Cambodia

CAMBODIA: Rough Welcome Street fights greet the return of ousted Prince Ranariddh	ASIA	April 13, 1998 VOL. 151 NO. 14
HARD ROAD HOME Prince Ranariddh returns briefly to Cambodia, but he's a long way from mounting a serious challenge to Hun Sen in the coming elections By Anthony Spaeth A prince, driven from his kingdom by a ruthless enemy, returns home, and thousands of loyalists rally to chant his name in support. His power-hungry adversary remains antagonistic, but the prince vows to regain his position-not through warfare but in a vote by the people of the land. If only history proceeded like fairy tales, Cambodia would be in for a happy ending-and soon. Prince Ranariddh, son of revered King Sihanouk and the largest vote-getter in Cambodia's first set of national elections in 1993, was ousted as co-premier of the country last July in a coup ordered by his partner-in-power Hun Sen. As tanks rumbled down the streets of the capital of Phnom Penh, many of Ranariddh's allies were jailed or murdered, and Cambodia's tentative flirtation with electoral democracy seemed an overnight, unqualified failure. Last week, nine months after the coup, Ranariddh was back in his capital, chatting to ambassadors about his FUNCINPEC party's chances at the second general election, which is scheduled for July 26. Viewed from the rosiest of perspectives, pressure from the international community and wily stratagems from the Beijing-based King Sinhanouk had turned the situation around: Hun Sen had been forced to compromise, and Cambodia seemed to be back on the democratic road abandoned so violently last July. As co-Interior Minister Sar Kheng, a reported reformer in Hun Sen's party, asked reasonably on Cambodian radio last week: "Will investors come to Cambodia if the election is delayed? Will the international community support us?" To make the story even sweeter, headlines last week trumpeted that government troops in the northern jungles were closing in on the last remaining forces of the Khmer Rouge, the genocidal group that governed Cambodia from 1975 to 1979 and caused the deaths of as many as 2 million Cambodians. The headlines, alas, were misleading. Hun Sen still has a firm grip on Cambodia-and if elections reverse that situation, it will be a miracle. Before Ranariddh's return to his kingdom, he was convicted of arms smuggling and other charges, sentenced to 35 years in jail and fined $54 million for property damage during the coup that ousted him. (He was later pardoned by his father.) Ranariddh stayed only four days in Phnom Penh last week, ensconced in the Hotel Le Royal, which was surrounded by riot police. The visit wasn't much of a triumph, and Ranariddh seemed less than upbeat-not a surprise considering that most of his political allies are dead, in jail or exiled, and his party has split into at least three factions since July. "The atmosphere is hostile," said a member of Ranariddh's entourage, "and we are concerned it will be like this for a long time." Even the news about the Khmer Rouge was double-edged. Troops have been leaving the group for nearly two years, and last week the stream of desertions apparently became a flood. The Cambodian government announced that some 4,000 fighters and civilians, fearful of an attack from Hun Sen's forces, had left the Khmer Rouge stronghold of Anlong Veng and massed on the border with Thailand. The defectors were led by Keo Pok, a former Khmer Rouge politburo member, according to government radio. That reportedly left as few as 200 Khmer Rouge holdouts loyal to the one-legged general Ta Mok, also known as "The Butcher," who ousted the infamous Pol Pot from the leadership last June. Ta Mok's desperate band seemed hardly in a position to withstand an attack from Phnom Penh, but by the end of last week reports from officials at the Thai border said the Khmer Rouge remnant had dug in at Anlong Veng and at least temporarily repulsed the government forces. In any case, Hun Sen's desire to terminate the Khmer Rouge had as much to do with electoral politics as with long-delayed justice: Ranariddh had tried incorporating the group into his private army last summer, the precise reason why Hun Sen's tanks drove him from Cambodia. Vanquishing the Khmer Rouge is, of course, long overdue and could conceivably deliver to the world the aged and infirm Pol Pot-but it would also complete Hun Sen's goal of whittling down Ranariddh from a powerful, army-backed co-ruler to a mere political rival wielding a bullhorn. Beyond the fight with Ranariddh, Cambodia's strong man seems prepared for a long, nasty contest with the rest of the world, which spent years and billions of dollars trying to pull Cambodia out of its decades-long turmoil. The internationally sponsored Paris accord of 1991 ended Vietnam's nearly 12-year occupation of the country-under, for the last several years, Hun Sen. The deal also launched an election process, which followed a $2 billion United Nations program to stabilize and rebuild the land. The elections were a bright moment-4 million Cambodians voted-but when Ranariddh's party won, Hun Sen didn't accept the verdict. Sihanouk, restored as constitutional monarch in 1991, brokered a compromise in which the two men ruled as "co-premiers." It was a clumsy solution-there were two armies and twin heads of every ministry-and last July it became unsustainable. When Ranariddh's effort to bring Khmer Rouge defectors into his relatively small army threatened Hun Sen, the deal between the two ended with the rumble of tanks. Foreign governments made disapproving noises but didn't try to restore the ineffectual, impetuous Ranariddh. They did insist that the electoral system be maintained, starting with elections in mid-1998. And to make that balloting halfway credible, they insisted that Ranariddh be allowed in the contest. Japan brokered the deal for his return-with Hun Sen protesting most of the way. Ranariddh and many of his top advisers were convicted in March of importing arms and colluding with the Khmer Rouge, and for several weeks Hun Sen refused to cooperate with Sihanouk in arranging the face-saving pardon. Even after he gave in, Hun Sen made it clear that the pardon covered only the prince and not his military commanders, who face jail terms and damage claims if they return to the capital. Three days before Ranariddh's return to Phnom Penh, at least 1,000 government-organized protesters clogged the streets to denounce him. The prince was denied a grand homecoming: his supporters were barred from the airport, and a red carpet was pointedly prohibited. "The prince is no longer a prime minister," lectured an Interior Ministry spokesman, "so no special treatment." But special treatment of another sort was apparently allowed: three of Ranariddh's supporters, one an army colonel, were killed in mysterious incidents just days before he arrived. According to the U.N., more than 40 such killings have taken place since July. "The specter of violence looms so large here on political matters," says a Western diplomat in Phnom Penh, "that I'm becoming convinced there is no way to stop it." Leaving Cambodia last Friday at the end of his brief visit, Ranariddh appeared happy to be getting out. "Security is very worrisome," he told reporters, "not only for me but for my colleagues." If elections are held on schedule, Ranariddh will have no access to TV or radio, no helicopters or funds: his party's coffers are apparently dry. He doesn't even have a home. "How can I conduct an electoral campaign from a room in the hotel?" he complained. The Prince may be destined to remain a power of the past, like the dwindling Khmer Rouge. Smelling victory over the guerrillas, the government announced at one point last week that Ta Mok and his deputy had requested asylum across the border but were refused by the Thai government. So confident were Cambodian officials that they invited journalists to see the taking of Anlong Veng. After Ta Mok's hardy group proved tougher than expected, however, journalists were not allowed within 20 kilometers of the stronghold. The country seemed tantalizingly close to the end of the Khmer Rouge and the close of a dreadful historical chapter. But in today's Cambodia, the dark pages of history don't ever seem to end. Reported by Matthew Lee/Phnom Penh
time-webmaster@pathfinder.com

Prince Ranariddh returns briefly to Cambodia, but he's a long way from mounting a serious challenge to Hun Sen in the coming elections

By Anthony Spaeth

A prince, driven from his kingdom by a ruthless enemy, returns home, and thousands of loyalists rally to chant his name in support. His power-hungry adversary remains antagonistic, but the prince vows to regain his position-not through warfare but in a vote by the people of the land.

If only history proceeded like fairy tales, Cambodia would be in for a happy ending-and soon. Prince Ranariddh, son of revered King Sihanouk and the largest vote-getter in Cambodia's first set of national elections in 1993, was ousted as co-premier of the country last July in a coup ordered by his partner-in-power Hun Sen. As tanks rumbled down the streets of the capital of Phnom Penh, many of Ranariddh's allies were jailed or murdered, and Cambodia's tentative flirtation with electoral democracy seemed an overnight, unqualified failure.

Last week, nine months after the coup, Ranariddh was back in his capital, chatting to ambassadors about his FUNCINPEC party's chances at the second general election, which is scheduled for July 26. Viewed from the rosiest of perspectives, pressure from the international community and wily stratagems from the Beijing-based King Sinhanouk had turned the situation around: Hun Sen had been forced to compromise, and Cambodia seemed to be back on the democratic road abandoned so violently last July. As co-Interior Minister Sar Kheng, a reported reformer in Hun Sen's party, asked reasonably on Cambodian radio last week: "Will investors come to Cambodia if the election is delayed? Will the international community support us?" To make the story even sweeter, headlines last week trumpeted that government troops in the northern jungles were closing in on the last remaining forces of the Khmer Rouge, the genocidal group that governed Cambodia from 1975 to 1979 and caused the deaths of as many as 2 million Cambodians.

The headlines, alas, were misleading. Hun Sen still has a firm grip on Cambodia-and if elections reverse that situation, it will be a miracle. Before Ranariddh's return to his kingdom, he was convicted of arms smuggling and other charges, sentenced to 35 years in jail and fined $54 million for property damage during the coup that ousted him. (He was later pardoned by his father.) Ranariddh stayed only four days in Phnom Penh last week, ensconced in the Hotel Le Royal, which was surrounded by riot police. The visit wasn't much of a triumph, and Ranariddh seemed less than upbeat-not a surprise considering that most of his political allies are dead, in jail or exiled, and his party has split into at least three factions since July. "The atmosphere is hostile," said a member of Ranariddh's entourage, "and we are concerned it will be like this for a long time."

Even the news about the Khmer Rouge was double-edged. Troops have been leaving the group for nearly two years, and last week the stream of desertions apparently became a flood. The Cambodian government announced that some 4,000 fighters and civilians, fearful of an attack from Hun Sen's forces, had left the Khmer Rouge stronghold of Anlong Veng and massed on the border with Thailand. The defectors were led by Keo Pok, a former Khmer Rouge politburo member, according to government radio. That reportedly left as few as 200 Khmer Rouge holdouts loyal to the one-legged general Ta Mok, also known as "The Butcher," who ousted the infamous Pol Pot from the leadership last June. Ta Mok's desperate band seemed hardly in a position to withstand an attack from Phnom Penh, but by the end of last week reports from officials at the Thai border said the Khmer Rouge remnant had dug in at Anlong Veng and at least temporarily repulsed the government forces.

In any case, Hun Sen's desire to terminate the Khmer Rouge had as much to do with electoral politics as with long-delayed justice: Ranariddh had tried incorporating the group into his private army last summer, the precise reason why Hun Sen's tanks drove him from Cambodia. Vanquishing the Khmer Rouge is, of course, long overdue and could conceivably deliver to the world the aged and infirm Pol Pot-but it would also complete Hun Sen's goal of whittling down Ranariddh from a powerful, army-backed co-ruler to a mere political rival wielding a bullhorn.

Beyond the fight with Ranariddh, Cambodia's strong man seems prepared for a long, nasty contest with the rest of the world, which spent years and billions of dollars trying to pull Cambodia out of its decades-long turmoil. The internationally sponsored Paris accord of 1991 ended Vietnam's nearly 12-year occupation of the country-under, for the last several years, Hun Sen. The deal also launched an election process, which followed a $2 billion United Nations program to stabilize and rebuild the land. The elections were a bright moment-4 million Cambodians voted-but when Ranariddh's party won, Hun Sen didn't accept the verdict. Sihanouk, restored as constitutional monarch in 1991, brokered a compromise in which the two men ruled as "co-premiers." It was a clumsy solution-there were two armies and twin heads of every ministry-and last July it became unsustainable. When Ranariddh's effort to bring Khmer Rouge defectors into his relatively small army threatened Hun Sen, the deal between the two ended with the rumble of tanks. Foreign governments made disapproving noises but didn't try to restore the ineffectual, impetuous Ranariddh.

They did insist that the electoral system be maintained, starting with elections in mid-1998. And to make that balloting halfway credible, they insisted that Ranariddh be allowed in the contest. Japan brokered the deal for his return-with Hun Sen protesting most of the way. Ranariddh and many of his top advisers were convicted in March of importing arms and colluding with the Khmer Rouge, and for several weeks Hun Sen refused to cooperate with Sihanouk in arranging the face-saving pardon. Even after he gave in, Hun Sen made it clear that the pardon covered only the prince and not his military commanders, who face jail terms and damage claims if they return to the capital. Three days before Ranariddh's return to Phnom Penh, at least 1,000 government-organized protesters clogged the streets to denounce him. The prince was denied a grand homecoming: his supporters were barred from the airport, and a red carpet was pointedly prohibited. "The prince is no longer a prime minister," lectured an Interior Ministry spokesman, "so no special treatment."

But special treatment of another sort was apparently allowed: three of Ranariddh's supporters, one an army colonel, were killed in mysterious incidents just days before he arrived. According to the U.N., more than 40 such killings have taken place since July. "The specter of violence looms so large here on political matters," says a Western diplomat in Phnom Penh, "that I'm becoming convinced there is no way to stop it." Leaving Cambodia last Friday at the end of his brief visit, Ranariddh appeared happy to be getting out. "Security is very worrisome," he told reporters, "not only for me but for my colleagues." If elections are held on schedule, Ranariddh will have no access to TV or radio, no helicopters or funds: his party's coffers are apparently dry. He doesn't even have a home. "How can I conduct an electoral campaign from a room in the hotel?" he complained.

The Prince may be destined to remain a power of the past, like the dwindling Khmer Rouge. Smelling victory over the guerrillas, the government announced at one point last week that Ta Mok and his deputy had requested asylum across the border but were refused by the Thai government. So confident were Cambodian officials that they invited journalists to see the taking of Anlong Veng. After Ta Mok's hardy group proved tougher than expected, however, journalists were not allowed within 20 kilometers of the stronghold. The country seemed tantalizingly close to the end of the Khmer Rouge and the close of a dreadful historical chapter. But in today's Cambodia, the dark pages of history don't ever seem to end.

Reported by Matthew Lee/Phnom Penh