of the Khmer Rouge, they deferred, as foreigners do, to the instincts of their local friends and colleagues. If anybody had the grounds to anticipate systematic brutality, it seems logical that it would be those most immediately endangered.Yet those with the most at stake are in fact often the least prone to recognize their peril. The Cambodian people were frightened by the reports of atrocities in the KR-occupied countryside, but they retained resilient hope.
Françcois Ponchaud was a French Jesuit priest who spoke Khmer and lived among the Cambodians. He heard the chilling local gossip that preceded the KR’s capture of Phnom Penh. “They kill any soldiers they capture, and their families too,”Cambodians said. “They take people away to the forest,” they warned. But in the mental duel that was fought in each and every Cambodian’s mind, it was the concrete features of a horrifying, immediate war that won out over the more abstract fear of the unknown. The toll of the civil war on Cambodia’s civilians had been immense. Some 1 million Cambodians had been killed.27 Both sides got into the habit of taking no prisoners in combat, unless they planned to torture them to extract military intelligence. Cannibalism was widespread, as soldiers were told that eating the livers of captured enemies would confer the power of the vanquished upon the victor. The country’s rice crop had been obliterated. More than 3 million Cambodians had been displaced, causing the population of the capital to swell from 600,000 to over 2 million by 1975. The daily privations were such that Cambodians naturally preferred the idea of the KR to the reality of Lon Nol. Moreover, most assumed that the KR excesses were the product of the heat of battle, and not the result of ideology or innate callousness. The most ominous warnings about the KR were dismissed as Lon Nol propaganda. As Ponchaud later noted, “Khmers were Khmers, we thought; [the KR] would never go to such extremes with their own countrymen. Victory was within their grasp: what psychological advantage could they gain by taking wanton reprisals?”28
The kinds of conversations that went on in Phnom Penh in the months preceding its fall resembled those that Lemkin had struck up as he toured eastern Poland, Latvia, and Lithuania as a refugee during World War II. Why would Hitler round up defenseless people? Why would he divert precious resources from the eastern front during World War II so that he could finish them off? Because the extermination of the Jews constituted its own victory, and it was the triumph for which he was sure he would be remembered. Similarly, Pol Pot would treat as discrete policy objectives the eradication of those associated with the old regime, as well as the educated, the Vietnamese, the Muslim Cham, the Buddhist monks, and other “bourgeois elements.”Violence was not an unfortunate byproduct of the revolution; it was an indispensable feature of it. But like so many targeted peoples before them, Cambodians were consoled by the presumption of reasonableness.
As the KR rebels closed in on the capital, ordinary people dared to visualize the end of deprivation, bombs, and bullets. Once the civil war between Lon Nol and the KR ended and they were rid of foreign interference, they told themselves, they could return to their Buddhist, peaceable heritage. Since high politics was the province of the elite, most Cambodians assumed that the politicians would settle scores with the “traitorous clique” of seven senior officials in the Lon Nol government and everybody else would be left alone, free at last to resume normal life. “I have no ideas about politics,” My Vo, a twenty-nine-year-old Cambodian, was quoted as saying two weeks before Phnom Penh fell to the KR. “I am just a man 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