Cambodia's killing fields hold the key to a
horrible truth
Frida Ghitis
Sunday, April 4, 2004
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Choeng Ek, Cambodia -- About half an hour south of
the Cambodian capital, Phnom Penh, lies a disturbingly peaceful grassy
field. The killing field of Choeng Ek is one of the many places where
thousands of Cambodians died at the hands of other Cambodians.
Excavated mass graves have yielded a gruesome harvest of human bones,
some still covered in ragged clothes.
In the middle of the field, a glass memorial encloses about 8,000
skulls, some visibly shattered in the act of murder. Each skull, one
shudders to realize, belonged to a human being, a life extinguished in
an orgy of violence during the days of Cambodia's Khmer Rouge regime in
the 1970s.
It is a perilous practice to compare tragedies. But few countries
have suffered as much as Cambodia. And yet, 25 years after Vietnamese
forces overthrew the Khmer Rouge and its bloodthirsty leader, Pol Pot,
there is little understanding of what exactly happened during Cambodia's
nightmare.
Until now, there has been no attempt to reach clarity and justice,
and no one has come to trial.
So Pheap, who was a boy during the Khmer Rouge regime, shakes his
head in disbelief at the political process that has yet to bring
justice.
"I don't understand," he says. "Why does it take so long?" Now 35
years old, So Pheap remembers working in the fields with the other
children, separated from his parents. Many family members died in
circumstances no one can explain.
"Why did they kill so many people?" he wonders, as do millions of
Cambodians. The Khmer Rouge experience remains a confusing and painful
national scar.
International efforts have focused on bringing genocide trials
against top leaders of the Khmer Rouge, the fanatical, paranoid regime
that led as many as 2 million Cambodians to their deaths.
The trials, however, will not be enough to cleanse the soul of this
nation. Cambodia needs a South Africa-style Truth Commission, one that
will bring out the truth and clear the air poisoning relations between
victims and victimizers, who live side by side in this impoverished
nation.
The Cambodian government of Prime Minister Hun Sen, once a member of
the Khmer Rouge, spent years negotiating with the United Nations on
rules for a genocide tribunal.
Agreement was reached to try the top leaders still living in freedom,
but the tribunal remains in limbo, due to a national political
stalemate. Even when the genocide trials get started, only a handful of
elderly men will face justice. The trials are important, but they are
not enough.
The victims at Choeng Ek came from Phnom Penh's infamous prison, Toul
Sleng, a place where the Khmer Rouge regime brought its enemies, real
and imagined, to be tortured, interrogated and then carted off to their
deaths.
The Khmer Rouge, led by the Paris-educated Pol Pot, came to power in
1975, in the chaos left in the wake of the U.S. withdrawal from Vietnam.
The United States had carpet-bombed Cambodia in an effort to cut off
enemy supply routes to Vietnam.
After the Americans left, Pol Pot and his followers easily overthrew
Lon Nol, the anti-communist dictator Washington had supported. So Pheap
still remembers the rejoicing in the streets.
The joy was short-lived. Pol Pot wanted to create a Maoist agrarian
utopia. He ordered everyone out of the cities and into the fields.
Phnom Penh, a city crowded with some 2 million people, including many
refugees fleeing the civil war, became a ghost town.
Even hospitals were emptied, as the entire population joined a drive
to boost rice production. Hundreds of thousands died of overwork,
disease and starvation.
Pol Pot's deranged plan was to create a blank slate of a society. To
do this, he exterminated all educated people, meaning anyone with at
least a seventh-grade education. Ethnic minorities, intellectuals and
Buddhist monks were murdered in the name of the revolutionary ideal.
Pol Pot, who died a free man in 1998, was known as Brother No. 1. He
was surrounded by a small clique.
But the Khmer Rouge counted thousands of followers. The Toul Sleng
prison alone employed more than 1,000 guards, interrogators, torturers
and other accessories to murder. Like the top leaders of the Khmer
Rouge, almost all remain at large. They have not faced their victims,
and they have not told their stories.
Cambodians understand the reality of that time. They know many of
those who killed knew that they too would die if they failed to follow
orders.
What the country desperately needs -- something that other nations,
such as Iraq, will also need -- is a systematic way to get at the truth.
Cambodians should at long last have a chance to tell their
heartbreaking story. They should have the opportunity to gain a profound
understanding of what happened and why it happened.
Only then can they obtain a believable vow from their leaders not to
allow history to be repeated. Only then will they be able to live
without the constant fear of revenge and of a return to terror.
Only then will the rest of us hear the truth about how a band of
fanatics drove millions to their deaths, while the rest of the world
chose to look away.
Frida Ghitis is the author of "The End of Revolution: A Changing
World in the Age of Live Television."