A country of contradictions

Sunday February 22, 2009
Miriama Kamo
TVNZ (New Zealand)

We went to meet the affable Information Minister Khieu Kanharith in his grand offices. Lined with ornate Victorian-style leather couches, winged chairs, and plush carpets, his office is not unlike a ballroom. Over green tea in delicate cups I put the apparent funding crisis to the Minister. He waved his hand airily. "There is no concern. We don't need the international funding. We [the government] can pay for this process ourselves."

So, tomorrow we leave. I'm on the balcony of our guesthouse, listening to the tuk tuks, motorbikes, and people going by. Everything is golden, the one lamp spreading a glow across the warm burgundy and ruby patterned tiles.

There's a funeral below, the cheerful chimes accompanying the dead to their new life. It's hot. I can't believe how well things grow in pots here, an embarrassment of life firing from every wide clay tub.

It's easy to be romanced by this city, by the country, though it doesn't ask to be fallen in love with...perhaps that's what makes it so beguiling: it is what it is.

But despite its simple appeal there is so much which makes this a country of contradictions. The fact that its history belies the reality of its friendly nature today is one. Here, a beautiful temple, there, a baby and his mother sleep on a filthy grey-encrusted roadside mattress. Here, acres of green rice fields lined with water buffalo, there, a shirt growing out of the dirt of the Killing Fields. Yes, just centimetres below your feet likely lie the remains of a human being, yet here is a friendly tuktuk driver touting for business.

I find the war crimes trials contradictory.

On the one hand, they represent hope; finally a process for peace and resolution begins for Cambodians. On the other hand are allegations of corruption and kickbacks, funding crises, and criticisms that the process is fatally flawed.

Today the ECCC (Extraordinary Chambers of the Courts of Cambodia) expresses fear that it's facing bankruptcy within weeks. We go to ask the Government's Information Minister; he says that's wrong.

The court hails the trials as a vital step to resolution for Cambodia, yet the Minister says the trials are not important to the ordinary Cambodian.

So, here's what happened. We met Sambath Reach again, a spokesperson for the ECCC. Last time we talked about the unusual rainfall on trial day one, and he called himself Spokesperson for the Ghosts. Today, I spoke to him about his and the court's concerns that bankruptcy is pending, that the long awaited judicial process is in danger of collapsing.

He gave it one month. "We need more money."

Sadly, for this problem there is no immediate solution. The Court came under fire last year after allegations some staff were forced to pay kickbacks for their jobs; the UNDP froze funding and staff worked unpaid for around two months. The Japanese government kicked in some funds and the court was on its feet again, but now, the money is running out once more.

Should the court process collapse, I asked Sambath Reach, what would this mean? "Justice will be cheated."

We went to meet the affable Information Minister Khieu Kanharith in his grand offices. Lined with ornate Victorian-style leather couches, winged chairs, and plush carpets, his office is not unlike a ballroom. Over green tea in delicate cups I put the apparent funding crisis to the Minister. He waved his hand airily. "There is no concern. We don't need the international funding. We [the government] can pay for this process ourselves."

Will the court collapse, do court officials need to be concerned? "No" was the resolute answer.

So, what is the correct answer?

Just how endangered are these proceedings and if they are, to what extent can the Cambodian government, alone, deliver the type of justice they've committed to deliver to Cambodians and the international community? And how much is this constant uncertainty going to damage their ability to fulfil their 'mission'?

For court officials and those we met at the Tribunal, this commitment to justice through the trials is absolute and crucial to healing Cambodian hearts and minds. The Minister sees things differently. For him the ordinary Cambodian has little interest in the trials and does not see them as a path to peace.

From the Minister's perspective, the trials are more symbolic, a catalyst for historians to investigate more deeply into the Khmer Rouge mentality, to find out 'why' and 'how' things went so wrong. For him, this is more crucial, more important than the enactment of trials.

And as for the idea that Cambodians need to see these trials play out to find peace and resolution, the Minister says this is incorrect: "We find peace inside ourselves".

It needs to be said that the Minister supports the trials nonetheless.

Complex.

We left his golden and rich brocade office and stepped out into the oppressive heat, dust flying around our legs.

Yes, this is a country of contradictions. The trials are important to the ordinary Cambodian, the trials aren't important to the ordinary Cambodian. The proceedings will collapse, they will never collapse.

We walked down the long languorous sweep of stairs, each one glowing bleach-white under the sun. We passed through the security gates, crowded by graceful palms, and waved down a tuk-tuk, then joined the polluted mania of the city streets.