Cambodia Agonizes Over How to Treat Khmer Rouge

With the television cameras rolling, Second Prime Minister Hun Sen bent his head to lay a fragrant wreath on the tiny grave of his firstborn son, who died at birth 21 years ago during the genocidal reign of the Khmer Rouge.

The infant was delivered in a jungle hut outside Memot, a rubber-growing area two miles from the Vietnamese border where Hun Sen was then a Khmer Rouge cadre.

The child, given the posthumous name Kom Sot (“Great Sorrow”), died after being dropped on his head by an untrained midwife--this in a nation where doctors and other professionals were the first “impure elements” to be killed.

Hun Sen’s return to Memot last weekend with his family to dedicate a reconstructed school to his wife was not a purely sentimental journey. By reliving his personal sorrow in the public arena, Hun Sen was also refuting the insinuation by his political enemies that he might have skeletons in his revolutionary closet.

The reported capture of Khmer Rouge leader Pol Pot by rebels has triggered a nasty tide of accusation and innuendo over who, inside and outside the Cambodian government, had links to his bloodthirsty regime. It also has raised bitter questions about whom Pol Pot might implicate if he were ever to be brought before an international war crimes tribunal--an outcome that many believe unlikely.

Human rights advocates are calling on First Prime Minister Prince Norodom Ranariddh to break off negotiations to give amnesty to Khmer Rouge leaders in exchange for peace and a possible hand-over of Pol Pot. Instead, they say, the government should offer amnesty to rank-and-file guerrillas who surrender but should take steps to put on trial the leaders for war crimes, in absentia if necessary.

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But the obstacles to such temperate discussions of guilt and amnesty--and, thus, to Cambodia coming to terms with its dreadful past--are political expediency and the reality that almost everyone here has had long dealings with the Khmer Rouge.

That includes King Norodom Sihanouk, who was once the Khmer Rouge’s figurehead; his son Ranariddh, the premier, who allied himself with the guerrillas to fight the occupying Vietnamese; and Hun Sen and Chea Sim, president of the National Assembly, who were both Khmer Rouge cadres until they defected to Vietnam.

The king has already granted a limited amnesty to Ieng Sary, Pol Pot’s notorious brother-in-law, a decision that human rights advocates say sets a disturbing precedent for future policy toward the Khmer Rouge.

Amid the miasma of misinformation, confusion and rumor that now smothers Phnom Penh, the capital, this much seems clear: Ranariddh is desperate to strike some sort of amnesty-for-peace deal with Khieu Samphan or whoever else is in charge of the remnants of the Khmer Rouge. It is equally apparent that Hun Sen will view such a deal as tantamount to a declaration of war.

Ranariddh hopes to win the gratitude of his people for bringing an end to more than two decades of brutal civil war. No less important, analysts say, he wants Khmer Rouge military backing to shore up his royalist Funcinpec party in its increasingly militarized rivalry with Hun Sen.

Last week, Ranariddh began a flurry of finger-pointing by declaring that “some Cambodians and maybe some countries are not willing to see Pol Pot alive and to be brought to justice. You see, maybe Pol Pot would say something not very nice to them. Pol Pot will say, ‘These people were involved,’ or ‘These countries were supporting me for years.’ ”

Though some sources report that Hun Sen was a committed Communist by 1968, he has stated that he joined the Khmer Rouge in 1970 after hearing a radio appeal from Sihanouk. “At that time, I was just 18 years old,” Hun Sen said, adding, “If I am imprisoned, it will be even more serious for his majesty the king.”

Sihanouk, who is receiving medical treatment in China, was reportedly upset by the recent rebroadcast of footage from the 1970s showing him in his Khmer Rouge uniform. The king, to clear his name, has offered to testify at any international tribunal.

For many Cambodians, the desire to see Pol Pot and his henchmen called to account for the deaths of more than 1 million people is outweighed by the need to bring an end to more than two decades of war--even if the price of peace is amnesty for mass murderers.

“As a human rights worker, I don’t want amnesty for any Khmer Rouge who were responsible for genocide,” said Pung Chhiv Kek Galabru, president of Licadho, a human rights group. “But as a Cambodian citizen, maybe we have had enough of civil war.”

While the Khmer Rouge is disintegrating, with thousands of defections since last summer, its northern faction, probably under the control of rebel leader Ta Mok, is still believed to have well-trained troops, plenty of money earned from trading in timber and gems with Thailand and stockpiles of arms and ammunition.

“The American view is that the [Khmer Rouge] movement is about to die,” said one Western diplomatic source. “But we have to say that it is not dead, it will take some time to die. . . . The Khmer Rouge could continue to have nuisance power.”

Hence, the political imperative for making peace at almost any price.

“Politically, they have no other choice,” said Galabru. “If we could not eliminate the Khmer Rouge for 27 years, why do you think they will die by themselves? Not possible.”

A negotiated settlement is by no means certain. Two weeks after Pol Pot was reported captured, there has been no independent evidence that he is alive or a prisoner of the rebels he once commanded in Anlong Veng, near the Thai border.

Khmer Rouge radio has yet to broadcast any statement recognizing the Cambodian government. The radio broadcasts continue the customary diatribes against Hun Sen and his formerly Communist Cambodian People’s Party, reviling them as Vietnamese puppets.

Ranariddh has repeatedly offered first to take journalists up to see Pol Pot, then to take them to a news conference by Khieu Samphan. But no trip has materialized. And the reliability of Gen. Nhek Bunchhay, who claims to have seen Pol Pot on June 22 and who is Ranariddh’s chief negotiator in Anlong Veng, has come under intense scrutiny.

What concerns Cambodian politicians most are the terms of any amnesty deal. Would Khieu Samphan, who enjoys some popular support, particularly among students, be allowed to compete in elections in May? Could a decision by Ranariddh to push for an amnesty despite heated objections from Hun Sen trigger a collapse of the troubled coalition government that has ruled Cambodia since 1993?

Ranariddh told the Voice of America on Monday that he will not meet with Khieu Samphan unless the rebel leader gives a “clear response” to demands for the hand-over of Pol Pot as well as a British mine clearance expert kidnapped by the Khmer Rouge last year. Ranariddh also insisted that Khieu Samphan publicly break with Pol Pot and recognize the Cambodian government and constitution, but did not rule out Khieu Samphan forming a political party in the future.

Human rights activists and spiritual leaders, however, are dismayed by the apparent willingness of their politicians to cut deals yet again with the Khmer Rouge.

Lao Mong Hay, executive director of the Khmer Institute of Democracy, opposed the amnesty for Ieng Sary, as did the United States. “Has Ieng Sary expressed in public or private any regret, repentance or remorse? No. He claims he is innocent. How can you amnesty an innocent person?” Lao asked.

He also said he believes that the limited amnesty does not preclude an international tribunal and that even if Pol Pot cannot be delivered to such a court, Ieng Sary and Khieu Samphan should be. Lao called on Ranariddh to break off negotiations with Khieu Samphan and any other Anlong Veng leaders, saying public discussion of amnesty is “inconsistent” with Ranariddh and Hun Sen’s request to the U.N. to establish an international war crimes tribunal.

Cham Sim, a 62-year-old professor of sculpture whose job it was to cover up the bodies in one of Pol Pot’s “killing fields,” still wept when he spoke of that period. He never witnessed the killings but could hear the victims’ cries, even over the loud, cheerful music the cadres played to muffle the sounds of slaughter.

“I remember the voices of the people before they died,” he said. “They would beg for rice. They would say, ‘If you want to kill me, you can kill me, but please give me something to eat first.’ ”

But Cham Sim said he will accept any amnesty his king sees fit to grant. “I am a Buddhist,” he said. “If I saw one of the men who killed on the street I would pass him by. . . . My mind and my heart are peaceful now, but still I cry whenever anyone asks me about Pol Pot.”