“A City With No Smoke and No Sound” - Hun Sen's Cambodia - page 162

the American master Frank Lloyd Wright, was a magnificent triangular structure rising
like the prow of a ship from a garden of palms and blooming frangipani. After being dam-
aged by fire in 1994, the theater lay derelict and was finally torn down in 2007 by the
Royal Group, a leading conglomerate. 21
After years of fruitless lobbying, Molyvann has given up hope that Phnom Penh's her-
itage will survive the city's relentless surge toward the future. “Nobody cares. We don't
have any system for the preservation of these monuments. We have laws for expropri-
ations, laws for building permits and so on, but don't want to apply them.” Molyvann is
particularly worried about the fate of what he sees as his crowning achievement: the Na-
tional Sports Complex. He lays out documents showing the construction of the Olympic
Stadium, and black-and-white photos of the complex's inauguration in 1964. In 2000,
part of the complex was sold to a private developer who has filled up its vital hydraulic
system, designed to prevent flooding, with shoddy constructions. 22 Though still widely
used, the 60,000-capacity stadium has fallen into disrepair, its concrete bleachers chipped
and its railings rusted. Trash fills the old moats. “I don't want to speak about this, please,”
he said, gathering up his photographs. “It's very triste , very sad for me.”
Phnom Penh's development encapsulates all the pathologies of Hunsenomics. Major pro-
jects are initiated at the whim of senior officials and tycoons. Often, they are announced
in speeches by Hun Sen before they receive any planning approval, making a mockery
of what few processes exist. 23 Each project is its own island. Little thought is given to
wider issues like parking and traffic, which continue to worsen as an expanding middle
class indulges its taste for sports cars and luxury SUVs. Most major urban planning initi-
atives, such as flood mitigation programs, are funded and carried out by donor countries.
In 2005 French consultants drafted a 2020 Master Plan, laying out a rational growth plan
for the Cambodian capital. The municipality thanked them for their efforts and then left
the Master Plan to gather dust.
On January 6, 2009, city officials marched into the Renakse Hotel, an elegant, shabby,
mustard-stuccoed colonial building across from the city's Royal Palace, and started strip-
ping the premises. Mattresses, crockery, furniture, and guests' luggage were all hauled
out, right in front of Kem Chantha, who had managed the hotel since the late 1980s. The
hotel premises were owned by the CPP, and once housed the Kampuchean United Front
for National Salvation that helped overthrow Pol Pot in 1979. (The word renakse means
“front.”) But even though Chantha had a valid lease and had invested hundreds of thou-
sands of dollars restoring the building, the party ordered her to vacate in mid-2008 on
the grounds that the building was over a hundred years old and posed dangers to public
safety—two claims that later turned out to be groundless. 24 When the issue went to the
courts, the judges produced a ruling in favor of the party. Despite being offered $200,000