Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
foreign governments would withhold funds for a time, Cambodian officials would com-
mit to some new target or reform, and before long the money would be flowing again.
Because warnings and “concerns” were not backed by meaningful sanctions, Hun Sen
and his government either ignored them or played for time, carefully cultivating the im-
pression that a breakthrough lay just over the next horizon. All the while the aid rolled
in: $548 million was promised in 2000, followed by $556 million in 2001. At the June
2002 donor meeting, World Bank Country Director Ian Porter reported that progress over
the past year had “not been adequate.” He said donors were particularly concerned about
the “slow pace” of judicial and legal reform. They then went on to pledge $635 million in
aid, about $150 million more than the government had requested.
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It wasn't hard to manipulate foreign governments. Hun Sen had always sensed that
the international commitment to democracy was more rhetorical than real. After having
invested more than $2 billion on the UNTAC mission, and a couple billion more in the
years since, the donors weren't about to abandon Cambodia. The name of the game now
was preserving “access.” Western officials felt they had no choice but to continue assist-
ing Hun Sen if they wanted to maintain some say over the country's human rights record
and political future. And for that they needed a mirage of reform that would allow them
to stay engaged, to keep vital development programs running, and to secure Cambodian
cooperation on issues like counterterrorism and drug trafficking.
Despite the violence and corruption of Cambodian political life, most diplomats in Ph-
nom Penh saw Hun Sen as the one man in Cambodia who could get things done. Charles
Ray, the ambassador who would go on to spearhead the US re-engagement with Cambod-
ia in the mid-2000s, recalled that Hun Sen “always kept his word … If he said he'd do
something he'd do it. If he didn't want to do it, he would either avoid the issue, or just
look you in the face and say, 'Hell no.'” His successor, Joseph Mussomeli, had a similar
view: “Whenever there was a problem I would go see him and we would work it out.” As
in any country, having the prime minister's ear was the crucial prerequisite for a success-
ful mission. Hun Sen might be ruthless and unpredictable, but in a country that had never
known universal rights or any sort of popular sovereignty, diplomats saw him as the only
figure of any consequence. Again, Hun Sen had made himself indispensable.
After the reckoning of July 1997, a triumphant Hun Sen had symbolized the new status
quo by ordering the erection of a small statue of a revolver pointing skywards with a knot
in its barrel. The statue was designed to commemorate a weapons amnesty, but Hun Sen
ordered that it be placed in the sunbaked traffic circle in front of Funcinpec's headquar-
ters in Phnom Penh, where it stood as a constant reminder of the party's defeat.
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Funcinpec might be finished as a military force, but the issue of guns and who con-
trolled them remained a pressing concern. July 1997 had been a crucial test of loyalties.
