Governor Again Warns of Troubles In Ex-Rebel Land
pailin – Once a bodyguard for Pol Pot, Y Chhien stands impeccably dressed and surveys the construction of a new city hall.
The governor here who now rides in a luxury four-wheel drive truck, he is the picture of the high-ranking free spenders who have led this otherwise quiet mountain town since the Khmer Rouge integrated into the government.
But underlying the perceived calm here is an increasing concern, even within Y Chhien, that things quickly could change if those who once held the autonomous zone have to a face an upcoming trial.
“The simple people, they are afraid of what will happen. After I surveyed along the mountains—the area where we in the Khmer Rouge used to control—the people don’t want a trial. Different locations may still even have some weapons. In the end, those people want peace. But I cannot predict what all regions will do.”
It’s a sentiment echoed by a number of former mid-level Khmer Rouge soldiers and intellectuals interviewed in recent days—and flagged by security experts who earlier this month warned that government authorities retain little control over former rebels.
Once thought a mere public relations tool by government leaders to scare the international community away from a Khmer Rouge trial, the threat that former rebels would fight to protect their old bosses could be more palpable than before.
Concern follows a government sting operation here that led to the abduction of guerrilla Nuon Paet, who in June was sentenced to life in prison for his involvement in the 1994 slaying of three foreign tourists. Last month, an ex-Khmer Rouge commander turned RCAF colonel was arrested by government security forces, and a third former senior rebel is wanted.
Considered by some a boom town after the defections, Pailin attracted people from all corners of the country to set up shop after the Khmer Rouge dropped their arms and pledged loyalty to Phnom Penh in 1996.
But now, in the middle of the day, market stalls are quiet, and gem and wood dealers have little to offer. Economic activity has slowed at the Samaki, or Solidarity, market, where Uk Hong Ly is the director.
A former division commander for the Khmer Rouge, he is quick to switch conversation from people’s economic woes to their political concerns.
“The people, they do not want this trial. But I do not know if they have the weapons or not,” he says with a wry smile. “I do know they absolutely do not want their leaders to be tried.”
He says he thought his days with the Khmer Rouge were over. But if the government proceeds with its draft plan to try the top leaders of the brutal regime, Pailin’s fragile peace could deteriorate, Uk Hong Ly says.
“We have dug deep into the earth and buried this forever. If we repeat it again, maybe we would have some reason to react.”
Roughly 35 km away, Nheim Kong, 48, sits on his newly tiled porch in the village of Sdao with battle-scarred legs and a hardened gaze.
A Khmer Rouge commander since 1970, he defected to the government in 1996 with at least 3,000 other Khmer Rouge soldiers and roughly 10,000 civilians. He now serves as a one-star RCAF general in charge of the former Khmer Rouge area of Samlot.
In his mind, that deal was the end of the Khmer Rouge, and, like Uk Hong Ly, he says any trial would be an act of bad faith.
“If the principle of the government is to go back on this promise, it will result in instability,” he warns.
“Now the people have reconciliation. We are sleeping peacefully. But if we want to wake up, we must wake up—if we are disturbed again.”
These threats, albeit veiled, are not reserved for the Khmer Rouge’s frazzled soldiers.
Among the intellectuals lie similar ideas.
Just outside Pailin town, In Sopheap recalls how he once served under Pol Pot’s “Brother No 3” Ieng Sary in the regime’s Phnom Penh office buildings from 1975-1979. After that, he was promoted to be the regime’s ambassador to China in the early 1980s.
When he returned to Cambodia, he spent years fleeing from one Khmer Rouge stronghold to the next before the defections. Now that the days of revolution are over, he has settled into a humble farmhouse with a breathtaking mountain view.
And he still is close to Ieng Sary, whom he claims is innocent.
In his mind, Ieng Sary never ordered anyone to be killed throughout the four years that allegedly claimed the lives of more than one million Cambodians.
“In fact, he helped save people’s lives,” In Sopheap contends. “In those days, we in the administration did not know about all these things…. It was a revolution. When the party said this was a consequence of war, you accepted things as a consequence of war.”
Whether applying revisionist history or not, In Sopheap is certain of one thing: the Khmer Rouge that would be tried in a CPP-led trial is not the same Khmer Rouge responsible for the atrocities.
“We all have to take one hard look and ask ourselves, ‘Who is the Khmer Rouge?’” he says, hinting that those in the ruling CPP also are those who could be tried themselves.
A number of those in government positions, including Prime Minister Hun Sen, once were allied with the movement, but they claim to have defected to Vietnam in 1976 or 1977 to overthrow Pol Pot.
It’s a fact that escapes few Khmer Rouge intellectuals, including Suong Sikoeun, who at a recent public forum said he had “expected to see his old friends—ministers and parliamentarians alike.”
While In Sopheap is much less likely to predict instability if his former leaders face trial, he says those who conduct the trial would be responsible—for “anything that may happen.”
Faced with cagey threats and cryptic predictions, Western security analysts agree that any instability—if it should break out—would remain small scale.
One argues the rebels are too ill-equipped to go back to war, now that gem-mining has fallen to larger companies and logging deemed illegal.
Another says any insurgencies would be orchestrated by Hun Sen and likely would come in the form of planned protests as opposed to renewed guerrilla warfare.
When pushed, Y Chhien admits he’s not thrilled about the trial but maintains he is willing to accept whatever the government decides to do.
As police officers are dismissed with military-style salutes, he is asked whether he would allow any violence here if the government proceeds with its plan.
Turning his head simply, he says:
“It is not possible.”
