Cambodia revisited

Comrade Duch

Post by René Volpi

Christine Stansell - July 30, 2010 12:00 pm

“A half a day per victim.” That’s how an outraged bystander parsed the prison sentence given to Kaing Guek Eav, aka Comrade Duch, by the hybrid Cambodia-United Nations Extraordinary Chambers in Cambodia. The sentence amounted to nineteen years for the murder of fourteen thousand people in the torture and interrogation facility Duch ran as an official of the Khmer Rouge regime from 1975 to 1979. Duch was the first of four henchmen of Angka (the KR name for its purified communist Cambodia) to go on trial, and the only one likely to apologize. The fourteen thousand victims were a drop in an ocean of 1.4 million Cambodians who were starved, worked to death, and murdered by the KR between April 1975, when they overthrew the infirm and corrupt Lon Nol regime, and January 1979, when the Vietnamese invaded and took power.

There was no lack of evidence in the trial, even though only twelve prisoners are known to have survived Duch’s prison (a number of prison personnel survived and can be seen reenacting their gruesome chores in Rithy Panh’s fine documentary about Tuol Sleng, S-21). Because he had a Stalinist penchant for meticulous documentation, there are reams of heart-wrenching confessions made under torture and a photo archive of prisoner mug-shots the Vietnamese found when they arrived. The Vietnamese also left the facility intact almost as it was, and it is now Phnom Penh’s premier site of dark tourism, a museum that thousands visit each year. The prisoners’ photographs, which are at the heart of the museum’s displays, give a sense of the demographics of the “enemies of the people” Duch processed: little boys, mothers with babies, stony-faced KR cadre, toddlers, frightened teenagers.

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Posted by René Volpi ,  Saturday May 29- 2010

Comrade Duch in the dock

It has taken more than 30 years to bring the perpetrators of the Khmer Rouge excesses to justice. On Monday 26 July we will at last hear the verdict in the first trial of the ECCC, that of Comrade Duch, head of the infamous Tuol Sleng/S-21 prison. He stands accused of crimes against humanity and much more besides. He's been in detention since 1999 and deserves to remain incarcerated for the rest of his days. The trial itself began in March of last year and ended in November. I attended just once on the day that David Chandler gave his expert testimony. It was clear to me that Duch was enjoying his moment in the spotlight, and though he has freely acknowledged his role as the head of S-21, he didn't tell the whole truth and only revealed what he wanted us to know. His defense focused on the premise that he acted out of fear for his life and whilst that may've been partly true, his culpability as head of the interrogation and extermination center tells a very different story. This man is responsible for at least 12,000 deaths, and probably many more, and deserves whatever the trial judges can throw at him. His remorse is a sham and his guilt is clear, even though his former S-21 colleagues were less than forthcoming in their time on the stand. Nevertheless, the paper trail left by the Khmer Rouge and his own admissions, have sealed his fate. The trial for case 002, four of the leading members of the Khmer Rouge hierarchy, is unlikely to begin before the end of this year.  I, personally cannot wait...

Tales from The Amazon and Beyond

Cambodia. Tales from The Amazon and Beyond: Shades (Part 1) 

A different kind of jungle


Shades (part 1)
Blasting us in the night.


We were all around the fire just outside a shack we had found entirely by luck. By the looks of it, seemed was abandoned, or at least not really cared for by anyone in quite a long while. As is usually done, and by the stimulus of spirits--of the alcohol type--conversations were abundant and crisp. Just like any other instant, it took no time for all of us to get truly blasted and, as one would imagine, the tales we all told were successfully colored and even dramatic at times, all depending on the creative form of the speaker.  Not far away there was a swamp-like medium-sized lagoon where that night's moon looked as if it was alive and dancing by means of its own reflection. It was indeed a sight to behold, and I began to experience a dream-like epiphany, as the voices suddenly changed tone and rhythm and at the same time sounded elongated and far, the laughter deep and spacey. I felt as if my presence was there, but yet my mind wasn't.  I went with the moon that by now was dancing in the dark waters of the pond. The wood from the fire marked the moment, cracking loudly, speaking its language like conversing to the breeze that understood, as the leaves provided an ever so subtle chorus of many, lingering there in an absolute perfect cacophony of sounds. The nightly hours felt timeless, and in essence everything seemed as in sync with the moon that at one point looked like it couldn't get any bigger, like it couldn't dance anymore. . . .

But the night was far from over and by no means the fire pit would end anytime soon. This night was a night that no one would ever forget.  It was a time of uncontrollable, relentless fear. What started as a cozy evening by the fire, ended up being a time of desperation and despair by forces beyond our control or comprehension.  Events that took place that night would make a mark in our psyche that literally ended up scarring the deepest fibers of our beings. But before that, we would have to fight for our lives to a degree none of us thought possible. Not in a million years. And yet we did. Some of us would meet tomorrow. Too many of us did not.


(to be continued in Part 2)
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