Metro (UK)
'For me, trying to find Comrade Duch was not because I thought I could singlehandedly bring the Khmer Rouge to justice; I never actually believed I would find him.
It was a quest for understanding, to try and get beyond the immediate need for justice and understand how the Khmer Rouge came about.
They came to represent all that was wrong in the world to me, and I felt that if there was one person in the world who could provide an explanation, Duch was that man.'
Irish photojournalist Nic Dunlop is talking about the chief executioner of the brutal regime that ruled Cambodia for four years.
Between 1975 and 1979, an estimated 1.7million Cambodians died under the Khmer Rouge – a quarter of the population, a higher proportion than those killed in Nazi-occupied Europe or Rwanda. Yet 30 years on, none of the perpetrators has been held to account.
That is about to change: five former high-ranking Khmer Rouge officials are set to stand trial at the end of this month. And one of them, perhaps the most infamous after the regime's leader Pol Pot (who died in 1998), will be there because of Dunlop.
Comrade Duch (pronounced 'Doik') was head of the Khmer Rouge's secret police, in charge of Tuol Sleng, a former secondary school in Phnom Penh transformed into a torture camp. Of the 15,000 people who entered Tuol Sleng, all but seven were killed.
The prison – later turned into a genocide museum – held a grim fascination for Dunlop. On his first visit in 1989, he was horrified by the photographs taken of each inmate, including women and children.
'Nothing can prepare you for the initial shock of going into a place like that, where you're looking at photographs of people held in the rooms there and who possibly died in those rooms,' he says.
'It was a profoundly upsetting experience. And disturbing knowing most of the perpetrators of the crimes committed in this place were still alive and free. That was the thing that terrified me.'
Dunlop had long been interested in Cambodia's history. 'Cambodia became the first place to awaken me to the way the world actually was, as opposed to the way I thought it should be.'
Working there in the 1990s, he began to carry Duch's photograph in his back pocket. And in 1999, Dunlop recognised the man in the photo standing before him. A few days later, the former executioner gave himself up to police and has been in prison since.
Yet Dunlop is worried this month's trial may not provide the closure that is needed.
'Duch's trial will be important because he has the ability to point fingers: when everybody else has denied their responsibility, he can say categorically: “I know because I received orders from these people.” His testimony could be confirmation of mass murder as official Khmer Rouge policy,' says Dunlop.
'But a key purpose of the tribunal is to transmit to ordinary Cambodians what the court is doing, as well as to mete out justice. And people in the countryside have little or no understanding of the process or how it's supposed to bring about justice.'
According to a recent report by the University of California, fewer than one in ten Cambodians knew five regime suspects have been awaiting trial. And only 3.3 per cent of respondents could name the court's five detainees.
'If it's low on the list of priorities for Cambodians out in the villages – largely because they don't know and don't understand, although they have a desire to see justice done – then it brings into question the whole process.'
Beyond his issues with the tribunal, though, Dunlop believes he has found the explanation he sought 20 years ago.
'It makes sense that we always side with the victims of horrible crimes and we vilify those responsible but it doesn't help us reach a further understanding. Looking at the world of the perpetrator is probably more crucial than the world of the victim. It's easy to empathise with a victim but what happens when a victim turns out to be a perpetrator as well, like in Rwanda?
'You learn that we're all basically the same. Perhaps people like Duch are a bit like tempered metal, more prone to these kinds of things, but I don't think they're that different. It's a comforting thought, because it means we're not dealing with cartoon characters, we're dealing with real people and all the ambiguity that goes with that,' he says.
And despite the complications of the tribunal, hearing from Duch could have a wider effect.
'The realisation that we all have this ability to do great good and also great evil is a sobering one,' says Dunlop. 'If we start from that point, then we might stand a chance of preventing these things from occurring again.'
It was a quest for understanding, to try and get beyond the immediate need for justice and understand how the Khmer Rouge came about.
They came to represent all that was wrong in the world to me, and I felt that if there was one person in the world who could provide an explanation, Duch was that man.'
Irish photojournalist Nic Dunlop is talking about the chief executioner of the brutal regime that ruled Cambodia for four years.
Between 1975 and 1979, an estimated 1.7million Cambodians died under the Khmer Rouge – a quarter of the population, a higher proportion than those killed in Nazi-occupied Europe or Rwanda. Yet 30 years on, none of the perpetrators has been held to account.
That is about to change: five former high-ranking Khmer Rouge officials are set to stand trial at the end of this month. And one of them, perhaps the most infamous after the regime's leader Pol Pot (who died in 1998), will be there because of Dunlop.
Comrade Duch (pronounced 'Doik') was head of the Khmer Rouge's secret police, in charge of Tuol Sleng, a former secondary school in Phnom Penh transformed into a torture camp. Of the 15,000 people who entered Tuol Sleng, all but seven were killed.
The prison – later turned into a genocide museum – held a grim fascination for Dunlop. On his first visit in 1989, he was horrified by the photographs taken of each inmate, including women and children.
'Nothing can prepare you for the initial shock of going into a place like that, where you're looking at photographs of people held in the rooms there and who possibly died in those rooms,' he says.
'It was a profoundly upsetting experience. And disturbing knowing most of the perpetrators of the crimes committed in this place were still alive and free. That was the thing that terrified me.'
Dunlop had long been interested in Cambodia's history. 'Cambodia became the first place to awaken me to the way the world actually was, as opposed to the way I thought it should be.'
Working there in the 1990s, he began to carry Duch's photograph in his back pocket. And in 1999, Dunlop recognised the man in the photo standing before him. A few days later, the former executioner gave himself up to police and has been in prison since.
Yet Dunlop is worried this month's trial may not provide the closure that is needed.
'Duch's trial will be important because he has the ability to point fingers: when everybody else has denied their responsibility, he can say categorically: “I know because I received orders from these people.” His testimony could be confirmation of mass murder as official Khmer Rouge policy,' says Dunlop.
'But a key purpose of the tribunal is to transmit to ordinary Cambodians what the court is doing, as well as to mete out justice. And people in the countryside have little or no understanding of the process or how it's supposed to bring about justice.'
According to a recent report by the University of California, fewer than one in ten Cambodians knew five regime suspects have been awaiting trial. And only 3.3 per cent of respondents could name the court's five detainees.
'If it's low on the list of priorities for Cambodians out in the villages – largely because they don't know and don't understand, although they have a desire to see justice done – then it brings into question the whole process.'
Beyond his issues with the tribunal, though, Dunlop believes he has found the explanation he sought 20 years ago.
'It makes sense that we always side with the victims of horrible crimes and we vilify those responsible but it doesn't help us reach a further understanding. Looking at the world of the perpetrator is probably more crucial than the world of the victim. It's easy to empathise with a victim but what happens when a victim turns out to be a perpetrator as well, like in Rwanda?
'You learn that we're all basically the same. Perhaps people like Duch are a bit like tempered metal, more prone to these kinds of things, but I don't think they're that different. It's a comforting thought, because it means we're not dealing with cartoon characters, we're dealing with real people and all the ambiguity that goes with that,' he says.
And despite the complications of the tribunal, hearing from Duch could have a wider effect.
'The realisation that we all have this ability to do great good and also great evil is a sobering one,' says Dunlop. 'If we start from that point, then we might stand a chance of preventing these things from occurring again.'
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