Southeast Asia

By Jill Smolowe

They have known almost nothing but war. For a generation men have fought over the fabled ruins of Angkor Wat, the colonial palaces of Phnom Penh, and the rich rice paddies along the Mekong River, leaving more than a million Cambodians dead and their land in ruins. But at long last the shell-shocked country had something to cheer. Cambodians crowded the streets last week to hail the withdrawal of the last of the 200,000 Vietnamese troops who had occupied their country for nearly eleven years. Across the eastern border in Viet Nam, there was also celebration. Senior officials embraced the leaders of the returning units, and parents rushed to greet their returning sons.

Cambodia and Viet Nam are desperate for change. Yet there was no real jubilation for two countries that have battled one enemy or another, Cambodia for the past 20 years, Viet Nam for more than twice as long. In Cambodia three guerrilla armies, not least the brutal Khmer Rouge, are spoiling to settle their differences with the Hanoi-approved government of Hun Sen. The departure of the Vietnamese promises only the renewal of civil strife as these groups struggle for dominance.

Even as the occupiers marched off, Cambodians attacked one another along the western border shared with Thailand. At dawn on Saturday, 5,000 fighters from the non-Communist resistance group linked to former Prime Minister Son Sann launched an offensive that thrust as deep as 30 miles into northwestern Cambodia, claiming to capture several towns along Route 69 in a test of strength against the army of Phnom Penh. As for Viet Nam's soldiers, they left behind more than 50,000 dead and returned home to a nation demoralized by poverty, unemployment, food shortages, corruption and continuing status as an international pariah. Both countries confront internal challenges that may make the past decade seem a time of relative tranquillity.

Of the two war-exhausted nations, Cambodia faces the more dire future. A 19- nation conference convened in Paris to hammer out a settlement between the Cambodian government and the tripartite resistance collapsed in August over the fate of the Khmer Rouge. Hun Sen refused to consider any power-sharing arrangement with the guerrillas who had turned Cambodia into a charnel house, and Prince Norodom Sihanouk, the country's former ruler and the titular head of the resistance, refused to come into a government without them. The combatants and their assorted international sponsors had hoped to reach agreement before the Vietnamese pullout. Now, with the occupiers gone and no political settlement in sight, the country is girding for further bloodshed. Most chilling is the possibility of the return of the Khmer Rouge, a force of some 25,000 guerrillas who now dismiss as "mistakes" the genocidal practices that provoked the Vietnamese to chase them from power in 1979.

As pessimism descends over a land haunted by shadows and fears, rumors and bad dreams, there is no obvious leader to guide Cambodia toward a more sane solution. The capricious Sihanouk, who ruled in the 1950s and '60s, stands as a symbol of better times. But his erratic behavior in recent months has baffled Cambodians and international observers alike as he has bounced between conciliation with Hun Sen and collaboration with the Khmer Rouge. Son Sann maintains links with a second guerrilla force whose disciplined units are outnumbered by troops preoccupied with smuggling and black-market trading. And the Khmer Rouge continue to inspire revulsion among a populace that remains deeply scarred by Pol Pot's reign of terror between 1975 and 1979.

In recent months Prime Minister Hun Sen has been winning favorable reviews. Once regarded as a mere puppet of the authorities in Hanoi, Hun Sen, 38, has emerged as a leader with a mind of his own. Whether by conviction or out of cynical self-interest, he has pursued reformist policies designed to repair his country's shattered economy as well as to endear him to skeptical citizens: the institution of land-tenure rights for farmers, the beginnings of a free-market economy and recognition of Buddhism as the state religion. While Hun Sen's cloudy history as a former member of the Khmer Rouge and his association with the Vietnamese continue to haunt him, he is gaining stature as a nationalist. He is regarded by many Cambodians as the only viable alternative to the Khmer Rouge.

But China and most of the nations of Southeast Asia consider Hun Sen a usurper. The Prime Minister is a reminder of Viet Nam's expansionist impulse, which has earned Hanoi distrust and fear throughout the region for centuries. China, which continues to arm the Khmer Rouge, is not alone in refusing to allow Viet Nam to win through political means what it failed to achieve militarily. Prime Minister Lee Kuan Yew of Singapore says that Hun Sen must legitimize his rule in a free election. "Any other way of leaving Hun Sen in charge," says Lee, "would mean that aggression does pay."

The U.S., which has long provided aid to the non-Communist forces of Sihanouk and Son Sann and has not ruled out military assistance in the future, similarly argues that Hun Sen heads an illegitimate administration imposed by a foreign power. In its anti-Vietnamese zeal, Washington overlooked Sihanouk's alliance with the Khmer Rouge, which did most of the fighting during eleven years of guerrilla opposition. The Bush Administration is left in the uncomfortable position of backing a mercurial prince who remains aligned with men bent on restoring an odious regime. But the Administration maintains, with good reason, that any settlement that ignores the Khmer Rouge is a formula for civil war.

Last week the U.S. attempted to lay blame for the policy impasse on Hanoi's doorstep. Said State Department spokesman Richard Boucher: "We believe that Viet Nam cannot evade its responsibility to help achieve a comprehensive political solution in Cambodia." Until now, the U.S. led Hanoi to believe that the withdrawal of its troops from Cambodia would be enough to rescue Viet Nam from its international isolation. But with that formulation, Washington destroyed Hanoi's hopes for prompt normalization of relations with the outside world and an end to the trade embargo that has wrecked Viet Nam's economy. The crippling boycott has deprived Hanoi of all Western aid, credit, technology and trade, turning the country of 65 million people into a basket case.

Hanoi will have to try to revive its bankrupt economy with little help from the outside world. The Vietnamese dream is for another Asian miracle, patterned on what its newly industrialized neighbors have achieved. Reformers have laid ambitious plans for restructuring the economy on free-market principles. "We think of ourselves as South Korea 25 years ago," says Nguyen Xuan Oanh, a senior adviser to the Vietnamese government. "The only stumbling block is how soon will the U.S. give us the green light."

Even with American cooperation, that vision could prove elusive. The aging revolutionaries who dominate Viet Nam's 13-member Politburo are largely uneducated and rigidly dogmatic. They resist the creative solutions of younger technocrats and refuse to countenance the kind of political renovation that might stanch the flow of tens of thousands of refugees each year. Like the Chinese, they continue to believe that economic miracles are possible without political reform. "The Old Guard was good for war," says a Foreign Ministry official, "but not for peacetime Viet Nam."

As for Cambodia, the current political stalemate is certain to prove costly % for the country's weary civilians. Deserters from Hun Sen's army tell stories suggesting that some of the 40,000 regulars lack both the esprit and basic fighting skills required to hold back the resistance forces. The army's recent practice of shanghaiing young conscripts off the streets is not likely to generate goodwill -- or good soldiers. The national battalions are supplemented by local and provincial militias, perhaps 150,000 in all, which Hun Sen hopes will do better at defending their homes. As yet, both the army and the rural militias are largely untested. But last week the regulars were still resisting a Khmer Rouge offensive on Pailin, a ruby-rich district near the Thai border that is critical to the rebels' infiltration route.

Hun Sen's forces should be able to hold off the poorly disciplined forces of Sihanouk and Son Sann, perhaps 20,000 in all. The declared aim of their offensive was to test the strength of the government and force resumption of political talks. The Khmer Rouge are a different matter. Inside Cambodia the common wisdom is that Khmer Rouge strength and ability are overrated. But the view from the border, where most of the troops are based, is far less sanguine. "The Khmer Rouge are in this fight to the end," says a guerrilla- warfare expert in Thailand. Observes an international relief worker: "They are known as a clean and disciplined movement, not corrupt like the others."

There is a widespread assumption that the Khmer Rouge are gearing for a major offensive. Many analysts believe that the rebels will move fast to demonstrate the military weakness of the Hun Sen government. Only by inflicting a significant military defeat within the next couple of months can they forestall a growing willingness to recognize his rule. Equally important, a major Khmer Rouge victory would destroy any lingering thoughts Sihanouk might entertain about cutting a deal with Hun Sen. Sadly, it seems more bloodletting will be needed to convince the various factions that political compromise is the only answer. Until then, Cambodia's long nightmare will go on.

With reporting by Ross H. Munro/Aranyaprathet and William Stewart/Phnom Penh