The Dividends Of Defection
(Far Eastern Economic Review) — It looked like an oriental version of a classic showdown at high noon: guns, a dusty road, an ominous breeze. There were monks, honor guards wearing starch-white gloves, a military band in full battle regalia, and the spit-clean squeak of polished boots.
Attention was riveted on 742 Khmer Rumdos (liberated Khmer) soldiers, their wives and children who were switching allegiance to the government. During nearly two months of intense negotiations, leaders of the group met government representatives while the rest, wary of being double-crossed, stayed inside a pagoda that straddles the front line at Ang Snoul Village, 27 kilometers west of Phnom Penh. The government was also cautious. The recent disappearance of insurgent forces from their offensive ring around the capital had heightened speculation about a possible Trojan horse.
The sketchy origins of the Khmer Rumdos also made them suspect. Formed originally as a loose alliance of nationalistic pro-Sihanoukists, they fought independently alongside the insurgents for almost three years before a split developed. They could not accept the heavy-handed influence that the Vietnamese enjoyed with the insurgency, anymore than the US.-supported government. U.S. pressure had played a part in encouraging them to side with the insurgents as an autonomous fighting unit. Their primary interest was to install a grass-roots leadership that would work selflessly in the interest of ordinary Khmers.
As the pressure mounted, the Vietnamese gradually gained leverage with the movement. But Hanoi neglected to provide adequate food or ammunition. The group’s general unwillingness to knucle under completely ultimately made it expendable. Khmer Rumdos solders were always first to be sent to the frontlines. Exasperated, they eventually began putting out feelers to the government about their willingness to deal.
The ceremony at Kamboul, a few miles from Ang Snoul, went off without a hitch. The Khmer Rumdos arrived there in army trucks. High ranking government officials were visible proof of the auspiciousness of the occasion while the new converts applauded, sometimes as if on cue. A chorus of former revolutionary girls even sang patriotic songs to demonstrate goodwill towards their hosts.
During the preliminary negotiations the group’s leader, Mitta, formerly Heng Sambat, had said they wanted to govern their own section of western Cambodia, similar to the annexation of territory around Kompong Speu by General Chanta Raingsay. Mitta also insisted that the Khmer Rumdos be incorporated into the National Khmer Armed Forces (FANK) as a complete fighting unit.
At the ceremony, Minister of Defense Thapana Ngin said that the group would be supplied with better food and more ammunition and would undergo six weeks of training in Kampot before induction into the army, though there was some dispute about how that would be handled. Nothing was said about more ambitious demands.
The record number of turncoats puzzled many officials in Phnom Penh. Several feared than an embarrassing situation could develop if the deal involved large pay-offs by corrupt officials. But the overall importance of the event overshadowed whatever doubts existed about possible improper use of public funds.
The developments surprised the foreign diplomatic community. One skeptic said he thought the government had planted the turncoats as part of a massive publicity gimmick. A pro Western diplomat attributed the change-of-heart to a scheme to sabotage FANK. Clearly, both sides had a lot to lose — or gain.
The real reasons for the defections are far more compelling: The nationalistic purity of the Khmer Rumdos poses a threat to both sides. They "came over" after realizing they would not be able to take control of the insurgency or resolve differences that were at cross currents with traditional Khmer culture and values — including family cohesion, religion and private ownership of land. Despite rumors to the contrary, there is little doubt about the group’s authenticity. Lengthy discussions with individual members revealed a thread of consistency. Mannerisms that characterize hard-pressed military fighting units could not be easily imitated by unseasoned soldiers recruited on the streets of Phnom Penh. "You couldn’t get all those kids to tell such a believable lie," said a diplomatic source.
Some government officials were reportedly skeptical because they feared the same ultimate rejection that befell the insurgents. This was underscored by the reported existence of a blacklist containing the names of corrupt government generals not sincerely interested in ending the war. Observed one skeptic: "It could be like trying to repair an old car engine. If you put in new wiring, you might short-circuit the whole electrical system.’"
There are other significant implications. The mass defection could be part of a general trend developing throughout Cambodia. Refugees around many provincial capitals are reported to have rejected the intense communist indoctrination, which has lagged far behind the insurgent military effort. In the northern provincial capital of Kompong Thom, the government claims that many of the 31,000 refugees who recently came under its control did so of their own accord. The Khmer Rumdos themselves claim that as many as 10,000 more are waiting to come over, provided that the government keeps its side of the bargain with the original group.
"In the past several months," said one Western diplomat, "the insurgents have suddenly realized that it’s about time they got around to indoctrinating the people, except that they’re going about it in completely the wrong way, trying to impose a Hanoi brand of communism at the expense of Khmer Buddhism. Perhaps the body is finally rejecting the transplanted organ."
In any event, the initiative is now with the government. The recent developments have provided an unusual opportunity to win the confidence of the people. The stakes are high. But many remain wary that Phnom Penh will be able to cash in.
