denying the laudable ideals and legitimacy of a great political movement.

For others it was a long-overdue denunciation of a couple of dozen thoroughly evil regimes who wrecked their nations' economies, tortured their citizens, and between them were responsible for up to 100 million deaths.

But, by a clear majority, the parliamentary assembly of the Council of Europe yesterday backed a controversial motion demanding that the continent's 46-member human rights watchdog formally condemns "the crimes of totalitarian communist regimes".

More than 60 members of the body's 315-seat assembly, made up of MPs from Europe's parliaments, were due to speak in a debate on a report by the conservative Swedish MP Goran Lindblad, which argued that 15 years after the collapse of the eastern bloc international condemnation of its governments' activities was "urgently necessary".

Mr Lindblad's motion also called for an international conference on the issue and urged former communist states to "revise school books to reflect what happened, establish museums documenting these crimes, and introduce a memorial day for the victims of communism".

The MP adopted the 100 million victim figure arrived at by Stéphane Courtois in his 1997 Black Book of Communism. The count includes 65m in China, 20m in the Soviet Union, 2m in North Korea, 2m in Cambodia, 1.7m in Africa, 1.5m in Afghanistan, 1m in Vietnam, 1m in east Europe and 150,000 in Latin America. (Mr Courtois puts the number of deaths due to Nazism at about 25m.)

Mr Lindblad listed communist regimes' crimes as "assassinations and executions, concentration camp deaths, starvation, deportation, torture, slave labour and other mass physical terror", saying they should be condemned like Nazis' crimes.

Council officials said 99 of the MPs present voted in favour of the motion, 42 opposed it and 12 abstained. Communist parties, mainly in western Europe, had reacted fiercely, saying the report deliberately failed to distinguish between the ideals of communism and its application by totalitarian regimes.

The Belgian Communist party, the PCB, called the motion "a violent attack on history, present and future of communism". The Greek KKE called it "a declaration of war and persecution against all communist parties", and Germany's PDS said it was "neo McCarthyism".

Mikis Theodorakis, the Greek composer, said: "In the name of our dead comrades, of those who passed through the hands of the Gestapo and the death camps ... shame on those who want to turn victims into executioners, heroes into criminals and communists into Nazis."

French communists said the motion "banalises the Holocaust" and "ignores the communist role in fighting fascism".

André Guerin, a Lyon MP, told Le Figaro that the council's idea was to "definitively bury the values of communism" and "make believe they are outmoded and that the only alternative is Capitalism".

Protests were vigorous in Russia, where a survey found 50% of Russians felt Stalin had played a "positive role" in their history and 42% thought "somebody like him" would be helpful in Russia today.[End]

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  • Reply by Hinton to Henri  locard's Review

Why did they kill? (1)I would like to thank the Phnom Penh Post for reviewing my book, "Why Did They Kill? Cambodia in the Shadow of Genocide" (California 2005). I am also grateful to Henri Locard for grappling with my arguments and for taking the time to write a lengthy review in the September 9, 2005 issue of the Post.

Locard is a respected scholar of Democratic Kampuchea and I have appreciated reading his work in the past. However, I found his review of my book, while at times perceptive and informative, problematic in a number of regards. We also have sharp disagreements that are important to foreground.

First, while Locard notes that my book focuses broadly on the cultural dimensions of the Cambodian genocide, he strangely does not mention the two central questions at the core of my book: (a) what motivates perpetrators to kill, and (b) how does genocide come to take place? These questions are stated explicitly on pages 3-4 of my book and structure the ensuing arguments.

Instead of discussing these key issues, Locard quibbles. He begins his review by stating that "perhaps the same interesting points could have been made more succinctly" before taking issue with my use of the word "outright" to describe Khmer Rouge executions. Here, as with many of the minor critiques that follow, Locard's arguments are flawed or inaccurate. For example, he ignores the various senses of the word outright which, according to the Oxford English Dictionary, means not just "going straight ahead" but also "thorough", "blatant", "complete", and "unconditional". By focusing only on the first sense, he can imply that I ignore "the S-21-type of prolonged agonies that victims went through". This assertion is quite odd because, as his own review later notes, my book spends considerable time discussing the horrors of Tuol Sleng.

At times, his assertions are quite misleading. For example, he quotes a passage in which I state that "already, by 1976, interrogators seem to have been readily using torture [234]." He concludes that I "obviously" have not read Bizot's "The Gate" [I have], which shows that torture was used by the Khmer Rouge prior to DK. Locard does not mention that the above passage is taken from a section of my book where I am clearly referring to Tuol Sleng in particular, not Khmer Rouge practices in general. Likewise, Locard suggests that I ignore the youth of the perpetrators, which is not the case (see, for example, pages 130-31 or 267 of my book). While it would take an enormous amount of space to respond to each of Locard's minor critiques, the above responses provide an illustration of the problematic nature of most of them.

More importantly, I want to explicitly foreground several major issues that divide Mr Locard and me, ones that are central to our understanding of DK, Cambodian culture, and the nature of the crimes committed by the Khmer Rouge.

* Was it a genocide? As the title of my book suggests, I think that it was.

Based on the fact that there is little or no mention of the word genocide - or my larger arguments about the factors that give rise to and motivate genocide - in Locard's review (he prefers the term "mass killing"), I suspect that he does not view it as such. Regardless, this is an important point of debate among scholars of the DK period. I view the DK violence as genocide both in the strict sense of the UN Convention (that encompasses attacks on ethnic minorities like Chams and ethnic Vietnamese and religious groups like Buddhist monks) and in the broader sense used by most scholars of genocide (which encompasses systematic attempts to annihilate political and economic groups, among others). This is a hotly contested issue, one that will be much debated during the upcoming trial of surviving former Khmer Rouge leaders.

* Were most of the perpetrators "ideological automatons"? Locard and I diverge sharply here. My book critiques the overly reductive, simplistic, and frequently invoked portrayal of the perpetrators as "ideological automatons", offering instead a model that accounts for the complexity of cultural knowledge that motivates people to act and even to commit horrific deeds. (Locard gives the mistaken impression that I "brush aside" this theory, neglecting its centrality to my overall argument and that I explicitly and thoroughly critique the theory.) Locard suggests that, by "reintroduc[ing] free will and personal responsibility into the criminal behavior of the perpetrators", I may be "unconsciously projecting a Western conception of education into the Cambodian hinterland".

This assertion is somewhat odd since, to buttress the "ideological automaton" theory, he invokes long-standing stereotypes of peasants as "coming from a background steeped in ignorance and above all superstitions", a background that supposedly made it easy for them to be "manipulated". Most people who have spent time living and interacting with ambodian villagers will recognize that this reductive portrait does not accord with reality (see, for example, May Ebihara's seminal work on Cambodian villagers).

Locard further asserts that the "best proof that they had been turned into killing machines is that, for those who survived the regime, once de-conditioned, they settled down and lead normal family lives." While Locard is correct that many former perpetrators want to understand how they became part of the killing process and who was ultimately responsible for it, he ignores the fact that many former local-level perpetrators are conflicted (or even tormented and traumatized) about this past and that their re-entry into "normal family life" was often not smooth but characterized by tensions with their neighbors, particularly those whose family members they were responsible for abusing or killing. These tensions, while muted, continue to exist in Cambodia today and may resurface at times during the tribunal. They also suggest the need for the tribunal to be supplemented by a parallel mechanism of truth and reconciliation on the local level.

* What role did obedience play in the genocide? Locard and I again differ on this question, as he highlights when he questions whether I give obedience "the place it deserves" as an explanatory factor. More broadly, Locard argues that in Cambodia there exists a "slavish mentality or blindly obeying orders of people you regard as your superior". My book does discuss the role of obedience in the genocide, but I do so through an analysis of the larger sociocultural contexts in which such behaviors are embedded, particularly patronage relationship (and other relationships of dependency manifest in family and educational structure) and contexts in which face, honor, and duty are foregrounded.

Nevertheless, an overemphasis on obedience in Cambodia - as illustrated by Locard's remarks about the "slavish mentality" of the Khmer - is problematic in several regards. First, it overlooks the fact that obedience is a salient factor in violence throughout the world. As the Milgram "shock" experiment and Stanford "prisoner" experiment so vividly demonstrated, even average Americans readily turn obedient in the context of authority, despite a larger cultural emphasis on independence and anti-authoritarianism. Second, as the conclusion of my book discusses, an overemphasis on obedience leads us to ignore the complexity of human relationships and subjectivity, variations in the degree of pressure to obey, and the larger historical and social context in which obedience is enacted.

With specific regard to genocidal violence, the obedience explanation is unable to account for the perpetrator's excessive brutality (obedient automatons would merely carry out their orders, not torment and brutalize their victims). To explain this brutality, which was pervasive during DK, I delve into the sociocultural and psychological dynamics that underpin such behaviors. The issue of obedience is of enormous importance as the tribunal draws near, since many former Khmer Rouge, echoing the excuses given by perpetrators involved in mass violence in other locales, already displace responsibility for their actions by claiming, "I was just following orders."

* Relatedly, are there certain underlying Cambodian cultural characteristics that make Cambodians particularly prone to be violent? I doubt Locard would take this position, though his remarks about the "slavish mentality" of the Khmer, the "superstitions, irrationality and ignorance" of many young Khmer Rouge perpetrators, and the importance of examining "the dark realm of Khmer folklore" are suggestive in this regard. I would explicitly answer this question in the negative. Like every other culture in the world, there are some local Cambodian cultural models that may motivate violence in certain circumstances.

To understand the Cambodian genocide, we must focus on these circumstances - in other words, on the larger historical context in which the mass violence came to take place. My book provides a framework for understanding the process by which genocide comes to take place, what I refer to as "genocidal priming". (Locard's review does not discuss this framework, which is crucial to my argument.) Genocidal priming includes such processes as socioeconomic upheaval, the rise to power of ideologues seeking to radically re-engineer society, the reorganization of society in a manner that makes the dehumanization, disempowerment, and eventual extermination of victim groups easier, the emergence of an ideology of hate that legitimates such killing, and so forth.

My approach is explicitly framed in a manner that is historically grounded and not culturally determinist and that focuses on how the Khmer Rogue blended Marxist-Leninist and Maoist ideas with local cultural beliefs, what I call "ideological palimpsests." An understanding of the cultural dimensions of genocide is essential to understanding the motivations and patterning of the violence. However, culture does not "cause" genocide, though an understanding of genocide requires an understanding of culture. Culture is a necessary, but not a sufficient xplanatory factor.

These remarks aside, I should note that there are areas on which Locard and I agree, such as the importance of understanding how Buddhist beliefs, Marxist-Leninist ideology, and Maoist ideas were incorporated into Khmer Rouge ideology or how the local prison networks functioned (an issue I do not foreground). Indeed, Locard's work on such issues has made an important contribution our understanding of DK. Despite our disagreements, I'd like to thank him once again for engaging with my book and raising some crucial issues about the Cambodian genocide with which all of us must grapple.

Alex Hinton, Rutgers University, Brunswick, New JerseyPhnom Penh Post, Issue 14/20, October 7 - 20, 2005 © Michael Hayes, 2005.

_____________________________________________________________________

  • Review  of  A Hinton's book entitled Why did they kill? by Naranhkiri Tith, Ph.D. 

I read with great interest and gratitude the article written by Henri Locard on Alexander L Hinton's well acclaimed book, "Why Did They Kill," (Post, September 9, 2005). The following paragraphs caught my attention.

"Similarly, although Hinton does mention the question of totalitarianism, the relish of the pursuit of absolute power is not given the emphasis it deserves. I understand this is not the subject of the book. But one cannot quote Mao only once [144], the arch-model, the guide for the DK leadership.

When Pol Pot eulogizes Mao at the time of his death in September 1976, he becomes an apologist for the greatest killer in the 20th century - 70 million deaths, according to his latest biographer, Jung Chang (Mao, the Unknown Story, 2005).

"Hinton brushes aside the theory so often put forward that the perpetrators were 'ideological automatons' [23] as too easy an explanation, and he wishes to go beyond what he regards as a superficial approach.

"'Perpetrators are not automatons who, for identical reasons, blindly carry out the dictates of the State.' In other words, Hinton wishes to reintroduce free will and personal responsibility into the criminal behaviors of the perpetrators. I wonder if this is not unconsciously projecting a Western conception of education into the Cambodian hinterland."

I also found Hinton's book practically ignored the historical and ideological context of the motivation for the "killing fields". The Cambodian behavioral trait may be of some influence in this mass and free killing of innocent Cambodians and other minorities, but not all.

One cannot ignore the role of Communism in this massacre. Stephane Courtois clearly showed that the crimes committed under the name of Communism are neither accidental nor country-specific, but systemically particular to Communism, when he wrote:

"The history of Communist regimes and parties, their policies, and their relations with their own national societies and with the international community are of course not purely synonymous with criminal behavior, let alone with terror and repression. In the USSR, and in the 'the People's Democracies' after Stalin's death, as well as in China after Mao, terror became less pronounced, and society began to recover something of its old normalcy, and 'peaceful coexistence' - if only as 'the pursuit of the class struggle by other means' - had become an international fact of life.

Nevertheless, many archives and witnesses prove conclusively that terror has always been one of the basic ingredients of modern communism. Let us abandon once and for all the idea that the execution of hostages by firing squads, the slaughter of rebellious workers, and the forced starvation of the peasantry were only short-term 'accidents' peculiar to specific country or era. Our approach will encompass all geographic areas and focus on crime as a defining characteristic of the Communist system throughout its existence." (Courtois, Stephane (editor); "The Black Book of Communism; Crimes, Terror, and Repression, Harvard University Press," Cambridge, Massachusetts, 1999, p3).

To demonize the demons as Hinton did by making this crime against humanity country-specific can only serve to perpetuate the current [regime] in Cambodia, by allowing the regime to contrast itself to this lowest standard of human behavior that is the Khmer Rouge.

Having said that, I must thank both Mr Locard and Mr Hinton for bringing this part of the Cambodian history to enrich the public knowledge in general and in Cambodia in particular.

Naranhkiri Tith, PhD - Former professor, School of Advanced International Studies, Johns Hopkins University, Washington, DC. Phnom Penh Post, Issue 14/20, October 7 - 20, 2005. © Michael Hayes, 2005.

___________________________________________________________________________________

  • Alexander Laban Hinton: Why Did They Kill?
  • Reviewed by Lucian W. Pye
  • Foreign Affairs, March/April 2005

In this study of a once-peaceful Buddhist society that got so caught up with Marxism that it came to see virtue in violence and honor in auto-genocide, Hinton goes further than most accounts of the horrors of Pol Pot's regime in exploring the cultural factors that made Cambodians in the Khmer Rouge willing to kill so many other Cambodians.

His sophisticated argument, based on subtle analysis of the Khmer language and extensive anthropological study, shows how Cambodian culture attached great importance to power, patronage, status, and honor; perceived humiliation legitimates anger and retribution, creating the potential for disproportionate revenge. Suddenly finding themselves part of a new elite, young Khmer Rouge recruits were encouraged to dwell on past affronts to their dignity and that of their families and to show no mercy in seeking retribution against "class enemies" and others perceived as threats. The extraordinary power in Hinton's analysis stems from his readiness to confront hard questions and his skill in elucidating the elements in Cambodian culture that made genocide possible.

Although he is careful to keep his analysis focused on the Cambodian case, his insights also help explain genocides in general.

______________________________________________

  • Sowing the Killing Fields


Review of Alex's Book, "Why Did They Kill?" 

by The Sunday Star-Ledger
December 19, 2004

In 1975, the victorious Khmer Rouge army entered the Cambodia Capital of Phnom Penh and promptly started slaughtering the supporters of the defeated Lon Nol regime and their families. The Khmer Rouge then emptied the cities and embarked on an unrelenting campaign of agrarian reform and genocide that left 1.7 million Cambodians dead by 1979, before Vietnamese army intervened.

In his anthropological study, "Why Did They Kill? Cambodia in the Shadow of Genocide" (University of California Press, $22), Alexander Laban Hinton explores the propaganda and cultural forces used by the Khmer Rouge and its ruthless leaders, Pol Pot, to nurture and killers dehumanize their victims.

In his important and comprehension book, Hinton analyzed the psychological training that killers received and their desensitization toward the
killing. The horrific mechanics of genocide and murder are outlined in Hinton's riveting examination of the infamous interrogation center at Tuol Sleng. At the center, disgraced Khmer Rouge cadres were tortured for months and forced to write extensive confessions before their executions, showing the grim process of how comrades were turned into traitors and nonhumans.

Hinton, 41, was raised in Palo Alto, Calif., and received his Ph.D. in anthropology from Emory University in Atlanta. He is an associate professor of anthropology at Rutgers University and lives in Glen Ridge with his wife and two children. Hinton spoke with freelance writer Dylan Foley by telephone.

Q. How did you choose this subject?


A. I was interested in Buddhism from traveling in Southeast Asia. When I first went to study in Cambodia in 1992, the country was still feeling the
effects of 25 years of war. There was little electricity in the main cities, and when you went into the countryside, the electricity was mainly car batteries. Cambodians would ask me, "How did this happen? How could we kill each other?" Their questions became my questions.

Q. Why has the academic discipline of anthropology lagged behind in studying genocide?


A. As an anthropologist, having a sense of moral relativism and suspending judgment is part of the training. Traditionally, anthropologists tend to study smaller groups if people. They may be working with in a small village in a country where political violence is taking place. The anthropologist might study the effect of the violence on the local level.

Q. How would you describe the Cambodian genocide?


A. Cambodia is often called an "auto- Genocide " (suggesting that Cambodians killed their fellow citizens). But that is false. The Khmer Rouge wiped out ethnic Vietnamese, Chinese, the Muslim Cham people and Buddhist monks. They used an ideological calculus that centers around consciousness. Pol Pot said that someone with a "regressive" consciousness "was no longer one of us." They were to be annihilated or destroyed. Society was inverted and rural farmers were put over urban dwellers, and the poor were put over the rich. A man with a peasant background would be reported as more progressive, more pure. A doctor or teacher would be branded as polluted or regressive. Anyone could regress at any time, and could be discarded (killed). The Khmer Rouge constructed differences to make their victims nonhuman.

The Khmer Rouge pushed the urban population into the countryside. In 1975, Phnom Penh had swollen to three million people, including refugees. From 1975 to 1979, there were only 20,000 people in Phnom Penh. People forced into countryside were labeled "new" people and at great risk to be killed. The peasants were labeled "old" people.

Q. At least 14,000 people were killed at Tuol Sleng, an infamous interrogation center. How were the tortures created?


A. To get the tortures to hurt people, they had to dehumanize their victims. Through various degrading acts and inhuman conditions, the victims stopped resembling human beings. In the Khmer Rouge broadcasts, the victims had been called "microbes," and during their imprisonment, they literally picked up parasites and skin diseases. Prisoners were
stripped of their names and given numbers. They were referred to by dehumanizing pronoun like "it." Tuol Sleng was very stressful for the torturers, as well. It was always possible that they would be betrayed.

Q. What was the importance of confessions that were pulled out under torture and repeatedly rewritten before the victims' executions?


A. The Khmer Rouge maintained that they never made mistakes and they were all-knowing. Soon the agricultural collectivization collapsed and the
economy was a complete disaster. Since the leadership never made mistakes, they started looking for signs of subversion. As the economic goals were
not met, they started looking for enemies. The confession acted as a record of how a person went from being a fellow cadre to an enemy.


Evidence was constructed of CIA spots and sabotage, which created a sense of certainly. Victims would implicate to things of traitors. Under torture, they would give up the names of dozens of loyal cadres. I've seen confessions with 100 names listed on them.

Q. Could you describe interviewing Lor, the guard at Tuol Sleng who probably killed more than 2,000 men, women and children?


A. I imagined a callow, savage man, but when I met him, he seemed like any other person. He was very polite and smile broadly when we met for the
first time. When he shook my hand, there was this strange moment of touching the hand that had done so many unspeakable things. Lor has returned to farming, but he has been affected by what he did. He is an alcoholic and does not dream at night. What I saw in my interviews is that there are the traits of both victims and perpetrators in all of us. We have the potential to do both horrible things and good things.

Q. What are some of the conditions that foster genocide and how can genocide be curbed?


A. There is a cluster of important facts. There must be a situation of enormous socioeconomic upheaval, a pre-existing social division in the country and political group with a radical idea of socially engineering
the country. When the structures of meaning are disrupted in a country, people are willing to look for a new source of meaning. There are also has to be a political leadership willing to foment an ideology of hate and dehumanize certain parts of the population.
The international response plays a big part in stopping genocide. Right now, Sudan is a huge mess. Foreign countries could have a crucial role in
stopping the situation now, but they are unwilling to do so.

From the book Chilling words from a genocide killer:
When asked after the fact why they had committed such abuses during (the Khmer Rouge period), many former Khmer Rouge cadres, like genocidal
perpetrators all over the world, have claimed that they were just "following orders." Lor invoke his excuse to explain why he had killed "one or two people." Likewise, when asked what he would say if he met one of his former prisoners on the street, Lor responded, "I would tell them, 'Don't be angry with me. When I worked at that place (the interrogation
center), I had to obey the orders. I am not mean and savage. I didn't do anything to anyone. If they had me to arrest someone, I'd go and arrest that person. If they order me to do something, I would do it.'" It is
precisely this type of response that victims find so unsatisfying, since it absolves the perpetrator of responsibility and the need to personally express remorse.

________________________________________________

    • Debate between Alex Hinton and Naranhkiri Tith on the use and meaning of different concepts of genocide (genocide, auto-genocide, crime against Humanity) as applied to Cambodia

From: Alex L. Hinton, author of a book entitled "Why Did They Kill?" on the Khmer Rouge. Mr. Hinton is a professor at Rutguers University in New Jersey

______________________________________________________________

February 11, 2005

Dear Naranhkiri,

Thank you for sending the article. I have een having all sorts of trouble with my e-mail and can't find your earlier message. Regardless, I approach the question from two directions. First, in terms of the UN Convention, the Cambodia case fits with respect to the targeting of ethnic Vietnamese and Chams (a case could also be made for monks and ethic Chinese, but this is more tenuous). Second, I usually follow many other scholars of genocide
(see, for example, Helen Fein's definition) in including political groups in the definition of genocide (or any "other" group transformed into an enemy targeted for annihilation). This was Lemkin's original intention and it was excluded from the genocide convention for political reasons, since several UN members feared prosecution. On the other hand, while the designation "genocide" is of importance for symbolic and legal reasons, everyone would agree mass murder took place and that the perpetrators should be held accountable. How do you view the issue? Best, Alex

___________________________________________________________

From: Naranhkiri Tith, Ph.D.

(Former Adjunct Professor at SAIS, The Johns Hopkins University)

Washington, DC. February 12, 2005

Dear Alex:

Thank you for your email and your answer to my inquiry about the use of different appellations by different scholars, with specific commotion that each word has such as Genocide, auto-genocide, or the generic name of crime against humanity, to characterize the mass murder committed by the Khmer Rouge against the Cambodian people.

What prompted me to write you on this issue is an email from Raymund Johansen to Youk Chhang which stated: "Subject: Auto-Genocide

Auto-Genocide

In the review of Suzannah Linton's book, Dr. Andrew Rigby uses the term "auto-genocide." Of course the term has been used numerous times to describe the activities of the KR regime, but the more I learn about how the KR achieved and maintained their power, the more I detest that term. There was nothing "auto" about the mass murder that took place under the KR. Do we speak of the Chinese Maoist Cultural Revolution as "auto-genocide"? Do we speak of Staline’s purges as "auto-genocide"? Why not?

I think perhaps this ridiculous term "auto-genocide" came into usage for the simple reason that outside observers of the Cambodian Civil War who had been cheering on the KR as "liberators" refused to accept the fact that the mass murder committed by the KR was precisely what should have been expected, and precisely what communists generally did in order to get and hold power.

These crimes were the logical outcome of the plan, and didn't just happen. I think a conscious effort should be made to eliminate this term. It only serves to mystify and obfuscate.


Raymund Johansen " I tend to agree with Johansen's comments that there is a lot of posturing by those who used to support the Khmer Rouge (Ben Kiernan, Michael Vickery to name only a few) when they were the ally of the Vietnamese Communists. I think there is a lot of intellectual dishonesty among these scholars, as they allow their ideology to take over their scholarship. There is another aspect which is also ideologically based, that is what I term "demonizing the demons." In other words, these same authors have a special intention of making the Khmer Rouge crime as specifically Cambodian (Khmerization) so that they hope that the world will close their eyes on the other "lesser" crimes committed by the Vietnamese against the Cambodian people which is no more no less than a genocide as defined by the Geneva Convention on genocide, that is the Vietnamisation of Cambodia (suppression of another culture) as being recently discussed, more and more in the open, by a number of scholars, such as Phillip Short, Evan Gottesman, Marie Alexandrine Martin, to name a few.

This is why I am trying to find out who said what and why. It is important for the defense of the truth about the Cambodian tragedy. As you seem to say that

"On the other hand, while the designation "genocide" is of importance for symbolic and legal reasons, everyone would agree mass murder took place and that the perpetrators should be held accountable. How do you view the issue?"

I hope this email will answer your question about my view on the issue and also I want to express to you some of my concerns about this subject of the different interpretations of the word "genocide" and its ramifications.

One should not forget that it is the Cambodian people who bear the largest share of one of the most heinous cases of mass murders in the modern history. And Vietnam is not an innocent bystander, as they often claim to be, and as supported by a number of scholars of the left leaning persuasion. Best regards.

Naranhkiri Tith, Ph.D.

____________________________________________________________

     From Mr. Youk Chhang

     Director Document Center of Cambodia

     Phnom Penh,  Cambodia

     In a message dated 2/12/2005 6:38:26 P.M.                     Eastern Standard Time, Dccam@online.com.kh 

     writes:

Dear Dr Tith:

May I publish this debate in our magazine?

Many thanks,

Youk
_________________________________________________________________

February 12, 2005

Mr. Youk Chhang; Director

Document Center of Cambodia; Phnom Penh, Cambodia

Dear Youk:

Thank you for your email on this debate. By all means, please, go ahead. I felt compelled to break in this debate, because we Cambodians seem to have lost the control of our destiny. I am glad that you have decided to publish this exchange of views between Alex Hinton and me. Best regards.

            Naranhkiri Tith, Ph.D.

________________________________________________________________

  • Book Reviews:
  • CAMBODIA AFTER THE KHMER ROUGE: INSIDE THE POLITICS OF NATION BUILDING by Evan R Gottesman
  • Selected by Choice Magazine as an Outstanding Academic Title for 2003

This book tells of the events and personalities that shaped Cambodian history during the thirteen-year period between the overthrow of the Khmer Rouge regime in 1979 and the signing of the 1991 peace accords that resulted in U.N.-administered elections. The first study of this turbulent era, it offers a nuanced understanding of complex questions concerning human rights, economic reconstruction, institutional development, and national sovereignty, issues that were framed by the legacy of the Khmer Rouge and by a Vietnamese occupation.

Drawing on a range of previously unexplored sources, including more than 1,300 internal government and party documents, Evan Gottesman describes how a handful of former Khmer Rouge soldiers and officials, Vietnamese-trained revolutionary cadres, and surviving intellectuals fought over power and policy. Gottesman discusses the regime’s approach toward the Khmer Rouge, the relationship between the Cambodians and the Vietnamese, the treatment of the ethnic Chinese, and the tension between patronage politics and communist ideology. He tracks the careers of Cambodian leaders and their roles in determining the direction of the country and describes how Hun Sen, the current prime minister, rose to power in the 1980s. Gottesman concludes by explaining how the legacy of this period has influenced events in Cambodia to the present time.

Evan Gottesman spent three years in Cambodia, where he served as resident liaison and deputy director of the American Bar Association Cambodia Law and Democracy Project.

  • Some Selected Reviews:

"Evan Gottesman’s masterful, fair-minded study lifts a curtain onto a secretive, enigmatic regime and deepens our understanding of a crucial decade of Cambodian history, as well as of Cambodian politics ever since. Drawing on previously unexploited archival sources, interviews, and secondary materials, Gottesman draws a subtle, often unnerving picture of an impoverished Marxist-Leninist dictatorship seeking an identity of its own in the context of an ongoing civil war and an often smothering alliance with Vietnam."--David Chandler, author of The Tragedy of Cambodian History: Politics, War and Revolution since 1945

"The most recent book on the Cambodian tragedy makes an important claim; that the Vietnamese occupation was essentially doomed because of events inside the country, and not very much because of the outside allegiance ranged against it. It is an extreme view, but Evan Gottesman does his best to back it up with important new research and background gained during a three-year effort to help build post-1978 Cambodia. . . . His book is a wonderful book, the best yet, at the struggles of nation building and the toll it takes, until one man finally emerges from the contenders. . . . In light of January’s riots, encouraged and spurred on by certain Cambodian politicians, this account of how Hun Sen got to the top on little but sheer will and ruthlessness is timely."--Alan Dawson, Bangkok Post

"A painstaking look, both sober and sobering, at the slow rebuilding process and the old hatreds that impede it."--George Fetherling, Vancouver Sun

"Drawing on new archival sources and interviews, Mr. Gottesman fills a gap, describing a shadowy period in Cambodia’s recent history, a period as crucial as the more thoroughly explored Khmer Rouge interregnum."--Michael J. Ybarra, Wall Street Journal

"Evan Gottesman’s timely new book . . . is a clear-eyed and nuanced account of multilayered backroom efforts to rebuild Cambodia after it overthrew the Khmer Rouge in 1979. The lessons for the United States in Iraq are many. Gottesman’s work fills a vast gap in scholarship on Cambodia. . . . Washington should take note: this book is a sober and valuable warning of how difficult that struggle can be."--Eric Pape, Newsweek

"Gottesman outlines brilliantly how much the legacy of the ’People’s Republic of Kampuchea,’ as Cambodia was then titled, has influenced events there--and, especially, how Hun Sen, the current prime minister, rose to power. . . . [Gottesman] makes it easier to understand why Cambodia is in such a confused state today."--Bertil Lintner, Far Eastern Economic Review

"Gottesman’s forensic account of how ham-fisted nation-building by an unwelcome army of occupation failed . . . is a timely and cautionary tale."--Kevin Davey, The London Tribune

"Anecdotal accounts enliven this scholarly history of the years between the end of Khmer Rouge rule and the United Nations-organized elections in May 1993. . . . Gottesman came across hundreds of documents that provided a glimpse of how a small group of Khmer Rouge defectors . . . grafted their way back from the vortex to found today’s ambiguous status quo."--Christopher Kremmer, Sydney Morning Herald

"Gottesman’s forensic account of how ham-fisted nation-building by an unwelcome army of occupation failed, together with the shortcomings of the UN, is a timely and cautionary tale."--Kevin Davey, Tribune

"Cambodia after the Khmer Rouge ranks as a must-read book on Cambodia."--A. Gaffar Peang-Meth, Perspectives on Political Science

-----------------------------------------------------------

  • Evan R Gottesman's Cambodia After the Khmer Rouge

Reviewed by Luke Hunt

(Luke Hunt was the AFP bureau chief in Phnom Penh for several years. He is now on sabbatical leave for one year. He will start as the AFP editor in Hongkong, next March)

The year is 1979 and Phnom Penh has just issued a warning: Cambodia's elite are blinded by wealth. Property is collected for their use and the use of their families. Pleasure-seeking abandonment has led to rape and violations against women. The elite refuse to listen to the masses and are scornful, preferring to show off their better positions and possessions.

The Vietnamese are in charge and Hanoi is not exactly pleased with their Cambodian charges tasked with rebuilding the country from scratch, after sending 150,000 troops across the border.

Rarely does a book grace the shelves which unflinchingly challenges accepted thinking about Cambodia's violent past. But Cambodia After the Khmer Rouge is just such a book.

It begins in the 1950s with a young Norodom Sihanouk making his mark on Cambodia's political landscape.

Adored by peasants but blamed for "condoning corruption and political intimidation" in the cities, Sihanouk was voted out of power by a secret ballot in the National Assembly in 1970.

He lost, 89 to 3 and Lon Nol's coup was in the making, pleasing the US while heralding the civil war, eventual victory for the Chinese-backed Khmer Rouge and a scale of genocide not seen since World War II.

As history tells us, Vietnam began liberating Cambodia from Pol Pot's ubiquitous thugs in late 1978. This is where Gottesman stamps his credentials on a period few authors have dared to touch.

With the precision of a combat surgeon, he canters through occupation, an era cloaked by institutionalised secrecy in a country banished to the nether regions of global politics.

One lid after the other is lifted on the inner workings of Hanoi's tutelage, Phnom Penh's leadership, their rivalries and eventually Hun Sen's rise from a Vietnamese "experiment" to the power of one.

Along the way there's the first Khmer Rouge trial, conducted while the new regime was attempting to "co-opt" former leaders of the ultra-Maoists into a new government. Pol Pot's soldiers were asked to apologise.

Gottesman also notes how the spiritual head of Cambodia's Cham Muslims, the mufti Mat Ly, was given a prominent role by the Khmer Rouge during their reign.

Importantly, the author also counters arguments of Vietnamese benevolence in the wake of Pol Pot's barbarity. Mandatory rice exports to Vietnam created starvation in the Cambodian countryside.

But politically, Cambodia was again a strategic player, this time in fending off Chinese expansionism - that's what really mattered, and neither master nor apprentice shied in bullying the local Chinese.

As masters, the Vietnamese edited a new constitution beyond any recognition of its Cambodian authors. Hanoi controlled the currency, monopolised trade and banned the teaching of English and French. Cambodians were less than impressed, but Hanoi had the upper hand.

This became apparent when Prime Minister Pen Sovan, whose independent attitudes had consistently upset his controllers, was arrested by Vietnamese troops in late 1981. Hun Sen read the charges.

Hanoi-friendly Chan Si took the reigns but died three years later amid unsubstantiated rumours of foul play. Hun Sen ascended to the premiership early the following year.

Any reader with a basic knowledge of contemporary Cambodia should also expect to be lulled into a false sense of time. The 1980s were not always unlike the decade before or after.

Chronic paranoia, attempts to banish urban populations and forced labour camps at the K5 Thai-border sites resonate with a familiar contempt to Pol Pot's lunatic concepts of the 1970s.

And Gottesman's portrayal of a government filled with self-serving, corrupt officials seeking patronage in a feudal-like state mimics Cambodia of the 1990s and present day.

The familiar rings with past and present does serve notice on academics, journalists and government ministers who hold the 1991-93 United Nations Transitional Authority (UNTAC) responsible for Cambodia's present day ills.

But the days of UNTAC are in the future, and Gottesman's work is solidly crafted in the 1980s when Cambodia was not immune to illegal logging, graft, drugs, prostitution, shady businessman and impunity.

This escalated by the mid-1980s as Hanoi's resolve for imposing its communist agenda over Cambodia began waning as foreign assistance, primarily Russian, started to evaporate.

There was also a growing realisation east of the border that Khmer culture and communism may not be an ideal fit, despite a helping hand from Pol Pot, who had already removed all the capitalists.

And, a swift crackdown on pro-democracy advocates by Cambodian authorities amid the Soviet Union's collapse had all the hallmarks of a dictatorship entrenched - one that was not always out of step with Hanoi's wishes.

Throughout Vietnamese occupation, Cambodia was a reclusive state that ranked alongside North Korea, and a lack of any public information on the occupation forced the author to rely on firsthand accounts and rare internal documents for primary sourcing.

The author argues what the Vietnamese left behind was a system devoid of ideology, with one political party that had seized state assets and neatly bound them by a web of well-established personal relations with Hun Sen at the helm.

By the 1990s, in Gottesman's words, this had resulted in powerful patrons with little incentive to punish their own loyalists. "As long as the money flows, officials act with impunity - engaging in theft, extortion or worse."

Frustratingly, however, too little attention is given to opposition inside Vietnam to Hanoi's invasion plans for Cambodia, and the arrival of UNTAC is treated more as an afterthought. But his account of what happened in between is gripping, and if you would like to know why in 2004 marijuana costs about the same as exotic computer software, this book is a good start.

Gottesman has done a very clever job.

(464 pages, Yale University Press, August 2002. Available from Monument Books. Phnom Penh Post, Issue 13/27, December 31, 2004 - January 13,  2005)

____________________________________________

  • Wrong on Gottesman

By Michael Vickery

Phnom Penh Post, January 28-February 10, 2005

Luke Hunt's review of Evan Gottesman's book (Dec 31 - Jan 13, 05, p. 13) was one of the most dishonestly prejudiced things I have seen.

The first paragraph is not factual. In 1979 There was not yet an "elite" and no warning was then issued about them being "blinded by wealth". "Rape and violations against women" were probably fewer than at any time in Cambodian history, except possibly under the KR, who, whatever their own sins, managed to keep those things at an absolute minimum. Not only are Luke Hunt's statements inaccurate, they are not even what Gottesman, who is often dodgy on his own, said.

As for Gottesman "stamp[ing] his credentials on a period [1978-79] few authors have dared to touch," Luke Hunt here exhibits ignorance of the rather voluminous literature on the period. In particular, the identity and role of Mat Ly, a Cham leader, is well known to all students of the period and is described in existing literature. Luke Hunt got it wrong again in calling him "the spiritual head of Cambodia's Cham Muslims, the mufti Mat Ly." He was neither a spiritual leader nor a mufti, nor does Gottesman say that. Mat Ly, as well as his father, were old-time Cham communists, who earlier opposed the French and of course at first joined the KR, just like everyone with leftist sympathies in 1975-76.

Again Luke Hunt goes beyond the facts with "The Vietnamese edited a new constitution beyond any recognition of its Cambodian authors," which is non-factual, and not what Gottesman's rather careful treatment of the constitution-drafting process permits. It is true that Gottesman edits his sources to give as anti-Vietnamese picture as possible, but his treatment does not permit Luke Hunt's conclusion.

Luke Hunt might take a look at my analysis of the three drafts of the constitution in my book Politics, Economics, and Society in the Peoples Republic of Kampuchea, which, to be sure, has long been unavailable (although Gottes-man knew it), but is now available in my authorized paperback pirate version in the little bookstore on the street between the Golden Gate Hotel and Tom's bar.

Even if one Cambodian told Gottesman in 1997, repeat 1997, (his page 110) that the first draft was Cambodian and the next one "Yuon", the comparison I did shows that was not true.

As for currency, whoever controlled it, they did a good job. The new currency quickly replaced the Dong, was generally accepted in the markets, and maintained its value better than the Dong until undermined in the post-1991 great leap into an uncontrolled free market, and the impact of UNTAC.

French and English were not banned, although not introduced immediately into the schools (although the medical school taught in French from the beginning), but private tuition gradually developed, especially in English, and by 1984 there was an entire street full of small, private English schools. The then Minister of Economy Meas Samnang boasted to me in front of his Vietnamese adviser that one of his assistants was spreading his knowledge of English to young people through such work.

Hun Sen "reading the charges" against Pen Sovan is ludicrous. Hun Sen did not yet have such an exalted position. This is no doubt Pen Sovan's special pleading, about which more below.

The "rumors about foul play" in Chan Si's death no doubt came to Gottesman from Pen Sovan, and reveal one of the weak points in Gottesman's book. Gottesman relied too much on interviews in the 1990s with people who revised their oral histories of the early 80s. The worst is Pen Sovan, whose May 1999 interview with Gottesman is one of his most important sources. One certain lie in Pen Sovan's late testimony is his insistence (to, among others, Margaret Slocumb, The People's Republic of Kampuchea 1979-1989, pp. 143-144) that Chan Si was killed by Hun Sen at a banquet in Phnom Penh in 1987, when the truth is that he went in 1984, very ill, to Moscow where he died in a hospital, where one of my oldest Cambodian friends visited him before his death.

Gottesman's treatment of Chan Si's death is embarrassing. He obviously got the same story from Pen Sovan, and apparently did not believe it. He wrote on page 134 that "to this day, Chan Si's death ... is clouded by rumors of foul play." To some extent this is true. There are people who think his death was not natural, but I have heard of no one but Pen Sovan who denies he died in Moscow, but was killed by Hun Sen in Phnom Penh. Gottesman could not treat this subject honestly because it would have undermined Pen Sovan as a source, and thus undermined other details which Gottesman needed. Another relevant reference in Gottesman to Chan Si, on page 204, is "in December 1984, as Chan Si lay ill, Hun Sen began speaking ..." It is peculiar that Gottesman would not say "...lay ill in Moscow ...", no doubt through misplaced fidelity to Pen Sovan.

Luke Hunt calls Chan Si "Hanoi-friendly Chan Si," but those who still think his death was arranged impute it to his opposition to Vietnamese policies.

Calling the 1980s "not always unlike the decade before" is perverse exaggeration. There were no serious "attempts to banish urban populations," although it would have been rational to do more to limit rapid immigration into the city. The K5 program was certainly unpopular and resulted in many deaths. But Luke Hunt goes far beyond Gottesman in comparing it to the KR, and Gottesman himself relied too much on the worst propaganda sources, such as Luciolli (see my review of her in the Post 04/08, 1995). Moreover, no western, especially American, critic of K5 should speak of it without acknowledging that Cambodia, and its Vietnamese supporters, were in fact forced to fight, even to the death, against enemies supported by the US, China, Thailand, etc.

Luke Hunt's deepest descent into scurrility is "throughout the Vietnamese occupation, Cambodia was a reclusive state that ranked alongside North Korea." Evidence against that is in the writings of the numerous foreign, western, journalists, researchers, and aid workers who traveled in, out and around Cambodia starting even in 1979, and increasingly from 1980-81, with increasing freedom, including yours truly. In 1981 I was able to drive with a colleague and an aid worker in a private vehicle from Phnom Penh to Battambang, then to Siem Reap, visit some of the temples there and return, with three to fours days in each town, and in Battambang a long interview-conference with the local governor, one of the Hanoi Khmer. Once more, the propaganda scam is not from Gottesman, whose only mention of North Korea was with reference to the KR.

Gottesman, like many latecomers (1990s, especially mid-to-late 90s), has sucked up stories from Cambodians with the anti-Vietnamese animus which has been growing in the last ten years, forgetting or denying what Vietnam did for them when they were just recovering from the KR. At its most extreme, this now leads some Cambodians, and increasingly, to even blame the disasters of the KR period on the Vietnamese (Khieu Samphan's line). Gottesman then, in spite of his extended research into genuine PRK documents, which treating specific problems of the day are not always clear about the total context, was able to interpret them as support for the anti-Vietnamese scene depicted by his informants, most of whom he met in 1997-1999.

One example is on Gottesman's page 93. Writing of the refugee outflow in 1979, he says: "Cambodians voted with their feet. The lack of food compelled tens of thousands to head for the cities or for Thailand. ... Peasants too, had no choice but to leave the cooperatives in search of food ..."

First, this is not what the refugees at the border were saying when I talked to them in 1980; and second, the 1980 PRK document quoted by Gottesman, and which from my research seems factually true in the details it reports, is not, however, evidence for his statements. He has simply interpreted it to support oral information he got from some unreliable source.

A technical problem with Gottesman concerns his sourcing. Lacking a bibliography and without explanation of the locations of the documents he used, it presents great difficulty to other researchers whom might wish to recheck the same situations.

Another dubious facet in Gottesman is his reliance on Why Vietnam Invaded Cambodia by Stephen Morris, a longtime right-wing hack and proven falsifier of documents.

Whatever the problems in Gottesman's treatment, Hunt has gone far beyond him in pursuing his anti-PRK and anti-Vietnamese line. His review in unworthy of even the Phnom Penh Post.

- Michael Vickery

(Phnom Penh Post, Issue 14/02, January 28 - February 10, 2005 © Michael Hayes, 2005. All rights revert to authors and artists on publication.)

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  • The Man Who Made Cambodia Hell
  • Reviewed by Nayan Chanda
  • POL POT: Anatomy of a Nightmare

By Philip Short. Henry Holt. 537 pp. $30

When Pol Pot sat down in 1978 for his first-ever interview, the Yugoslav journalists conducting it asked him a simple question: "Comrade Pol Pot, who are you?" The man behind Cambodia's killing fields offered only some half-truths. A few months later, the Vietnamese invaded Cambodia and drove Pol Pot out of power and into the shadows. In the decades since, a handful of Cambodia scholars have tried to lift the shroud of mystery surrounding a tyrant who seemingly emerged from nowhere. True to form, the most detailed interview about his life came just six months before his death in April 1998, when an American reporter, Nate Thayer, tracked him down in a jungle hideaway near the Thai border.

That interview and a handful of books (especially Ben Kiernan's How Pol Pot Came to Power and The Pol Pot Regime, as well as David P. Chandler's Brother Number One) have been the main sources of our knowledge about the man. But the Yugoslav journalists' question remained. Philip Short's 537-page book goes a long way toward telling us who Pol Pot was; unfortunately, it is marred by superficial generalizations about Cambodian culture and a bizarre attempt to exonerate the Khmer Rouge of genocide.

Short, a veteran correspondent for the BBC and the author of a widely praised biography of Mao Zedong, does not claim any special expertise on Cambodia. Interviews with former members of Pol Pot's Khmer Rouge regime -- including such top officials as Ieng Sary, Pol Pot's foreign minister and brother-in-law -- were the most noteworthy tools of his research. "The aim," Short writes, "has been to tell the story of the Cambodian nightmare, to the extent that that is feasible, from the vantage point of those who created it, rather than solely from that of the victims." Indeed, victims' voices are rare here. Despite being supplemented by archival and published materials, the book essentially remains an account of Cambodia's darkest period as seen from the perspective of French-speaking Khmer Rouge cadres and their associates.

Still, those interviews are valuable inasmuch as they allow Short to paint a vivid portrait of Pol Pot -- the nom de guerre for the man born as Saloth Sar -- in his formative years. From his life of a Buddhist novice in a Phnom Penh pagoda to his discovery of the Russian anarchist Peter Kropotkin's writings on uninterrupted revolution; from his double life in Phnom Penh as both society boy and clandestine revolutionary to his time as the unhappy sidekick of Vietnamese communists in the jungle; from survival under American bombs to the exhilarating 1975 meeting with Mao after taking the helm of Cambodia -- the author gives a nicely crafted account of Pol Pot's emergence. The story of the future dictator's political awakening and ascent, painted on the large canvas of France's waning colonial moment in Indochina and the rise of communism, makes fascinating reading. Moreover, Short shows us Pol Pot's mounting paranoia about the Vietnamese and demonstrates that his obsession with secrecy far predated his rise to power -- both points that go a long way toward explaining the murderous frenzy that later gripped the Khmer Rouge regime.

After his recklessly utopian drive to build an imagined powerful, egalitarian, pure Cambodia collided with reality, Pol Pot's paranoia produced successive waves of purges. Those who were too tired or hungry to work, as well as squeamish or insufficiently enthusiastic Communist Party members, were denounced as Vietnamese agents and put to death by the thousands. Military setbacks at the hands of Vietnam fueled further killings of Cambodians thought to harbor sympathy for the enemy -- those with "Vietnamese minds in Khmer bodies."

Curiously, the period covering Pol Pot's years in power (roughly a quarter of this massive book) lacks the color and drama of the earlier phase. Pol Pot the man disappears, replaced by faceless quotes from his directives and dry analysis of party documents. Except for Short's account of the forced evacuation of nearly 3 million people from Phnom Penh, the rest of the narrative about the creation of what Short rightly calls "a slave state" is primarily theoretical, focused on the hardships of Khmer Rouge bureaucrats in the capital, who had to plant tomatoes in the streets and clean their own rooms. The 1975 fall of Phnom Penh, he observes, "was not marked by rivers of blood," while gliding past in the same paragraph the murders of 700-800 politicians and officials of the toppled regime. Elsewhere, he calls the death of 20,000 people during the mass evacuation appalling but not exceptional in the aftermath of a civil war -- as if the deportees were combatants, not helpless civilians. The author devotes no more than a few pages to the brutish and often short lives of millions in the countryside. This is an anatomy of the Khmer Rouge nightmare without the cries of its survivors.

Pol Pot is also a biography that seems reluctant to face up to the enormities committed by its subject. Short writes that perhaps 1.5 million people perished (less than other experts' estimate of 1.7 million), a sizeable minority of whom were executed. (Others died of starvation and disease caused by malnutrition and back-breaking labor.) The outright slayings, he argues, constituted crimes against humanity for which the surviving Khmer Rouge leaders may "legitimately be convicted," but they should not be jailed "for genocide, of which they are innocent." The killing fields did not constitute a genocide, Short writes, because the Khmer Rouge did not set out to "exterminate a "national, ethnic, racial or religious group."

But this quotation from the famous definition of genocide in the U.N. General Assembly's 1948 Genocide Convention is fragmented, omitting the document's key qualifying phrase: "in whole or in part." Moreover, decades of research -- and, indeed, information in Short's own book -- have clearly shown the racist motivation of the Khmer Rouge, including the now infamous call by Pol Pot himself "to crush" all of the Vietnamese. "In terms of numbers, [each] one of us must kill 30 Vietnamese," he wrote in a 1978 commentary for Radio Phnom Penh. "We need only two million troops to crush the 50 million Vietnamese and we will still have six million Cambodians left." Short does not even mention the systematic killing of an estimated 10,000 ethnic Vietnamese living in Cambodia. He also explains the Khmer Rouge's repression of Cambodia's Muslim Cham minority not as racially motivated but as the consequence of Cham resistance to abandoning their culture and religion, as demanded by Pol Pot's henchmen. Short does not see the displacement of 150,000 Chams as "racism in the normal sense of the term." Instead, he writes that the Khmer Rouge's "aim was uniformity," rather than "the suppression of a particular group" -- as if it were possible to make an omelet without breaking eggs.

Moreover, Short does not really explain the mental processes driving Pol Pot and his colleagues to order mass murders. Instead he offers examples of how this was simply the thing to do in Cambodia. He writes that Khmer Rouge atrocities were rooted in the country's history and tradition -- in "pre-existing Khmer cultural models." He even calls Buddhism (whose most basic precept forbids the taking of any life) a factor because its "impersonal fatalism . . . erects fewer barriers against evil than the anthropomorphic God of Christianity or Islam who sits in judgement and threatens sinners with hell-fire." Among other exotic explanations, he implies that Pol Pot's hatred of cities had deep roots: "In Khmer thought, the fundamental dichotomy is not between good and evil, as it is in Judaeo-Christian societies, but between srok and brai, village and forest." By going to the maquis, the Khmer Rouge had moved to "to the jungles, the wild places, where dark, unknown forces roamed."

Some of this book's conclusions were foreshadowed in a November 2000 essay Short wrote in the Phnom Penh Post. Published just before he sat down to interview Khmer Rouge leader Ieng Sary, that article argued that the Khmer Rouge leaders should not be tried because Pol Pot did not act alone. In the book's afterword, Short approvingly quotes a Buddhist leader (who said that "millions of Cambodians worked with" the Khmer Rouge) to argue that the best and brightest of Cambodia's intellectual elite bought into Pol Pot's hideous vision. A war crimes tribunal, Short suggests, would only help foreign powers whitewash their own less than honorable role in Cambodia's suffering; for instance, former secretary of state Madeleine K. Albright's call to try the surviving Khmer Rouge leaders for genocide "would allow the US to turn the page with honour and regain the moral high ground." A tribunal would also offer foreign governments an alibi for doing nothing about the current, thoroughly rotten Cambodian regime, which let a minister's wife go unpunished after disfiguring a young girl's face with acid -- a crime that Short likens to the Khmer Rouge atrocities. It would be more convincing to argue for a war crimes tribunal because Cambodia's current lawlessness cannot be curbed unless the mass murderers are brought to justice. (Imagine Germany in 1946 with Himmler walking free.)

Short's muddled arguments against trials for the Khmer Rouge high command may be an apt end to his book. He is a talented writer, and he had truly unusual access to the perpetrators of the killing fields. It is a pity that this combination produced only an interesting but ultimately flawed history of one of history's great horrors. •

Nayan Chanda is editor of YaleGlobal Online, a former editor of the Far Eastern Economic Review and the author of "Brother Enemy: The War After the War." He covered Indochina for more than two decades. Would you like to send this article to a friend? Go to

http://www.washingtonpost.com/ac2/wp-dyn/admin/emailfriend?contentId=A51776-2005Feb24&sent=no&referrer=emailarticle

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  • Short's History of a Nightmare draws a Locard

          By Henri Locard

I read with great interest Philip Short's book, Pol Pot: the History of a Nightmare, and the controversy the book has given rise to in the columns of the Phnom Penh Post. My only regret is that the book came out at the same time as my collection of Khmer Rouge slogans in Pol Pot's Little Red Book, as there is much new data contained in Short's book that would have made my comments more informative - for instance on the relationship between Buddhism and Pol-Potism.

We must praise Short for having written not just a new biography of Pol Pot but indeed a history of the entire Cambodian revolutionary movement in a vigorous and felicitous style that makes his long book highly readable, however painful the subject might be. His portraits are particularly well-penned: see Ieng Sary on pages 3 and 64, for instance, and so is Thiounn Mumm's (64). This was made possible as Short must have worked very conscientiously to tap new sources - archives in Phnom Penh, Hanoi, Beijing and Paris. Thanks to the latter, it is the first time we have a partial history of the Sangkum period, as there exists none so far, to my knowledge.

Still, this is only the dark side of the period, and the light of those years should be narrated too. However, I have a feeling that it was not the rich only who had a good time then, as Short seems to imply, but the poor peasants as well. At least those people were definitely better off than now, as I witnessed myself in the mid-sixties.

But the most important new source is having extracted vital information straight from the horse's mouth - that is the surviving Khmer Rouge leaders themselves. This is how we know, for instance, what Khieu Samphan preached to the returnees he re-educated in the now-renovated Institute of Technology (316-317), or many vital details through the author's deft interview of Phi Phuon, the Jarai who headed the bodyguard unit of the leadership. This is what I have tried to do with Suong Sikoeun, Laurence Picq's ex-husband.

I am grateful to Philip Short for having given convincing answers to a number questions. For instance, was the Angkar a close-knit group of criminals, a true Soviet, or essentially one individual, a mesmerizing tyrant as in all other communist regimes? The answer is clear that from around the first Party Congress in 1960 and Pol Pot's appointment as Party Secretary in 1962, he dominated the Angkar. The originality of the regime lay in the fact that all leaders' names and faces were concealed - except for Ieng Sary and Khieu Samphan.

As David Chandler has pointed out, those men and women were too terrified of the people they terrorized. Therefore the originality of the regime lay in its complete secrecy together with lying as a matter of policy to take its opponents by complete surprise. And of course the brutal evacuation of all the cities, together with continuous relocations and total collectivization. The reason was the desire on the part of the leadership first to catch up with the Soviet, the Chinese and the Vietnamese revolutions and then to overtake them - in particular the Vietnamese one, to make sure the Khmers would not fall subservient to Hanoi. In this demented race, no account was taken of human cost, and that explained why the Khmer Rouge revolution was so lethal. The communist society they created was, as it were, upgraded in comparison to others: the population was put in collectives the equivalent of Mao's re-education work camps and the prisons beyond were hells with no real equivalents in the models of the Khmer Rouge. That was their version of the super-Great Leap forward!

Another cipher cleverly unraveled too is respective influences from France, the Soviet Union, China and Vietnam. The story of the Paris days of all these young students is most novel and fascinating, particularly for a Frenchman. Still, what really remains a puzzle to me is how could this group of totally ruthless and asinine pseudo-intellectuals that formed the Angkar convince so many young soldiers to become such pitiless murderers?

However, like Craig Etcheson or other readers, there are a few points which I don't agree with the highly knowledgeable Philip Short. I will just note what I believe are mistakes or misinterpretations. On page 26, Short presents a curious picture of Chatomuk: the Tonle Bassac is certainly not a "river" that "joins" the Mekong like the Tonle Sap, but the beginning of the delta itself, branching out to the sea. Nor is Neak Luong "just below" Phnom Penh (207).

I would not be so sure that the brevet in carpentry that Saloth Sar obtained after one year at the Russey Keo Technical School was at all equivalent to a CSE, O-level (43) or French BEPC (Brevet d'Etudes du Premier Cycle), and this certainly could not prepare him for studies in radio-electricity in Paris. The young man never obtained any degree or diploma of much value, and this must go toward explaining why so many diploma holders got exterminated.

When mentioning the Geneva negotiations in 1954, where "Sihanouk's representatives won back at the conference table everything his army's incompetence had lost on the ground" (103), Short fails to mention the crucial role of Sam Sary, whose obstinacy delayed the signing of the agreement by one day, when, in the name of Sihanouk and the delegation, they (with Tep Phann and Nhiek Tioulong) said no to all the demands of the communists. Later, Short describes the astute politician as a monster; only the dark side of his personality is portrayed, while Pol Pot himself is allowed to be not just "the heart of darkness" but a humorous and likeable character also. This is not quite fair.

In the mid-1960s ... Preap In's execution was filmed and, for the next month, a fifteen-minute newsreel, showing his last moments in unsparing detail, was screened before every séance in every cinema in the country. Decades later, people still squirmed at the memory". Yes, and I still do myself.

"Khmer loeu (Highland Khmer)... had nothing in common with the Buddhist, rice-eating Khmers..." (171). Short seems to overlook that the main diet of those tribes is rice too - be it their delicious and tasty dry rice.

I find it strange that during the civil war, "hundreds of thousands fled ... into the forests" (216). This is the first time I've read or heard about such migration. Did not the author get his facts wrong here? Mass relocations had already taken place before the final Khmer Rouge victory, but I never thought those were voluntary.

I suspect Short over-dramatizes what he regards as an abrupt change in his hero in May 1972, when sweeping revolutionary measures were first adopted (230). I have heard evidence that purges of cadres had started in the early Ratanakkiri days from 1967 to 1970. Similarly, I did not read in the French edition of François Bizot's Le Portail that "about fifty prisoners ...were awaiting release" (554). In other words, it is possible that Short made the pre-1972 Saloth Sar somewhat more benign than he really was.

I do not believe either that after April 17, 1975, "each deportee's baggage was searched" (279). This is why so many "17th April people" were able to survive throughout 1975 as they bartered with "Base People" many of the belongings they had taken with them.

"There is no convincing evidence that Chams died in vastly greater numbers ... than did other racial groups" (327). Well, I am afraid there is, but Short has obviously not seen the only thorough demographic study on this subject in Marek Sliwinski's Le Génocide khmer rouge, une analyse démographique, l'Hamattan, 1995. If about 30 percent of the population was exterminated during the Khmer Rouge period, Sliwinski found that 37.5 percent of the few remaining Vietnamese, 38.4 percent of the Chinese and 40.6 percent of the Muslim Chams died under Democratic Kampuchea. But the two largest groups of victims were the Phnom Penh inhabitants (41.9 percent) and the Catholics (48.6 percent). The study also shows that the total number of victims was almost two million, reduced to 1.5 million by Short (418). But, by and large, people were singled out for elimination because of class origins and attitudes towards the revolution and not because of race or ethnicity.

Short tends to be somewhat cocksure about facts that are difficult to determine whether they are true or not. Etcheson rightly singled out what led Pol Pot to die in his sleep in 1998. I shall pick up another assertion about why so many Khmers were starved to death (352-353). It was not, as Short claims, because too much rice was shipped to China, but because production was very low.

I do not believe this corresponds to reality. I would not be quite so sure about exports to China, as we have no reliable figures on this, and the Angkar boasted that the country was in a position to export a vast amount. But we have the survivors' literature in which I do not recollect a single life story that did not point out the fact that paddy was carted away from the collectives by any means of transport imaginable to be stored in the cities.

For instance, Daran Kravanh in his Music through the Dark, a Tale of Survival in Cambodia (Silkworm Books, 2003), was in Pursat in 1977, and he witnessed large storage of edibles among which "rats [were] running about and eating our food" (130-131). He was brought to Pursat city in order to "pick up fifty-kilogram bags of rice and carry them on my shoulder across a board that was propped against the train. ... The rice produced in the rural areas was being put on a train for China" (131). Along the Phnom Penh-Kampong Som railway line, in Kampot province in particular, I have collected testimonies of people who saw trainloads being driven to Cambodia's only seaport. The other cause of food shortages was the abolition of markets, which led to an enormous wastage of rice stored in all the cities that the Angkar was unable to distribute, just as it had been unable (or unwilling) to distribute the new currency that had been printed. No, the people were not starved because there was no rice, they were starved by a decree from Angkar that sold and wasted food "on a vast scale", as Short points out himself (598).

My only serious contention with this otherwise remarkable book is first the lumping together of "five thousand Algerian prisoners [who] were killed in this way [tortured, "martyrized" and killed]" during the Algerian war and "the 15-20,000 who died in S-21" (364). The two situations have nothing in common, neither in the nature nor in the scale of the conflict. This would fudge rather than clarify such painful issues.

Besides, as one reader perceptively noted (Maud Sundqvist, PPP, 11-24 February, 2005), "Short conveniently forgets those tortured and killed in the many local prisons in DK". Yes, this is precisely the point: Short, who has innovated in many ways, cannot see the trees through the forest - like most historians before him - and the Vietnamese propaganda has built S-21 into such an exceptional institution that every visitor is convinced that what took place there was unique.

Alas, it was the norm.

The only difference was that Tuol Sleng, as it is now called, was the prison-torture centre for cadres of the regime essentially. Ordinary people were "processed" elsewhere, as every district had its major prison, not to speak of the numerous commune detention centres. There, the totally innocent, ordinary people were executed and cadres as well, particularly in the zone (dambon) and regional (phumpea) prisons. There, hundreds of thousands of victims were chained, starved and tortured during long interrogation sessions. Contrary to S-21, a small minority were released on condition they remained silent about what they had been through.

I would agree with Short's afterword and his rejection of the word 'genocide' to describe the crimes of Pol Pot and his peers. For two years I ran a course at the Political Institute of Lyon to demonstrate to the students that the 1948 Genocide Convention could not describe the crimes of the Khmer Rouge, while the 1998 Rome Agreement, with its definitions of 'war crimes', 'crime of aggression' and above all 'crimes against humanity' perfectly applied to DK. Every article of that convention can be illustrated by certain aspects of the Khmer Rouge policies.

Now, is this problem of terminology purely academic? I first thought yes, since, in ordinary speech, now 'genocide', far from its Greco-Latin origin, means mass murders of the most heinous kind. This exactly fits what happened under DK. And if some of my good friends, like Craig Etcheson or Helen Jarvis, wish to use them, why not? We must use the language everyone understands and not be pedantic.

Still, if "the case of Cambodia's Vietnamese ethnic minority is a textbook example of genocide", I think the reviewer (Craig Etcheson) got his facts and figures wrong. I do not need to elaborate as Bora Touch from Australia has supplied readers with all the relevant figures (PPP, 28 Jan.-10 Feb. 2005). Besides, Short has already answered that point, if somewhat abruptly (PPP, 14-27 January, 2005).

Indeed the struggle against the Vietnamese Communist Party was not about race or ethnicity but the nature of the Revolution and who would lead it. It was ideological and above all a struggle for totalitarian power, as the famous slogan "Vietnamese head, Cambodian body" (No. 202 in my collection) shows.

No, what worries me most about the use of the word 'genocide' associated with the Khmer Rouge crimes was that it was first molded on the concrete slab that directs visitors to the Tuol Sleng Museum: 'Genocidal crime". The label has stuck and it seems DK will always be associated with 'genocide' and skulls. But then why not, in that case, all the other communist regimes? The regimes created by Lenin, Stalin, Mao and Kim il-Sung killed millions too. If only Cambodia is singled out and associated with that monstrous category into which Hitlerian Nazism was the model, does it mean that we wish to unconsciously exonerate all the crimes committed in the countries they ruled and that are still committed in North Korea today? The label has also served to justify the occupation of Cambodia by Vietnam for one decade in order to institute 'real' communism and not what was termed the 'Red Nazism' of the Khmer Rouge. The best way to avoid such fruitless controversy is to avoid the word altogether. Since the useful words of 'politicide' or 'democide' that would fit the policies of Angkar have not entered our vocabulary, we had better keep clear of 'genocide'. 'Crimes against humanity' sounds horrendous enough to me, and the phrase perfectly describes the situation.

As Short himself sensed, it was risky on his part to tread the thorny path of singling out cultural or national characteristics that would contribute to explaining why the Cambodian revolution took such an extreme form. Here I think he was right, and although he has probably lived in this country a shorter period than some of his critics, he has pointed out Khmer traits that also correspond with my experiences. I shall just take one - their overweening individualism.

Anyone who has tried to drive in the streets of Phnom Penh cannot fail to have noticed this. I have a friend who had a duplex flat on the forth and fifth floors of an apartment block in central Phnom Penh. The common entrance is a dismal and narrow padlocked iron railing; it is very tricky to open. The staircase is very dark, as the third-floor owners have decided to block the light from the glass slabs on the top with a huge cardboard on which they store some kitchen implements.

The stairs on the first and second floors are filthy. When my friend renovated the fourth floor and the tiny attic above, he of course had to have a new roof put on. When the works were going on, none of the inhabitants on the ground floor, the first floor, the second floor, the third floor - that is four families - noticed that they were living under the same roof, and my friend had to pay the entire cost of putting in a new roof. The previous one was nothing but rusty and leaking corrugated iron. Sharing the cost with all the apartment block inhabitants was unthinkable.

I take this as symbolic of the Cambodian nation as a whole. It is a series of close-knit, extended families, at best clans or parties concerned only with the welfare of their faction, but for whom there is no roof sheltering them all - that is, there is no State. Westerners are shocked by what they call the corruption of the leaders and the civil servants, but when those are providing lavishly for their families and their dependents, they probably believe they are fulfilling their obligations. Beyond the clan, there exists nothing. This might explain why the Khmer Rouge created exactly the reverse of this: everything belonged to Angkar and the absolute collectivization meant, as I hoped to have shown in the last chapter of my book, "the death of the individual."

As a last note, one must warn the inexperienced reader that such a remarkable book as Short's is only one side of the coin. If we want to know the nature of the Democratic Kampuchean regime, one has to read more than half a dozen of the best life stories of the survivors. What we have in this book is the dream, the utopia (or dystopia, rather), how it was imagined, but not really how it was implemented in the collectives (and not "cooperatives" for heaven's sake, as no one was happily "cooperating" with the regime). After such a rewarding read of Short's book, in order to understand the point of view of the perpetrators, we need to go back to reality and listen to the voices of the victims. For instance, the last autobiography I read, Music through the Dark, a Tale of Survival in Cambodia, by Daran Kravanh and Bree Lafreniere (Silkworm Books, 2000), would be an excellent choice.

(Phnom Penh Post, Issue 14/05, March 11 - 24, 2005)

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  • Pol Pot': The Killer's Smile

Philip Short's book, Pol Pot: the History of a Nightmare. Reviewed by WILLIAM T. VOLLMANN

Published: February 27, 2005

I remember the first time I saw the killing fields at Choeung Ek: pits with rainwater in them, scraps of cloth and concretions of bone in the exposed earth. In one mass grave swam fat, unwholesome frogs. A child was catching them; his family was going to eat them. When I try to conceptualize Cambodia's suffering, that sight -- repulsive to me, presumably ordinary to the boy -- reminds me equally of the presence of the murdered and the sad expedients of the living. Pol Pot and his Khmer Rouge had been expelled by the Vietnamese a dozen years before, but their influence remained everywhere. During that first visit of mine, in 1991, one could stand in the middle of the widest boulevard in Phnom Penh at night and count stars. Electricity was the loud, weak and temporary product of generators. In place of the vehicle fumes of a couple of years later, one smelled sandalwood. Everything seemed as broken as the bones at Choeung Ek. Wasn't all this of a piece? Obviously it was the Khmer Rouge's fault that children were catching dinner in mass graves.

Philip Short's new biography of Pol Pot proves me wrong. It quotes an old member of the Khmer Rouge who remembers being a child and finding decapitated heads in fishing ponds. ''It didn't bother us. . . . We'd yank them out by the hair, and throw them aside.'' That was in 1949, before there was a Khmer Rouge. Pol Pot was then an undistinguished student en route to accept a radio technology scholarship in Paris.

There are two ways to distort the enduring presence of atrocity in Cambodia. One is to dwell, as I tend to do, on victims. Short, a British journalist who previously wrote a well-regarded biography of Mao, tends to dwell on perpetrators. In place of the boy at Choeung Ek, he brings to our notice a woman named Khoun Sophal, whose husband, a government minister, had taken a 16-year-old mistress. Her countermeasure: three liters of nitric acid. ''Scores of teenage Cambodian girls are disfigured and in many cases blinded in acid attacks by rich men's wives,'' Short writes. ''The parallel with Khmer Rouge atrocities is striking. One way to try to understand why the Cambodian Communists acted as they did is to enter into the mind of a well-educated, intelligent woman'' like Khoun Sophal.

This 1999 incident evidently haunts Short as much as the sight of the frog-fishing boy does me. In his afterword, which bluntly states, ''The present Cambodian government is rotten,'' he brings up the Khoun Sophal sisterhood as exemplars of ''a culture of impunity. . . . In such circumstances, trying the surviving Khmer Rouge leaders for past crimes offers an alibi for doing nothing about present ones.''

In other words, he seems to say, what Pol Pot did was hardly beyond the Cambodian ordinary. ''Every atrocity the Khmers Rouges ever committed, and many they did not, can be found depicted on the stone friezes of Angkor . . . or, in more recent times, in the conduct of the Issaraks,'' the anti-French insurgents who threw those heads into the ponds back in 1949.

Obviously, whether or not one accepts this interpretation of Cambodian history affects how one sees Pol Pot.

And who was Pol Pot? In 1996 I asked a Khmer Rouge defector and, through a translator, got this answer: ''He don't know. Pol Pot is just another word for Khmer Rouge. Maybe not a person. But if a person, Pol Pot always have a black uniform, and wear red fabric on head and wear shoes from rubber. But he never see.''

Nobody had seen him; everybody had heard his name. ''In the Pol Pot time,'' people would say, and the story that followed was always horrendous. A woman I loved told me how she'd had to watch her family's heads smashed in one by one; if she had wept, she would have been next. She blamed Pol Pot. A number of Cambodian slum dwellers and Thai dealers in illegally logged hardwood admired him; most abhorred him. His brother, Loth Suong, told me that Pol Pot had been a kindly child. He didn't consider himself Pol Pot's relative anymore. Until recently, nobody even agreed about whether he was still alive. (He died once and for all in 1998, at 73.) One might call him the Osama bin Laden of his epoch; but he was more invisible to our knowledge than that other bugbear. In David P. Chandler's excellent biography, ''Brother Number One'' (1992), there is an eerie photograph of Pol Pot applauding and smiling in a crowd. What do we know about him, except that he smiles? Oh, that smile of his! Short quotes his henchman, Ieng Sary: ''His face was always smooth. . . . Many people misunderstood that -- he would smile his unruffled smile, and then they would be taken away and executed.''

Short's book is ampler than Chandler's, and his footnotes contain evidence of an impressive diversity of sources, not to mention any number of thoughtful qualifications and interesting anecdotes. His text sparkles with shrewdly plausible inferences mortared into a compelling narrative. For instance, about the odd, yet in retrospect perfectly natural spectacle of the young Saloth Sar, who was not yet Pol Pot, lauding the Buddha as the first champion of democracy, Short comments: ''Like his choice of the pseudonym Khmer Daeum, it suggested a conscious desire to identify himself with an authentically Cambodian viewpoint rather than imported, Western ideas.'' If we fail to understand that desire, Pol Pot's anti-Vietnamese xenophobia and his expulsion of the urban populations will never make sense.

Were this biography a novel, I would apply the word ''verisimilitude'' to much of it, for Short's Pol Pot possesses a detailed reality whenever he appears. And why shouldn't he? We know more about him than we did when ''Brother Number One'' appeared. Short got the benefit of Nate Thayer's groundbreaking interview with the old murderer, not to mention eyewitness accounts of his remarriage, death and cremation. His account of Pol Pot's final two decades is of exceptional interest.

But my qualification that Pol Pot is vividly drawn whenever he appears remains unfortunately necessary. I wouldn't have wanted Short to cut any of his multipage summations of royalist Cambodia's domestic and foreign policies, Nixonian realpolitik during the Vietnam War or the politics of postwar Cambodia. But one may wish for more than the all-too-occasional paragraph or two in which Pol Pot takes a direct role. ''In September 1994,'' Short writes, ''the gentle old man who doted on his small daughter ordered the execution of three young backpackers''; such details do acquaint us with the monster, but there are not many of them. Our protagonist does get his biographical due in youth and old age, and fleetingly during his three years as the ruling despot of Democratic Kampuchea. But during the crucial two decades between the mid-1950's and his secret entry into a subjugated Phnom Penh, he remains ''just another word for Khmer Rouge. Maybe not a person.''

Could it be that because Pol Pot identified himself so thoroughly with his revolution, there was no him for us to know? Isaac Deutscher's biography of Stalin, and Alan Bullock's of Hitler, manage to ''bring alive'' tyrants whose personal lives were banal. Perhaps the problem is that Pol Pot was mediocre in almost every sphere: a failed technical student, an uninspired military leader who wasted the lives of his troops in badly planned offensives and ignored emergencies, a misguided ruler. In sum, Pol Pot would exert little claim on our attention were it not for the fact that millions died through his cruelty and incompetence. In ''Brother Number One,'' Chandler admits defeat at the outset: ''I was able to build up a consistent, but rather two-dimensional picture. . . . As a person, he defies analysis.''

When Short doesn't give us Pol Pot, what do we get? First and foremost, a highly readable summary of a half-century of Cambodian history. His characterization of Prince Sihanouk, the man for whom the word ''mercurial'' was invented, is vivid and at times based on personal observation. He is excellent at coining pithy summations of political motives that ring humanly true. For instance, shortly after World War II ''the Cambodians embraced Marxism not for theoretical insights, but to learn how to get rid of the French and to transform a feudal society which colonialism had left largely intact.'' Indeed, in my own interviews with Khmer Rouge I have been struck by how few of them knew anything about Marx. Short is correct: more than we would like to think, theirs was an indigenous movement. Most of us would like to believe the worst of the Khmer Rouge, but Short doesn't always let us. He takes pains to show that between 1970, when Sihanouk was overthrown by the American puppet Lon Nol, and 1972, when Pol Pot demanded that the revolution be sped up, the Khmer Rouge not only respected the autonomy of most peasants in their control, but performed such active kindnesses as sending help to bring in the harvest.

He is especially good at conveying the incremental buildup of harshness in the revolution. Here it differed from its Russian analogue, where, as Trotsky famously put it, ''something snapped in the heart of the revolution'' after the assassination attempt on Lenin in 1918. In Cambodia there does not seem to have been a triggering event. One of the Khmer Rouge's first roundups, which occurred the year before they conquered Phnom Penh, netted their own Communist compatriots who'd sojourned in Vietnam. A detention camp was built for these victims ''with Khmer bodies and Vietnamese minds,'' most of whom were then liquidated over a period of years. Meanwhile, strangers in the ''liberated zone'' had begun being treated as spies, and peasants were killing the educated, although this was not yet Pol Pot's stipulated policy. These events, to which Chandler's biography lacked the space to do justice, Short narrates with clarity and detachment, coincidentally underscoring his thesis of the normality of Cambodian atrocities as footnotes to the stone friezes of Angkor. Meanwhile he renders Pol Pot's crimes less aberrant, less simply sadistic, by explicating their rational basis. For instance, here is Brother Number One's directive concerning the Cham insurgents (they disliked being ordered to abandon their cultural distinctions): ''The leaders must be tortured fiercely in order that we may obtain a complete understanding of their organization.''

Short has much of value to say about the organization of rural life in Cambodia and how that sometimes informed, and sometimes defeated, Pol Pot's expectations. He is equally adept at explicating the Khmer Rouge grand strategy, which seesawed between Vietnam and China, all the while retaining Prince Sihanouk as an improbable figurehead. He gives reasonable due to the progressive destabilization of Cambodia caused by the Americans and the North Vietnamese in the 70's, a tale told first and best in William Shawcross's ''Sideshow: Kissinger, Nixon and the Destruction of Cambodia.'' Short discounts Shawcross's opinion that the Khmer Rouge's radicalization into cruelty had much to do with the carnage and terror caused by America's secret bombing campaign. He prefers to believe that Pol Pot and his ilk would have been atrocious anyway. So do I.

At times, Short's summations of motives decay into snap judgments. At one point, he claims that the Khmer Rouge killed captured government troops without mercy because ''in the Confucian cultures of China and Vietnam, men are . . . always capable of being reformed,'' for instance into good Communists; ''in Khmer culture they are not.'' But 40 pages earlier, while laying out what made the Cambodian style of Communist revolution different from all others, Short invokes Theravada Buddhism to obtain the following result: ''The idea that 'proletarian consciousness' could be forged, independent of a person's class origins or economic status, became the central pillar of Khmer communism.'' If it was really a ''central pillar,'' surely royalist prisoners could have been indoctrinated instead of exterminated.

There are many such preconceived moments, as when Short informs us of the parallel lives Cambodians supposedly live, one grounded in reason and the other ''mired in superstition,'' or glibly declares that ''Cambodians assert their identity by means of dichotomies: they are in opposition to what they are not.'' There is a whiff of hubris in these categorizations. They may be correct for all I know, but where's the proof? And when he comes to the three hellish years of Pol Pot's rule, he offers as one of the reasons for creating ''a slave state, the first in modern times,'' the following unpleasant assertion: ''Pol . . . faced a genuine and all but insurmountable problem, which had defeated the French, defeated Sihanouk, and has defeated every Cambodian government since. The problem was: how to make Khmers work. Putting it in those terms will raise hackles. But the issue is too important to be brushed aside with comforting platitudes.'' Short does not quite say that laziness is a national Cambodian characteristic, but he comes close.

'Pol Pot': The Killer's Smile

I do grant that Cambodians frequently work more slowly, and with smaller material ambition, than do many Americans, Germans and Japanese -- but I would never characterize that as an exclusively Cambodian phenomenon; and I would hold climate, malaria and intestinal parasites responsible. When I go to, say, Burma, I eat less and less; my strength declines; lassitude decreases my resolve while increasing my patience; then the fever or the diarrhea starts. Short himself mentions Pol Pot's incapacitating bouts of malaria. The book's rationalization of the Khmer Rouge program of forced labor, no matter how it's hedged, makes me uneasy. More specifically, it makes me look apprehensively back upon Short's near equation of Khmer Rouge atrocities with acid attacks carried out by jealous middle-aged wives. I don't entirely disagree, but I worry that Pol Pot's crimes might thereby be trivialized.

Most likely Short's opinionated peculiarities are well-meaning attempts to add nuance to our indictment of Pol Pot. Did he commit genocide? Short argues persuasively that he did not. His crimes against humanity were for the purposes of enslavement, not extermination. So what? As Short writes: ''The U.S. Army's conduct in Iraq (as earlier in Vietnam) merely lengthens the catalog of inhumanities perpetrated in the service of democratic ideals. The United States, whose allergy to supranational justice is so highly developed that it rejects it out of hand for American citizens,'' asserts that ''international tribunals should be limited to exceptional crimes such as genocide and not allowed to spill over into areas where the actions of 'normal' governments might come under scrutiny.'' In the wake of My Lai and Abu Ghraib, this point is sadly well taken. Short is no apologist for the Khmer Rouge, but an honest researcher who tries, if occasionally too zealously, to keep everything in perspective.

No doubt some people will be offended by this book, not only for its indiscretions, but also for its restraint. Wasn't Pol Pot a monster pure and simple? How dare Short imply otherwise! This attitude, understandable though it is, hinders our apprehension of reality. The truth is that even now you can find poor people in Cambodia who -- no matter that they lost relatives in the Pol Pot time -- wish for the return of the Khmer Rouge.

William T. Vollmann's recent books include ''Rising Up and Rising Down.'' His new book of fiction, ''Europe Central,'' will be published in April.

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  •  POL POT: Anatomy of a Nightmare by Philip Short
  •   Reviewed by WILLIAM GRIMES :

The New York Times; February 18, 2005

Even among the most accomplished mass murderers of the last century, Pol Pot deserves a special place. In raw numbers, his achievements cannot match Hitler's or Stalin's, but statistics can be deceiving. In three years under the Khmer Rouge an estimated one and a half million Cambodians died, out of a total population of only seven million. Many were executed. Many more died of overwork, disease or starvation laboring quite literally as slaves to realize the political fantasies of their gently smiling, almost Buddha-like leader. For lethal speed and destructiveness, the Cambodian experiment stands alone and apart.

"Money, law courts, newspapers, the postal system and foreign telecommunications - even the concept of the city - were all simply abolished," Philip Short writes in his superb, authoritative account of the man and the madness that transformed Cambodia, almost overnight, into hell on earth. "Individual rights were not curtailed in favor of the collective, but extinguished altogether. Individual creativity, initiative, originality were condemned per se. Individual consciousness was systematically demolished."

This was utopia as envisioned by Saloth Sar, better known by his party alias, Pol Pot, and Mr. Short goes a long way toward explaining how and why Cambodia got there. Drawing on interviews with former members of the Khmer Rouge movement and archival material in France, Russia, China, Cambodia and Vietnam, he carries the reader along in a remarkably lucid exposition of the political events that brought Pol Pot to power, kept him there briefly and then brought him down.

Pol Pot, the man, remains an illusive, shadowy figure. But the forces that shaped him, and his thinking, come into focus, and Mr. Short chronicles the stages of the Cambodian revolution with admirable clarity.

For the biographer, Pol Pot is a steep, uphill climb. Intensely secretive, he baffled even his closest associates, who never managed to penetrate beneath his opaque smile and smooth demeanor. "Even when he was very angry, you could never tell," said Ieng Sary, a Khmer Rouge leader who had known Pol Pot ever since their student days in Paris. "You could not tell from his face what he was feeling. Many people misunderstood that - he would smile his unruffled smile, and then they would be taken away and executed."

For years no one knew that Pol Pot headed the Communist Party of Cambodia or, after it took over, that he was the one running Cambodia.

In his youth, the smile simply seemed friendly. It helped Sar, an indifferent student who showed no interest in politics until his 20's, gain influence in the Marxist group formed by fellow Cambodian college students in Paris in the early 1950's. Mr. Short ingeniously teases out the various strands of revolutionary thought that influenced the young Sar, who, he argues, was unusually receptive to the most extreme versions of political radicalism.

In part, this was a matter of personal history. As a young child, Sar had been sent for a year to a Buddhist school whose emphasis on strict discipline, rote learning and suppression of individuality became, the author argues, "key elements of his political credo." But Sar's attraction to the most inflexible, utopian strains in Stalin, Mao and, above all, the Russian anarchist Kropotkin reflected a deep-seated tendency in Khmer culture, according to Mr. Short. He contrasts the tempering influence of Confucianism on Vietnamese and Chinese political thinking with the nihilistic precepts of Theravada Buddhism and the dark shadows of Khmer superstition, still very much alive in the late 20th century.

In the waning days of the Lon Nol regime, generals were instructed in ancient Khmer practices of warfare, and a line of colored sand was drawn around Phom Penh to give the city magical protection. "Whereas Mao was the product of an intensely rational, literate society, with highly developed traditions of philosophical debate, Sar's cultural heritage was irrational, oral, guided by Theravada transcendentalism and by k'ruu, spirit masters, whose truths sprang not from analysis but from illumination," Mr. Short writes.

Years spent in the countryside building a revolutionary organization deepened Pol Pot's conviction that true Communism could be built only by the poorest, "purest" strata of the peasantry, on fire with revolutionary consciousness. In truth, he was a poor theoretician, his Marxism an ill-digested blend of anti-colonialism, xenophobia and millenarianism.

Sar and his fellow revolutionaries never bothered to examine the social conditions in which their lofty ideas would be put into practice. The absence of an industrial proletariat, for example, bothered them not in the least. In May 1975, less than a month after seizing power, they simply decided to make the "extremely marvelous, extremely wonderful, prodigious leap" to full Communism.

Mr. Short dismisses the argument that the American bombing of Cambodia in 1970 brutalized and radicalized the Khmer Rouge. Many more were dropped on Vietnam, and in any case, the Khmer Rouge leadership did not experience the bombing firsthand. "The bombing may have helped create a climate conducive to extremism," he writes. "But the ground war would have done that anyway."

But the bombing did have profound effects and led, indirectly, to a harsher regime, Mr. Short argues. It sent tens of thousands of new recruits to the Khmer Rouge, flooded the cities with refugees and accelerated Pol Pot's policy of collectivization in Communist-controlled areas. "The outcome was a harsher, more repressive regime under which the suffering of individuals became unimportant because there was so much of it," the author writes.

Mr. Short is judicious in describing the atrocities and myriad insanities of Pol Pot's regime. He does not catalog. A few chilling details, expertly deployed, do the necessary work. After the first year of Khmer Rouge rule, to take just one example, foraging for food was denounced as a manifestation of individualism. Some might wind up with more than others. Better that all should starve equally. In the countryside, peasant soldiers would make "smoke children," or magic talismans, by slicing open the stomachs of pregnant women, removing the fetuses and hanging them up in the eaves of huts to shrivel and blacken.

Suffering was not distributed equally in Cambodia. Mr. Short paints a complicated picture of Khmer rule, which was arbitrary and highly disorganized. Because Pol Pot failed to organize a truly unified, disciplined party, his revolutionary directives were applied almost haphazardly from region to region and even village to village.

"The prevailing image of the Khmers Rouges as uniformly mindless automatons, bent on destruction, was fundamentally wrong," he argues. "What the deportees themselves experienced was a mosaic of idealism and butchery, exaltation and horror, compassion and brutality, that defies easy generalization."

Mass starvation and economic failure led Pol Pot to a simple conclusion: internal enemies were to blame. In short order, he embarked on a series of purges that bled the Khmer Rouge white, while carrying out military operations and civilian massacres against Vietnam, Cambodia's ancient enemy, thereby ensuring his downfall. Three years, eight months and 20 days after winning power, the regime of Pol Pot collapsed as the Vietnamese overran the capital.

Mr. Short finds a fitting epitaph in the words of an aristocrat whose sons served the regime. "Didn't they win a glorious victory?" she said to a friend. "But they wouldn't treat people properly, so now they've lost everything. Band of cretins!"

To the end of his life, Pol Pot, who died in 1998, denied responsibility for the suffering under his rule. At times, he would seem to recognize a shortcoming here and there. "The line was too far to the left," he might say. More often, he expressed regret at too much trust in those around him, "the real traitors."

Up to his final moments, he was still ordering executions from his encampment along the Thai border. As for Cambodia's extremely marvelous leap, he remained unapologetic. Just days before his death, he told a visitor, "My conscience is clear."

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  • Pol Pot: The History of a Nightmare; by Philip Short

  • REVIEWED BY MICHAEL SHERIDAN

In the hierarchy of mass murderers of the last century, the Cambodian dictator Pol Pot remains unchallenged for the sheer extremism of his theory and the implacable way it was put into practice. Stalin, Hitler and Mao killed many more victims, but they had wider canvases to paint with blood. The Cambodian experiment traumatised just one small country and may have claimed "only" 1.5m lives. Yet it astonished even Mao by its radicalism and proved that the Marxist utopia was a vision doomed to failure no matter how ruthless its social engineers.

So, if Pol Pot belongs, strictly speaking, in the second rank of butchers, alongside Saddam Hussein, perhaps, or the Young Turks who orchestrated the Armenian pogroms, he still ranks first among equals in the theory and practice of political violence.

Philip Short’s book sets out to show that rage and murder were intrinsic to the Cambodian revolution. Their roots lay deep in the Khmer psyche of absolute submission to absolute rulers and a blind insistence on carrying theories through to the end. He reckons that Pol Pot was not a classic communist functionary but more like one of the ancient despots of Angkor Wat, in whose grandeur the revolutionaries gloried.

Like the author’s biography of Mao, this is in essence a political, not a personal history. Pol Pot revealed almost nothing about himself; indeed, utmost secrecy was his code of practice and few witnesses survived to testify about his daily life. We know more about Hitler’s table talk, Stalin’s drinking bouts and Saddam’s wedding feasts than we do about Pol Pot’s shadowy meetings in jungle huts and his summits in the salons of Hanoi and Pyongyang. And there is more documentation available for the Nazi Wannsee conference of 1942 than there is for the meetings in 1975 at the Khmer Rouge headquarters in Phnom Penh’s French colonial railway station, at which the draconian decision to evacuate the cities of Cambodia was taken. This leaves the biographer with a tough task. Short has dug around assiduously for fresh material to illuminate the mind of the tyrant. At the end, though, we are still left groping for answers.

Pol Pot’s youth provides few clues. Like Mao, he came from a prosperous village family, precisely the sort of suspicious class background that would suffice for a death sentence later on. Like Stalin, he was exposed at a young age to the certainty of faith, spending a year as a novice monk at the Buddhist temple of Wat Bottum Vaddei, near the gilded royal palaces of Phnom Penh.

It is in Pol Pot’s adolescence that Short finds the most peculiar anecdote about his subject. Within the palace walls, Pol Pot’s sister, Roeung, was living as a secondary wife, in practice a concubine, to the polygamous if elderly King Monivong. The boy would be allowed to visit his sister in this "hothouse world", as Short terms it, because at 15 he was deemed a child. According to Keng Vannsak, a contemporary of Pol Pot who later became his political mentor in Paris, the harem women would indulge in sex play with him, stopping short of intercourse. There are so few other details known of Pol Pot’s intimate life that this gem might seem a gift to Freudians.

Short passes briskly onwards, alas, to explore in burdensome detail the development of Cambodian revolutionary theory in the 1930s. It was a unique model. It took its austerity from the Buddha, its extremism from Robespierre and its leadership doctrine from Stalin. There was to be no compromise, only violence. Subterfuge was everything: it was only in 1976, a year after the fall of Phnom Penh, that Pol Pot emerged in public as the leader, and only then did the Khmer Rouge reveal itself as a Marxist-Leninist party.

Pol Pot was fortunate in his enemies. The playboy King Sihanouk — who outlived him and who has just abdicated the throne — ruled a fantasy realm of brutality and gross corruption that made 1950s Cambodia ripe for revolution. When the uprising came, Pol Pot’s black-clad legions faced the military strongman Lon Nol. "As silent as a carp," the French called him, while the despairing Americans put their faith in B-52s to prolong his regime and Lon Nol himself resorted to sorcerers, spells and a line of magic sand drawn in a circle around Phnom Penh. The B-52s did not save Cambodia, but became a symbol of the West’s blundering complicity in its destruction.

Yet Short’s most valuable contribution to the debates that still swirl around the Cambodian fiasco is to bring clear thinking to the big questions of blame. He takes issue with William Shawcross, who argued shortly after the war that the pathological brutality of the Khmer Rouge followed years of severe trauma under American bombing. Not at all, says Short. Cruelty was ingrained in the Cambodian independence fighters of the 1950s, the Issaraks, who devoured the cooked livers of their victims. And Pol Pot institutionalised the killing of captives before Kissinger and Nixon made Cambodia a cockpit of the cold war.

Short is brisk about the cynical policy of Vietnam, whose only redeeming role in the affair was to invade Cambodia and topple Pol Pot in 1979 after his excesses spilt across the border. He also indicts the Chinese, who have largely escaped censure for their complicity with the Khmer Rouge. Mao openly envied Pol Pot’s extremism. The ultra-radical Gang of Four backed him. Then Deng Xiaoping played power politics by sustaining him with weapons for a decade in the jungles along the Thai border.

Pol Pot’s revolution, like Stalin’s, consumed his enemies, then his comrades and finally his own family. His brother perished on a forced march in 1975, his first wife, Khieu Ponnary, went mad, while sundry relatives and in-laws fell to his purges. A few of his surviving cronies will face an international tribunal next year. It will be Nuremberg without Hitler, for Pol Pot died, apparently of natural causes, in 1998. Of the 20th century’s great killers, only Saddam, it seems, is likely to have his day in court.

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  • Nightmare of a History: Philip Short's Pol Pot
  • Reviewed by Craig Etcheson

Philip Short's new book, Pol Pot: The History of a Nightmare, is required reading for anyone with a serious interest in the Khmer Rouge or the modern history of Cambodia. However, many readers will likely find the experience a combination of fascination and frustration, as the book veers from a masterful beginning to a less than satisfactory conclusion. It reads almost as if the author ran out of time, and was unable to apply the same incisive touch to the late chapters as he managed to lavish on the earlier material. Even so, there is much to recommend in this book.

Pol Pot is a complex and ambitious work, attempting to penetrate to the very marrow of the ultimate existential question about the violence of the Khmer Rouge revolution: "Why?" Short writes that his "cardinal issue is what it is about Cambodian society that has allowed, and continues to allow, people to turn their backs on all they know of gentleness and compassion, goodness and decency, and to commit appalling cruelties seemingly without conscience [sic] of the enormity of their acts and certainly without remorse." [13] Short situates his answer to this difficult query in the interstices of history, geography, culture, and the political and social system.

Not content with mere context, he adds, "Evil is as evil does." [13] He wisely admonishes his reader to understand that however horrible the history he is about to recount may be, it does not spring from some uniquely Cambodian malady: "When we contemplate what happened in Cambodia, we are looking not at some esoteric horror story but into darkness, into the foul places of our own souls." [14] Modern Cambodian history is a cautionary tale for all of humanity, and Short aims to fashion that tale in an epic morality play.

The story Short relates is framed around the life of Saloth Sar, later to become known as Pol Pot. But strictly speaking - notwithstanding the book's title - this is not a biography of Pol Pot. Instead, Short uses the Khmer Rouge leader's life as an organizing device to trace the trajectory of the Cambodian revolution. Thus the story begins in Kampong Thom's Prek Sbauv village, Saloth Sar's birthplace, with a description of the social and economic conditions of the time.

The narrative subsequently moves into the hothouse of life in 1930s Phnom Penh, where the young Sar is introduced to religion as a novice Buddhist monk at Wat Botum, later moves in to live with his brother Suong while attending the Catholic school, Ecole Miche, and then on to a French Vichy school, the College Preah Sihanouk in Kampong Cham. Because Sar's sister, Roeung, is a consort of the King, the future revolutionary leader is also exposed to the mores of King Monivong's palace.

In one example of the impressive color Short adds to our existing portrait of Pol Pot's life, he relates how, according to Keng Vannsak, at age 15 when he was living among servants of the royal household, Saloth Sar was sexually molested by young women of King Monivong's harem. [27] It would be tempting to project this youthful experience forward onto the policies that were eventually imposed by Pol Pot regarding sexual matters, but Short prudently refrains from such psychoanalytic speculation in this instance.

As the narrative moves on to Saloth Sar's time in Paris, Short begins to introduce other characters who will play major roles in Cambodia's drama. While the ferment of decolonization bubbled away at home in the late 1940s and early 1950s, Cambodian students in Paris assessed the various models for throwing off the yoke of the French overlords. Ieng Sary, Thiounn Mumm, Mey Mann, Hou Yuon, Khieu Samphan and others were soon drawn down the communist path to securing Cambodia's independence.

Though we are already familiar with the outlines of this period in Saloth Sar's life from David Chandler's Brother Number One, again, this book adds considerable depth to the portrait. Saloth Sar did not immediately follow his colleagues toward communism, initially preferring the republican-leaning Son Ngoc Thanh. According to Short, it was not the writings of Marx, Lenin, Stalin and Mao that captured Sar's imagination so much as the Russian anarchist, P‘tr Kropotkin, who in his book, The Great Revolution, analyzed the alliance of intellectuals and peasants that overthrew Louis XVI in 1789. [72-74] Here was a model that resonated deeply with the young Cambodian intellectual.

The story line then refocuses on Cambodia, where the returning students are gradually integrated into the communist underground. It was here that they first came into extended contact with "Khmer Vietminh," Cambodian revolutionaries who struggled against French colonialism, and who were closely tied to the Vietnamese communists. The frictions between this older combat-tested generation and the younger generation with mere book-learning would become a central nexus of the revolutionary saga.

At a 1960 party congress, Saloth Sar was elevated to third in the party hierarchy, and Ieng Sary to the fourth position. Two years later, party secretary Tou Samouth was liquidated by Sihanouk's secret police, providing an opportunity for Sar to leap-frog over deputy secretary Nuon Chea and grasp the reins of leadership. He would firmly hold that leadership for the next 35 years.

Short skillfully analyses the perhaps unconscious but nonetheless elemental ways in which Buddhist metaphysics influenced the Khmer Rouge synthesis of Marxist-Leninist-Maoist theory. In orthodox Marxist dialectical materialism, it is the reality of the material world -- economic relations and class structure -- which determines super-structural factors such as consciousness. But, Short argues, the Cambodian communists turned this article of communist faith on its head, echoing elements of Theravada Buddhist doctrine in their conclusion that class relations are a mental attribute. [149] Thus, peasants could be imbued with the proletarian consciousness of an industrial worker, and hence they could become the driving force behind the transformation of Cambodia into a purely communist system. This is a valuable insight, something only hinted at in previous works, such as this reviewer's own Rise and Demise of Democratic Kampuchea.

A key historical juncture occurs during Saloth Sar's extended visit to Hanoi in 1965. There the Cambodian revolutionary wrestled with Vietnamese communist chief Le Duan and other Vietnamese leaders over questions of doctrine and strategy, and perhaps more importantly, Vietnamese assistance to a revolution that was contemplating armed struggle. These seminal meetings have previously been documented in studies such as Steve Heder's Cambodian Communism and the Vietnamese Model, but Short identifies one particular episode in this period as the crucial turning point in the development of Pol Pot's thought. As part of his effort to persuade Pol Pot that it was premature for the Cambodian revolution to launch armed struggle, and that Vietnam had the best interests of the Cambodians at heart, Le Duan suggested that Pol Pot review the history of relations between the Vietnamese and Cambodian revolutionary organizations by studying Vietnamese party archives. Pol Pot spent days examining the archives, but came away with a rather different conclusion that his fraternal comrade expected. "Until I read those documents myself, I trusted and believed the Vietnamese," Pol Pot later wrote. "But after reading them, I didn't trust them anymore." [158] Thereafter, the Khmer Rouge would go their own way.

Through the subsequent decade between the time the party began to prepare for armed struggle in 1966 and the victory of the revolution in 1975, Short meticulously traces Saloth Sar's movements, aliases, and ever-shifting headquarters. He chronicles these shifts in more detail than in any previous scholarly analysis. It is almost as though Short is searching for the answer to the big question somewhere among the constantly changing code names. And it is here, after Sihanouk's overthrow and the expansion of the Vietnam War into Cambodia, in July 1970, that Solath Sar becomes Pol Pot. [212]

Short addresses the important question of why so many people starved to death under the Khmer Rouge. Previous analyses, such as Ben Kiernan's The Pol Pot Regime, have argued that a central factor in food shortages during the Democratic Kampuchea regime was a decision to export massive quantities of rice to China in exchange for military equipment. Short persuasively demonstrates that Khmer Rouge rice exports, whether to China or elsewhere, were never a significant factor in the Democratic Kampuchea famine. [352-353 and 596-598] Instead, he attributes the food shortages to a range of factors including large-scale waste due to improper storage, dispersed manpower as a result of the mobile brigades, a lack of motivation by the agricultural workforce, and dissembling by cadre who correctly feared punishment for failure to meet the regime's unrealistic production targets.

To this point in his narrative, Short weaves together an impressive variety of primary and secondary materials, skillfully mining existing scholarly accounts, a welter of previously available interviews, documents and other written sources, and brings to bear previously unknown archival materials from France, China, and elsewhere. The contacts that Short developed in China during his research on a previous book, Mao: A Life, have obviously been put to good use in this current effort. Then there are Short's extensive interviews with senior Khmer Rouge.

Short's interviews with Khmer Rouge figures add great depth to his chronicle, but these sources simultaneously introduce a major element of uncertainty. Occasionally the author appears to lend too much credence to claims by senior Khmer Rouge officials. After all - as Short clearly documents -- these people have spent their entire adult lives, in a very real sense, not merely living a lie, but in fact constructing multiple, entirely false realities to conceal themselves in their obsession with secrecy and subterfuge. After they have been so conditioned by a lifetime of reflexive falsehood, it is hard to see how we should take anything they say at face value, without confirming it through multiple, independent non-Khmer Rouge sources.

For example, Short writes that Pol Pot, Nuon Chea and Son Sen comprised the "ultra-secret Security Committee responsible for the suppression of internal dissent" in the party. [359] He bases this assertion on his interview with Ieng Sary. [601] Yet, on August 25, 1996, when Ieng Sary was negotiating for his pardon, the former Khmer Rouge Deputy Prime Minister published a document asserting that the members of the regime's Security Committee were Nuon Chea, Son Sen and Yun Yat. Both of these claims by Ieng Sary cannot be true, and it is not clear what gives Short confidence that the version of events he happened to extract from Sary is the correct one. This is puzzling, particularly in view of the fact that at another point in his narrative, Short catches Ieng Sary in a lie, and observes that "many of his statements" appear to be untrue. [419] The evident credulousness with which Short accepts many things from his senior Khmer Rouge interviewees is a worrying characteristic of the treatment through-out the narrative.

The author also displays a penchant for sometimes overly broad generalizations about Cambodia. Some of Short's most disconcerting generalizations have to do with the national character and culture of Cambodians. In his zeal to penetrate the mysteries of the revolution's existential essence, he strains to assign universal attributes where first-hand experience reveals diversity and multiform character. For example, in one passage, Short discusses at length " ... the innate and essential egoism which characterizes Khmer behavior. Whatever shortcomings attach to such cultural generalizations, that was the way Cambodians saw themselves." [232] If so, then how is it that we know so many Cambodians who are selfless?

Elsewhere, when he attempts to elucidate the functional consequences of kum and s‰ngsoek, Short's descriptive powers fail him. "When the strains and pressures of existence reach a point where there is no longer the possibility of graceful withdrawal, when the smiling faade cracks, violence - running amok, as Sihanouk put it - becomes the only alternative. It is not an aberration. It is an intrinsic part of Khmer behavior ... " [208] Again and again, Short takes an underlying grain of truth about Cambodian society and attempts to bake a whole cultural cake, but the dough fails to rise properly.

Another example: "In the Confucian cultures of China and Vietnam, men are, in theory, always capable of being reformed. In Khmer culture they are not." [191] This last generalization is directly contradicted by extensive empirical research. In villages across the country, this reviewer has interviewed Cambodians who say they accepted former Khmer Rouge to return to live in the village on the basis of their confidence that those Khmer Rouge have "changed their character."

Toward the end of the narrative, the documentation becomes a bit sloppy. For example, Short relates an incident during the Khmer Rouge regime when Khieu Samphan was escorting Prince Sihanouk on a provincial tour. Sihanouk in his memoir, Prisonnier des Khmers Rouges, how to his astonishment, even though his own car carried Cambodia's Head of State, it pulled off the road to let another vehicle pass, bearing an older woman and a small boy. Short writes, "The Prince never did work out the passenger's identity. She was Pol's (and Ieng Sary's) mother-in-law." [347] Only by turning to the notes does the reader learn that this conclusion "is guesswork" on Short's part. [594]

A further instance of cavalier research is Short's assertion that the vicious March 1997 grenade attack on a Sam Rainsy-led demonstration "was ordered by Hun Sen." [Caption for photos 49 and 50, and page 438] To substantiate this claim, the only source to which readers are directed is the 4 April 1997 issue of the Phnom Penh Post. That issue of this newspaper, which went to press four days after the attack, contains several stories hinting that ruling party figures may have been involved in the atrocity, and accusations from Sam Rainsy that Hun Sen was behind the attack, but nothing in the way of definitive evidence that this was indeed the case.

Cambodia watchers have puzzled for years over the death of Pol Pot, and this mystery should surely be an important question in a book titled "Pol Pot." Did he die of natural causes? Or was it suicide, a successful escape from the humiliation of being handed over to the Americans, a plan Pol Pot reportedly learned of while listening to American radio a few hours before his death? Or was it murder, either at the hands of his Khmer Rouge comrades or his Thai allies, both of whom might have had good reasons for not wanting the fallen leader to talk? Short resolves this mystery by declaring that Pol Pot "died peacefully in his sleep" of "heart failure." [442] Unfortunately, however, he provides no documentation for this assertion, leading his readers to conclude that this may be another "guess," and leaving the question of Pol Pot's demise unresolved.

Then there are some assertions that are simply wrong, bespeaking a hurried editing process. In one of the last sentences of the central narrative, for example, Short says, "In December [1978], Khieu Samphan and Nuon Chea were granted royal pardons ... " [443] In reality, Ieng Sary is the only Khmer Rouge leader to have received a royal pardon, which can only be granted by His Majesty the King. Any amnesty that may have been granted to Khieu Samphan and Nuon Chea came from Hun Sen.

Some readers may be put off by Short's analysis of the nature of the Khmer Rouge crimes. He argues that what the Khmer Rouge did cannot properly be called "genocide," but rather constituted crimes against humanity. Most legal scholars and jurists who have examined the Khmer Rouge crimes do not concur in this view, including the UN Group of Experts. Cambodia's ethnic Vietnamese minority, for example, was reduced from perhaps half a million people to essentially zero through extermination and deportation. The Genocide Convention says that genocide has been committed when an ethnic group is intentionally destroyed, in whole or in part, by killing or other acts. Most Khmer Rouge victims were ethnic Khmer, of course, and that is a far more difficult proposition in terms of the Genocide Convention, but the case of Cambodia's Vietnamese ethnic minority is a textbook example of genocide.

Nonetheless, the precise label attached to the crimes of the Khmer Rouge regime is an arguable point upon which reasonable people can disagree. It is an argument that ultimately should be decided in a court of law. And yet, Short seems to dismiss the value of a judicial proceeding to assess the crimes of the Khmer Rouge, saying that "trying the surviving Khmer Rouge leaders for past crimes offers an alibi for doing nothing about present ones." [447] Others, including this reviewer, have argued precisely the opposite: that until the worst crimes are punished, lesser crimes will always be revitalized and dismissed.

In the end, how well does Short accomplish the enormous task he sets for himself in Pol Pot? He boldly aims to answer the Big Question: "Why?" Short finely weaves history, geography, social and political systems, and perhaps a little less successfully, culture, as well as the personality of Pol Pot, in an attempt knit together a tapestry that shows how Cambodia could have been so consumed by evil. But despite the brilliant colors of some of the new yarns he has incorporated into the picture, and despite the elaborate warp and woof of his design, the resulting fabric is tattered around the edges, and somewhat faded, so one cannot discern a compelling pattern. This, however, should not be seen as a criticism, for no other author has yet dared to address the question on the lips of every Cambodian survivor of Pol Pot's nightmare. It is a worthy effort, and the early chapters are rich, rewarding and beautifully written. Despite its shortcomings, Pol Pot: The History of a Nightmare is a valuable and welcome contribution to the literature on the Khmer Rouge.

(Craig Etcheson is a Visiting Scholar at Johns Hopkins University School of Advanced International Studies. He is the author of The Rise and Demise of Democratic Kampuchea (1984) and After the Killing Fields: Lessons from the Cambodian Genocide (forthcoming, March 2005) )

Phnom Penh Post, Issue 13/26, December 17 - 30, 2004

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  • Counter point by the author: Fighting Over Genocide: Pol Pot Author Responds  By Philip Short

Craig Etcheson damns me with faint praise (Nightmare of a History, Post, Dec. 17-30).

Our debate would have more zest if he had had the courage of his convictions and given me an honest roasting for taking a position opposite to his own.

The nub of our discord concerns the term "genocide". This is such a fundamental issue, and so intimately connected with any forthcoming trial of the surviving Khmer Rouge leaders, that it is surely worth looking at more closely. Mr. Etcheson writes that the case of the 500,000 strong Vietnamese minority in Cambodia - which was subjected to "extermination and deportation" - is "a textbook example of genocide".

Extermination there certainly was - under Lon Nol in 1970. The French government at that time sought legal advice as to whether the Genocide Convention could be invoked, and was advised that it could. But by then Lon Nol was trying to distance himself from his pogroms, so the matter was quietly dropped.

Under Lon Nol, half the Vietnamese community left Cambodia. Of the remaining 250,000, an unknown but significant number left before 1975, while the remainder returned to Vietnam in the year after the Khmer Rouge came to power. Were they deported, or did they simply depart, thanking their lucky stars that they'd finally found a way out of Pol Pot's dystopia?

The attempts of numerous Khmers and Sino-Khmers to pass themselves off as Vietnamese in order to be permitted to leave suggests the latter. As Mr. Etcheson knows, not all of them succeeded. The Vietnamese authorities of the day, to show solidarity with their Khmer communist brothers, repatriated any Khmers they detected despite knowing that on their return they would be killed by what they would later call "the genocidal regime".

Should the surviving members of Le Duan's administration also therefore be brought to trial for complicity in genocide?

This is all a monstrous red herring. The plight of the Vietnamese minority in Cambodia is not a textbook example of anything, least of all genocide. And even if it were, it would not and could not be the main issue with which a tribunal should concern itself. Do we not all agree that the core of any trial is the responsibility of Pol Pot's regime in enslaving - literally, not metaphorically - the entire Cambodian nation, and causing the deaths of between a sixth and a quarter of them? It should not be too much to ask that at least on that point there be common ground.

With what, then, should the surviving Khmer Rouge leaders be charged in regard to the chief accusation against them: that concerning the Cambodian people?

Mr. Etcheson allows that a charge of genocide against Khmers would be a "difficult proposition in terms of the Genocide Convention". But contradictorily, he insists that "most legal scholars and jurists who have examined the Khmer Rouge crimes" hold the view that genocide was committed, and he supposes that "some readers" (Mr. Etcheson himself, perhaps?) will be dismayed by my rejection of the term.

Do I detect muddled thinking? More to the point, what is it that makes Mr. Etcheson - and, with honorable exceptions, many other scholars - cling to the term "genocide" with such limpet-like devotion, even as, in unguarded moments, they admit that it may not in fact be appropriate?

Some years ago, at the time when the current vogue for genocide studies was being born, Serge Thion wrote that genocide was becoming "a political commodity". Today it is an academic commodity - I am tempted to say, part of an academic food-chain - in which the word "genocide" has become so elastic that the unique horror it is intended to convey has been attenuated and debased. The study of genocide - as perpetrated by the Nazis, and in Armenia and Rwanda - is necessary and important. But when every atrocious regime is described as genocidal, the word loses not only its meaning but, worse, its force.

Genocide studies in their contemporary form - especially as applied to Cambodia - are an American creation, fostered by Congress for political reasons at the instigation of the US Administration at a time when the US was seeking closure for a particularly painful chapter of its policy in Asia and, at the same time, looking for ways to control an emerging system of supranational justice.

That the media should have swallowed the Vietnamese line about genocide in Cambodia, which the US later made its own (politics makes strange bedfellows), is regrettable, but understandable: The word makes good headlines. That other western governments should have gone along with the notion of a Cambodian genocide is also understandable. As one western ambassador in Phnom Penh put it to me a few years ago: "We have enough problems with Washington. For us, this is a small matter. Why make an issue of it?" But that international scholars should unthinkingly lend their authority to such propaganda is unworthy.

A spade is a spade is a spade.

The Khmer Rouge period was an abomination. Its leaders committed crimes against humanity. If that was considered the appropriate charge for the former Nazi leaders, why is it, in some mysterious way, not good enough for the Khmers Rouges? This is not some minor issue that will just go away in the wash, as Mr. Etcheson appears to believe. The prosecutors must frame proper charges and the tribunal must render judgement on those charges. In a fair trial of the Khmer Rouge leadership on charges of genocide, the court would have no choice but to acquit. If we follow Mr. Etcheson's logic to its conclusion, we shall end up being grateful that the chances of a fair trial in Cambodia - and hence of such a verdict - are nil.

What a topsy-turvy world we live in!

On a very different topic - culture vs. communism as the root of Khmer Rouge behavior - Craig Etcheson makes more sense. Cultural generalizations were fashionable in the early part of the last century. Then economic determinism took over and culturalism became anathema. Both approaches are way too extreme. We need what Steve Heder has called a "judicious synthesis". I have attempted - inadequately in Mr. Etcheson's view - to offer a balanced picture of the extremely complex mix of factors that underlay the murderous specificity of Khmer Rouge rule. Cambodian readers will judge for themselves whether or not, or to what extent, I have succeeded. But taking parts of the picture out of context and pretending that they constitute the whole is poor criticism. I wrote early on in the book, in a passage which Mr. Etcheson did not quote: "Cambodians are not biologically more prone to cruelty than Americans or Europeans. The causes are rooted in history. ...in culture ... and in the political and social system."

Cambodia's political and social system remained in practice an absolute monarchy, which engendered the same types of behavior, and the same types of horrific peasant revolt, as did similar regimes in medieval Europe. The French colonial archives contain descriptions of Cambodian peasant atrocities in the 19th century identical to those carried out by the Khmer Rouge. Bunchhan Mol describes the self-same atrocities carried out by the non-communist Issarak in the 1940s. Yet Khmer behavior was not replicated in Vietnam - either in the Khmer Rouge period or before - in the same way that Khmer art has no parallel in Vietnamese or Chinese art.

Culture is important, in life no less than in art. It is not the only element in the mix. But to deny its role - simply because our forebearers exaggerated it - is to throw the baby out with the bath water.

Craig Etcheson's interpretation of what I wrote about reform proves him right on one point. I should have been more careful in my phrasing. The issue is not whether I think that Khmers are reformable; it is that Pol Pot and his colleagues (in contrast to the Chinese and Vietnamese communists) became convinced that they were not. The failure of Son Sen's attempts to re-educate erring soldiers, as related by Deuch to Nate Thayer, confirmed them in that view. I should also have made doubly clear that the views I quoted on Khmers' "innate individualism" are not mine, but those of King Sihanouk and other thoughtful Cambodians. Surely Khmers have the right to discuss their own self-image. For them, it is a matter not of paternalistic generalization but of self-perception.

Mr. Etcheson raises other red herrings. He writes that "Cambodia-watchers have puzzled for years over the circumstances of Pol Pot's death." Maybe Mr. Etcheson has. I have not - for the good and simple reason that Thiounn Thioeunn, who treated him, has described his heart condition in detail and has made clear that a fatal heart attack was only a matter of time. And all those in Pol Pot's immediate circle, from his wife, Meas, to his guards, insist the rumors of suicide are untrue. If there were credible evidence to the contrary, it would be a different matter. But there is none. So why launch into baseless speculation and conspiracy theories? Not to mince words, this is bunkum.

The same applies to his quibbles about the identities of the members of the Communist Party of Kampuchea Security Committee. Is Mr. Etcheson seriously suggesting that Pol Pot was not a member when Pol himself admitted to Nate Thayer that he personally decided the fates of "the important people" who were purged? The mind boggles. Yun Yat took care of the dossiers - which is presumably why Ieng Sary named her - but she was not a committee member.

Then there is the matter of the mysterious old lady to whose car, flying a DK flag, Khieu Samphan and Prince Sihanouk had to yield right of way. Sihanouk himself states that it was not Khieu Ponnary. The only other possibilities are the Khieu sisters' mother or, conceivably, Nuon Chea's mother. Sihanouk's account accords perfectly with Ong Thong Hoeung's description of the former - but not with Nuon Chea's mother, who in any case spent the whole of the DK period near Battambang. If it were not old Madame Khieu, would Mr. Etcheson kindly tell us who he thinks it was? The job of the historian is to make plausible deductions - in other words, informed guesses - not to throw up his hands and say, oh, there's no documentary evidence, therefore we can never know.

Mr. Etcheson's insistence that nothing the former Khmer Rouge leaders say can be believed unless confirmed by "multiple, independent, non-Khmer Rouge sources" falls into the same category. It makes writing the history of the Communist Party of Kampuchea impossible - because, by definition, there are no non-Khmer Rouge sources for decisions and discussions to which only the leaders themselves were privy. To accept such a proposition would leave us with a history written exclusively by the victims - "something clean and perfect in accordance with our stance," as Pol Pot wrote in another context - with no inconvenient discussion of circumstances or context or motives to distract attention from the monstrosity of what the Khmer Rouge did. This would be good propaganda but bad history. I do not believe that is what Mr. Etcheson wants any more than I do.

As regards my "cavalier" and "sloppy" research, mea culpa. I plead guilty to a howler about royal pardons for Khieu Samphan and Nuon Chea. David Chandler pointed it out when the book was still in proof. It was corrected in time for the US edition, but in the UK version was left in, not due to "hurried editing" but to an error in the computerized typesetting, which in this day and age seems beyond human control. Certainly it was beyond mine!

Regarding Hun Sen's links to the grenade attack on the Sam Rainsy Party rally, I spoke three years ago to two sources, one of them directly implicated in the planning of the attack, who both independently confirmed the Prime Minister's role. Craig Etcheson should be sufficiently familiar with the realities of Cambodian politics to understand why they are not named in the notes.

To Mr. Etcheson my conclusions are necessarily unsatisfactory - and are intended to be - for we differ fundamentally in our approach. That is only right and proper. Without academic debate, our understanding of history would be poorer. Cambodian readers will make up their own minds. It is, after all, their country. Their judgement should matter most.

Phnom Penh Post, Issue 14/01, January 14 - 27, 2005

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  • Getting Away With Genocide? by Tom Fawthrop and Helen Jarvis
  • Reviewed by Dr. Gregory H. Stanton,

Founder of The Cambodian Genocide Project and President of Genocide Watch 

'The diplomatic, legal and technical twists and turns detailed here are fascinating, instructive and, at times, alarming. For years to come – as the Khmer Rouge trial unfolds or collapses – scholars and commentators are going to find much in this book to inform their analysis of what happened, and why.' Bill Harrod head of a social agency in phnom Penh and a development worker for over thirty years. 

'This book is an insider's account of the twenty-five year struggle to bring the Khmer Rouge to justice. Until 1991, the morally bankrupt real-politik of the West not only supported seating the Khmer Rouge in the United Nations, but opposed trying them for their crimes. Over a decade later, a Cambodian – United Nations tribunal is about to convene . . . This book could not be more timely.'

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  • Tom Fawthrop and Helen Jarvis; Getting Away with Genocide?
  • Reviewed  By Verghese Mathews:

At long last, a Time for Healing  For The Straits Times (January 30, 2005)

CAMBODIANS have not failed to notice that while the international community rightly poured out its heart and its resources to assist victims of the tsunami disaster, the same community has been largely blind, indifferent and uncaring when it comes to victims of the Cambodian genocide.

This stark message jumps at you from the pages of a new book on Cambodia's quest for justice following the three years, eight months and 20 dark and terrifying days of the Khmer Rouge (KR).

Authored by British journalist Tom Fawthrop and Australian academic Helen Jarvis, Getting Away With Genocide? Elusive Justice And Khmer Rouge Tribunal is a detailed insider account of the tortuous process of bringing the Khmer Rouge leaders to justice.

Fawthrop has covered the region for leading newspapers, including The Straits Times, for the last 25 years. Jarvis, previously with the University of New South Wales and documentation consultant for Yale University's Cambodian Genocide Programme, has, since 1999, been an adviser to the Cambodian Task Force on the KR Trials.

The plaintive cry in the book is why, after a quarter of a century following the 1979 ouster of the Pol Pot regime by invading Vietnamese forces, none of the perpetrators has been brought to court to answer for the crimes which led to the death of an estimated 1.7 million people, a quarter of the then population of Cambodia.

Fawthrop and Jarvis, both of whom I know personally, hold very strong views on this unacceptable delay. They point to the 'abysmal record' of the United Nations, the 'bitter record of neglect' of the international community and the 'dismal record of complicity' of certain countries with the KR, all of which the authors declare delayed justice.

The writing in this book is opinionated, but this should not detract from its evident and immense scholarship and research.

My quarrel with the authors is that in their almost evangelical criticism of the attitude of the UN and the international community in preventing the then newly installed Phnom Penh government from taking over Cambodia's seat in the UN, and in their disappointment that no western country so much as sent a fact-finding mission to Phnom Penh following the ouster of Pol Pot, they have failed to give adequate _expression to the complex international and regional dynamism which drove the then bipolar world.

There is mention, in passing, that for the United States the choice was simply between moral principles and international law and that the scales weighed in favour of the latter because it served US security interests. But the brevity of the comment suggests that it was included merely to give the appearance of a balanced criticism.

That aside, the authors are right in their anger and disappointment that the KR Tribunal, when it finally takes place probably some time this year, will mark one of the longest struggles to bring genocide perpetrators to justice.

But it is a case of better late than never, though only six or seven are expected to appear in court. The legal text agreed between Cambodia and the UN states that the Tribunal is expected 'to bring to trial senior leaders of Democratic Kampuchea and those who were most responsible for the serious crimes and violations of Cambodian penal law, international humanitarian law and custom, and international conventions recognised by Cambodia that were committed during the period' from April 17, 1975 to Jan 6, 1979.

Still, there is sufficient latitude in the law for justice to be finally served. The authors rightly point out that 'one of the great expectations' of the Cambodian people is that the Tribunal will serve not only to mete out punishment, but also help to provide answers that bring collective healing and closure.

Unfortunately, some of the people who could have provided answers are gone. Pol Pot, Brother No. 1, died unceremoniously in April 1998. Son Sen, his defense minister with responsibility over the infamous Tuol Sleng Prison, is likewise dead.

Among their senior colleagues still alive, most are suffering from some ailment or another.

The fear is that these potential witnesses might die before the Tribunal. Of these, the most senior is Nuon Chea, Brother No. 2, believed to have been the most powerful official after Pol Pot. He surrendered to the government in 1998 and lives quietly in the former KR stronghold of Pailin.

Also living freely and much more comfortably is Ieng Sary, well known internationally as the deputy prime minister and minister for foreign affairs. He defected to the Hun Sen government in 1996 and brought with him several thousand guerillas, effectively breaking whatever strength there was left in the KR.

Then there is Khieu Samphan, who held several senior positions including that of PM and party president. He defected together with Nuon Chea in 1998 and lives modestly in Pailin close to Nuon Chea's house.

In prison are two notables who were captured by the security forces. One is Ta Mok, who in a leadership tussle in 1997 wrested control from Pol Pot but was forced to flee a year later when he was himself challenged. The other is the infamous Duch, who ran the secret police. Duch has just been taken from his cell to a government hospital for prostate surgery.

Ta Mok and Duch have much to tell and some commentators believe that they will. We will have to wait to see if this will come to pass, hopefully not for too long.

Fawthrop and Jarvis have contributed an extremely well-researched and fascinating book which is a welcome addition to the existing body of literature on contemporary Cambodia. With the date for the Tribunal getting closer, this work will prove to be a most usefulsource.

(The writer, a visiting research fellow at the Institute of Southeast Asian Studies, was Singapore's ambassador to Cambodia from June 2000 to July 2004.

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  • RECONCILIATION IN CAMBODIA
  • by Suzannah B. Linton

(Documentation Series number 5 -- Documentation Center of Cambodia, 2004. (274 pages)

  • Reviewed by Dr Andrew Rigby

During 2002 the Documentation Centre of Cambodia (DC-Cam) conducted a survey of the Cambodian readers of its monthly magazine, Searching for the Truth, to elicit views on issues of justice, accountability, and reconciliation in relation to the abuses committed under the Khmer Rouge regime of Democratic Kampuchea (DK) during the 1970s. Suzannah Linton has used the results of this survey to produce a fascinating review of the many challenges facing Cambodians as they seek to come to terms with the personal and collective horrors of their genocidal past. As someone with a background in comparative peace and reconciliation studies and a personal, although very ÷amateur’ s interest in Cambodia, I was impressed by the comprehensive scholarship of Linton - evidenced by the range of sources she draws upon in seeking to locate the Cambodian experience within the broader field of transitional justice studies.

Whilst the responses to the DC-Cam survey serve as the cue for her reflections, she draws upon a variety of analyses of how different successor regimes have attempted to deal with the legacy of gross human rights abuse, division and collective trauma for the sake of peaceful co-existence and reconciliation. In most cases the legal and quasi-legal processes and other institutional procedures associated with transitional justice programmes have followed closely upon the collapse of the old regime. It is one of the ÷peculiarities" of the Cambodian case that that such a study should be published a quarter of a century after the displacement of the DK regime, reflecting the lack of substantive progress made in bringing perpetrators of abuse to justice and making appropriate reparations to their victims. Studies have shown that most state-directed efforts to deal with the legacy of past abuses are variants of three standard approaches: amnesties and official amnesia, purges and prosecutions, and truth commissions. To a significant degree the approach adopted reflects the interests and the balance of power of relevant state and non-state actors during the process of transition. Amnesties and amnesia - an official policy of ÷forgive and forget" - is typically pursued by those regimes that have come to power by means of a process of negotiation between competing elites in a situation where the representatives of the old regime can exercise a credible challenge to the new political order if threatened by legal or other sanctions.

By contrast, the purging and prosecution of those deemed responsible for past abuses is generally pursued when the new regime feels confident of its power and ability to pursue justice without risking political and social stability, and is driven by an overwhelming public demand for such sanctions. Typically such conditions prevail when the new regime has come to power as a result of a popular comprehensive victory over those who are the potential targets of such a purge. Whereas trials and purges are aimed at punishing the perpetrators of crimes against their fellow citizens, the prime concern of the truth commission approach to addressing the pains of the past is with the victims. The aim is to identify them, to acknowledge them and the wrongs done to them, and to arrive at appropriate compensation. The best known examples of this approach include the transition to democratic rule following the military juntas in Argentina and Chile, and the establishment of the post-apartheid regime in South Africa.

In general it would seem that the truth commission approach is favoured by regimes that lack either the will or the means to prosecute the perpetrators of political crimes, because of the relative resources controlled by those who would be its chief targets, but where the policy of "forgive and forget" is not viable because of the depth of division and level of bitterness in society. Such conditions are likely to prevail when the old regime has been displaced by means of a negotiated transfer of power, driven by overwhelming public resentment and disaffection that undermined the capacity of the old state to impose its will. Whatever variant is pursued, the dominant concern of new regimes is to promote the necessary degree of social order to ensure regime security and legitimacy. Hence, in the case of Cambodia the lack of significant progress towards a coherent programme for transitional justice and reconciliation can be attributed to the interests of the political elites. The main policy thrust has been aimed at bringing an end to the threat of violence from the Khmer Rouge by various means, including the cooptation of senior figures into significant positions in the new regime. In the words of Linton’s ÷Reconciliation in Cambodia" has been used by the elites as a convenient label for power sharing as a solution to ongoing political struggles.(16)

Bringing an end to the threat of a resumption of violence is a necessary component of any national reconciliation project. It is unfortunate that this priority can leave many victims of abuse angry at what they see as the impunity enjoyed by those responsible for their suffering and resentful at the lack of appropriate reparations. The evidence from South Africa would seem to indicate that too many victims experienced the truth and reconciliation process almost as a piece of theatre taking place on a public stage far removed from their own lives and experiences. This is the challenge that continues to face Cambodians - how to develop a coherent transitional justice programme that will promote reconciliation not just at the national level of competing political elites, but at the grassroots levels of the villages, neighbourhoods and families where the pain of the Khmer Rouge years was experienced most directly and most traumatically.

Linton’ s study, based on the observations of the respondents to the survey, is an exploration of how this process might be progressed. She works with a simple and straightforward definition: Reconciliation involves the process of learning how to co-exist and work together with people one does not like or is not liked by and coming to terms with personal negativity about one’s experiences, whether one be victim or perpetrator. Reconciliation as a process may be simply about assisting people and through that, wider society, to get things back into perspective so that all may lead as normal lives as possible. (15) She continues in this grounded fashion, observing that there is no magical elixir that can bring about the minimum basis of mutual trust necessary for Cambodians to cooperate together for the sake of a common future. The actual vision of such a future, as sketched out by the respondents and interpreted by the author embraces a fair and democratic society, free from corruption and violence, where peace and justice are nurtured and protected by the rule of law.

One of the main observations Linton draws from the survey is that in designing a comprehensive transitional justice strategy that will sow the seeds of future harmony, Cambodia’s leaders need to involve and engage in open dialogue with people from all walks of life in the formation of a holistic approach that will go beyond a few show trials of elderly Khmer Rouge leaders. She identifies four basic objectives that should inform such a process: To do justice, to grant victims the right to know the truth, to grant reparations to victims in a way that recognises their worth and dignity as human beings, and to purge those associated with the repressive regime from public office. It should also aim to prevent the recurrence of such abuses and, to the extent possible, repair the damage they have caused. (31)

How can one ÷do justice" in a post-genocide society? For most people in the West justice is understood to have something to do with compensation or ÷making right" and holding people to account for their actions - restitution and retribution. But the painful reality in a society like Cambodia is that there can never be anything like a full form of restitution. What has been lost can never be regained. Moreover, there is no way that accounts can be settled with those involved in the torture and unnecessary deaths of their fellow Cambodians - there are far too many of them. Mass trials and prosecutions would destroy the social fabric of the society, even if it were possible to implement such a process.

Moreover, studies have shown that in so many cases there can be no clear-cut distinction between the perpetrators of barbaric acts and victims - many of the torturers and killers were themselves separated from their families, brutalised and conditioned to believe absolutely in the power of the regime, and faced certain death if they refused to carry out their orders. The survey revealed that Cambodians themselves are capable of distinguishing between those with greatest culpability and the rank-and-file who were invariably the direct perpetrators of atrocities. As a consequence, a majority of respondents saw one element of ÷doing justice" as involving the prosecution of the surviving leadership of the Khmer Rouge, preferably with international involvement because of a lack of faith in the integrity and the capacities of Cambodian jurors.

However, this focus on senior personnel being held to account in a court of law is construed by Linton as representing more than a desire for retribution. She focuses on the ÷symbolic justice" of such trials, observing that amongst the respondents, There were many who pointed to the deterrent effect of trials as a moral lesson, which is linked to the great importance that respondents placed on attaining generational changes in conduct. Trials are seen as having the potential to break the cycle of violence and impunity. This is the use of the judicial process as educational, a deterrent in that what would emerge would be so shocking as to serve as a warning of blind obedience to doctrine, the extreme dangers of authoritarian leadership, and the punishment that would be meted to individuals for their role in the horrors. (pp. 229-230) Linton has a background as a specialist in international law and human rights, and she emphasises that one of the main symbolic and educational functions of criminal trials would lie in their - representing the importance of procedural justice and the rule of law in Cambodia. Respondents repeatedly pointed out that they sought an end to the ongoing cycle of impunity and lawlessness in Cambodian society. What they sought was a society governed by the rule of law with courts as the most appropriate forum for dealing with suspected criminals, and in this context rejected ideas of taking personal revenge against those that had harmed them.

The Buddhist teaching that vindictiveness is ended by not being vindictive was also evident in people’s approach, and Linton emphasises throughout the book the importance of Cambodia’s Buddhist culture in shaping the reconciliation process. One of the basic tenets of Buddhism is that people have to face the consequences of their actions, but it also teaches compassion - the injunction to help wrong-doers abandon their old ways and gain release from the destructive delusions that drive greed and hatred. In the words of one senior Cambodian Buddhist who was interviewed by staff of DC-Cam in 2002, ÷Revenge" will never end if people solve conflicts through passion, greed, anger and insanity." The most important things are truth and accountability in order to set an example for other people not to do the same things.(145) It is clear that for many Buddhists in Cambodia the best way to reveal the truth and establish accountability is by means of properly conducted trials. As one respondent phrased it, ÷In the law, those who commit crimes must be punished. In Buddhist law, those who commit sinful acts are destined to receive unfortunate results.

We suppress vindictiveness by not being vindictive. There must be justice and proper prosecution if we are to live in peace and prosperity. (23) One of the surprising results of the survey is that there was little support amongst respondents for a Cambodian truth commission as a means of revealing the truth and establishing accountability. One possible reason for this might be a lack of awareness of such an institutional process, because there was support for a comprehensive commission of inquiry that would help people begin to understand just how and why ordinary people turned into torturers and killers. Respondents made it clear that there was a need for Cambodians to develop an understanding of the root causes of their auto-genocide, so that they can begin to explain what for so many remains inexplicable. As Linton concludes, ÷ all Cambodians of whatever faith and political perspective, need to be part of an effort to create their own record of their own past, in order to reconcile with what happened. (242)

The third pillar in the overall transitional justice programme that Linton attempts to sketch out relates to the issue of reparations for the victims of the past horrors. Here she goes little beyond emphasising the importance of comprehensive mental health and rehabilitation programmes at the grass-roots. It is clear that she sees these primarily as a necessary complement to the kind of wide-ranging commission of inquiry she advocates, and certainly there is evidence from South Africa and elsewhere that the experience of many witnesses to the formal truth commissions was extremely distressing and far from therapeutic, as they were called upon to recount and relive past traumas without appropriate support services. But the victims of the Khmer Rouge years stretch far beyond the bereaved and the survivors of torture. A whole generation suffered direct loss and violence of one form or another during those years, and subsequent generations have been damaged by the ongoing legacy of a culture of violence and impunity, division and poverty.

In such a context the most important foundation upon which to build national reconciliation must be a sustained effort to advance social justice. As one respondent expressed it: National reconciliation is a way leading to stability and peace to develop a society which was abused with wars, and national reconciliation has to be on social justice grounds. A social justice exists only if we promote a culture of respecting human rights, understanding social morality, and carry out legal obligation; national reconciliation is based on transparency, equality and justice. (194) The fourth guiding objective for a comprehensive transitional justice programme for Cambodia identified by Linton is the purging from public office of those associated with the repressive regime. However, she is forced to accept, however reluctantly, that too many former Khmer Rouge cadres are now in positions of authority within the Cambodian state structures for this to be feasible. She does cling to the hope, however, that alternative forms of accountability might be implemented - that former perpetrators be encouraged to try to make amends in some manner for the wrongs of the past. Who are to be the key agents in the implementation of such a far-reaching programme of transitional justice?

Linton identifies three. The Cambodian government’s role should go beyond the administration of criminal trials and other institutional developments to the encouragement of an open political environment and a sustained effort to promote social justice. An important role for the non-governmental organisations and movements of the civil society sector will be to encourage, pressure and assist the state in the fulfilment of its obligations, not least by helping survivors and their families to articulate and express their demands of the government. Linton also suggests that civil society agencies have a particular aptitude and responsibility for working at the grass-roots level, in the space created by processes of accountability to work directly on reconciliation and social repair. The third key agency is the Cambodian people themselves. Again and again respondents emphasised the importance of changes in personal attitudes and behaviour as one of the central elements of any reconciliation process, recognising the need for people to come to terms with the demons from the past and learn to live alongside each other, working towards a common future.

In relation to this, Linton engages at various points in the book with the issue of forgiveness as a constituent part of any reconciliation process. Like other authors she concludes that no one has the right to expect or to require survivors to extend the hand of forgiveness to their persecutors, and that reconciliation in the form of co-existence can take place without forgiveness. Like any published work, this book has its flaws. It is repetitive and would have benefited from a firmer editorial hand. At times I felt that the author could not quite decide whether she was writing a research report or a book for a wider lay-readership. Some might question the appropriateness of devoting such a large section of the book to a comprehensive overview of the survey, with details of how the data was collected and processed - and then the responses presented with statistics to two decimal points, graphs and pi-charts. All this might be of interest to the professional social scientist and public opinion pollster - but I could help thinking that at least part of the motivation was to present the findings as "scientific" with ÷hard facts" to support the observations and conclusions of the author.

I cannot help feeling also that Linton places too great a faith in the healing power of the rule of law that reflects her own legal background. Moreover, whilst not an expert on contemporary Cambodian history, I felt she was too dismissive of the serious threats to national peace and security faced by the government over the past decade. I also found it somewhat contradictory that she affirms the need for a purge of public officials who had been part of the Khmer Rouge apparatus, but then acknowledges that such a cleansing operation would not be feasible. I was also disappointed that she failed to give consideration to some of the more innovative proposals for establishing accountability that have been suggested by scholars such as Craig Etcheson.

But setting these reservations aside, there is a rigor and a level of integrity to this work that means it will become one of the indispensable resources to be consulted by those charged with directing the path of national reconciliation in Cambodia. The survey on which it is based was a significant attempt to engage with Cambodians on issues relating to reconciliation in their country. And therein lies the significance of the research, as an indication of the range of views and the issues that many Cambodians believe need to be addressed as their country progresses along the path of reconciliation. As such, this is a valuable and stimulating book. It is perhaps inevitable that it will now enter the political minefield of national and international debate about how to deal with Cambodia’s traumatic past.

The real challenge is how to take these issues and debates back to the people themselves, to continue and extend the engagement and the dialogue that brought about the research in the first place, so that whatever the features of the overall transitional justice programme that emerges, the Cambodian people themselves will feel the degree of ownership necessary for the vision of a shared future to become a reality.

(Dr Andrew Rigby Professor of Peace Studies & Director Centre for the Study of Forgiveness and Reconciliation Coventry Business School Coventry University Priory Street Coventry CV1 5FB <a.rigby@coventry.ac.uk. Tel. (44) 02476 887862 Fax. (44) 02476 887861 Web-site: http://www.coventry.ac.uk/forgive)

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