The Proconsuls
excerpted from the book
Sideshow
Kissinger, Nixon and the Destruction of Cambodia
by William Shawcross
Simon and Schuster, 1979
The Proconsuls
p311
The period of the war that followed is, in some senses, the
most depressing of all. The military and social decay of the country
... continued now, without optimism in Phnom Penh, without concern
in Washington.
p316
... the economy was in ruin. Inflation ran at about 250 percent
a year, industrial and agricultural production was permanently
declining, exports were almost nonexistent. The government and
the population it controlled were now on American welfare-about
95 percent of all income came from the United States-and the welfare
officer was Tom Enders. It was he, together with the U.S. AID
officials in the embassy, who determined what the exchange rate
should be, how far electricity prices should be raised, how slumps
in production might be slowed. The government was often reluctant
to accept his orders; frequent harrowing meetings with ministers
were necessary ...
p317
Those who could count themselves a part of the government's establishment
continued to live well. Lon Non, Lon Nol's younger brother, was
reported to have raised $90 million by arms trafficking and extortion.
Lesser men had built lesser but still substantial fortunes, and
for them conditions were tolerable. During 1974 there were frequent
power cuts in Phnom Penh under the government's austerity program.
But they almost all occurred in the poor parts of the city. In
the villas the air conditioners and refrigerators usually had
power, and at the Cercle Sportif, the city's smartest club, the
floodlights were normally working for evening tennis. One journalist
noted that "for the few privileged elite the good life of
tennis, nightclubs, expensive French meals, and opulent, brandy-drenched
dinner parties went on almost to the very end, while the vast
majority of the city's swollen population sank into deeper and
deeper misery. "
For ordinary people the more urgent problem now was always
food. Eighty percent of the country's prewar paddy fields had
been abandoned, and the government's own figures showed that in
1974 rice production was only 655,000 metric tons-as opposed to
3.8 million tons in the last year before the war. The shortfall
was not nearly met by imports. To deflect growing Congressional
criticism of the amount of rice being shipped to Indochina, the
embassy still requested only the minimum necessary to avert a
repetition of the food riots that had already flickered through
Phnom Penh. Even at the very reduced rations allocated per head,
there was never now more than a two- or three-week supply on hand,
and at one stage in 1974 there was only three days' rice left
in the capital. None of the rice from the United States was provided
free, and food prices were rising catastrophically high-from a
base of 100 in May 1971, they were 1,604 in 1973 and 4,454 in
1974. A bowl of soup which had cost 4 riels in 1970 now cost 300,
a bread roll had risen from 2 to 100 riels. Real wages had dropped,
and U.S. AID's draft termination report acknowledges that the
vast majority of the population of Phnom Penh could afford to
buy little more than one day's subsistence of rice in any l week.
Through the last eighteen months of the war most people in the
cities were slowly starving...
p318
Refugees continued to press into the capital. By the end of 1973
they had swollen the population of Phnom Penh to over two million
and, according to U.S. AID's Termination Report, their plight
then "was desperate, serious health problems became evident,
and thousands . . . were without housing, without work and completely
dependent upon outside assistance for their very survival."
This was almost all being provided by charities like Catholic
Relief Services (the most effective) and World Vision. The embassy
itself was still only indirectly associated with the refugee-crisis.
The U.S. AID final report noted that Washington "assumed
no responsibility for the generation of refugees in Cambodia."
By early 1974 the United States government had provided humanitarian
aid of $2.5 million for Cambodia. It can be compared with $3.4
million provided by other countries, and by the voluntary relief
agencies in the period January 1972-May 1973, alone-and with the
$516.5 million in military aid and $216.6 million in economic
aid that had flowed from Washington since the war began.
For the most part, the voluntary agencies coped well, though
interdenominational arguments were sometimes squalid, and on occasion
food was offered in exchange for religious conversion. But they
had neither the manpower nor the money really to relieve the suffering
of the refugees, and throughout 1974 conditions in and out of
the camps grew ever more inadequate. By now lean-tos and shacks
were propped against walls all over Phnom Penh, and thousands
of people slept in the doorways of houses. Thousands and thousands
of orphan children roamed the streets in rags. One twelve-year-old
boy, Chum Pal, whose father was killed in battle and whose mother
had been driven mad by the war, lived by begging. "Sometimes
I go into shops. Some people give me five or ten riels. Some give
me nothing, but they do not say bad things to me. They just say
they have no small change." Chuon Yan, a thirteen-year-old
village girl whose father had been badly burned in a shelling
attack, also begged in order to supplement the 50 cents a day
her mother made picking through garbage for plastic bags to sell.
Until August 1973 the refugees tended to cite American bombing
as the main reason for flight. Through 1974 they spoke of the
increasing violence of the Khmer Rouge. In March 1974, a government
offensive into the province of Kompong Thom opened an escape route
for the people living there. Around 35,000 stumbled with their
bundles and their oxcarts over to the Lon Nol side. Altogether
that year at least another 100,000 people pressed desperately
into the government's shrinking, decaying enclaves. Many brought
with them tales of alarming harshness.
"Out there" the Khmer Rouge were reorganizing. At
the end of 1973 the Party finally asserted full control of the
Front's military command structure. Political commissars were
now assigned to assist and instruct officers down to company level
throughout most of the country. Main forces were reorganized,
like Lon Nol's, into divisions. But unlike in Lon Nol's army,
Khmer Rouge officers were promoted for their performance. When
they launched their annual dry-season offensive against Phnom
Penh in January 1974, they used dispersed patrols and stand-off
attacks by fire, and they seeded areas with mines as they left.
At night they pinned Lon Nol's troops down by fire and then mounted
ground assaults through the darkness. By dawn they had often consolidated
their positions and dug themselves into well-camouflaged protective
emplacements that would withstand both 105-millimeter artillery
fire and T-28 bombing attacks.
Once within range they demonstrated their attitude toward
the people of Phnom Penh by showering rockets and artillery shells
over the heads of the defenders into the city. Day after day,
night after night the missiles fell haphazardly into the streets,
smashing a group of children here, a family there, a rickshaw
driver pedaling home after work, houses and schools. The principal
line of fire was directly into an area in which thousands of refugees
squatted, and so it was the most wretched of the city who suffered
worst from this, as from every other, desolation of the war. On
one day in February 1974 alone, Khmer Rouge gunners killed 139
people and blew to smithereens the houses and shacks that gave
meager shelter to some ten thousand people. More than one thousand
people died in this one series of attacks before Lon Nol's troops
were finally able to push the guns and rocket launchers out of
range of the town.
That 1974 dry-season assault failed because the Khmer Rouge
command and control machinery was still inadequate; because the
attackers committed units in an uncoordinated piecemeal fashion;
because they were unable to replace casualties fast enough; and
because they were still short of ammunition. Through the course
of the year, as they maintained pressure on the government by
cutting the roads, these deficiencies were largely repaired.
At the same time they were developing into an increasingly
formidable political organization. As their relationship with
Hanoi became more and more bitter and as their growing strength
allowed them more and more independence, they started to eradicate
among the people they controlled the three traditional elements
of Cambodian life: respect for the monarchy, attachment to the
village, and devotion to Buddha. Throughout 1974, reports reached
Saigon, Phnom Penh and Washington that in areas where their military
situation was relatively secure-such as the southeast-the Communists
were accelerating their transformation of society. As well as
the Sihanoukists, cadres who were known to be pro-Vietnamese were
purged and replaced by militant officials who had never been seen
before. According to one contemporary State Department study,
the Communists embarked on intense programs of "psychological
reorientation, mass relocation, total collectivization of agriculture,
the elimination of religion and restructuring social customs."
p321
All Khmer Rouge policies, and in particular the relocation of
villages, were obviously intended to effect a total and dramatic
break with the past. When peasants were moved they were ordered
to leave behind any private property; in the new villages, refugees
reported, about two hundred people lived in a single shelter,
all land was owned and worked communally, all day was spent in
the fields, long indoctrination sessions followed at night, no
religion could be practiced, monks were defrocked, all old songs
were banned, traditional sexual and marital habits forsworn.
Younger and younger cadres began to appear; the Party used
its Youth Organization as the cutting edge of social change. One
party document of the time declared that the Party "educated,
watched, nourished and built youth as the central force in the
revolutionary movement of each area and as the central force for
future national construction." The education seems to have
had dramatic effects. In the southeast, teen-agers were removed
from their families for two or three weeks of intensive indoctrination;
according to refugees, this was enough to engender in them a passionately
fierce commitment to the destruction of the old society and a
total rejection of religion and all family ties. Throughout 1974
Cambodians who fled from the southeast of their country into Vietnam,
and from other areas into the government's enclaves, spoke with
awe of the fanaticism of these youths, who would allow no dissent
nor any questioning of their directives.
It was now that the gruesome accounts of rule by terror, which
after 1975 became commonplace, began to filter out of the "liberated"
zones. Refugees repeated that those who questioned the orders
of the young cadres were led away never to reappear. According
to the State Department study, "some refugees said that the
climate of fear was so great that even within the confines of
their own home a husband and wife did not dare discuss Khmer Rouge
policies for fear of being overheard." Its author, Kenneth
Quinn, concluded that the exploitation of terror was the main
way in which the Khmer Rouge enforced their will.
This analysis, based on reports of refugees in the Mekong
Delta area of South Vietnam, was supplemented by newspaper reports
of Khmer Rouge conduct elsewhere in Cambodia. In March 1974, for
example, the Baltimore Sun correspondent remarked on the "incomprehensible
brutality of the Khmer Communists." He recalled that the
conventional wisdom had always been that Khmer did not wish to
fight Khmer and that once the North Vietnamese withdrew from Cambodia
good sense would prevail; in fact, however, the Khmer Rouge seemed
to have indulged in "sheer brutality for brutality's sake."
The Washington Post reported that the Khmer Rouge were "reconstructing"
the people and often punished infringements of their regulations
by death. The New York Times correspondent, Sydney S. Schanberg,
described the joy with which the refugees from Kompong Thom escaped
Khmer Rouge control. All of this information-and much more-was
available to the State Department and the National Security Council.
It does not appear to have created any sense of urgency.
p323
Most journalists who were based in, or who visited, Cambodia felt
troubling ambiguity about the country. Phnom Penh still had enormous,
poignant charm; it was an easy place to love-with sadness. The
corruption of the regime was depressing, but the people, including
officials, were invariably friendly, even warm. In the countryside
small boys smiled as they walked toward the war, and incompetent
officers would patiently explain their tactics to reporters. But
most journalists were sickened by the killing, and their dispatches
tended to reflect the war-weariness of the country. Sydney Schanberg
filled The New York Times with powerful accounts of the effect
of Washington's policies; H. D. S. Greenway, who had covered the
whole length of the war, wrote moving descriptions of the people's
suffering for the Washington Post.
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