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Patrick
Dilger covers Yale for the New Haven Register. His most recent
piece for this magazine was "Law
Students In Action," in the December issue.
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Back
to the "Killing Fields"
A
professor of history has made a personal crusade of pursuing Pol
Pot, the Cambodian ruler responsible for the deaths of thousands
in the 1970s.
April
1996
by Patrick Dilger
In his
office at the Hall of Graduate Studies, Ben Kiernan, an associate
professor in the history department, is holding a wrinkled piece
of paper under a light.
Down one side of the paper, handwritten in graceful Cambodian characters,
are the names of eight boys and girls, ages 9 to 14. At the bottom
is the signature of Kang Kech Iev, director of an extermination
center run by the Cambodian Communists-the Khmer Rouge-near the
village of Tuol Sleng in the 1970s. Of the 14,000 people confined
there, just seven are known to have survived. None of the children
on Kiernan's list is among them. Next to their names is a scrawled
notation dated May 30, 1978. It reads: "Kill them all."
The list is part of
a massive body of evidence that Kiernan has compiled on the atrocities
of the Khmer Rouge, who ruled Cambodia from 1975 to 1979 under the
notorious Pol Pot. "They were just children," says the
Australian-born Kiernan, whose latest book, The
Pol Pot Regime, was recently published by Yale University
Press. "Their only crime might have been that their parents
disagreed with Pol Pot's ideology. Or perhaps not even that. They
may have been targeted just because of the part of the country they
lived in."
It was not hard to fall
afoul of the hard-line Maoist dictum embraced by Pol Pot, a French-educated
Cambodian born with the name Saloth Sar. During his efforts to accomplish
what he called a "purification of the Khmer race" and
create a classless society (Kiernan calls it "an indentured
agrarian state"), more than a million-and-a-half of the country's
8 million people were executed, starved, or worked to death. Cambodia's
economy was shattered, its communications with the outside world
severed, its intelligentsia all but wiped out. The first Western
reporter allowed into the country after the fall of the Khmer Rouge
wrote in March 1979: "The Cambodia that survived Pol Pot is
like a dismembered body that is trying to come back to life."
Its empty and dilapidated cities were so quiet, the reporter wrote,
"that bird song has a sinister ring to it."
Redressing those wrongs
has become a prime goal for Kiernan, who is widely recognized as
one of the world's leading authorities on the history of modern
Cambodia. And he is pursuing it as head of the Cambodian Genocide
Program, which is cosponsored by Yale's Center for International
and Area Studies and the Law School's Orville H. Schell Jr. Center
for International Human Rights. Started in January 1995 under a
$499,000 grant from the U.S. Department of State, the program developed
out of an appeal to Congress by Senator Charles S. Robb of Virginia
to establish a State Department Office of Cambodian Genocide Investigations.
The program's purpose was to assemble as much information as possible
about how the Khmer Rouge operated and who gave the orders for the
wholesale executions that became the theme of the 1985 film The
Killing Fields. It was also to be used to train contemporary Cambodians
to pursue legal action against Pol Pot, who still leads a weakened
but active rebel force of Khmer Rouge in northwestern Cambodia.
The Congressional
supporters of the program felt it needed an academic base for research,
and Yale was selected over seven other candidates.
The selection was not without dissenters, including some at Yale.
According to Gaddis Smith,
the Larned Professor of History and former director of Yale's Center
for International and Area Studies, some felt the program was inappropriate
because it was not "pure scholarship." Smith disagreed.
"If a university is going to avoid all the real issues in human
life," he says, "we will be reduced to studying ancient
history and mathematics. Genocidal behavior has unfortunately recurred
repeatedly throughout history, and with the killing technology available
in the 20th century it has become even more horrible. The answer
is for all of us to learn as much as we can and do as much as we
can to prevent them from happening again."
Craig Etcheson, a scholar
of Southeast Asian history who is now manager of Yale's program
in genocide studies, finds it both ironic and fitting that efforts
to address the gruesome legacy of Pol Pot's regime started in the
United States. The plight of Cambodia and its people, he points
out, has nagged at the American conscience since the Vietnam War,
during which the United States dropped more than 540,000 tons of
bombs on the country before Congress called a halt in 1973.
"I think there've
been a lot of recriminations regarding the U.S. involvement there,"
says Etcheson, a former member of the Campaign to Oppose the Return
of the Khmer Rouge, a lobbying group. "There are many people
on the right who feel that we abandoned our Cambodian allies, and
there are a lot on the left who feel it was our involvement that
led them to that fate. The conjunction of those two streams of thought
paralyzed the U.S. and led to its hands-off treatment of the Khmer
Rouge."
Whatever the reasons,
efforts to make Pol Pot and the Khmer Rouge accountable for their
crimes were achingly slow to evolve. In 1979, the newly formed Cambodian
government tried Pol Pot and members of his regime in absentia,
but the trial had little impact. During the 1980s, when the ousted
Khmer Rouge still held Cambodia's seat in the United Nations, the
opportunity to bring them before the World Court was allowed to
pass without action. "The international community designed
the Genocide Convention after World War II to prevent any recurrence
of crimes against humanity, but it has never been enforced,"
says Kiernan. "One result was the death of more than a million
Khmers at Pol Pot's hands and the continuing possibility of that
recurring."
Kiernan does not shrink
from comparing Pol Pot and his lieutenants to Adolf Hitler and the
Nazis in their obsession with racist, totalitarian policies. Thousands
of doctors, teachers, businessmen, and others whose education or
position posed a perceived threat to Pol Pot's vision were eliminated.
Ethnic Vietnamese, targeted because of their race, were almost wiped
out in Cambodia. But Pol Pot's racism also turned inward against
native Khmer people who lived in the eastern part of the country,
along the Vietnamese border. They were labeled "Khmer bodies
with Vietnamese minds," says Kiernan.
Kiernan
acknowledges that he is helped by the fact that, like the Nazis,
the Khmer Rouge compiled meticulous records,
many of which survived after Pol Pot and his followers fled the
1979 Vietnamese invasion that toppled the Khmer regime. During its
first year, Yale's genocide-studies program collected hundreds of
thousands of these documents, including maps of prisons and grave
sites, death lists, biographical profiles of Khmer Rouge leaders,
and more than 4,000 photographs of victims and the officials who
may have been responsible for their deaths. With the aid of computers,
researchers have added a new dimension to what Gaddis Smith calls
"real detective scholarship." By early next year, all
the documentation will have been transferred to databases that will
be made available on CD-ROM and the Internet in an effort to contact
people with information about events in Cambodia during the Khmer
Rouge period. Kiernan hopes that distributing the information may
elicit help from people who could identify many of Pol Pot's victims.
Until recently, Cambodia
itself didn't have the human resources to pursue a trial of Khmer
Rouge leaders, but last August a program overseen by the Schell
Center produced its first crop of Cambodian graduates in the fields
of international criminal law and international human rights law.
They are expected to provide aid to the Documentation Center of
Cambodia, in Phnom Penh, which was established in January 1995 to
serve as a permanent institute for Khmer Rouge-related research.
In this country, Kiernan's
program has been assisted by some of the more than 150,000 Cambodian
refugees who fled here during and after Pol Pot's rule. One New
Haven-area man-who requested anonymity because he feared retaliation
by Khmer Rouge supporters in this country-recalled how, as a 12-year-old,
he was forced to work 18 hours a day in the forests and rice-fields.
"We were malnourished, they gave us hardly any food,"
recalled the man, who was deported to the countryside with his family
from Phnom Penh. "We would eat leaves, insects, anything we
could find." After more than a year in captivity, he escaped
with several others after swimming across the Mekong River to Vietnam.
But it was not before he came across the body of his father. "He
had been butchered, just like a pig," the man said. "Sometimes
I wonder what has happened to justice-how all this could happen
while other countries stood and watched."
In the best of all worlds,
the genocide-studies program would ensure that justice was meted
out to Pol Pot and his lieutenants. But there are obstacles to that
goal, not the least of which is that the Cambodia inquiry concerns
events that happened two decades ago, and that many potential witnesses
have died or been killed. Kiernan says a tribunal is "probable,
but not certain." More likely, he says, is a "truth commission"
similar to those used in countries like El Salvador and Chile that
would gather information and issue indictments. That would make
the Khmer Rouge subject to arrest outside Cambodia, restricting
their movement and making it more difficult for sympathetic countries
like Thailand to shelter them.
Ronald Slye, the Schell
Center's associate director, says that an important part of the
healing process for Cambodia is establishing a comprehensive record
that will be available to the public, and that progress is being
made. "It will allow the country to come to grips with a horrendous
past and move forward," Slye says. "If there is no national
dialogue, the prospects for future peace and human rights are that
much less."
The Cambodian
Genocide Program was established at a time of growing interest in
finding better ways to deal quickly with crimes against humanity.
The war crimes tribunals created by the United Nations for the former
Yugoslavia and Rwanda were the first of their kind since the trials
at Nuremberg and Tokyo at the end of World War II, and there is
now growing pressure to set up an international criminal court.
A new report on Cambodia compiled for the State Department by two
legal scholars recommends laying the groundwork for future prosecutions
by establishing a commission of Cambodians and international experts.
The report was prepared after the genocide-studies program sponsored
an international "Striving for Justice" conference in
Phnom Penh last August. During the conference, the leaders of Cambodia's
coalition government (democratically elected in 1993 after a massive
U.N. rebuilding effort) declared their intention to pursue legal
action against Pol Pot for human rights violations. The gathering
also prompted the Khmer Rouge to declare Kiernan an "arch war
criminal" and an "accessory executioner of U.S. imperialism."
Given the constantly
shifting allegiances of Cambodian politics, Kiernan is well aware
that there may be others who would rather bury the past than resurrect
it through war crimes trials. He says it is the Cambodians themselves
who will ultimately decide which course to take. "We're not
out to push an agenda," Kiernan says. "This program is
intended to give Cambodians the training and information they need
to pursue cases against the Khmer Rouge in any way they choose,
not to conduct trials for them."
In this country, Kiernan
himself ran into a flurry of criticism early in the course of the
genocide-studies program from a fellow Australian scholar, Stephen
Morris. In a Wall Street Journal op-ed article last April,
Morris, who is currently a researcher at Harvard, wrote to attack
the choice of Kiernan as the person to lead the Cambodia investigations.
Focusing on some of Kiernan's early writings as a graduate student,
when Kiernan was an outspoken critic of the Vietnam War, Morris
branded his countryman as "one of the Khmer Rouge's most ardent
defenders during Pol Pot's reign of terror." Morris's theme
was taken up by several others, including Gerard Henderson, the
executive director of Australia's Sydney Institute, who said that
Kiernan had "barracked for the Khmer Rouge when the Cambodian
killing fields were choked with corpses." Time correspondent
Christopher Ogden followed up with an essay in the magazine's Asian
edition denouncing the State Department for ignoring this "red
flag." The department's decision to give the contract to Yale
and not other strong candidates like David Hawk-a former U.S. director
of Amnesty International who had spent much of the 1980s documenting
the years of Khmer Rouge rule-reflected its "long, tortured
history of treating Pol Pot gingerly," Ogden wrote.
Kiernan
fired back publicly at Morris, questioning his credentials as a
Southeast Asian scholar
and saying in the Wall Street Journal that Morris had based
his claims on "selective quotes" from Kiernan's early
writings, while ignoring his 18 years of research exposing the atrocities
of Pol Pot's regime. "It struck me as a hall of mirrors,"
Kiernan says. "On the one hand I was accused of being a Khmer
Rouge sympathizer, while on the other the Khmer Rouge were sentencing
me as an arch war criminal."
Kiernan says he has
long acknowledged, publicly and in print, "that there were
things I got wrong about the Khmer Rouge." He says that "errors
of interpretation" led him to believe initially that the Cambodian
Communists might have been a positive force in an essentially feudal
country. He adds that his early commentaries appeared at a time
when random acts of "post-war revenge" were common, and
not always easy to distinguish from what became an orchestrated
plan of extermination.
In July, Kiernan was
joined in his own defense by more than two dozen leading experts
in Cambodian affairs who wrote an open letter to the Journal noting
that "since 1978, Mr. Kiernan has devoted his career to documenting
the crimes of the Khmer Rouge. Far from being an apologist for Pol
Pot, Prof. Kiernan has been an outspoken and untiring opponent of
the Khmer Rouge." The debate, which one government official
labeled an "academic food fight," began to die out after
an October editorial in the conservative newspaper The Washington
Times characterized the campaign by Morris and his allies as
"the kind of lunacy and quest for ideological purity that ought
to be left to the other side."
Kiernan believes the
debate ended well because it focused attention on the program and
drew strong support from the academic community. But a Washington
Post story, citing congressional aides, said the dispute had
clouded the program's future by irritating some key members of Congress
and undercutting enthusiasm for funding beyond the initial allocation.
Kiernan says that, with federal budget dollars at a premium in any
case, the program will probably look to private and international
funding to sustain itself. Nevertheless, it appears to be winning
new friends. Frederick Z. Brown, a former State Department official
who was in charge of Indochinese affairs when the Khmer Rouge came
to power, told The New York Times that he was at first skeptical
about the program because it looked like "a make-work project,
idealistic but without practical application.
"I have changed
my mind," Brown says. "We have to try to assign some kind
of responsibility for what happened. It doesn't do any good to sweep
it under the rug."
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