fellow think he had the right to do reporting on Cambodia? The Phnom Penh embassy sent a telex back to Quinn’s consulate. Its message, in sum, was We’ll do the reporting on Cambodia, thank you . Then, for good measure, a few weeks later a Defense Intelligence Agency official came down to see him. Where’d you get this? he asked with a belligerent tone. He then set out to tell Quinn why he was wrong.
Quinn’s airgram had landed with a thud. The State Department is little different from other large organizations. Thirty-one-year-old junior officers are in no position to challenge corporate orthodoxies. Furthermore, in Quinn’s case, his evidence was considered unreliable. State Department officials didn’t place much value on the testimony of refugees. Who knows what their political motivations might be? What’s more, refugees generally know little more than what they are able to see happening in their own little villages. They can offer no
context. That was especially true for most of the poor, illiterate refugees Quinn interviewed, though there were exceptions, a few refugees who had broader knowledge. In fact, Quinn’s sources had indeed led him to one false conclusion—that the Khmer Krahom in southeastern Cambodia were a breakaway sect that was anti-Vietnamese while the larger body of Khmer Communists remained firmly allied with Vietnam. The truth was that the Khmer Communists nationwide were both united and staunchly anti-Vietnamese.
Nevertheless, Quinn’s airgram offered an essential truth that was prescient for its time: The Khmer Rouge was a brutal, murderous revolutionary group intent on destroying Cambodian society. Before February 1974 no one outside Cambodia had known that. Even in Phnom Penh, knowledge was scant.
Within the American Embassy no one really knew or cared about the Khmer Rouge. In fact, paradoxical as it may have seemed, the embassy wasn’t particularly interested in Cambodia—except as events there affected the war in Vietnam. “The mind-set,” Jameson said, “was that there was no one of interest out there but the Vietcong.” Even if they had wanted to go look for themselves, embassy officers decided it was too dangerous. By 1974 the Khmer Rouge frontier was just ten miles outside Phnom Penh. But what was the point? “Washington and the embassy could have cared less about the Khmer Rouge.”
The embassy did care a great deal about Lon Nol, the military leader who had deposed Sihanouk in that coup in 1970. He was the State Department’s man, and he did more or less what he was told. In return, between 1970 and 1975 the United States provided about $1.85 billion in military and economic aid. Accounting for inflation, that’s about $9 billion in 2010 dollars. All of that American aid money brought out the worst features of Cambodian society.
The government and the military fell into an orgy of theft that knew no bounds. In the field, army officers sold uniforms and ammunition, even artillery pieces, to the enemy. They stole their units’ food rations and medicine, then sold them at market. They created
staff rosters with thousands of ghost positions and pocketed the salaries. They even failed to report men killed or captured in battle so they could continue collecting their pay. And when all of that was done for the day, they drove back to Phnom Penh for dinner at the most expensive and flamboyant Western restaurants they could find. For the evening they rejoined the Phnom Penh bacchanal.
The United States Congress ordered an end to the bombing of Cambodia in August 1973. By that time American aircraft had dropped about 2.75 million tons of ordnance, causing massive carnage that has never been fully documented or accounted for. Yet Congress’s ban was enacted not out of concern for the Cambodian victims. As Representative Tip O’Neill said during the floor debate, “Cambodia is not worth the life of one American flier.”
The areas bombed, in eastern and central
Quinn’s airgram had landed with a thud. The State Department is little different from other large organizations. Thirty-one-year-old junior officers are in no position to challenge corporate orthodoxies. Furthermore, in Quinn’s case, his evidence was considered unreliable. State Department officials didn’t place much value on the testimony of refugees. Who knows what their political motivations might be? What’s more, refugees generally know little more than what they are able to see happening in their own little villages. They can offer no
context. That was especially true for most of the poor, illiterate refugees Quinn interviewed, though there were exceptions, a few refugees who had broader knowledge. In fact, Quinn’s sources had indeed led him to one false conclusion—that the Khmer Krahom in southeastern Cambodia were a breakaway sect that was anti-Vietnamese while the larger body of Khmer Communists remained firmly allied with Vietnam. The truth was that the Khmer Communists nationwide were both united and staunchly anti-Vietnamese.
Nevertheless, Quinn’s airgram offered an essential truth that was prescient for its time: The Khmer Rouge was a brutal, murderous revolutionary group intent on destroying Cambodian society. Before February 1974 no one outside Cambodia had known that. Even in Phnom Penh, knowledge was scant.
Within the American Embassy no one really knew or cared about the Khmer Rouge. In fact, paradoxical as it may have seemed, the embassy wasn’t particularly interested in Cambodia—except as events there affected the war in Vietnam. “The mind-set,” Jameson said, “was that there was no one of interest out there but the Vietcong.” Even if they had wanted to go look for themselves, embassy officers decided it was too dangerous. By 1974 the Khmer Rouge frontier was just ten miles outside Phnom Penh. But what was the point? “Washington and the embassy could have cared less about the Khmer Rouge.”
The embassy did care a great deal about Lon Nol, the military leader who had deposed Sihanouk in that coup in 1970. He was the State Department’s man, and he did more or less what he was told. In return, between 1970 and 1975 the United States provided about $1.85 billion in military and economic aid. Accounting for inflation, that’s about $9 billion in 2010 dollars. All of that American aid money brought out the worst features of Cambodian society.
The government and the military fell into an orgy of theft that knew no bounds. In the field, army officers sold uniforms and ammunition, even artillery pieces, to the enemy. They stole their units’ food rations and medicine, then sold them at market. They created
staff rosters with thousands of ghost positions and pocketed the salaries. They even failed to report men killed or captured in battle so they could continue collecting their pay. And when all of that was done for the day, they drove back to Phnom Penh for dinner at the most expensive and flamboyant Western restaurants they could find. For the evening they rejoined the Phnom Penh bacchanal.
The United States Congress ordered an end to the bombing of Cambodia in August 1973. By that time American aircraft had dropped about 2.75 million tons of ordnance, causing massive carnage that has never been fully documented or accounted for. Yet Congress’s ban was enacted not out of concern for the Cambodian victims. As Representative Tip O’Neill said during the floor debate, “Cambodia is not worth the life of one American flier.”
The areas bombed, in eastern and central
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