|
|
APRIL10,
2000 VOL. 155 NO. 14
|
Andy
Eames/AP
Leading Cambodia genocide researcher Youk Chhang
|
Will
Justice Ever be Served?
As
talks with the U.N. collapse, Cambodia moves to set up a tribunal to try
former Khmer Rouge leaders. Many fear it will prove to be a sham
By KAY JOHNSON Phnom Penh
The fierce-eyed Khmer Rouge guerrillas went from house to house, pounding
on windows and waving rifles. They had one message for Phnom Penh's 2
million terrified residents: get out. "They said we had only three days
to live, so there was no need to take any clothes," recalls Chhen Ran,
55. There was also no way to take her husband: an ethnic Chinese importer,
he had no place in the communist agrarian paradise the Khmer Rouge aimed
to build. As Chhen screamed, they dragged him away; she never saw him
again. She herself was spared death, but joined the millions of people
emptied out of Cambodia's cities and enslaved in rural labor farms. Nearly
25 years after Year Zero, the first of four years of Khmer Rouge rule,
Chhen's deep-lined face twists in pain as the memories come flooding back--a
pain increased by the fact that no one has ever paid for what happened.
"We have been living all these years, waiting," she says. "And we still
have no justice.
By rights, Chhen should have been more optimistic last week, as Cambodia
moved to set up a special tribunal for leaders of the 1975-'79 regime.
But many Cambodians fear that few of the architects of the "killing fields"
that claimed 1.7 million lives will be brought before the organ--especially
if the United Nations is excluded from the process, which now seems increasingly
likely. Prime Minister Hun Sen has made it clear that at least one of
the regime's top leaders, Ieng Sary, will be exempt from trial. After
talks with the U.N. broke down last month, the government last week advised
parliament to move ahead with its own plan for the tribunal. Critics fear
the result will be show trials in which only a token few Khmer Rouge leaders
will face court, cementing what U.N. human rights envoy Thomas Hammarberg
has called "a culture of impunity" in Cambodia. "Deep down, our rulers
do not want to have a real trial for the Khmer Rouge," says Lao Mong Hay,
director of the Khmer Institute for Democracy.
|
ALSO IN TIME
|
COVER:
Space
Visions of the 21st Century -- The Final Frontier has long captured
our imaginations. We explore how the coming century will push its
boundaries back
CAMBODIA: Blind Justice
Relatives of those murdered by the Khmer Rouge fear that a proposed
tribunal will let former guerrilla leaders walk free
CHINA: Dotcommiebashing
An official chat room is one of the country's liveliest forums
INDIA: Brand Kargil
Advertisers look to make money from patriotic fervor
BASEBALL: Play Ball!
America's National Pastime opens its season in, gasp, Tokyo
We're Outta Here:
The trickle of Asian exports to the U.S. big leagues could soon become
a flood
Extended Interview:
Kazuhiro Sasaki, Japan's most accomplished relief pitcher
CULTURE: Urban Warfare
Beijing and Shanghai are spending millions to vie for bragging rights
as China's cultural capital
TRAVEL WATCH:
Afoot and Afloat, Kerala Is Worth the Journey
|
|
|
How
could anyone allow suspects in some of the 20th century's worst atrocities
to escape accountability? The answer lies in the intricacies of Cambodia's
internal politics and in a dusty mining town near the northwestern border
with Thailand. Effectively a retirement home for mass murderers, Pailin
houses at least four former leaders of the Khmer Rouge. They live free
in the area with the blessing of Hun Sen's government as a reward for
ending their guerrilla war. In 1996 Ieng Sary, the regime's former Deputy
Premier, was the first major cadre to defect to the government--strengthening
Hun Sen's hand in his power struggle with then co-Premier Norodom Ranariddh--and
was granted an official amnesty in return. He was followed by top cadres
Ke Pauk, Khieu Samphan and Nuon Chea. All were welcomed by Hun Sen as
heroes of national reconciliation. Ke Pauk was even made a one-star general
in the Cambodian army. The Prime Minister told his people at the end of
1998 that they should "dig a hole and bury the past." Preserving the new-found
peace, he argued, was more important than confronting the old crimes.
That advice didn't sit well with many survivors. The defectors were all
members of the Khmer Rouge's standing committee, which shaped the regime's
policies of torture and forced labor, according to genocide researcher
Youk Chhang, who has spent nearly a decade gathering 400,000 documents
on the Khmer Rouge. Aside from the defectors, there aren't many other
Khmer Rouge leaders left. Pol Pot, once known as Brother Number One, died
in a jungle hideout in 1998. Another senior cadre, Son Sen, was killed
in an internal purge the year before.
The defection deals didn't please the U.N., either. Hun Sen had asked
the world body in 1997 to help find justice for the Khmer Rouge's atrocities.
But with the last round of defections in late 1998, the Prime Minister
changed his stance, and has since engaged the U.N. in a cat-and-mouse
game over control of the trials. First, he rejected Secretary-General
Kofi Annan's recommendation of an international tribunal similar to the
ones for Rwanda and Yugoslavia. Next, his soldiers captured Ta Mok, the
last Khmer Rouge commander who had not defected, and announced that national
courts would try him. Hun Sen then softened his position, saying he would
favor a joint tribunal of Cambodian and U.N. judges. Hoping for a deal,
the U.N. last month sent a delegation to work out details for the body.
Establishing the court, U.N. chief negotiator Hans Corell said, would
be a historic breakthrough. But the U.N. left empty-handed, as Cambodia
rejected its proposals. The U.N. had wanted greater international control
to ensure that evidence, not politics, determines who is indicted. A week
later, Phnom Penh announced it would move forward with its own plans.
There's probably little the U.N. can do to make Hun Sen to change his
mind. Unlike in Rwanda and Yugoslavia, the Security Council cannot force
an independent tribunal on Phnom Penh because China would likely exercise
its veto, arguing that the matter is Cambodia's internal affair. But Cambodia's
court system is so weak and politically subservient that the trials would
almost certainly be dismissed as a kangaroo court. Only one in five judges
in the country has a law degree. Some never finished grade school. And
the burgeoning problem of vigilante justice, with near-weekly reports
of mobs beating suspected thieves to death, suggests that Cambodians themselves
have little faith in the courts. "People don't see justice being done
in Cambodia today," says Youk Chhang, "so how can they think the courts
can handle the Khmer Rouge trials?"
Hun Sen's answer: only courts that understand national reconciliation
can handle such delicate cases. He says he doesn't trust the U.N. not
to reignite civil war. To many, that sounds like an excuse, since the
Khmer Rouge defectors have little fighting clout left. But with the country
only recently removed from three decades of civil war, some Cambodians
don't want to take chances. At a recent public debate in the former northwestern
front of Battambang, farmer Hom Sophon broke down in tears as she listed
the family members she lost to the regime. Still, she said she fears future
strife more: "Only poor people in the countryside will suffer if there
is war again."
Besides, says Hun Sen, the U.N. has some nerve pontificating about the
Khmer Rouge. In the 1980s the world body allowed the guerrillas' government-in-exile
to hold Cambodia's General Assembly seat rather than give it to the Vietnam-backed
government Hun Sen headed. And in 1991, the international community urged
Hun Sen to let the Khmer Rouge leaders return to politics as signatories
of the Paris agreement that was to end the civil war. Only the Khmer Rouge's
withdrawal from the peace process prevented this from happening.
Still, while the U.N. talks are at an impasse, some analysts say there
is still hope for a last-minute deal. "Cambodia wants U.N. endorsement
because it recognizes that its own judicial and prosecutorial systems
lack credibility," says Kenneth Roth, executive director of Human Rights
Watch. But how much control is Hun Sen willing to yield? "He is a past
master at giving up a few elements of form while denying all substance,
and that is the game that he is still playing with the U.N.," says Cambodia
scholar Stephen Heder. Some Cambodians speculate that the government is
trying to prolong the talks until most of the major defectors, now in
their 70s, are dead.
The Khmer Rouge's victims, meanwhile, are still waiting. Chhen Ran has
little confidence in Hun Sen's courts. "The U.N. is better," she says.
"Cambodian courts cannot find justice for the people." After 25 years,
she and others fear that when the trials do begin, they might not be worth
the wait.
Write to TIME at mail@web.timeasia.com
This
edition's table of contents
TIME Asia home
Quick
Scroll: More stories from TIME, Asiaweek and CNN
|