in the middle…If this side wins, I’ll be an office assistant. If the other wins, I’ll be an office assistant. I don’t care which side wins.”29 What mattered to Cambodians was that the fighting stop.
Having known only conflict for five years, the Cambodians considered the KR promise of peace an appealing alternative. The Communists talked about justice to a people who had known nothing but injustice. They spoke of order to a people who knew only corruption. And they pledged a brighter future free of imperialists, whereas the Lon Nol government promised only more of the dim present. Having watched their leaders cozy up to the United States and the United States repay them by bombing and invading their country, Cambodians longed for freedom from outside interference.
Major U.S. newspapers reflected the optimistic mood. Once the KR won the war, Schanberg wrote, “there would be no need for random acts of terror.”30 He, too, made rational calculations about what was “necessary.” He recalls:
We knew the KR had done some very brutal things. Many reporters went missing and didn’t come back. But we all came to the conclusion—it wasn’t a conclusion, it was more like wishful thinking—that when the Khmer Rouge marched into Phnom Penh, they’d have no need to be so brutal. There’d be some executions—of those on the Khmer Rouge’s “Seven Traitors List”—but that was it. We were talking to people—talking to our Cambodian friends who want to believe the best. Nobody believes they will get slaughtered. It is unthinkable and you don’t wrap your mind around it.
Schanberg, Times photographer Al Rockoff, and British reporter Jon Swain were so incapable of “wrapping their minds around” what lay ahead that they chose to remain in Cambodia after the U.S. embassy had evacuated its citizens. They stayed to report on the “transition” to postwar peace.31 Hope and curiosity outweighed fear.
A Bloodbath?
Alarming reports of atrocities are typically met with skepticism. Usually, though, it is the refugees, journalists, and relief workers who report the abuses and U.S. government decision-makers who resist belief. Some cannot imagine. Others do not want to act or hope to defer acting and thus either downplay the reports or place them in a broader “context” that helps to subsume their horror. In Cambodia atrocity warnings were again minimized, but it was not officials in the U.S. government who dismissed them as fanciful.
In early 1975 senior U.S. policymakers in the administration of Gerald Ford reiterated earlier warnings that a bloodbath would follow a KR triumph. In March 1975 President Ford himself predicted a “massacre” if Phnom Penh fell to the Khmer Rouge.32 A National Security Council fact sheet, which was distributed to Congress and the media the same month, even invoked the Holocaust. The briefing memo warned, “The Communists are waging a total war against Cambodia’s civilian population with a degree of systematic terror perhaps unparalleled since the Nazi period—a clear precursor of the blood bath and Stalinist dictatorship they intend to impose on the Cambodian people.”33 The U.S. ambassador in Phnom Penh, Dean, said he feared an “uncontrolled and uncontrollable solution” in which the KR would kill “the army, navy, air force, government and Buddhist monks.”34
But few trusted the warnings. The Nixon and Ford administrations had cried wolf one time too many in Southeast Asia. In addition, because the KR were so secretive, America’s warnings were by definition speculative, based mainly on rumors and secondhand accounts. To the extent that the apocalyptic warnings of U.S. government officials were sincere, many Americans believed they stemmed from the Ford administration’s anti-Communist paranoia or its desire to get congressional backing for an $82 million aid package for the Lon Nol regime. They did not believe that the administration had any tangible evidence that the Communists were murdering their own people. In the aftermath of Watergate and Vietnam, Americans doubted whether any truth existed in politics.
On April 13, 1975, on the eve of the fall of Phnom Penh, Schanberg published a dispatch titled “Indochina Without Americans: For Most, a Better Life.”“It is difficult to imagine,”he wrote, how the lives of ordinary Cambodians could be “anything but better with the Americans gone.”35
Many members of Congress agreed. U.S. legislators felt lied to and burned by their previous credulity. To warn of a new bloodbath was no excuse to continue the bloody civil war. As Bella Abzug (D.–N.Y.), who had just returned from Cambodia, told a House hearing:
It is argued that we must give military aid because if we do not there will be a bloodbath. One thing we did discover, there is no greater bloodbath than that which is taking place presently and can only take place with our military assistance…Suppose we were asked to address either 75,000 or 100,000 of those Cambodians who may very well lose their lives or be maimed by our military assistance for the next 3-month period…and they said to you, “Why do I have to die?”…or “Why should my body be mangled?”—What would you tell them? That we are doing it in order to avoid a bloodbath?36
Abzug suggested that if the United States would only change its policy, it could likely work with the Khmer Rouge and “arrange for an orderly transfer of power.”37 Senator George McGovern (D.–S. Dak.), a leader of the antiwar movement, trusted nothing the U.S. government said about the Cambodian Communists. He expected the KR to form a government “run by some of the best-educated, most able intellectuals in Cambodia.”38 The editorial pages of the major newspapers and the congressional opposition were united in the view, in the words of a Washington Post editorial, that “the threatened ‘bloodbath’ is less ominous than a continuation of the current bloodletting.”39 Western journalists in Phnom Penh sang a song to the tune of “She Was Poor but She Was Honest”:
Oh will there be a dreadful bloodbath
When the Khmer Rouge come to town?
Aye, there’ll be a dreadful bloodbath
When the Khmer Rouge come to town.
Becker, the young Post reporter who had offered one of the earliest depictions of the Khmer Rouge, was pessimistic. She departed Cambodia ahead of the KR capture of Phnom Penh, as she did not want to be around for what she knew would come next. Besides fearing the worst for Cambodians and her colleagues who had disappeared, Becker also sensed the impossibility of generating outside interest in the story. This was a region whose problems the world was anxious to put behind it. She predicted that she would be unable to cover the ensuing horrors, and the outside world would do nothing to stop them. She was right on both counts.
Recognition
From Behind a Blindfold
Although most foreigners hoped for the best in advance of the fall of Phnom Penh, most of those with passports from non-Communist countries did not remain to test the new regime. Nearly all American and European journalists had left Phnom Penh by early April 1975. Twenty-six reporters had already gone missing.40 Most of the others had come to agree with Becker that something extremely ugly lay ahead. The U.S. embassy kept its evacuation plans secret until the morning that U.S. Marines secured a helicopter landing area in the outskirts of the capital. On April 12, in Operation Eagle Pull, diplomatic staff and most U.S. correspondents left aboard the U.S. helicopters. President Ford said that he had ordered the American departure with a “heavy heart.”
Not all the signs from Phnom Penh were grim. Prince Sihanouk, the titular leader of the KR coalition, had sent mixed signals all along. On the one hand, he had spoken confidently of the KR’s intention to establish a democratic state. On the other hand, he had cautioned that the KR would have little use for him: “They’ll spit me out like a cherry pit,” he once said.41 But in the immediate aftermath of the KR triumph, Sihanouk was less interested in prophesying than in gloating. “We did what they said we could never do,”he boasted. “We defeated the Americans.”42The day after the harrowing evacuation of Phnom Penh began, bewildered Western reporters led their stories by again posing the question that the Post’s Becker had posed a full year before, “Who are the Khmer Rouge?”
A few hundred brave, foolish, or unlucky foreigners stayed in