Cambodia: Burying the past
It has been 12 years since Hun Sen feted two Khmer Rouge leaders who had given themselves up
It has been 12 years since Hun Sen, Cambodia's prime minister, feted at his residence two Khmer Rouge leaders who had given themselves up and said famously that it was time to bury the past. One conviction of a relatively junior figure and $150m later, Hun Sen remains largely true to his word. He is allowing the trial to go ahead on Monday of the two ageing leaders he attempted to amnesty in 1998, "Brother Number Two", Nuon Chea, and Khieu Samphan, along with Ieng Sary and his wife Ieng Thirith, but has ruled out the prosecution of five others, among whom are believed to be the air force commander Sou Met and navy commander Meas Muth.
These are the decisions of Hun Sen himself, because there is now no doubt that the Cambodian prosecutors and judges of the extraordinary chambers in the courts of Cambodia, a war crimes tribunal that combines international and local staff, follow his instructions. Hun Sen, a former Khmer Rouge cadre, has made no secret of his disdain for the court, telling Ban Ki-moon, the UN secretary general, in what was reported to be a shouting match, that further indictments would "not be allowed". As the Open Society Justice Initiative makes clear, the five other cases were shut down without any examination of the evidence.
Suspects were not formally notified that they were under investigation, witnesses were not interviewed, crime sites were not examined. Some of the evidence gathered in the case that opens on Monday was not transferred to the files of these other five cases. The ruling has always been that these people are not senior enough to warrant prosecution, even though Comrade Duch, the chief of Phnom Penh's S-21 torture centre, who received a reduced sentence last year, was junior to most of them.
Hun Sen has a motive for shutting down the court – to stop it digging up evidence that could implicate serving members of the ruling elite. But the UN and the US state department have no such motive, and yet they too have pulled the plug on the work of the court. In an appalling statement, the UN defended the decisions of the judges who closed down the cases, although it refused to comment on the investigation because it remains the subject of judicial consideration.
The UN is hanging the international staff of its own tribunal out to dry. There is one honorable role being played in this sad tale of impunity. That is by the international co-prosecutor Andrew Cayley, who made the first public recognition of glaring deficiencies in the investigation of the dropped cases. He is prepared to fight for the relatives of the 1.7 million victims of the Khmer Rouge. But his stand is a lonely one.
These are the decisions of Hun Sen himself, because there is now no doubt that the Cambodian prosecutors and judges of the extraordinary chambers in the courts of Cambodia, a war crimes tribunal that combines international and local staff, follow his instructions. Hun Sen, a former Khmer Rouge cadre, has made no secret of his disdain for the court, telling Ban Ki-moon, the UN secretary general, in what was reported to be a shouting match, that further indictments would "not be allowed". As the Open Society Justice Initiative makes clear, the five other cases were shut down without any examination of the evidence.
Suspects were not formally notified that they were under investigation, witnesses were not interviewed, crime sites were not examined. Some of the evidence gathered in the case that opens on Monday was not transferred to the files of these other five cases. The ruling has always been that these people are not senior enough to warrant prosecution, even though Comrade Duch, the chief of Phnom Penh's S-21 torture centre, who received a reduced sentence last year, was junior to most of them.
Hun Sen has a motive for shutting down the court – to stop it digging up evidence that could implicate serving members of the ruling elite. But the UN and the US state department have no such motive, and yet they too have pulled the plug on the work of the court. In an appalling statement, the UN defended the decisions of the judges who closed down the cases, although it refused to comment on the investigation because it remains the subject of judicial consideration.
The UN is hanging the international staff of its own tribunal out to dry. There is one honorable role being played in this sad tale of impunity. That is by the international co-prosecutor Andrew Cayley, who made the first public recognition of glaring deficiencies in the investigation of the dropped cases. He is prepared to fight for the relatives of the 1.7 million victims of the Khmer Rouge. But his stand is a lonely one.
Ed Miliband: The long and winding road
After its terrible drubbing last year, Labour found itself simultaneously lost and broken down
After its terrible drubbing last year, Labour found itself simultaneously lost and broken down. Most of its MPs had never known opposition, and – accustomed to being powered along by the momentum of office – have since been fretting about how to start moving again, and the direction of travel. In these circumstances, there is no choice between repairing the engine and studying the map: the opposition will not have any hope of driving back to power without doing both. As the national policy forum assembles this weekend in Wrexham, there is a need both to overhaul juddering institutions and to reset the intellectual route.
In speaking to the Guardian, Ed Miliband sounds more convincing on the first of these tasks. Ending the shadow cabinet elections, by which Labour MPs traditionally choose the opposition top team, may lend his leadership more command. Assuming he can get the measure past his colleagues on Monday, he will enjoy new power to clear out former ministers who have not come round to the fact that the party's top Miliband is now called Ed, rather than David. He will likewise gain flexibility to promote fresh faces, and – no small matter – maximise discretion in handling the potential return of his brother to the frontbench, if and when that occurs. But power over hiring and firing is of course already enjoyed by every prime minister, and it is no guarantor of success. Indeed, Australian experience points the other way. The Labor parliamentary caucus there had a historic right to choose not merely the opposition team but also the cabinet proper. When Kevin Rudd overrode this by picking his own ministers in 2007, his efforts to transcend the factionalism which was previously grappled with through a ballot only contributed to the isolation that did for him in the end.
Mr Miliband's wider party reforms draw on a review undertaken by Peter Hain. Its recommendations are as worthy as they are prosaic. The public neither knows nor cares about the arcane fit between Labour's general, executive and campaign committees in the constituencies, but unless the party gets the procedure right, the public will never hear its message – and the caricature of members as ageing, raincoated and procedurally obsessed will persist. In opposition, David Cameron made a virtue of opening up, for example through candidate primaries, and picked up able MPs such as Dr Sarah Wollaston on the way. By letting outsiders speak at its conference and building networks of sympathisers who do not want to join, Labour might shake things up for the good.
Patently, however, party reform alone is not enough. Yes, Labour retains a thin lead in the polls, and, yes, Mr Miliband has notched up three strong byelection results to date. But even if Inverclyde next week brings a fourth, and that cannot be assumed given the SNP's ascendancy, Labour's showing in council polls last month was mediocre, and it has barely started the task of devising a programme that can endure the slings and arrows of an election campaign. The 19-part policy review is too bitty to give any real direction, while Ed Balls's recent call for an emergency VAT cut looks too opportunistic, clouding Mr Miliband's previous suggestion that he would rather see the deficit being closed through more taxes as opposed to expenditure cuts. Meanwhile, the party's recent lapse into populist pandering over crime redoubles confusion about what – if anything – is different about life after New Labour.
Mr Miliband has not disguised the fields he would like to move into – speaking frequently though vaguely about encouraging fairer wages, fostering small firms and developing an active industrial policy. These are noble aims, but to convince anyone that he can deliver them, he will soon have to reveal at least a flick of the detail. Even a roadworthy vehicle will not get anywhere until its driver has settled on where he is heading.
In speaking to the Guardian, Ed Miliband sounds more convincing on the first of these tasks. Ending the shadow cabinet elections, by which Labour MPs traditionally choose the opposition top team, may lend his leadership more command. Assuming he can get the measure past his colleagues on Monday, he will enjoy new power to clear out former ministers who have not come round to the fact that the party's top Miliband is now called Ed, rather than David. He will likewise gain flexibility to promote fresh faces, and – no small matter – maximise discretion in handling the potential return of his brother to the frontbench, if and when that occurs. But power over hiring and firing is of course already enjoyed by every prime minister, and it is no guarantor of success. Indeed, Australian experience points the other way. The Labor parliamentary caucus there had a historic right to choose not merely the opposition team but also the cabinet proper. When Kevin Rudd overrode this by picking his own ministers in 2007, his efforts to transcend the factionalism which was previously grappled with through a ballot only contributed to the isolation that did for him in the end.
Mr Miliband's wider party reforms draw on a review undertaken by Peter Hain. Its recommendations are as worthy as they are prosaic. The public neither knows nor cares about the arcane fit between Labour's general, executive and campaign committees in the constituencies, but unless the party gets the procedure right, the public will never hear its message – and the caricature of members as ageing, raincoated and procedurally obsessed will persist. In opposition, David Cameron made a virtue of opening up, for example through candidate primaries, and picked up able MPs such as Dr Sarah Wollaston on the way. By letting outsiders speak at its conference and building networks of sympathisers who do not want to join, Labour might shake things up for the good.
Patently, however, party reform alone is not enough. Yes, Labour retains a thin lead in the polls, and, yes, Mr Miliband has notched up three strong byelection results to date. But even if Inverclyde next week brings a fourth, and that cannot be assumed given the SNP's ascendancy, Labour's showing in council polls last month was mediocre, and it has barely started the task of devising a programme that can endure the slings and arrows of an election campaign. The 19-part policy review is too bitty to give any real direction, while Ed Balls's recent call for an emergency VAT cut looks too opportunistic, clouding Mr Miliband's previous suggestion that he would rather see the deficit being closed through more taxes as opposed to expenditure cuts. Meanwhile, the party's recent lapse into populist pandering over crime redoubles confusion about what – if anything – is different about life after New Labour.
Mr Miliband has not disguised the fields he would like to move into – speaking frequently though vaguely about encouraging fairer wages, fostering small firms and developing an active industrial policy. These are noble aims, but to convince anyone that he can deliver them, he will soon have to reveal at least a flick of the detail. Even a roadworthy vehicle will not get anywhere until its driver has settled on where he is heading.
Unthinkable? Ministers to take historical advice
Westminster classes have a serious lack of historical knowledge and, like the shortfall on the current account, it doesn't matter most of the time – until it really does
We are familiar with economic deficits, in trade or public finances. But Britain suffers from a political deficit, one that goes unnoticed most of the time but which every now and then becomes glaringly apparent. The Westminster classes have a serious lack of historical knowledge and, like the shortfall on the current account, it doesn't matter most of the time – until it really does. Before Andrew Lansley launched into his top-to-bottom reform of the NHS, he should have read an account of Mrs Thatcher's attempt to overhaul the health service. It would have taught him that major attempts to shake up hospitals are less successful than more modest proposals. If George Osborne knew a little more about the Great Depression, he would have learned the lesson of 1937 – that shutting down economic stimulus too soon leads to a massive relapse. And if that student of philosophy, politics and economics David Cameron had boned up on European history, he would have learned the truth of Sir Humphrey's observation in Yes Minister: "Britain has had the same foreign policy objective for at least the last 500 years – to create a disunited Europe." Only by engaging with Europe will Britain get what it wants. Politics is now a young person's profession: its players no longer come with historical knowledge. Which means that it needs to be formally implanted in Whitehall. The government has economists and scientists: why not appoint a chief historical adviser?
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