Cold War Cambodia
As official Khmer translator for the Soviet embassy in the
twilight of the Cold War, Oleg Samorodni was privy to a lot of sensitive
material. More than 30 years later, he remembers some parts of that
tense time as if they were only yesterday
It was a hot day in Phnom Penh in the late 1980s when a football
match was organised at the sprawling embassy of the Soviet Union. But
the players were hardly run-of-the-mill. The captain of the away team,
composed of senior Cambodian government officials, was Hun Sen – then,
as now, prime minister – while his opponents were all Soviet embassy
employees.
Oleg Samorodni, a writer and journalist now living in Estonia,
remembers the friendly match well: as the chief interpreter of the
embassy, he was picked as the referee. Not that one was necessary. To
ensure warm relations between the USSR and the Vietnamese-backed regime
known as the People’s Republic of Kampuchea, the match was fixed.
“Before the match, the [Soviet] embassy met … and we decided there
would be a draw,” Samorodni remembered with a chuckle during one of his
recent visits to the Kingdom.
Samorodni, whose three-year service sparked a passion for Cambodia,
offers a unique window into the Soviet Union’s history here and its
relations with the country’s ruling clique, which remains at the
nation’s helm to this day.
Samorodni arrived in Cambodia in 1986, after studying Khmer
intensively at the Moscow State Institute of International Relations. At
the time, Phnom Penh was a much quieter town. Still recovering from
five years of forced abandonment during the Khmer Rouge, infrastructure
was terrible, restaurants few and far between, and tourists close to
zero.
The embassy was not considered a particularly strategic posting, and
the Soviet Union was content to let Vietnam, a close ally, run Cambodia
as it had since its toppling of the Khmer Rouge in 1979.
Young and eager to use his fluent Khmer, Samorodni remembers coming
up with various initiatives – such as analysing Khmer Rouge radio
broadcasts – that were tolerated but hardly encouraged.
Nevertheless, Samorodni loved the “mysterious and interesting” city
of Phnom Penh, driving his embassy car through deserted streets as late
as possible before the nightly curfew began.
And as the official interpreter of the Soviet embassy, Samorodni often rubbed shoulders with Cambodia’s governing elite.
Officially, much pomp and respect was given to the “sovereign”
Cambodian government, which the USSR bankrolled to the tune of about
$1.5 billion during the height of the Cold War. (The loans have yet to
be paid back.)
But behind closed doors, the Soviets knew Vietnam was running the
show, and held a somewhat condescending attitude towards their
ostensibly socialist brethren. In particular, according to Samorodni,
they thought little of a certain Hun Sen, the lanky youth who quickly
rose through the ranks to become prime minister in 1985.
“The Soviet diplomats thought he was comical, a total puppet of the
Vietnamese. He didn’t speak foreign languages, had little education …
Officially, we showed respect, but the Soviet diplomats thought he was a
temporary figure.”
In private, the diplomats even gave Hun Sen a Russian diminutive:
“Senya,” a nickname typically used for little boys.
“That is, the
attitude of the Soviet diplomats towards Hun Sen was like one towards a
little boy.”
But as a Khmer speaker, Samorodni’s impression of the man was
different. He noticed that, to make up for his lack of formal
qualifications, Hun Sen surrounded himself with the best advisers and
aggressively promoted them.
“I saw that Cham Prasidh [the then vice minister of the prime
minister’s office, now minister of industry] was a real educated person
who was well-connected – and I saw that Hun Sen kept him close.”
Aside from occasional interactions with Cambodian officials – and
tipsy weekly cinema nights – life at the Soviet embassy was quiet.
Still, some intrigue certainly took place. Samorodni claims that of
the about 30 “diplomatic passport” holders at the embassy, maybe 10 were
actual diplomats, with the rest split between Soviet military
intelligence and the KGB.
“Like in all other countries, the KGB were here to recruit agents within the People’s Republic of Kampuchea.
They assembled all kinds of information.”Whether the reports
dispatched to the foreign ministry in Moscow were ever of much use is
another question.“It was joked that we were only working for historians
in 50 years’ time, who would be able to read our reports then.”
Samorodni’s service ended in 1989. Today, he is a freelance
journalist and writer in Estonia, but he has returned numerous times to
Cambodia and written three books (in Russian) about the country.
The Khmer Rouge regime is one of Samorodni’s main passions, and he
met twice with the regime’s former head of state Khieu Samphan in the
mid-2000s in Pailin.
For a movement widely considered to have killed as many as 2 million
people, Samorodni has taken the controversial view that the Khmer Rouge
were not universally evil.
“Among the Khmer Rouge there must have been sadists, who always
appear under totalitarian regimes. But I do not think that all the Khmer
Rouge were sadists. Among them certainly were people who sincerely
wished the happiness of Cambodia and the Khmer people,” he said.
In his book The Mysteries of Pol Pot’s Diplomacy, Samorodni also
argues that the Khmer Rouge had a much less xenophobic foreign policy
than scholars believe. He thinks much of this history has been
lost because it was based on ties with foreign leftist political parties
rather than governments.
“It seems their foreign policy was focused on intra-party relations,
because they wanted Democratic Kampuchea to become a hotbed of the
leftist revolutionary movement,” he said, explaining that leftist
representatives from the United States, Australia, Canada, Europe and
possibly Africa visited Democratic Kampuchea to see communism in action.
Samorodni’s passion for Cambodia runs deep, but he says he much
prefers the quieter country he knew in the 1980s to today’s glitzy
inequality. It’s a change that has affected some of his old friendships
as well, like the one with national police chief Neth Savoeun.
“We still communicate today … but he’s too high a rank now. One time a
few years ago he asked me, ‘So what are you up to these days?’ I said:
‘You know, I write some books – I’m a journalist.’ And he thought it
wasn’t very serious that I wasn’t some big businessman.”
“There isn’t the same friendship that there was at the time, of
course.” Oleg Samorodni’s book The Mysteries of Pol Pot’s Diplomacy is
available at the Snake House restaurant and guesthouse in Sihanoukville
and at Irina’s Restaurant in Phnom Penh.
Little that we now know., Thanks for the research T2P!
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