Memory and the everyday landscape of violence in post-genocide Cambodia

This art icle was downloaded by: [ KSU Kent St at e Universit y] On: 31 Oct ober 2012, At : 08: 42 Publisher: Rout ledge I nform a Lt d Regist ered in England and Wales Regist ered Num ber: 1072954 Regist ered office: Mort im er House, 37- 41 Mort im er St reet , London W1T 3JH, UK Social & Cultural Geography Publicat ion det ails, including inst ruct ions for aut hors and subscript ion informat ion: ht t p:/ / www.t andfonline.com/ loi/ rscg20 Memory and the everyday landscape of violence in post-genocide Cambodia James A. Tyner a a , Gabriela Brindis Alvarez & Alex R. Colucci a a Depart ment of Geography, Kent St at e Universit y, USA Version of record first published: 31 Oct 2012. To cite this article: James A. Tyner, Gabriela Brindis Alvarez & Alex R. Colucci (2012): Memory and t he everyday landscape of violence in post -genocide Cambodia, Social & Cult ural Geography, DOI:10.1080/ 14649365.2012.734847 To link to this article: ht t p:/ / dx.doi.org/ 10.1080/ 14649365.2012.734847 PLEASE SCROLL DOWN FOR ARTI CLE Full t erm s and condit ions of use: ht t p: / / www.t andfonline.com / page/ t erm s- and- condit ions This art icle m ay be used for research, t eaching, and privat e st udy purposes. Any subst ant ial or syst em at ic reproduct ion, redist ribut ion, reselling, loan, sub- licensing, syst em at ic supply, or dist ribut ion in any form t o anyone is expressly forbidden. The publisher does not give any warrant y express or im plied or m ake any represent at ion t hat t he cont ent s will be com plet e or accurat e or up t o dat e. The accuracy of any inst ruct ions, form ulae, and drug doses should be independent ly verified wit h prim ary sources. The publisher shall not be liable for any loss, act ions, claim s, proceedings, dem and, or cost s or dam ages what soever or howsoever caused arising direct ly or indirect ly in connect ion wit h or arising out of t he use of t his m at erial. Social & Cultural Geography, iFirst article, 2012 Memory and the everyday landscape of violence in post-genocide Cambodia Downloaded by [KSU Kent State University] at 08:42 31 October 2012 James A. Tyner, Gabriela Brindis Alvarez & Alex R. Colucci Department of Geography, Kent State University, USA, jtyner@kent.edu; gbrindis@kent.edu; acolucc3@kent.edu This paper addresses the politics of memory in post-genocide Cambodia. Since 1979 genocide has been selectively memorialized in the country, with two sites receiving official commemoration: the Tuol Sleng Museum of Genocide Crimes and the killing fields at Choeung Ek. However, the Cambodian genocide was not limited to these two sites. Through a case study of two unmarked sites—the Sre Lieu mass grave at Koh Sla Dam and the Kampong Chhnang Airfield—we highlight the salience, and significance, of taking seriously those sites of violence that have not received official commemoration. We argue that the history of Cambodia’s genocide, as well as attempts to promote transitional justice, must remain cognizant of how memories and memorials become political resources. In particular, we contend that a focus on the unremarked sites of past violence provides critical insight into our contemporary understandings of the politics of remembering and of forgetting. Key words: landscape, memory, memorialization, violence, Cambodia. Introduction Some 60 km south of Phnom Penh, nestled among the rolling hills of Kampot province, sits an altogether unremarkable earthen structure. Spanning nearly 12 km in length, 15 m high, and 20 m wide, what remains of the Koh Sla Dam seems at peace among the short grass and scrub, its flanks crisscrossed by narrow footpaths connecting the stilt houses that dot the scene. The villagers who tend the rice fields and fish in the surrounding ponds anchor Koh Sla in the seemingly timeless landscape of rural Cambodia (Figure 1). But the tranquil repose of this earthwork in such a halcyon setting conceals a darker past. Under the vegetation that covers its canted bulk—beneath the sediment of intervening years—lingers a history of starvation, disease, exposure, and execution. Nine thousand men, women, and children perished here, killed, or left to die at the hands of the Khmer Rouge. Unlike other sites of brutality and mass violence, the landscape of Koh Sla bears no consecration. No signs give voice to its past. No structure marks the graves of its builders: their forced labor and mass murder remain absent from the popular narratives of genocide. No tour buses idle nearby while curious ISSN 1464-9365 print/ISSN 1470-1197 online/12/000001-19 q 2012 Taylor & Francis http://dx.doi.org/10.1080/14649365.2012.734847 Downloaded by [KSU Kent State University] at 08:42 31 October 2012 2 James A. Tyner et al. Figure 1 Landscape around Koh Sla Dam, Kampot Province, Cambodia. tourists snap photos. In a country that has sought to ostensibly illuminate, explain, and at times commodify its past, Koh Sla’s history is remarkable precisely for being so unremarked. In Cambodia, genocidal violence is inscribed in the everyday landscape—such as Koh Sla. But the memorialization of violence is circumscribed. Violence is most visible at but a few selected sites of ‘remembrance’, notably the Tuol Sleng Museum of Genocide Crimes and the killing fields at Choeung Ek. However, it is our contention that these highly visible and officially commemorated sites serve to obfuscate other, more mundane sites (and practices) of violence. Through a case study of two unmarked sites, the Koh Sla Dam and an abandoned airfield, we draw attention to the existence of landscapes of violence that have not been placed within their geographical or historical contexts; places that remain unmarked and unremarked and yet continue to have an impact. In this paper, we consider those landscapes and legacies of violence that are ‘hidden in plain sight’: those places that are not commemorated through official channels but are in fact experienced on a day-to-day basis. It is our contention that these sites, more than the politicized and commodified memorial sites of violence, function as crucial elements as Cambodians attempt to reconcile their tragic past and uncertain future (Figure 2). The remainder of this paper consists of five main sections. In the first, we provide a theoretical overview of violence and the politics of memory. This is followed by a brief reflection on our methodology; an overview of the Cambodian genocide; a discussion of ongoing attempts to memorialize the genocide; and an examination of two unmarked and unremarked sites of genocidal violence. We conclude with a plea that the future research on landscapes of memorialization will focus not Downloaded by [KSU Kent State University] at 08:42 31 October 2012 Everyday landscape of violence 3 Figure 2 Cambodia. only on official, popular, or otherwise remarked sites, but also on those sites that are hidden on the everyday landscape. Violence and the politics of memory The past—that which we memorialize—never remains the same but instead ‘is constantly selected, filtered and restructured in terms set by the questions and necessities of the present’ (Jedlowski 2001: 30). Geographers and other social scientists have written extensively on landscapes of memory and specifically the memorialization of violence (Charlesworth 1994; Foote 1997; Forest, Johnson, and Till 2004; Johnson 1995; Till 2005). This work is significant, in that it demonstrates the primacy of ‘landscape’ to our everyday experiences— including those of violence. There are traces of violence and death that ‘monumental work’ effaces, to be replaced with a certainty that itself constitutes a form of violence. Monumentality is a way to transcend death due to its durability; monumentality may create a material appearance whereby the brutal legacies of violent practices may be ignored or transformed as a political power (Lefebvre 1991: 221). Memory, as Pierre Nora (1989: 9) writes, ‘takes root in the concrete, in spaces, gestures, images, and objects.’ In short, memory is ‘spatially constituted’; it is ‘attached to “sites” that are concrete and physical—the burial places, cathedrals, battlefields, prisons that embody tangible notions of the past—as well as to “sites” that are nonmaterial—the celebrations, spectacles and rituals that provide an aura of the past’ (Hoelscher and Alderman Downloaded by [KSU Kent State University] at 08:42 31 October 2012 4 James A. Tyner et al. 2004: 349). However, as the work of Owen Dwyer, Derek Alderman, and Steven Hoelscher (among others) has made clear: memorials and monuments are political. As Dwyer (2004: 425) explains, memorials and monuments ‘are inextricably entwined in the production of the past’; however, these ‘landscapes seek to present in tangible form the past itself, not the processes through which the “past” is produced.’ In short, landscapes are neither neutral nor static. They represent, and are represented by, political processes: a politics of memory. A politics of memory highlights the fact that ‘what is commemorated is not synonymous with what has happened in the past’ (Dwyer and Alderman 2008: 167). Commemoration is often used as a tool to create, erase, or reinvent an official history and collective memory, and thereby utilized to justify present forms of social representation and political presence. Hence, apart from their material form, and their aesthetic experience, memorials hide a historical and political interpretation. Official memorials, therefore, do not simply testify a ‘real’ history, but rather represent what some want to believe, or what some want others to believe, in the monument. Thus, memorials ‘narrate history in selective and controlled ways—hiding as much as they reveal’ (Dwyer and Alderman 2008: 168). Memories serve as a way for society to conceive or forget its past; but memorials may also project the past according to a variety of national myths, ideals, and political needs. Dwyer and Alderman (2008: 167) explain also that memorials are important symbolic conduits not only for expressing a version of history, but also for casting legitimacy upon it. Some memorials, for example, attempt to provide a sense of community and to relate to past atrocities. Thus, while the principal aim of memories and memorials is, arguably, to educate future generations and to shape a sense of shared experience, other memorials are conceived as means of absolving guilt. However, there is often an uneasy tension between ‘remembering’ and ‘forgetting.’ As Ernest Renan ([1882] 1995) remarked long ago, a duality between the ‘will’ to remember and a ‘duty’ to forget appears crucial for the creation of a shared nationhood and, by extension, the establishment of a cohesive national identity. In other words, it is important that certain events—while not entirely erased—should not be commemorated; these events, rather, may be forgotten. Other writers, however, remain unconvinced. Paul Ricoeur (2000) explains that abuses of ‘memory,’ coupled with abuses of ‘forgetting’ will remain politically contentious issues and thus subject to manipulation. In so doing, Ricoeur suggests that the promotion of a ‘just memory’ is to be achieved through a ‘duty to remember.’ Ultimately, as Hoelscher and Alderman (2004: 349) argue, the ‘study of social memory inevitably comes around to questions of domination and the uneven access to a society’s political and economic resources.’ There is never simply one memory, nor is there only one way to remember. Different memories contest for the monopoly of the conservation and preservation of the past. In the process, not all sites are memorialized—although they may be remembered and decidedly not forgotten. Consequently, it is important to consider seriously those unmarked but not forgotten sites, for these sites speak loudly to the ongoing contestation of the inscription of memory and remembrance on the landscape. A note on methodology Our paper is positioned within a long tradition of ethnographical investigation; however, there are certain salient issues related to the Downloaded by [KSU Kent State University] at 08:42 31 October 2012 Everyday landscape of violence study of unremarked or ‘forgotten’ sites of memorialization. We begin by acknowledging that any forwarding of commemorative sites will always be partial and incomplete; indeed, in Cambodia there are literally hundreds of potential sites that hold significance in the everyday lives of everyday Cambodians. Throughout the genocidal years—as detailed below—the Khmer Rouge initiated several infrastructural projects: dams, reservoirs, and airfields. These projects invariably utilized forced labor and, invariably, these were—and remain—sites of mass violence. Over the course of ten years, the lead author (Tyner) has made seven trips to Cambodia and, in the process, has traveled throughout all provinces of the country. As part of a larger project designed to provide a reconstruction of the ‘geography’ of Democratic Kampuchea, Tyner has made repeated visits to both wellknown and lesser-known sites associated with the genocide, including, for example, visits to numerous sites of former security centers— which, today, are often nothing more than rice fields—as well as dozens of mass graves sites. He has also conducted interviews with both ‘victims’ and perpetrators’ who continue to live and work in the environs surrounding these sites. Moreover, Tyner has worked closely with researchers at the Documentation Center of Cambodia in an attempt to identify other unmarked sites of atrocity. Most sites—apart from selected, and statesanctioned, venues—exhibit no visual reminders of their previous existence. The Kanseng Security Center, which was located in Ratanakiri Province, for example, no longer exists. Neither do any structures associated with the Kok Kduouch Security Center, once situated in Kratie Province. Local residents, however, well remember these institutions—both of which witnessed the deaths of thousands of people. During the course of his fieldwork, Tyner— 5 with the assistance of local guides and translators—has attempted to recover the stories of these people. And for many of these individuals, they comment upon the overall ignorance of the younger generations. The genocide as a whole goes largely unremarked; the ongoing tribunal has ameliorated this somewhat, but only very selectively. Those who lived through the genocide comment that there is a disconnect between the official narrative of genocide and the lived reality of violence—a reality that they relive daily as they utilized the dams, the reservoirs, and the roads constructed during the Khmer Rouge years. For these individuals, they speak mostly out of a perceived duty to not forget as opposed to an obligation to remember. In other words, for many survivors—and we certainly do not wish to generalize—it is far more important to not forget what happened, rather than to actively memorialize the landscape. And while the construction of temples dedicated to those who died is certainly important, there is a recognition that no amount of commemoration will return their loved ones; no amount of memorializing will replace their sense of loss. From genocide to post-genocide When considering post-conflict landscapes, it is imperative to understand that the ‘post’ does not mean ‘after’ but rather ‘beyond.’ And here, the latter term ‘beyond’ refers to moving beyond the immediacy of war and to consider the enduring legacies of violence—both material and symbolic—that remain a part of the landscape (Tyner 2010: 27). In the following section, we provide an overview of the genocide—while remaining cognizant that for many individuals in Cambodia, the violence has never completely ended. Downloaded by [KSU Kent State University] at 08:42 31 October 2012 6 James A. Tyner et al. Cambodia’s contemporary landscape reflects its recent, violent past. Between 1970 and 1975, the country was engulfed in a devastating civil war—itself a ‘sideshow’ of the Vietnam War (cf. Shawcross 2002). Then, on 17 April 1975, the armed forces of the Communist Party of Kampuchea (CPK; better known as the ‘Khmer Rouge’) entered Phnom Penh, Cambodia’s capital city, effectively ending the civil war but setting in motion a genocide that would ultimately claim the lives of nearly one-quarter of the country’s population. To achieve their political and economic goals, the Khmer Rouge embarked on a massive program of social and spatial engineering. Both in theory and practice, CPK leaders drew on the radical extremes of Mao Zedong’s 1956 – 1958 ‘Great Leap Forward’ in an attempt to bring about a complete and rapid transformation of the Cambodian political and economic society. Once transformed, the Khmer Rouge envisioned a state that would, in principle, but not in actuality, be entirely selfsufficient and free from foreign domination (Tyner 2008). In the weeks and months following the fall of Phnom Penh, the cities and towns of Cambodia were evacuated, their inhabitants forced onto agricultural collectives, and labor camps distributed throughout the countryside. Hospitals, factories, and schools were literally demolished; money and wages abolished; monasteries and temples destroyed or converted into storehouses or prisons (Chandler 1991, 2000; Kiernan 1985, 1996; Quinn 1989; Tyner 2008). Indeed, in their desire to make a ‘super great leap forward’ into communism, the Khmer Rouge justified their brutal practices of forced evacuations and resettlement schemes. Their goal was to construct, immediately, a homogenous, egalitarian society. This entailed a literal wiping clean of the slate that was Cambodia. In a blunt and violent manner, the Khmer Rouge leadership spoke of ‘cleaning up’ the country. As McIntyre (1996: 758) concludes, ‘In the swidden politics of the Khmer Rouge, Phnom Penh . . . and other cities and towns were slashed and sometimes burned to clear the brush for the new growth of Cambodian society.’ Cambodia, metaphorically speaking, ceased to exist, replaced and renamed by Democratic Kampuchea.1 And for many leaders of the Khmer Rouge regime, in accordance with their understanding of ‘total revolution,’ it was not acceptable to simply build on earlier foundations. Rather, the Khmer Rouge explicitly sought to erase both time and space to create (in their minds) a pure utopian society. The project of state building, of forging Democratic Kampuchea, consequently, was not— contrary to the claims of some scholars—an attempt to refashion a past empire; it was not to be a return to a golden era of Cambodian history. Thus, while it often holds that new governments create ‘material landscapes as stages to display a distinctive national past’ (Till 2004: 351), this was not the case with the Khmer Rouge. The motivation of the Khmer Rouge leadership was not to recreate the indigenous spaces of the Angkorian kingdom (c. ninth to fourteenth centuries) but instead to create an entirely new, modern, productive communal society. The transformation of Cambodia into Democratic Kampuchea was to be complete. Not only did 17 April 1975 mark, in the words of the Khmer Rouge, ‘Year Zero,’ it also marked ‘Ground Zero.’ As a state, Democratic Kampuchea lasted just under four years. But in that brief period, approximately two million people—most of whom were Khmer—perished as a result of mass starvation, disease, and execution. Debate remains as to the proportion of deaths—of those who died from direct violence Downloaded by [KSU Kent State University] at 08:42 31 October 2012 Everyday landscape of violence (i.e., execution) and those who died from indirect means (e.g., starvation, disease, exhaustion, and exposure). A consensus is developing, however, that deaths were roughly proportional, that is, approximately 50 per cent of people died due to direct violence while the remainder died from other causes (De Walque 2005; Etcheson 2005; Heuveline 1998). On 25 December 1978, Vietnamese forces totaling over 100,000 surged into Democratic Kampuchea. They were joined by approximately 20,000 Cambodians, most of whom were former Khmer Rouge cadre who had established a government-in-exile known as the National Salvation Front (NSF). After years of escalating tension and sporadic fighting, the move by Vietnam was portrayed (by themselves) as an act of liberation: to bring an end to nearly four years of genocide. For many other states—including both Democratic Kampuchea and the USA, Vietnam’s intervention was represented as an illegal invasion by one sovereign state into another. The disorganized forces of the Khmer Rouge were unable to withstand the Vietnamese onslaught and, on 7 January 1978, Phnom Penh once again fell. Soon thereafter, the leaders of the Hanoi-backed NSF declared the People’s Republic of Kampuchea (PRK). However, unlike Cambodia, which was literally erased by the Khmer Rouge, Democratic Kampuchea was not to be erased, but rather memorialized in an attempt to provide legitimacy to the PRK. As Chandler (2008: 357) explains, the fledgling People’s Republic of Kampuchea and its Vietnamese advisors faced enormous economic, organizational, and social problems. Of paramount importance, however, was how Democratic Kampuchea was to be remembered. Politically, the People’s Republic of Kampuchea consisted largely of former 7 Khmer Rouge cadre: Hun Sen, Heng Samrin, and Chea Sim, among others. Furthermore, the ostensibly social PRK faced the problem of how the socialist Democratic Kampuchean period should be regarded (Chandler 2008: 357). Faced with both internal and external difficulties, geopolitical opposition, the PRK (and its Vietnamese backers) was impelled to represent their actions—as well as those of the Khmer Rouge—through a politics of memory. Placing genocide in post-genocide Cambodia Since landscape is important to the working of ideology and political order, it is not uncommon that changes in political regimes will often be accompanied by efforts to remake official public landscapes (Light and Young 2010: 1454). This is readily seen in following the defeat of the Khmer Rouge and the establishment of the People’s Republic of Kampuchea. From the outset, PRK officials and their Vietnamese advisors labeled the Khmer Rouge ‘genocidal’ and ‘fascist’ to encourage comparisons with Hitler’s Germany and to downplay the Khmer Rouge’s socialist credentials (Chandler 2008: 360). To facilitate this political maneuver, two sites were quickly transformed into internationally visible places of genocide remembrance. The first was the conversion of a former ‘security center’ into a museum of genocidal crimes and the second was the establishment of a mass grave site into a memorial site. Located in Phnom Penh, Tuol Sleng had once been to a high school.2 Under the Khmer Rouge, the site was converted into the state’s central ‘security center,’ designated as ‘S-21.’3 Throughout its brief existence (c. 1976 – 1979), the facility ‘processed’ approximately 13,000 prisoners. Once arrested at detained, Downloaded by [KSU Kent State University] at 08:42 31 October 2012 8 James A. Tyner et al. prisoners were subject to brutal conditions, including torture, starvation, and, ultimately, execution. Less than 300 people are known to have survived Tuol Sleng.4 Leadership of the PRK saw a political opportunity at S-21. According to Hughes (2003: 26), the long-term ‘national and international legitimacy of the People’s Republic of Kampuchea hinged on the exposure of the violent excesses of Pol Pot . . . and the continued production of a coherent memory of that past, that is, of liberation and reconstruction at the hands of a benevolent fraternal state.’ Under the direction of Mai Lam, a Vietnamese colonel who had extensive experience in legal studies and museology, the site was transformed into an internationally known Museum of Genocide Crimes (Chandler 1999: 4). Indeed, by 25 January 1979—just two weeks after Vietnam’s victory over the Khmer Rouge—the museum was opened to a group of journalists from socialist countries. The Museum was officially opened to the public in July 1980. As a museum, S-21 was kept largely intact, with only minor modifications to the compound made. Very little interpretative material is provided; the exhibits consist largely of instruments of detainment (i.e., shackles) and torture. Such a Spartan design was deliberate in that it served the political objectives of both the PRK and Vietnam. Indeed, the symbolic import of the museum was to provide neither conceptual nor contextual understanding of either the prison itself or the genocide more broadly; rather, the purpose was to affect a separation between the crimes of the Khmer Rouge and the newly installed government of the PRK—itself dominated by former Khmer Rouge members. As Sion (2011: 3) states bluntly: the display of ‘physical horrors’—the shackles, instruments of torture, and skulls— served (and continue to serve) political goals: the legitimacy of political rule in the country. The Tuol Sleng Museum of Genocide Crimes is linked—symbolically and in historical practice—to another memorial site: the killing fields at Choeung Ek. In the early 1980s, forensic teams of the PRK excavated a mass grave site located 15 kilometers south of Phnom Penh. Once an orchard and later a Chinese cemetery, the site was utilized by the Khmer Rouge for mass executions—most of whom were former detainees at Tuol Sleng. In total, an estimated 9,000 victims were killed and buried at the site. In 1989, the site was opened to the public, dominated by the erection of a monumental stupa, filled with skulls and other bones visible through windows on all four sides. Although stylistically the stupa is inspired by Khmer religious motifs, it is wholly antithetical to Khmer religious practice. As both Hughes (2008) and Sion (2011) explain, the entire memorial is geared toward international tourists and, consequently, toward the promotion of both political message and economic profit. As with Tuol Sleng, little historical background is given on how the Khmer Rouge came to power, what drove their ideology, how they implemented their genocidal policy, and how they were later defeated (Sion 2011: 8). The killing fields at Choeung Ek have undergone significant, albeit superficial, renovation. Throughout the 1990s and into the twenty-first century, the site remained largely undisturbed since the initial excavations. A simple dirt road led to simple entrance; a small ‘gift’ store sat forlornly to the side. In 2005, however, a Japanese corporation, JC Royal, obtained from the Cambodian government a thirty-year license to operate the site. In return, JC Royal pays an annual fee of US$15,000 and awards an undisclosed number of scholarships to Cambodian students (Sion 2011). Now, Downloaded by [KSU Kent State University] at 08:42 31 October 2012 Everyday landscape of violence visitors to Choeung Ek—the overwhelming majority of whom are foreign—are confronted with an elaborate gated entrance, a ticket counter, public toilets, a renovated gift shop, and an air-conditioned screening room showing a brief documentary of the genocide. The once-dirt road has been replaced by tarmac, and a series of cafes dot the journey. Tim Edensor (2005: 831) writes that museums and other memorialized sites often work to ‘banish ambiguity.’ He explains, rather, that these sites often forward a particular narrative that potentially limits interpretations. The ongoing memorialization of Cheoung Ek provides little interpretive understanding for visitors. The site is more of a profit-making venture than it is a site to reflect upon genocide. The physical remains of victims—from the show-cased skulls in the stupa to the incomplete excavation of bodies throughout the site—have become commodities that, once publicly exhibited, cover up the involvement of former Khmer Rouge still active in public affairs and still enjoying complete impunity (Sion 2011: 17). Most studies of the memorialization of the Cambodian genocide, quite properly, focus on the political meanings associated with Tuol Sleng and Choeung Ek (Chandler 2008; Hughes 2003, 2008; Sion 2011). These are the two most visited sites of genocide in Cambodia—at least, by foreign tourists. And yet, in many respects, these sites continue to represent the ‘historical erasure’ of Cambodia’s victims. As Williams (2004: 250) concludes, ‘Tuol Sleng and Choeung Ek are alienating because their lack of any personal accounts or stories of lost lives.’ This alienation, moreover, is deliberate. In a 1998 press conference, Prime Minister Hun Sen5 enjoined people to ‘dig a hole and bury the past’ (Chandler 2008: 356). His statement was, and is, indicative of the 9 government’s position on the memorialization of the genocide. Indeed, Chandler (2008: 356) writes of an ‘officially enforced amnesia’ that coexists uneasily with the ongoing efforts of scholars and activists to document and remember the broader context of the genocide. In recognition of these efforts, we maintain that attention should be directed to other sites of tragedy: those genocidal places that remain unmarked and largely unnoticed by the legions of foreign visitors, but remain all-too-present for the people of Cambodia as they go about their everyday lives. The unmarked memorials of the Cambodian genocide The killing fields at Choeung Ek have become iconic. The site, however, is far from unique. As of 2010, an estimated 300 mass grave sites (or 19,000 grave pits) have been discovered. New sites are found on a near-annual basis; the vast majority of these sites remain unmarked. Likewise, Tuol Sleng was neither the only nor the most ‘deadly’ of security centers. And while the exact number of prisons remains unknown, scholars at the Documentation Center of Cambodia estimate that there were approximately 300 security centers in operation. Approximately 50 km north of Phnom Penh was the Bati District Reeducation Center. During the Khmer Rouge period, a Buddhist temple (Wat Kokoh) was converted into a prison and execution site. An estimated 60,000 people were killed at this temple (Ea 2005: 60). The ‘privileging’ of Tuol Sleng and Choeung Ek belies the near ubiquity of these mass grave sites and security centers. Indeed, it is our contention that the over emphasis on these two sites serves to spatially and temporally frame the Cambodian genocide, thereby contributing to the political uses of memory evinced by the Downloaded by [KSU Kent State University] at 08:42 31 October 2012 10 James A. Tyner et al. government. The genocide is rendered spatially to the Tuol Sleng – Choeung Ek nexus, suggesting that the violence was confined geographically. Likewise, the genocide is temporally circumscribed, restricted to those events that transpired at these locations. Of significance, this spatial and temporal bounding of the genocide is reflected in the ongoing international tribunal: the Extraordinary Chambers of the Cambodian Courts (ECCC). The ECCC was established in 2003—thirty years after the genocide took place.6 The political machinations, both domestically in Cambodian and internationally, have received considerable attention and justified criticism. In large part, the ECCC has been widely criticized because of the restrictive jurisdictional bounds established. On the one hand, the tribunal’s personal jurisdiction limits those to be held accountable. Following intense negotiations between the Cambodian government and the United Nations, all parties agreed to focus on a limited universe of defendants (Ciorciari 2009: 72). Consequently, in the first trial, conducted in 2009, the former commander of Tuol Sleng, Kaing Guek Eav (alias Duch), was convicted of war crimes and crimes against humanity.7 In 2011, a second trial was set to begin. Defendants were to include Nuon Chea, Deputy Secretary-General and President of the Representative Assembly of Democratic Kampuchea; Ieng Sary, Deputy Prime Minister in charge of Foreign Affairs; Khieu Samphan, President of Democratic Kampuchea; and Ieng Thirith, Minister of Social Affairs and Action of Democratic Kampuchea. The current government has made its position known: if this latter trial occurs, it will be the last trial and thereafter the ECCC will subsequently be abolished. In line with the attitude to ‘dig a hole and bury the past’ attempts to obtain either restorative or retributive justice will be blocked. On the other hand, the tribunal has also been restrictive vis-à-vis its temporal jurisdiction. Again, after heated discussion, both the United Nations and the Cambodian government agreed that the tribunal would hear cases for alleged crimes that occurred only between 17 April 1975 and 6 January 1979. For all parties concerned, this decision was politically motivated, in that it will prevent any discussion of the broader geopolitical events prior to and following the genocide (cf. Bonacker, Form, and Pfeiffer 2011). We argue that both the personal and temporal jurisdictional bounds entail a spatial component, one that is directly manifest in the ongoing memorialization of the genocide. Because memorials (such as Tuol Sleng) typically reflect the values and objectives of government leaders, they tend to exclude those histories that fail to conform to official narratives (cf. Dwyer and Alderman 2008). Accordingly, the memorialization of the genocide becomes part and parcel of a specific and judicious representation that conforms to the politically negotiated tribunal. As Chandler (2008: 365–366) acknowledges, everyone in Cambodia over 40 years of age is aware of what happened; however, the selective memorialization and bounding of the genocide will do nothing to inform young Cambodians about either Democratic Kampuchea or of the genocide. Indeed, as Münyas (2008: 414) finds, ‘in the absence of adequate education on the history of the Khmer Rouge period, the prevalent exposure to the horrors of the genocide at homes, schools, museums and memorials has worked to produce fear, anger, disbelief or denial in many Cambodian youth, sustained their myths and has left them with several compelling questions, such as “why did Khmer kill Khmer?”’ In this penultimate section, following Dwyer and Alderman’s (2008: 172) contention that Downloaded by [KSU Kent State University] at 08:42 31 October 2012 Everyday landscape of violence ‘public remembrance of atrocity is necessary as a tool for facilitating social compensation to victimized groups, moral reflection among the larger society, and public education, we highlight two unmarked sites of violence associated with the Cambodian genocide. We argue that as scholars of memories and memorialization, it is imperative to bring to light those as-yetunmarked sites of violence—sites that are experienced daily by (and thus serve as an everpresent reminder to) survivors of atrocities. The Sre Lieu mass grave Throughout the Cambodian Civil War, as parts of the country were ‘liberated’ by the Khmer Rouge, villagers were gradually subsumed into various collectives and work brigades. Collectivized labor was a stalwart of Khmer Rouge policy. Modeled after the Khmer Rouge armed forces (‘the People’s National Liberation Army), Cambodian citizens were assembled into various ‘fighting forces.’ Operationally, people were divided into work ‘forces’ based on age and sex. Adults, those aged between 14 and 50, were forced into mobile work brigades termed kong chalet. Males belonged to kong boroh and females to kong neary. The heaviest and most arduous work was performed by these two groups: plowing fields, planting and transplanting rice, cutting timber, and digging and transporting dirt for irrigation projects. Those who were younger and unmarried usually traveled great distances from their collectives to the work site (Mam 2004: 134). In 1973, Khmer Rouge cadre began work on a massive infrastructure project near Sre Lieu village in the recently liberated Kampot Province. Thousands of Cambodians were forcibly relocated to the site to construct the Koh Sla Dam. Conditions were deplorable, with many people dying of starvation, 11 exposure, and disease. Indeed, so high was the mortality that the Khmer Rouge actually established a mobile hospital (designated as Zone 35 Hospital) at the site. However, because of inadequate medical personnel and of proper medicines, few patients actually received adequate care. In fact, as survivors recall, patients were just as likely to die of improper medicines as they were from disease. Construction was slow and, after 17 April 1975, local Khmer Rouge officials redoubled their efforts. Additional work brigades were deployed to the site and work continued through 1977. Laborers continued to suffer. Malaria and cholera was rampant, and many others died from injuries. Srey Neth, a survivor, was assigned to bury the members of her unit who died. She recalls: ‘I was forbidden by [the Khmer Rouge] from telling others about the number of deaths.’ She explains that ‘Sometimes they [the Khmer Rouge] woke me up in the middle of the night and ordered me to take bodies to be buried . . . The number of bodies I buried ranged from two to six per night.’8 Nget Chanthy was only 16-year old when she was forced to labor at the site. Her duties included the clearing of forests and the transport of dirt to build the earthen dam. Food was inadequate and people worked in constant fear of the Khmer Rouge.9 Prum (2006) writes first hand of the dying associated with the Koh Sla Dam. Throughout the genocide, Samon lost over thirteen immediate family members, including his grandfather, father, three brothers, a sister, and numerous aunts, uncles, and cousins. One of those relatives who perished was a cousin, Heat, who labored at Koh Sla. Heat was 17year old when she was assigned to a woman’s mobile unit at the site. One day, Prum recalls, Heat ‘was very hungry, so she picked an ear of corn and cooked it. Before the corn was ready to eat, the unit chief caught her and gathered Downloaded by [KSU Kent State University] at 08:42 31 October 2012 12 James A. Tyner et al. people around for a meeting. The unit chief tied her arms in back of her, grabbed the hot corn from the fire, and put it into her mouth, burning her. He then declared that Heat had betrayed the Angkar10 and cooperative. Everybody at the meeting was threatened to not follow in her footsteps.’11 Although Heat was not executed for her ‘crime,’ she would later become seriously ill and die of starvation. Since its completion in 1977, the dam and abutting reservoir continue to be utilized. Long after the collapse of the Khmer Rouge, residents have moved to the site; many newcomers were (and remain) aware of the tragedy surrounding the dam. And for three decades the mass grave sites remained unremarked, overgrown with trees and bushes. The stories of forced work, malnutrition, starvation, and executions are mute on the landscape—and yet remain vivid in the memories of those who continue to occupy and work at the site. The ongoing significance of the site is that it reveals the everydayness of violence. Most deaths attributed to this site—and quite literally thousands of other work sites throughout the country—were not ‘spectacular’ in the sense of mass executions. Rather, these deaths reflected, in Hannah Arendt’s well-worn phrase, the ‘banality of evil.’ The physical and social erasure of Koh Sla is testimony to the contestation of memory within Cambodia. The lack of commemoration at the Koh Sla site, accordingly, provides an unmarked memory of the day-to-day violence that permeated Democratic Kampuchea; the site is a silent testimony to the dis-allowal of life that epitomized Khmer Rouge rule (Tyner 2012). The Kampong Chhnang Airfield Located near Patlang Village, 60 km northwest of Phnom Penh, amid sprawling rice fields and sugar palms is the Kampong Chhnang Airfield. Covering approximately 300 hectares, the long-abandoned and nevercompleted airfield consists of two 2,400 m long runways, a crumbling control tower, and an administration building (Figure 3). Plans for the airfield began in late 1975 with considerable assistance from Chinese advisors and engineers. The actual construction of the project, subsequently, began in early 1976. Forced labor, similar to other projects initiated by the Khmer Rouge, was to be used. Here, though, labor consisted of conscripted members of the Revolutionary Army of Kampuchea (RAK): actual Khmer Rouge soldiers. It was determined that suspected ‘bad elements’ within the Khmer Rouge would be forced to labor at the site. Survivors have testified that workers were sent there ‘for tempering or refashioning because of their perceived bad biographies or supposed links with traitorous networks.’12 The number of workers varied over time, ranging from a few hundred in 1976 to more than 10,000 by 1977. Conditions were horrendous—not surprising, given that Khmer Rouge officials intended the workers to literally work themselves to death. Laborers worked without any days off; usually for 12hour shifts. Food rations and medical care were insufficient. How many died at the site remains unknown. Villagers, however, say that the stench of decomposing bodies remained for years after the site was abandoned (Pringle 2011). There is no placard, no memorial at the site. There is nothing to explain why an unfinished airfield lies abandoned in the middle of farmland. The need for remembrance and memorialization of the Kampong Chhnang Airfield, however, is significant, in that it serves to refute the longstanding historical narrative of both Democratic Kampuchea and the Downloaded by [KSU Kent State University] at 08:42 31 October 2012 Everyday landscape of violence 13 Figure 3 Kampong Chhnang Airfield, Kampong Chhnang Province, Cambodia. Cambodian genocide more broadly. Simply put, the airfield—concretely—belies the spatial and temporal bounding of the genocide. The airfield likewise provides a material critique of another longstanding mythology of the Cambodian genocide, namely that the Khmer Rouge attempted to ‘turn back history’ and recreate a society based on the Angkorian Empire. Ian Brown (2000: 24), for example, in an otherwise highly informative book, writes that the ‘clock was to be turned back to an age without money, organized education, religion, and books.’ This is patently wrong. The Khmer Rouge, in fact, produced their own currency (though never put into circulation), imported medicinal supplies from foreign countries, and published textbooks—including two geography texts—to be used throughout the country (Tyner 2008, 2011, 2012). This is not to ‘justify’ the actions of the Khmer Rouge, but rather to emphasize that the goals and objectives of the Khmer Rouge were to construct a highly modernized, forward-looking country. A remembrance of the airfield (and dam site), accordingly, complicates the standard narrative of the Khmer Rouge regime as a movement rooted in an anti-modern, agrarian ideology. It is therefore salient to consider more in depth the ideological basis of the Khmer Rouge, in that such an ideology significantly informs the ongoing ‘will to remember’ and ‘duty to forget’ approach of the current government. The ideological impetus for the Khmer Rouge is detailed in various (albeit frustratingly few) writings and, indeed, doctoral dissertations of many of the highest ranking CPK leadership. Khieu Samphan’s dissertation, for example, provides a thorough, though slightly erroneous, exposition of Cambodia’s political economy.13 Entitled Cambodia’s Economy and Industrial Development, Khieu Samphan’s Downloaded by [KSU Kent State University] at 08:42 31 October 2012 14 James A. Tyner et al. dissertation—although not a template—would prove highly influential in the subsequent policies of Democratic Kampuchea. In this document, Khieu forwarded a series of interrelated theses. He stated that Cambodia’s economy was backward, locked in a feudal and precapitalist mode of production. This condition, he maintained, resulted from Cambodia’s unequal and dependent integration into the French colonial economy and the continuance of unfair trade relations. Liberation for Cambodia’s economy could only occur through autonomous development, namely a withdrawal from the international economy. Lastly, it was imperative for Cambodia to confront the existent structural inequity between what he perceived to be a productive countryside and an unproductive city (Tyner 2009: 128) . The Khmer Rouge leadership, in principle, held that most, if not all, of Cambodia’s problems were derived from its subordinate position in an international economic system that was dominated by, among others, the USA, China, and France. Consequently, having violently wrested control of the country, the CPK leadership sought, rhetorically, to achieve both total independence and self-reliance for their fledgling government (Tyner 2009: 128). In practice, however, Democratic Kampuchea was far from self-sufficient. Throughout its existence, the government of Democratic Kampuchea sought—and achieved—a number of significant international linkages. Throughout 1975 and 1976, for example, international trade flourished between Democratic Kampuchea and Thailand: axes, knives, sickles, plough-tips, and sugar, among other commodities, were all imported under the auspices of the Khmer Rouge (Kiernan 1996). The Khmer Rouge also imported sizeable amounts of medical supplies. Indeed, in late 1976, the CPK established a trading company, the Hong Kong-based Ren Fung Company, which facili- tated the importation of quinine and vitamins into Democratic Kampuchea. Furthermore, the CPK accepted ‘gifts’ from abroad; in 1976, as a case in point, the Khmer Rouge received US$12,000 worth of anti-malarial drugs sent by the American Friends Service Committee— with Washington’s approval—via China (Kiernan 1996: 145 –146). As part of decades-long attempt to separate the genocidal regime of the Khmer Rouge from both subsequent governments (i.e., the People’s Republic of Kampuchea) and from other government involvement and acquiescence, a public acknowledgment of the Kampong Chhnang Airfield would cement in place the role provided by China during the genocide. More broadly, such an acknowledgment would shatter the longstanding myth that the Khmer Rouge acted alone. In short, any memorialization of the airfield would be at odds with the officially commemorated Tuol Sleng – Choeung Ek axis. Ironically, the claims of the CPK leadership made during the genocide—of promoting a self-sufficient and isolated government—serve the present-day interests of China, Vietnam, and a host of other states (including the USA). Very few governments have been overly supportive of the ongoing tribunal—in large part because few governments want certain historical ‘facts’ to be made public (Etcheson 2005). Consequently, the international community is seemingly content to spatially and temporally restrict the events of the genocide. And places such as the Kampong Chhnang Airfield will continue to go unremarked. Conclusions Cambodia’s recent history is not determined by civil war and genocide but rather must be understood as the result of an ongoing series of Downloaded by [KSU Kent State University] at 08:42 31 October 2012 Everyday landscape of violence political practices and processes: the commodification of memory; the remembrance of a violent past; the use of bodies, bones, and photographs—and a denial of their individual existence. We see in Cambodia a politics of memory and an erasure of responsibility; a situation wherein those responsible are likewise rendered unremarked in the name of an imaginary reconciliation and forgiveness. As David Chandler (2008: 363) writes, ‘Cambodia seems to have entered a phase of its history where officially sponsored historiography of the recent past has become intrinsically unimportant and irrelevant to those in power.’ Aside from the pursuit of justice, international tribunals—as in Cambodia—are concerned with shaping and reshaping local, national, and global politics (McCargo 2011: 613). When the government attempts to ‘dig a hole and bury the past,’ it does so through the neglect of other buried pits—those containing the remains of countless victims of mass violence. The ongoing tribunal, and the physical manifestation of guilt and innocence that is displayed in ‘official’ memorials, creates an illusionary justice that operates through the simultaneous selling and silencing of genocide. How we remember (or forget) genocide may serve to eradicate any serious discussion of responsibility. Officially sanctioned sites, such as Tuol Sleng and Choeung Ek, solidify particular narratives of political legitimacy; they are not directed to locals who have a personal connection to memory but to the international travelers who develop a myopic understanding of the genocide (Sion 2011: 19). Williams (2004: 248), likewise, cautions that ‘when Tuol Sleng and Choeung Ek are made to stand for genocide, the focus on killing means that we learn less about what was lost. The sites can hardly communicate a nation whose educational system, religious and cultural 15 traditions, economy, social formations, and family structures were leveled.’ Likewise, we must acknowledge that how governments choose to remember (or forget) Cambodia’s genocide has a bearing on our understanding of contemporary violence in the country today. As Simon Springer (2009a, 2009b, 2010, forthcoming) cogently argues, violence—albeit largely of a structural nature—remains pervasive throughout Cambodia. This is seen, for example, in repeated forced evictions, homelessness and landlessness, HIV/AIDS, and the increased criminalization and incarceration of the poor. However, as Springer (2009a: 312) explains, many commentators on contemporary Cambodia frequently allude to the existence of a ‘culture of violence’ and premise that violence itself ‘is considered as forming the very core of the Cambodian psyche.’ This has profound implications for a politics of memory, in that ongoing attempts to commemorate past violence will reverberate with—and perhaps obfuscate—violence in the present moment.14 In this paper, we have sought to ‘uncover,’ to ‘make visible,’ other places to counter-balance the official, state-sanctioned collective memory of genocide. Neither the reservoir nor the airfield is explicitly marked or designated on the landscape; neither site is attributed to the violence that transpired during the Cambodian genocide. The dam and reservoir are still in use today; but they remain fixed as sites of memory for local Cambodians—while unnoticed by foreign visitors. The abandoned airfield likewise serves as an ever-present symbol of the violence that was perpetrated so many years ago. But it too is devoid of public memorialization. It remains, however, in the collective memory of those who continue to live and work in the region. The recovery of unmarked and remarked sites provides a temporal as well as spatial Downloaded by [KSU Kent State University] at 08:42 31 October 2012 16 James A. Tyner et al. corrective to the ongoing narration of the Cambodian genocide. As evidenced by the Koh Sla Dam, many infrastructure projects were initiated in the years leading up to the 17 April 1975 victory of the Khmer Rouge. However, the ECCC has steadfastly held to an artificial bounding of the genocide to those events that transpired between 1975 and 1979. Consequently, those practices of forced labor and mass death that occurred outside of this time frame may not necessarily be considered. We maintain that the absence of designation or acknowledgment denies the life—and death—that produced these landscapes. This systematic process of officially forgetting—or of burying—the past denies the memories of millions of Cambodians who, every day, go about their quotidian lives within these landscapes. Both the Sre Lieu mass grave site and the airfield, along with literally thousands of other sites, are active memorials; these are sites of ongoing life and death, as opposed to the hermetically sealed museum of Tuol Sleng and the increasingly ‘Disney-fied’ killing fields at Choeung Ek. Just as Sre Lieu and Kampong Chhnang have remained hidden in plain sight, so too has the banal yet far-reaching influence of the Khmer Rouge—and the global community—remained unaddressed. In the process, such a selective memorialization of the past continues to dictate the spatial experiences of millions of Cambodians’ everyday lives. 2. 3. 4. Notes 1. As one anonymous reviewer correctly notes, Cambodia was not entirely erased, as it persisted in the imaginations of many Khmer throughout the genocide. Conceptually, however, it was imperative for the Khmer Rouge—from their perspective—to destroy rather than transform previous institutions and infrastructures. The reviewer explains, furthermore, that this was ‘the image they [the Khmer Rouge] attempted to make of themselves, and we do well not 5. 6. 7. to repeat it.’ We agree in part. While we, in our writings, should endeavor to not represent the individual experiences of Cambodians throughout the genocide (and beyond) as monolithic, we must also tease apart the particularities of the Khmer Rouge to understand why certain policies and practices were pursued. Too often scholars of genocide and mass violence forward overly simplistic accounts (i.e., Pol Pot was evil) that render the Khmer Rouge regime itself as a monolithic entity. When first opened in 1962, the school was called Chao Ponhea Yat High School. In 1970, it was renamed Tuol Svay Prey (meaning ‘hillock of the wild mango’). It was located next to an adjoining primary school, Tuol Sleng (‘hillock of the sleng tree’). This name was used to designate the entire compound when it was converted to the Museum of Genocide Crimes, perhaps, as Chandler (1999: 4) suggests, because the sleng tree bears poisonous fruit. Security centers in Democratic Kampuchea were spatially organized into five levels: subdistrict, district, regional, zone, and central. It is unknown exactly how many security centers were in operation; most scholars estimate the existence of approximately 200 districts, regional and zonal centers were established. Tuol Sleng is the only known ‘central’ or highest-level facility. Most accounts continue to claim that 14,000 prisoners were killed at S-21, with only seven survivors. Some estimates continue to place the death toll at over 20,000. However, as the meticulous research of the Documentation Center of Cambodia (DCCAM) has detailed, these numbers are in error. The figure of 12,273 is derived from documentation presented at the Extraordinary Chambers of the Courts of Cambodia (ECCC; better known as the ‘Cambodian tribunal’). Likewise, the purported seven survivors have been shown to be wrong; archivists at DCCAM have documented the existence of at least 179 survivors. Interestingly, there is speculation that the number of seven survivors was promoted by the Vietnamese to parallel the 7th day of January—the ‘day of victory’ (see Documentation Center of Cambodia 2011). As of this writing, Hun Sen remains prime minister—a position he has held since 1985. For a detailed overview of the tribunal (see Ciorciari and Heindel 2009). His initial sentence of thirty-five years was reduced to just nineteen years because of time served. In other Everyday landscape of violence 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. Downloaded by [KSU Kent State University] at 08:42 31 October 2012 13. 14. words, his sentence was less than one-half a day for each of the 12,000 deaths associated with Tuol Sleng. Quoted in Rasy (2007); at 18. Interview with lead author, 9 October 2011. Angkar (literally, ‘organization’) refers to the Central Committee of the Communist Party of Kampuchea (CPK), the ruling body of the Khmer Rouge. Quoted in Prum (2006); at 45. Cited in Office of the Co-Investigating Judges (2007), p. 101. Khieu Samphan studied politics and economics at the University of Sorbonne. He earned his doctoral in 1959. We are grateful to an anonymous reviewer for bringing this important connection to our attention. 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Au pays le génocide fut commémoré de manière sélective depuis 1979, avec deux sites qui reçoivent une commémoration officielle: le Musée des Crimes Génocidaires de Tuol Sleng et les terrains d’exécution à Choeung Ek. Le génocide n’a pas pourtant été limité à ces deux sites. A partir d’une étude de cas de deux sites non marqués – la fosse commune Sre Lieu à Koh Sla Dam et l’aérodrome Kampong Chhanang – nous soulignons l’importance primaire de prendre au sérieux les sites de violence qui n’ont pas encore reçu une commémoration officielle. Nous affirmons que l’histoire du génocide du Cambodge, ainsi que les tentatives de promouvoir la justice transitionnelle, devraient rester conscientes du processus par lequel les mémoires et les mémoriels se transforment en ressources politiques. Nous proposons en particulière que les sites non marqués de la violence du passé puissent fournir un aperçu critique sur nos compréhensions contemporaines de la politique du souvenir et de l’oubli. Este artı́culo se trata a la polı́tica de memoria en Camboya después del genocidio. Desde 1979 genocidio ha sido conmemorado selectivamente en el paı́s, con dos sitios recibiendo conmemoración oficial: el Museo Tuol Sleng de Crimenes de Genocidio y los campos de matanza de Choeung Ek. Sin embargo, el genocidio de Camboya no fue limitado a estos dos sitios. A través un caso práctico de dos sitios sin nombre – la fosa común de Sre Lieu en Koh Sla Dam y el Aeródromo de Kampong Chhnang – destacamos la prominencia, y significativo, de tomar en cuenta estos sitios de violencia que no han recibido conmemoración oficial. Discutimos que la historia del genocidio en Camboya, también como intentos promover justicia transnacional, deben pertenezcan conscientes de cómo las memorias y conmemorativos llegan a ser recursos polı́ticos. Particularmente, sostenemos que un enfoque en los sitios sin nombre de violencia del pasado proveen una perspicacia critica a nuestros entendimientos contemporáneos de la polı́tica de recordar y olvidar. Mots-clefs: paysage, mémoire, commémoration, violence, Cambodge. Palabras claves: paisaje, memoria, conmemoración, violencia, Camboya.