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Arrival at
Stung Treng So on this Wednesday, July 22nd, 2002, I take the "Royal Air Cambodge" (RAC) plane to Stung Treng. am about to do something I have never done before in a country that stands for many bad things. In the same plane are also Ruth and Walter, two EU observers, and Sheila from COMFREL, another independent organization. At the "airport" Tom, a tall American greets us. He’s been around since the middle of June to observe the pre-election period and has built a high level of confidence with the local authorities. It is those authorities to which we want to introduce ourselves first: - The (CPP) Governor of the Province. Everything is under control. Four KR had divisions defected to the government. Peaceful campaign; recent shootings concerning animals.... it’s gonna be a peaceful election. On Election Day, no movements allowed, not even for going to the market, in order to prevent any possible unrest. Alcohol will also be prohibited. "And I would like to inform you that the Khmer people like to drink", the Governor smiles, and the translator translates nervously. For us, of course, no problems whatsoever. - The Provincial Election Committee (PEC). No serious problem apart from the "high-jacking" of a polling station kit by KR, who released it shortly afterwards. And a nasty flyer against CPP. Unqualified national observer groups make money with false promises. Everything else: excellent. Judging from the statements of these high authorities, it seems as if Cambodia were the most peaceful place on earth where government-affiliated election officials are only interested in democracy.
Meeting amongst the international observers: How to divide up the province? Tom, Brad, Walter and Ruth will be covering the 18 polling stations of Stung Treng district, which can be reached by car. Sheila and her colleague are thinking about moving further out. So am I. The likelihood of intimidation and cheating increases the further you are away from the centre, and that’s where we are needed. Tom would have preferred if I had doubled up on some of his stations. He cites security risks outside the district, which can only be reached by boat and motorbike. "What exactly are the security concerns?", I ask. He leans back on his chair, undecided whether he should smile or look angry: "What’s the problem in Cambodia?!". Landmines, banditry, hijackings, bad roads, KR, communication difficulties - Cambodia has no lack of problems. It’s simply that I would have liked a precise answer. But all I get out of him is "It’s not much fun being hijacked". Sure. Very helpful in doing my job is my translator Chantha, who knows the province very well from his half a year with UNICEF. On a small canoe-like boat with a motor on the back, we cross the Sekhong River. The boat has barely the width of the bike, and if the later had fallen down, it would have been my second unintentional swim in an Asian river. Certainly one of the scariest boat rides of my life. We visit the polling stations on the island of Samaki, get to know the chairmen of the Polling Station Committees, let them know that I am there. Of course, they insist that everything is completely fine. 45 Khmer Rouge (KR) defectors are registered in Samaki District. We are told they live in a camp and are rather unhappy. The roads on Samaki are horrible, so is Chantha as a driver. He explains that only half a year ago, it would have been extremely dangerous for me to be here. "They are Khmer Rouge" With another boat, we cross the most beautiful and untouched stretch of the Mekong I have seen so far, to get to Thala Barivat District, where hundreds of KR defectors are registered. It is there where my first direct encounter with some of the most extreme communists takes place. Chantha is driving; I am on the back of the motorbike. "Can you see the four men?" he asks, "they are Khmer Rouge". Here I am at the end of the world, approaching four Khmer Rouge guerrillas, armed with AK-47’s and B-40 rocket launchers. The latter are a rather ... strong means for self-defence, if you ask me, and could better be used to blow up polling stations, for example. Smiling, we drive by the four teenagers in regular Cambodian army uniform. A radio call to Walter confirms that this is nothing to worry about. Villagers tell us that there was no immediate intimidation by KR as far as the elections are concerned, but that violence and rape by KR is fairly common. We check out three future polling stations in Thala Barivat, eat surprisingly good noodle soup in a local ... let’s call it "place to eat". We again pass the four KR and ask them where they are heading. They say that they were going to the local KR headquarters to store their weapons for the duration of the election. This is apparently a deal made with the Governor. We went to that very headquarters: It’s a medium-sized basic wooden hut filled with hammocks and unmotivated bored people who clearly haven’t seen water on their bodies for weeks if not months. It’s only been in May that most of them have given up their long fight for another Pol Pot style Cambodia. They look like normal Cambodians. They smile like normal Cambodians. They are friendly like normal Cambodians. But only a few years ago, they may have shot me. The most superior member present Pin Ten, the Vice-Commander, is happy to talk to me. In his 66th company, 93 soldiers are under arms; 114 family members also live at the headquarters. "I hope that the elections will be free and fair and I am happy that you [the international observers] are here", Pin Ten says. A statement from a member of an organization which is known for being responsible for one of the biggest contemporary genocides. "A lot of the reports you hear are intentionally falsified", he says. We are shown the piles of weapons, which have been stored to decrease the likelihood of crazy individuals disturbing the vote. Sometimes history is not a dramatic rupture, a change that can be reported in the news. Sometimes history is former guerrillas handing in their weapons when elections are approaching. Sometimes also history is not made in the capitals, but in a place no one has ever heard of, like Thala Barivat. Talking about history being made, remember the Gettysburg speech of Abraham Lincoln? Sometimes history is made differently, in a commune room in Stung Treng, Cambodia, where every Friday members of the Cambodian People’s Party (CPP), FUNCINPEC, the Sam Rainsy Party (SRP), the Governor of the Province, the Provincial Election Committee (PEC), and members of the security forces meet around a big table to discuss the campaign. At the last meeting before the vote, all observers are present. Before the actual participants of the meeting make their points, they always offer their regards to the others - even if they hate them. Issues on the agenda: the national observer groups who have recruited large numbers of persons for the purpose of exploiting them; nasty leaflets against CPP, and too little police. The only one who really complains is Chao Phaly, the provincial chairman of the Sam Rainsy Party. According to him, members of the armed forces and of the police have been threatened when they were trying to join the SRP. A member of the military police replies that this is simply not true. An agitated Chao, speaking in a very loud and angry voice, also complains that most of his party agents (observers from the party), didn’t get their admission cards. It turns out that it is only a technical problem, they will get their cards, and the voice of the SRP chairman calms down. Later he even offers a light to the CPP Governor. These meetings have certainly contributed to the good campaign atmosphere in Stung Treng; the only shootings were against buffalo thieves and animals. "No beating, no stabbing, no shooting, no chopping", Tom quotes one official as having said once. No chopping... That’s certainly good news. The day before The big day comes closer. Saturday, July 25th, 2002. The campaign has stopped at midnight. No leaflets, no party T-shirts, no rallies allowed anymore. It will now be up to the people of Cambodia to decide. Chantha and me will be covering four stations in Samaki, three in Thala Barivat, and one in Stung Treng (so that Chantha can vote). We make the tour in order to estimate travel distances and to observe preparations. Chantha had the excellent idea of hiring a boat and forgetting about the motorbike altogether, as all the stations are either along the Sekong or the Mekong rivers. Preparations seem to be going well: schools and worship places are slowly transformed into temples of democracy - or at least of elections. I am thoroughly enjoying my job. When we return in the evening, a leading member of the local group of the "Buddhist Association for the Relief of the Poor" (BARP) is sitting outside our Hotel (the only one in the Province) with the other international observers. The "National Election Committee" (NEC) has suspended the accreditation of his group, meaning they are no longer observers. "I am afraid about my security", says the man in his blue shirt (that’s why Tom calls him "blueskirt"). Blueskirt is afraid of his security because the 270 members of his group in the province have been promised anywhere from 150 to 200 US $ per month for the next three years. In order to get that kind of fortune, these unfortunate idiots have paid 6 to 8 US $ to join the group and travelled on their own budget here up to the north, only to find out that they have been deceived. So was probably Blueskirt - the national leader of BARP has reportedly already left the country with the money. The local leader is close to crying when he’s begging for help. "I am afraid there is not much we can do for you", I am saying. "No", objects Tom, "there is nothing we can do for him. You are an observer. You are not to interfere at all". Ruth to Tom: "They are desperate. We should make sure nothing is stolen from our hotel rooms this night". Brad to Blueskirt: "What a hard lesson to learn!" How hard the lesson really is, we will learn it in two days. The Cambodians I talk to are rather tense. No one knows what’s ahead. On the evening before Cambodia’s second post-communist elections, the rain sets in. One of those romantic monsoon rains when it just pours down and down and down... I am running in the warm rain outside the hotel chasing children. Then I just watch the rain and listen to its sound. It’s one of the reasons I came back to Asia. Now it is as if this powerful sign of nature had come to calm Cambodia down before its big day. The big day: Elections in Cambodia
The big day: Sunday, July 26th, 2002 - the day voters, journalists, photographers, cameramen (and -women), observers and politicians have been waiting for. Just what will happen on the first supposedly democratic election organized by the Cambodians themselves? With NICFEC outfit, a VHF radio and an accreditation start, I am standing inside the veterinary station in Stung Treng, where Chantha is voting. A large number of people in their best clothes are already waiting outside. The procedure is as follows: Chantha presents his registration card to the secretary, who also checks if his right pointing finger has ink on it and if his name is on the national computer list (safeguards against voting twice). The vice chairman of the polling station separates one ballot paper (format A4!) from the block, stamps it, folds it twice, hands it over to him and explains what he has to do with it. Then Chantha goes behind the voting screen, which had to be installed in a way so that no one sees which one of the 39 parties is ticked. Inside the screen, he unfolds the paper (where both party names and their logos are on; 35% of Cambodians are illiterate), marks the party of his choice, re-folds the ballot paper twice and leaves the voting screen. He places the ballot paper into the metal ballot box (re-cycled from the Japanese election), that has been sealed before the polling station was opened. An assistant puts the right pointing finger of Chantha into indelible ink and waits a moment to let it dry. The chairman supervises the process, decides in cases of doubt and answers questions from party agents as well as observers. It goes without saying that the whole team tries to make an excellent impression as long as a foreigner is am there. Welcome to all the readers who are still with me after all these technicalities. But that’s how boring democracy is on Election Day. A secret vote. It is that very same procedure that we will be observing at the eight polling stations: - Boat to Hang Khoban in Samaki district - total chaos there. The Cambodian way of queuing up is not quite the English way - it’s more leaning inside every hole of the wooden school-turned-voting-station to see what the hell is going on in there. The Cambodian way of doing things in general is early in the morning. They could vote until 4 p.m., but they all do it at 7 a.m. A mass of people are waiting. One seal is not correctly attached to the ballot box, but the second seal is ok. I was suspicious of the chairman of that station right from the beginning; he just left a bad impression with me. So I make another surprise visit later on.
- Boat to Kang Decho. Like everywhere, three smiling party agents (CPP, FUNCINPEC, SRP) and a smiling COMFREL observer. No complaints whatsoever. What we are seeing is sometimes even over-zealous. If someone folds the ballot paper once instead of twice, the chairman himself stands up and sends him back behind the voting screen, making absolutely sure no one in the room sees where he makes his tick. - Walk to Thala Barivat, the main polling station in the district. App. 640 voters registered. Most have already cast their ballot when we arrive. As always, I report by radio that I have left the polling station.
- For the next few hours, I will be out of radio contact as we are moving up the Mekong back to Samaki district to the most distant station we cover, in the small village of Koh Kondin. It seems as if time had stood still at that remote place. Even the water buffaloes go: "Barang?". Chantha tells me this region used to be very dangerous only a few months ago. Now it has completely changed. People walk or oxcart-drive from as far as 10 kilometres to cast their votes for the future of Cambodia. If all of them know what they are doing is a different story. But I have doubts about that in Switzerland, too. By now, I am quite exhausted. - Boat to the small village of Thmei, where, allegedly, I am the first foreigner to set foot. I am more being observed than I am observing. Out of the 264 registered voters, only 13 have not yet shown up. The elderly nice chairman uses the loudspeakers to try to convince even the few guys who live on a small Mekong island to come over. As if to apologize, he says that a woman has given birth this morning and is not ready to move, and that some people are sick. At least I can observe one person voting, bringing the number of absentees to 12. - Boat to Hang Khosoun, the communal election centre, where also the counting will take place the following day. Same picture there. Everyone who can get out of bed has already voted. Not a single complaint filed by any of the observers or party agents. Finally, on the boat back to Hang Khoban. Radio conversation with the EU team. They confirm no troubles at all also on their side. Democracy at work. 40 out of the 45 KR defectors at Hang Khoban have decided not to vote. They are rumoured to have disappeared back into the forest, but no incidents have been reported. All other KR have participated in a normal turnout, which is about 90%. In the evening, everyone in Cambodia has ink on his finger. Democracy at work. The day after Monday, July 27th, 2002. Counting day. We are observing
the Hang Khosoun communal counting centre, where votes from four different
stations are counted. Again, democracy proves to be more than great words.
Democracy means also procedures that have to be followed strictly, and
that’s why we are here. After unsealing the metal ballot boxes, the ballot
papers from different polling stations are mixed together on four different
tables. The secretary takes one paper, unfolds it, quotes in a calm voice
the party ticked, and marks it on a form. The Vice-chairman checks the
validity of the ballot paper (e.g. not more than one party ticked) and
repeats the name of the party. Finally, the chairman verifies the party
name, holds up the ballot paper for everyone to see, and announces the
number and/or name of the party with a loud voice. If there is any doubt
about validity, they allow us to check it out ourselves. There is no
discrimination. Also votes clearly cast for CPP, but not at the right spot
on the paper, are declared invalid. When it comes to filling out a form or
following a certain procedure, they sometimes ask me because they know that
the "internationals" have studied the laws probably even a bit better than
they have... Although I am not allowed to give orders, I answer questions,
of course... The party agents have developed so Reports from the rest of Cambodia also talk about a surprisingly peaceful election with a minimum of negative incidents. "Voice of America" gets it completely right: "If there was any intimidation, voters ignored it". The only major disturbance was a KR attack on an election convoy in Along Veng, where 11 people have died. Also in Stung Treng, someone has died. It is the colleague of "Blueskirt". He supposedly hung himself, but it could have been murder. My fellow observers feel uncomfortable about it - and so do I. "What a hard lesson to learn", Brad had said. "What a hard lesson to learn!", I say to myself. I will never let group pressure and rules be stronger than my conscience. Demonstrations in Phnom Penh
All international observer groups have given a thumbs up to the second democratic elections in Cambodia. The Joint International Observers Group (JIOG) talks about free and fair elections to the extent that "it represents the will of the Cambodian people". This means: irregularities have taken place, but they have not affected the result. Even before the result is known, JIOG asks all parties to accept the it. To the surprise of many, the Cambodian People’s Party (CPP) has won a relative majority (but not enough to form a government on its own). The divided opposition came in second (FUNCINPEC) and third (Sam Rainsy Party). It is clear already a few days after the elections that whatever coalition is formed, Hun Sen is going to be the sole Prime Minister. FUNCINPEC and SRP immediately reject the result, talk about massive cheating and manipulations, threaten to boycott the Parliament, file hundreds of complaints with the National Election Committee, and take their protest to the streets. From a square opposite the National Assembly they re-baptize "Democracy Square", they shout slogans like "Hun Sen is a Vietnamese puppet", as if the campaign was still going on. But it is not. They have simply unexpectedly lost the elections. No one talks about an election that was 100% free and fair. Access to the media, for example, was not fair. Votes have been bought. But hey, this is a country that has had four years of Pol Pot, followed by two decades of civil war. UNTAC with its 22,000 personnel could not provide for a better election in 1993 than the Cambodians themselves with little outside assistance. And what about democracy in Cambodia’s neighbouring countries? The fact of the matter is: Hun Sen has won. Unhappy about this undeniable fact is not only the opposition, but also a lot of the local English-language press and some of the international media. An academic debate is going on as to how to allocate the seats. Everyone is an expert now. As to me, I get invited to our NICFEC press conference with only about 15 international journalists present. I don't think anyone took note of my small comment: Despite hundreds of unhappy KR around, no major problems. Talking to some of the journalists later on at the FCC, I get the impression that they are rather unhappy. Lucky is the photographer who was present at the Along Veng attack, the only major violent incident. A peaceful vote in a former war zone, one of the 20 poorest countries in the world, with a turnout of more than 90%, doesn’t make big news. A little bit more violence would have been nice, especially for the free-lancers who have to sell their stories. The majority of the correspondents fly back to their bases in Bangkok or Singapore. |
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Boat to O Trel in Thala Barivat district. Everything quiet. As usual,
introduction to election officials. Outside, I randomly ask people if there
has been intimidation of any sort and check their knowledge about the voting
process. "I can know what you’ve voted", I tell one elderly man who looks
rather uneducated. He smiles: "I know you can’t". The message seems to have
gotten out. The National Election Committee (NEC) has produced information
videos with model polling stations. The TVs, videos and generators have been
brought to the furthest corners of the province. The turnout of the
villagers for these to see these videos has probably been even higher than
that for the vote. Also COMFREL, the biggest national observer group, has
done a tremendous job in informing the population in the simplest way
possible.
me
kind of confidence between them. They have overnighted next to the ballot
boxes in their hammocks. Cigarettes, bananas and smiles are exchanged. They
made their notes, they were attentive, and in the end, they all signed the
paper saying that the counting day was ok. Asked whether he has made new
friends from other parties, the FUNCINPEC agent says: "We are building up
Cambodia together". Another one adds: "Whoever wins, gets the
flowers". If only their superiors in Phnom Penh would see it that way.