Forced evacuation from Phnom Penh on 17 April 1975 (Photo AFP)Alexander Ko
Opinion
Posted: 4/21/06
The Daily Free Press
(Boston University, Mass., USA)
October 2004 -- Fenway Park. How sweet October smelled, with the wafts of Fenway Franks and spilled beer drifting through the bleachers. Red Sox-Yankees, ALCS ... what more could you ask for? I was there, right at the heart of the action -- section 36, row 3, seat 7 -- taking it all in. I screamed at the top of my lungs when Schilling, bloody sock and all, walked to the dugout. I hugged my neighbor, a complete stranger, when Mirabelli hit one out of the park. I heckled random Yankees fans. And at one point, when the intensity was so great, when I was deafened by the chants of "BALCO, BALCO," something struck me: My mind flirted with the futility of the game. Having shelled out $235 for a single ticket, this didn't seem too far out of line, but I quickly snapped to my senses and continued to heckle random Yankees fans.
Fast forward to July 2005, when I went to Cambodia -- about as far as you can get from Boston (it's literally on the other side of the globe). Cambodia, a dilapidated country situated between Vietnam to the east and Thailand to the west, has been the armpit of other countries for most of the past 140 years, except when Cambodians massacred each other in a genocide that killed off artists, intellectuals, doctors and anyone wearing glasses.
In April 1975 the Khmer Rouge (Cambodian Communist rebels) and its leader Pol Pot took over the capital and forcefully evicted all the citizens to work on farms. They abolished private ownership, money, religion and family. Any possible threats to this revolutionary ideology -- teachers, lawyers, doctors, members of the elite class -- were executed. By the end of the genocide in 1979, 2 million Cambodians had died. Out of every five Cambodians before the war, one died as a result of the genocide. Even today, survivors suffer massive psychological damage, in part because the Khmer Rouge has been pardoned and absorbed into the current government, with some former soldiers serving as village chiefs.
The Cambodians I spoke to never mentioned the genocide, as though they didn't want to acknowledge it. Why? Maybe it's because the current leader, Hun Sen -- some call him "dictator" or "kleptomaniac," but officially he's the prime minister -- consolidated power by means of a violent coup d'état. Maybe it's because the leaders of the genocide remain untried in a court of law, more than 30 years after the fact, and some even preside over cushy (read: corrupt) government positions. Maybe it's because while people earn on average $25 a month, the $20 a day it costs to see the temples of Angkor goes to a private concessions company with connections to prime minister Hun Sen. Maybe it's because numerous land mines lay undiffused, decades after their purpose has ended.
But amongst all this plight and corruption, semblances of hope and happiness remain. The landscape is lush and pristine. (Well, except for the part that's being deforested as we speak.) Driving from the capital, Phnom Penh, just outside the city limits, the color palette changes from the urban brown reminiscent of dirt roads to wide expanses of lush green. Bernard Krisher, a Jewish philanthropist and the biggest sole helper of Cambodia, builds schools all over rural Cambodia, stocking them with computers and connecting them to the internet. Cambodia contains the largest religious structure in the world, Angkor Wat, a breathtaking monument that reaffirms mankind's grandeur and is a source of much pride for the Cambodian people.
Nevertheless, upon hearing of Cambodia's plight, a gut instinct is to feel sorry, outraged or guilty. Then you ignore this plight because it doesn't directly affect you. But ignoring the problem doesn't make it go away; the reality still very much exists, however far-removed it is. Others may say, "The situation is appalling, but we can't do anything." Wrong. Write to senators. Write to politicians. Increase public pressure. Tell President Bush to wage the biggest war this world has ever seen -- a war worth fighting for, a widespread war on global poverty. Or, to bypass the bureaucratic red tape and corruption -- to get right to the heart of the matter -- buy scarves. In northeast Cambodia, where paved roads cease to exist, an e-business lies (www.villageleap.com). Buying scarves does more than ignore the situation, and is more than a handout. It encourages growth and development. It actually progresses the economy.
Thus, while in Cambodia, amid feelings of helplessness, rage and anger, something else struck me. What if Sox fans became fans for the well-being of Cambodia? What if we, millions strong, stopped rooting for a vain entity which has no tangible outcome on our lives, and instilled the same vigor and fervency in the well-being of Cambodia? Surely then, it would rise out of the heap of ashes where it lies now.
Fast forward to July 2005, when I went to Cambodia -- about as far as you can get from Boston (it's literally on the other side of the globe). Cambodia, a dilapidated country situated between Vietnam to the east and Thailand to the west, has been the armpit of other countries for most of the past 140 years, except when Cambodians massacred each other in a genocide that killed off artists, intellectuals, doctors and anyone wearing glasses.
In April 1975 the Khmer Rouge (Cambodian Communist rebels) and its leader Pol Pot took over the capital and forcefully evicted all the citizens to work on farms. They abolished private ownership, money, religion and family. Any possible threats to this revolutionary ideology -- teachers, lawyers, doctors, members of the elite class -- were executed. By the end of the genocide in 1979, 2 million Cambodians had died. Out of every five Cambodians before the war, one died as a result of the genocide. Even today, survivors suffer massive psychological damage, in part because the Khmer Rouge has been pardoned and absorbed into the current government, with some former soldiers serving as village chiefs.
The Cambodians I spoke to never mentioned the genocide, as though they didn't want to acknowledge it. Why? Maybe it's because the current leader, Hun Sen -- some call him "dictator" or "kleptomaniac," but officially he's the prime minister -- consolidated power by means of a violent coup d'état. Maybe it's because the leaders of the genocide remain untried in a court of law, more than 30 years after the fact, and some even preside over cushy (read: corrupt) government positions. Maybe it's because while people earn on average $25 a month, the $20 a day it costs to see the temples of Angkor goes to a private concessions company with connections to prime minister Hun Sen. Maybe it's because numerous land mines lay undiffused, decades after their purpose has ended.
But amongst all this plight and corruption, semblances of hope and happiness remain. The landscape is lush and pristine. (Well, except for the part that's being deforested as we speak.) Driving from the capital, Phnom Penh, just outside the city limits, the color palette changes from the urban brown reminiscent of dirt roads to wide expanses of lush green. Bernard Krisher, a Jewish philanthropist and the biggest sole helper of Cambodia, builds schools all over rural Cambodia, stocking them with computers and connecting them to the internet. Cambodia contains the largest religious structure in the world, Angkor Wat, a breathtaking monument that reaffirms mankind's grandeur and is a source of much pride for the Cambodian people.
Nevertheless, upon hearing of Cambodia's plight, a gut instinct is to feel sorry, outraged or guilty. Then you ignore this plight because it doesn't directly affect you. But ignoring the problem doesn't make it go away; the reality still very much exists, however far-removed it is. Others may say, "The situation is appalling, but we can't do anything." Wrong. Write to senators. Write to politicians. Increase public pressure. Tell President Bush to wage the biggest war this world has ever seen -- a war worth fighting for, a widespread war on global poverty. Or, to bypass the bureaucratic red tape and corruption -- to get right to the heart of the matter -- buy scarves. In northeast Cambodia, where paved roads cease to exist, an e-business lies (www.villageleap.com). Buying scarves does more than ignore the situation, and is more than a handout. It encourages growth and development. It actually progresses the economy.
Thus, while in Cambodia, amid feelings of helplessness, rage and anger, something else struck me. What if Sox fans became fans for the well-being of Cambodia? What if we, millions strong, stopped rooting for a vain entity which has no tangible outcome on our lives, and instilled the same vigor and fervency in the well-being of Cambodia? Surely then, it would rise out of the heap of ashes where it lies now.
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