Enemies Of The People

Filmmakers have long been obsessed by the Vietnam conflict. From Kubrick to Coppola and all stops in between, the war has been a cinema staple for years. Somehow, the Khmer Rouge regime in Cambodia has failed to ignite Western interest to anywhere near the same extent. Remaining in the shadow of its neighbour, a genocide which saw the massacre of up to two million people in the aftermath of the Vietnam War has rarely been represented on screen.

Enemies Of The People aims to remedy that as Thet Sambath concludes ten years of work by bringing interviews and testimonies of Khmer Rouge killers to the cinema for the first time. It’s a deeply personal quest for Sambath, whose family were killed by the ‘Organisation’.

Central to the whole documentary is Nuon Chea, the party’s ideological leader, breaking a thirty year silence on camera ahead of his war crimes trial in front of the United Nations…


Thet Sambath is an admirable character. Calm and thoughtful, yet tenacious and determined, his perseverance in making this film is incredible. An early scene puts into context exactly how much he has sacrificed in his quest to shine a light on Cambodia’s shameful history: saying goodbye to his children and wife, he climbs into his car and heads into the countryside to record more of his meticulously catalogued interviews (later on his wife explains how much she misses him – but never complains). It’s typically low-key, and an early demonstration of the unassuming manner which Sambath has utilised to maximum advantage in gaining the trust of his subjects.

One of those whom Sambath courted was Nuon Chea – number two to the tyrannical Pol Pot at the helm of the Khmer Rouge. Together, they presided over a period of ethnic cleansing and extreme communism which their country is still recovering from. Chea is a chilling presence on screen: cold and emotionless. Having spent three years ingratiating himself, Sambath gains access which others can only aspire to – yet manages to remain non-judgemental.

Sambath’s impartiality is all the more impressive given his circumstances. Early in the documentary, he describes his father being stabbed and kicked to death as his brother watches on. It’s deeply moving, and all the more so given that the story is spoken over images of Chea surrounded by his smiling family. It’s a jarring and powerful juxtaposition – and a brilliant piece of editing.

Whilst Chea is unwavering in his belief that the Khmer Rouge’s aims were just and peaceful, a more moving journey takes place in the hearts and minds of Suon and Khoun, two men who killed on behalf of the regime. They are introduced by the banks of a river, and with tears in their eyes describe the surrounding ditches in which bodies were piled thirty or forty deep. It falls to a passing woman to create the film’s most arresting moment as she describes water “boiling” due to the rotting, bubbling flesh it contains. It’s such a striking idea that you can almost see it.

By and large, Sambath is a participatory observer in proceedings. Only once does he choreograph a scene – one in which Suon demonstrates how he murdered people. It’s an awkward encounter initially, but soon gives way to powerful unease as a plastic knife is run across a prone volunteer’s throat. At times, Suon’s hands ached due to the amount of killings he committed.

Sambath ensures that Suon and Khoun are portrayed in a sympathetic light, and it’s impossible not to feel for them as they relive horrifying memories from their past. Whilst refusing to act as an apologist on their behalf, Sambath gives them adequate space to demonstrate their regret – lingering shots of tear-filled eyes are as powerful as anything they say. Their attempts to help uncover fellow murderers and those who gave the orders are admirable – and the sense that they are actually enjoying exposing people is palpable.

Whilst the changes in those at the bottom of the pyramid are obvious, further up there is no such sense of self-awareness. Chea is incapable of self-criticism, and still firmly believes that his regime was justified in its actions. Always filmed centrally, his figure dominates the screen in a manner disproportionate to his frail frame. This also means that even the most minute facial expressions – a sneer, a sly smile – are writ large.

He’s a deeply unpleasant man, and Sambath has recorded plenty of material which proves it. His sympathies with Saddam Hussein during his televised hanging are testament to his mindset, and the euphemistic way in which he refers to killings as “problem solving” indicate a man at ease with his past actions. He’s also a shameless politician. During a meeting with Suon and Khoun, he disgracefully dodges their direct questions and manages to turn the conversation to Buddhism – clearly believing that in his next life he will escape censure for the atrocities he has committed in this one.

Enemies Of The People closes with a poignant scene which demonstrates exactly how appalling life was under the Khmer Rouge. A series of images of the notorious S21 prison, tortured bodies, starved corpses and shackled skeletons are presented in stark black-and-white. They are deeply affecting and truly horrifying – but would have been better placed at the beginning of the film. Occasionally the film lacks context, and a prior knowledge of Cambodia’s history is certainly beneficial in making sense of it – a little more exposition at the start would certainly help those who are less familiar with the subject matter.


Enemies Of The People is a deeply personal film which, despite its harrowing content, offers a real sense of redemption to those who are both victims and perpetrators of the Khmer Rouge. More than just a labour of love for Thet Sambath, it offers a sense of closure and reconciliation – and serves as a powerful and unique historical document.

The Pol Pot Regime

For anyone who missed it the first time around or wishes to read it again, here's my (slightly edited) blog from Phnom Penh again, published alongside my photos for the first time...

Is it okay to take photographs of a mass grave? Is it morally acceptable for a tourist to record images of human remains? Does it demonstrate a lack of respect? These are questions we needed to ask ourselves today as we visited two of the most significant sites in the history of Cambodia: Tuol Seng Prison and the Killing Fields of Choueng Ek.

Less than thirty-five years ago, the tyrannical Pol Pot presided over a period of torture, oppression and genocide which decimated the population of Cambodia. Unthinkable horrors were perpetrated against anyone who opposed or were considered to be a threat to Pot’s Khmer Rouge regime. At least 1.8 million people (a quarter of the population) were simply exterminated. Yet somehow, against the background of the Vietnam War, the situation in Cambodia has largely escaped the notice of the Western world. The name of Pol Pot may be familiar to many back home, but the real story of the Khmer Rouge is less so.

And so to answer my initial questions: yes, I think it’s perfectly acceptable to take images away from these sites which can be shared with friends, family and anyone else who has any interest in humanity. When this blog was posted previously i put the photos on Facebook, but was unable to upload the images alongside my words. Now i can put some of those pictures together with what i wrote, which hopefully deepens the impact. I sincerely hope that those of you who see and read about Cambodia here will recoil in horror, cry in sympathy and maybe even do something to help.

Due to a shared border, Cambodia was sucked into the Vietnam conflict in the late sixties. US troops carpet-bombed areas of the country in an effort to flush out Viet Cong who were hiding there and eventually invaded Cambodia (along with Southern Vietnamese troops). This effort failed, and Cambodian communists joined forces with their Vietnamese allies. Fierce fighting ensued, and only ended when Cambodia’s capital, Phnom Penh, fell to Pol Pot’s Khmer Rouge on April 17th 1975.

What followed was one of the world’s most brutal and bloody revolutions. Declaring a new ‘Year Zero’, Pot abolished money, forced the people to abandon the cities in favour of the countryside, declared war on religion and free-thinking and attempted to set up a whole new system of oppressive rule centred around farming and ‘co-operation’.

In order to achieve this end, the vast majority of Cambodia’s educated people were systematically eradicated. Those who wore glasses were killed. Schoolteachers and academics were massacred. Those whose hands were not calloused by manual labour were murdered.
A truly stomach-churning visit to Tuol Seng prison emphasised exactly how bad the suffering had been. Formerly a school, the site was transformed into a hell on earth where humans were kept in battery-hen conditions. Systematic torture was commonplace, with all variety of implements used to inflict pain and suffering still on display. Water torture, drowning and beatings were commonplace and at one point an average of a hundred people died each day within the prison walls. Some cells remain untouched - rusty iron beds covered in shackles are a poignant reminder of the hurt inflicted. Darkened patches on the floor show where blood was spilled. Harrowing black and white images of prison ‘mug-shots’ give way to images of bleeding and starving inmates. When these photos are replaced by pictures of disfigured corpses it is difficult not to feel squeamish.

Only a small proportion of the prison’s inmates died in detention. The vast majority - thought to be around 17,000 - were transferred to the Killing Field at Chuoeng Ek. Here they were slaughtered and buried in mass graves. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything which affected me so much. Around half of the graves have been excavated and the bodies they contained preserved and encased in a white stupa. This tower contains approximately nine-thousand skulls and other bones. It’s possible to see the cause of death on most of them - rather than wasting valuable bullets the Khmer Rouge usually used blunt instruments, axes or knives to inflict fatal head wounds.

A walk around the site is even more harrowing. Each crater in the ground used to be full of corpses: some headless, some filled with women. As you move between these unmarked graves, items of clothing and even bones can be seen poking up through the ground - as the rain washes away the topsoil more and more human remains are revealed. Definitely the most upsetting sight is that of a tree which the Khmer Rouge used to commit infanticide: children and babies were swung head first by their legs into the trunk of the tree until their bodies fell limp. They were then thrown in a nearby grave. Close by was another tree which used to have a speaker dangling from it so that music could be played to drown out the sounds of murder and torture.

Everyone in Cambodia has been affected in some way: most people directly. Our tuk-tuk driver told us how his family were ‘disappeared’ for ‘further education’ never to be seen again. A whole generation of teachers, academics and scholars has only just begun to be replaced. The spectre of the Khmer Rouge looms large - justice has yet to be served on those behind the atrocities. Pol Pot died before he ever went to trial: a source of bitter and understandable resentment. But the Cambodians are resolute and good humoured - it’s testament to them that less than forty years on they are capable of being such gracious, smiling people.