Author Archives: Shelby Doyle

Shifts in global water systems — markers of a new geological epoch: The Anthropocene

Source: http://www.eurekalert.org/pub_releases/2013-05/gwsp-sig051413.php

Contact: Terry Collins
tc@tca.tc
416-538-8712

Contact: Alma van der Veen
49-228-731846
aveen@uni-bonn.de
Global Water System Project 

Shifts in global water systems — markers of a new geological epoch: The Anthropocene

Experts in Bonn to detail how science can help people mitigate or adapt to major global human-induced water system changes

 IMAGE: This is an image of North America from the data visualization video “Water in the Anthropocene, ” to debut May 21 at gwsp.org andwww.anthropocene.info….

Click here for more information. 

A suite of disquieting global phenomena have given rise to the “Anthropocene,” a term coined for a new geologic epoch characterized by humanity’s growing dominance of the Earth’s environment and a planetary transformation as profound as the last epoch-defining event — the retreat of the glaciers 11,500 years ago.

And in Bonn, Germany May 21-24, world experts will experts will focus on how to mitigate key factors contributing to extreme damage to the global water system being caused while adapting to the new reality.

“The list of human activities and their impact on the water systems of Planet Earth is long and important,” Anik Bhaduri, Executive Officer of the Global Water System Project (GWSP).

“We have altered the Earth’s climatology and chemistry, its snow cover, permafrost, sea and glacial ice extent and ocean volume—all fundamental elements of the hydrological cycle. We have accelerated major processes like erosion, applied massive quantities of nitrogen that leaks from soil to ground and surface waters and, sometimes, literally siphoned all water from rivers, emptying them for human uses before they reach the ocean. We have diverted vast amounts of freshwater to harness fossil energy, dammed major waterways, and destroyed aquatic ecosystems.”

“The idea of the Anthropocene underscores the point that human activities and their impacts have global significance for the future of all living species — ours included. Humans are changing the character of the world water system in significant ways with inadequate knowledge of the system and the consequences of changes being imposed. From a research position, human-water interactions must be viewed as a continuum and a coupled system, requiring interdisciplinary inquiry like that which has characterized the GWSP since its inception.”

Among many examples of humanity’s oversized imprint on the world, cited in a paper by James Syvitski, Chair of the International Geosphere-Biosphere Programme and three fellow experts (in full: http://bit.ly/Yx4COp), and in a new “Water in the Anthropocene” video to debut in Bonn May 21 (available at gwsp.org and http://www.anthropocene.info):

 

  • Humanity uses an area the size of South America to grow its crops and an area the size of Africa for raising livestock
  • Due to groundwater and hydrocarbon pumping in low lying coastal areas, two-thirds of major river deltas are sinking, some of them at a rate four times faster on average than global sea level is rising
  • More rock and sediment is now moved by human activities such as shoreline in-filling, damming and mining than by the natural erosive forces of ice, wind and water combined
  • Many river floods today have links to human activities, including the Indus flood of 2010 (which killed 2,000 people), and the Bangkok flood of 2011 (815 deaths)
  • On average, humanity has built one large dam every day for the last 130 years. Tens of thousands of large dams now distort natural river flows to which ecosystems and aquatic life adapted over millennia
  • Drainage of wetlands destroys their capacity to ease floods—a free service of nature expensive to replace
  • Evaporation from poorly-managed irrigation renders many of the world’s rivers dry — no water, no life. And so, little by little, tens of thousands of species edge closer to extinction every day. 
 IMAGE: This is an image of Africa from the data visualization video “Water in the Anthropocene, ” to debut May 21 at gwsp.org andwww.anthropocene.info….

Click here for more information. 

Needed: Better water system monitoring and governance

The water community stresses that concern now extends far beyond ‘classic’ drinking water and sanitation issues and includes water quality and quantity for ecosystems at all scales.

Says GWSP co-chair Claudia Pahl-Wostl: “The fact is, as world water problems worsen, we lack adequate efforts to monitor the availability, condition and use of water — a situation presenting extreme long term cost and danger.”

“Human water security is often achieved in the short term at the expense of the environment with harmful long-term implications. The problems are largely caused by governance failure and a lack of systemic thinking in both developed and developing countries. Economic development without concomitant institutional development will lead to greater water insecurity in the long-term. Global leadership is required to deal with the water challenges of the 21st century.”

“Humanity changes the way water moves around the globe like never before, causing dramatic harm,” says Bonn conference keynote speaker Joe Alcamo, Chief Scientist of the UN Environment Programme and former co-chair of the GWSP. “By diverting freshwater for agricultural, industrial and municipal use, for example, our coastal wetlands receive less and less, and often polluted, freshwater. The results include decreased inland and coastal biodiversity, increased coastal salinity and temperature, and contaminated agricultural soils and agricultural runoff.”

Adds Charles Vörösmarty, co-Chair and a founding member of the GWSP, which receives input from more hundreds of international scientists: “By throwing concrete, pipes, pumps, and chemicals at our water problems, to the tune of a half-trillion dollars a year, we’ve produced a technological curtain separating clean water flowing from our pipes and the highly-stressed natural waters that sit in the background. We treat symptoms of environmental abuse rather than underlying causes. Thus, problems continue to mount in the background, yet the public is largely unaware of this reality or its growing costs.”

Aims of the Bonn meeting

Featuring 60 special topic sessions, “Water in the Anthropocene” is a capstone event for the GWSP, which is developing “Future Water,” the water-related component of the emerging new multi-dimensional international collaborative environmental research framework, Future Earth.

A goal of the meeting is to synthesize major global water research achievements in the last decade and help assembling the scientific foundations to articulate a common vision of Earth’s water future.

It will recommended priorities for decision makers in the areas of earth system science and water resources governance and management.

And it will constitute a scientific prelude to October’s Budapest Water Summit, a major objective of which is to elevate the importance of water issues within the UN General Assembly negotiations on the Sustainable Development Goals — a set of globally-agreed future objectives to succeed the UN Millennium Development Goals in 2015.

 IMAGE: This is an image of Europe from the data visualization video “Water in the Anthropocene, ” to debut May 21 at gwsp.org andwww.anthropocene.info….

Click here for more information. 

Observers expect adoption of “water security” as a Sustainable Development Goal

Water expert Janos Bogardi, Senior Advisor to GWSP, says the absence of defined global water quantity and quality standards for personal use, agriculture and healthy ecosystems are critical gaps as the world community develops its next set of shared medium-term objectives.

“These definitions constitute a cardinal challenge today for scientists and politicians alike. It is important to reach consensus in order to make progress on the increasingly important notion of ‘water security’,” says Dr. Bogardi, stressing that changing terminology will not in itself solve problems. “Replacing the word ‘sustainability’ with ‘security’ is not a panacea.”

With respect to quantity, less than 20 liters daily for sanitary needs and drinking is deemed “water misery” while 40 to 80 liters is considered “comfortable.” (Current US per capita average daily consumption is over 300 liters; daily usage in urban Germany is about 120 liters per capita and in urban Hungary, where water is relatively expensive, the figure is 80 liters.)

Missing also are authoritative scientific determinations of how much water can be drawn without crossing a “tipping point” threshold into ecosystem collapse. While there is no general rule, GWSP scientists say withdrawals of 30% to 40% of a renewable freshwater resource constitutes “extreme” water stress, but underline scope to continue satisfying needs if water is returned and recycled in good quality. Mining fossil groundwater resources is by definition non-sustainable.

The GWSP is developing water quality guidelines for people, agriculture and ecosystems in the context of the Sustainable Development Goals.

“The urgency of formulating the post-2015 Sustainable Development Goals and a tracking system for their success means that quite soon the SDG negotiators must offer-up water targets,” says Dr. Vörösmarty. “Whether they focus predominantly on continuing the Millennium Development Goals (narrowly on drinking water and sanitation for human health) or formulate a more comprehensive agenda that simultaneously optimizes water security for humans as well as for nature remains an open question. The water sciences community stands ready to take on this challenge. Are the the decision makers?”

Definitions of water security

In 2007, World Bank expert David Grey and Claudia Sadoff of IUCN, defined water security as “The availability of an acceptable quantity and quality of water for health, livelihoods, ecosystems and production, coupled with an acceptable level of water-related risks to people, environments and economies.”

Their use of the term “acceptable” acknowledges that water security has relative, negotiable meanings.

In March, another formulation was set out by UN-Water, the United Nations’ inter-agency coordination mechanism for all water-related issues.

It defined water security as: “The capacity of a population to safeguard sustainable access to adequate quantities of and acceptable quality water for sustaining livelihoods, human well-being, and socio-economic development, for ensuring protection against water-borne pollution and water-related disasters, and for preserving ecosystems in a climate of peace and political stability.” (seehttp://bit.ly/1864vMG)

About the Global Water System Project (gwsp.org)

The Global Water System Project seeks to answer the fundamental, multi-faceted question: How are humans changing the global water cycle, the associated biogeochemical cycles, and the biological components of the global water system and what are the social feedbacks arising from these changes?

GWSP Core Themes:

1. What are the magnitudes of anthropogenic and environmental changes in the global water system and what are the key mechanisms by which they are induced?

2. What are the main linkages and feedbacks within the earth system arising from changes in the global water system? How resilient and adaptable is the global water system to change, and what are sustainable water management strategies?

GWSP gratefully acknowledges support of its activities provided by the four Global Environmental Change programmes of the International Council for Science — DIVERSITAS, International Human Dimension Programme on Global Environmental Change (IHDP), International Geosphere-Biosphere Programme (IGBP), World Climate Research Programme (WCRP) and the Earth System Science Partnership (ESSP) — and by national and international research funding agencies. The GWSP International Project Office received decade-long support from the Ministry of Education and Research of the Federal Republic of Germany (BMBF).

‘On Average, Humanity Has Built One Large Dam Every Day for the Last 130 Years’

Source: http://www.theatlantic.com/technology/archive/13/05/on-average-humanity-has-built-one-large-dam-every-day-for-the-last-130-years/276036/

Ours is a planet and a time deeply shaped by one species — us.
MAY 20 2013, 1:43 PM ET
chinadam.gifChina’s Three Gorges Dam as seen from space over the past three decades (Google/Philip Bump)

When we think about the dams that are reshaping our planet and its waterways, the projects that come to mind are the massive ones, such as the Three Gorges Dam in central China (as captured in the gif above).

This is one of the largest of *many*. According to a new report, there are now 48,000 “large” dams (15 meters or taller) around the planet, which works out to a construction rate of one new dam every single day over the last 130 years. Over email, Owen Gaffney of the International Geosphere-Biosphere Programme in Stockholm said that another 1,600 are currently under construction. As journalist David Biello wrote on Twitter, “You know what says Anthropocene like almost nothing else? Water.”

Ours is a planet and a time deeply shaped by one species — us. Our waterways bend and bloat to meet our needs. Our atmosphere bears the emissions wrought by our fossil-fuel habit. Even in the depths of the remotest jungles,scientists are now finding our buildings. We are, of course, not the first species to have a dramatic effect on our planet – cyanobacteria beat us to that punch more than 2 billion years ago – but we are the first to do so knowingly, and that makes a world of difference.

 

Think Again: Lessons From Cambodia’s Rebirth Through the Arts

Source: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/cynthia-p-schneider/arts-cambodia_b_3249076.html

The revival of Cambodia’s rich and unique cultural heritage has fueled the country’s impressive recovery from the Khmer Rouge’s genocide of 1975-79. This message rang unmistakably true as the Season of Cambodia (SOC) has dazzled New York audiences in museums, universities, galleries, and performing arts centers over the past month. Both the U.S. and the Cambodian governments stand to learn from this game-changing lesson for post-conflict development strategy, but neither government seems to have noticed.

The 125 Cambodian artists supported and hosted by over 30 New York institutions have revealed the near miraculous preservation of the venerated arts of shadow puppetry and Cambodian classical ballet, as well as the dynamic new visions in dance, visual arts, and film of the artists from Cambodia’s youthful majority (70 percent under age 30).

To understand the significance of creative expression and cultural heritage in rebuilding Cambodia, you have first to understand the utter devastation wreaked by the Khmer Rouge during their reign of terror.

Nearly a third of the population, between 1.7 and 2.5 million out of a total population of 8 million, was killed between 1975-79. The dictator Pol Pot, himself with a degree from the Sorbonne, targeted anyone with an education. Ninety per cent of artists and intellectuals were murdered.

The U.S. opened the door to Pol Pot and his genocidal regime. America supported General Lon Nol over the more popular King Sihanouk, but it was the massive US bombing campaign, with more ordinance than the total dropped by the Allies in World War II, that led Cambodians to see the Khmer Rouge as their salvation. (The analogy to the drone campaign radicalizing Pakistan has been made.)

Greeted as liberators when they entered Phnom Penh, the Khmer Rouge immediately launched their brutal campaign. They divided families and outlawed familial love, moved everyone into the countryside, eliminated all cultural traditions and creative expression, and made the entire population work grueling 18-hour days on a subsistence diet.

Arn Chorn-Pond – musician, Cambodian genocide survivor, former child soldier, and founder ofCambodian Living Arts, the organization behind the Season of Cambodia — recognized the essential role of reviving culture in rebuilding the country. In returning masters of music, dance, and puppetry to their rightful place in society, Chorn-Pond and the other co-founders of Cambodian Living Arts helped restore identity, pride, and resilience to the Cambodian people.

The Khmer Rouge targeted artists, Chorn-Pond explains, because “they expressed who they were as human beings.” While brutal regimes like the Khmer Rouge or the Taliban recognize the threat that cultural identity and expression pose to their totalitarian control — think of the fate of the Bamiyan Buddhas or of the libraries in Timbuktu — the United States rarely prioritizes culture in post-conflict situations. (Afghanistan, where the U.S. successfully has supported culture and media, is an exception). No USAID funds for Cambodia have gone to culture.

The Season of Cambodia shows that recovery from trauma and conflict requires more than food and security. The soul of a country must also be nourished. The shell-shocked Cambodian survivors had to move beyond the genocide, and develop the strength to rebuild their country.

The story behind Lida Chan’s documentary Red Wedding, screened in the SOC’s Film Festival illustrates how the process of filmmaking as well as the end product can heal past pain, empower Cambodians to chart their future, and bridge the generation gap between survivors of the Khmer Rouge and today’s youth.

Chan’s film chronicles 48-year-old Sochan Pen’s determined search for the man who forced her, at age 16, to “marry” him. Pen escaped, but not until after her Khmer Rouge “husband” had raped and beaten her.

The process of sharing her story with the young filmmaker empowered Sochan Pen to testify against her “husband” at the Cambodia Tribunal, and to travel the country, telling her story, empowering other forced “brides” to speak up with her example.

Trained by Cambodia’s most renowned filmmaker Rithy Panh in his Bophana Center, Lida Chan and her experience affirm Panh’s belief that “Cambodians are learning to tell their own story, something that never has happened before.”

For his critical work preserving Cambodia’s cinematic past, and teaching future generations, Rithy Panh receives little support from the Cambodian or U.S. government.

To date, the Cambodian government has not made support for the arts a priority. Imagine what a fund built from a small tax added to Angkor Wat ticket prices could do to unleash the creative and economic potential of Cambodia’s youthful population.

The breakaway success of Artisans Angkor shows that investments in culture also can reap financial rewards. Led by Phloeun Prim, the charismatic architect of the Season of Cambodia, Artisans Angkor in a decade evolved from a modest NGO to a business with tens of millions of dollars in revenue, and over one thousand employees.

The Season of Cambodia offers the vision of a creative, dynamic, country, with a distinctive past and a promising future, a country that, to quote Festival architect Phloeun Prim, “has made arts and culture its international signature, not just the killing fields”. That dramatic transformation should persuade both the American and Cambodian governments of the importance of supporting the cultural sector in rebuilding this and other post-conflict societies.

First published May 9, 2013 on USC’s CPD Blog

Follow Cynthia P. Schneider on Twitter: www.twitter.com/Schneidercp

What the U.S. Bombing of Cambodia Tells Us About Obama’s Drone Campaign

Source: http://www.theatlantic.com/international/archive/2013/02/what-the-us-bombing-of-cambodia-tells-us-about-obamas-drone-campaign/273142/

 FEB 14 2013, 7:30 AM ET

A look back at another instance in which the U.S. undertook a secretive and widespread bombing campaign.

Cambodia.jpg

A Cambodian man prays at a Buddhist ceremony as around 300 skulls that formed a giant map of Cambodia are dismantled at a genocide museum in Phnom Penh on March 10, 2002(Chor Sokunthea/Reuters)

Halfway through the Justice Department white paper [PDF] defending the lawfulness of government-ordered assassinations of U.S. citizens, there is a curious reference to a dark chapter of American history.

The memo, making the legal case for covertly expanding military operations across international borders, directs readers to an address by State Department legal adviser John R. Stevenson, “United States Military Action in Cambodia: Questions of International Law,” delivered to the New York Bar Association in 1970.

The comparison is fitting in ways the Justice Department surely did not intend.

Like the current conflict, the military action in neutral Cambodia was so secretive that information about the first four years of bombing, from 1965 to 1969, was not made public until 2000. And like the current conflict, the operation in Cambodia stood on questionable legal ground. The revelation of its existence, beginning in 1969, was entangled with enough illegal activity in this country — wiretaps, perjury, falsification of records and a general determination to deceive — to throw significant doubt on its use as a precedent in court.

The most important parallel, though, isn’t legal or moral: it’s strategic. As critics wonder what kind of backlash might ensue from drone attacks that kill civilians and terrorize communities, Cambodia provides a telling historical precedent.

Between 1965 and 1973, the U.S. dropped 2.7 million tons of explosives – more than the Allies dropped in the entirety of World War II — on Cambodia, whose population was then smaller than New York City’s. Estimates of the number of people killed begin in the low hundreds of thousands and range up from there, but the truth is that no one has any idea.

The bombing had two primary effects on survivors. First, hundreds of thousands of villagers fled towards the safety of the capital Phnom Penh, de-stabilizing Cambodia’s urban-rural balance. By the end of the war, the country’s delicate food supply system was upended, and the capital was so overcrowded that residents were eating bark off of trees.

Secondly, the attacks radicalized a population that had previously been neutral in the country’s politics. The severity of the advanced air campaign — “I want everything that can fly to go in there and crack the hell out of them,” then-U.S. President Richard Nixon told National Security Adviser Henry Kissinger — fomented immense anger in the Cambodian countryside. Charles Meyer, an aide to the deposed Prince Sihanouk, said that it was “difficult to imagine the intensity of [the peasants'] hatred towards those who are destroying their villages and property.” Journalist Richard Dudman was more precise. “The bombing and the shooting,” he wrote after a period in captivity in the Cambodian jungle, “was radicalizing the people of rural Cambodia and was turning the country into a massive, dedicated, and effective rural base.”

Nevertheless, many historians continued to deny the causal link between the violence and the political upheavals in the country. Cambodia’s embrace of radicalism instead fit neatly into the Cold War-era “domino theory” paradigm, de-emphasizing the role of local conditions in driving the country’s history.

William Shawcross, in 1979′s Sideshow: Kissenger. Nixon and the Destruction of Cambodia , was the first to advance the theory that the meteoric rise of the Khmer Rouge was not in spite of the U.S. bombing campaign but because of it. Taylor Owen, the research director of the Tow Center for Digital Journalism at Columbia, and Ben Kiernan, director of the Genocide Studies Program at Yale, have concluded that the full war archives, released by President Clinton in 2000, confirm this version of history.

“The impact of this bombing… is clearer than ever,” they write. “Civilian casualties in Cambodia drove an enraged populace into the arms of an insurgency that had enjoyed relatively little support until the bombing began, setting in motion the expansion of the Vietnam War deeper into Cambodia, acoup d’etat in 1970, the rapid rise of the Khmer Rouge, and ultimately the Cambodian genocide.”

In tactical terms, contemporary drone attacks are far more precise than the pell-mell Cambodia-era bombs. One comparison, though, remains apt: in both cases, the American government has been less than forthcoming about the effect of these weapons on local populations. The Bureau of Investigative Journalism reports that between 2,500 and 3,500 people have been killed by drone strikes, including — contrary to the recent statements of CIA nominee John Brennan — between 473 and 893 civilians, and 176 children. (The classification of civilians has been called into question as well. The Obama administration reportedly ”counts all military-age males in a strike zone as combatants,” unless posthumously proved innocent.)

Owen and Kiernan saw the parallel to current anti-terror operations before the Department of Justice did. In 2010, they published a paper in The Asia-Pacific Journal called “ Roots of U.S. Troubles in Afghanistan: Civilian Bombing Casualties and the Cambodian Precedent,” in which they argue that incidents like the predator drone strike on a Pakistani village in 2006 created direct blowback.

This point of view is echoed by Pakistani journalist Mohammed Hanif, who recently argued that the strikes are not only radicalizing the population but are “creating a whole new generation of people who will grow up thinking that this is what happened to us and now, now we want revenge.” In Pakistan and Yemen, Jo Becker and Scott Shane wrote in the New York Times, “drones have become the recruiting tool of choice for militants.”

In this respect, the DOJ could not have found a more fitting precedent than the carpet-bombing of Cambodia. The purpose of the sustained bombardment from 1972 to 1973 was to prevent the Khmer Rouge from consolidating power. The result was the opposite.

The thousands of people killed so far by drone strikes represent a fraction of the several hundred thousand who died beneath the B-52s between 1969 and 1975. But the level of fear and anger — and the opportunity for insurgent groups to harness those emotions — cannot be so easily calculated.

In the words of retired General Stanley McChrystal, the former commander of NATO forces in Afghanistan, one can’t help but hear an echo of Charles Meyer, Richard Dudman, and other observers of the Cambodia campaign. “What scares me about the drone strikes is how they are perceived around the world,” McChrystal said last month. “The resentment created by American use of unmanned strikes…is much greater than the average American appreciates. They are hated on a visceral level, even by people who’ve never seen one or seen the effects of one.”

Roots of U.S. Troubles in Afghanistan: Civilian Bombing Casualties and the Cambodian Precedent

Source:  http://www.japanfocus.org/-Ben-Kiernan/3380

Ben Kiernan and Taylor Owen

The U.S. war in Afghanistan is “going badly,” according to the New York Times. Nine years after American forces invaded to oust the repressive Taliban regime and its Al-Qaeda ally, “the deteriorating situation demands a serious assessment now of the military and civilian strategies.”1 Aerial bombardment, a centrepiece of the U.S. military effort in Afghanistan, has had a devastating impact on civilians there. Along with Taliban and Al-Qaeda insurgents and suicide bombers, who have recently escalated their slaughter of the Afghan population, U.S. and NATO aircraft have for years inflicted a horrific toll on innocent villagers.

When U.S. bombs hit a civilian warehouse in Afghanistan in late 2001, U.S. Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld responded: “We’re not running out of targets, Afghanistan is.” There was laughter in the press gallery.

But the bombing continued and spread to Iraq in 2003, with the United States determined to use “the force necessary to prevail, plus some,” and asserting that no promises would be made to avoid “collateral damage.”2 Afghan and Iraqi civilian casualties, in other words, were predictable if not inevitable. The show of strength aside, didn’t the U.S. underestimate the strategic cost of collateral damage? If “shock and awe” appeared to work at least in 2001 against the Taliban regular army, the continued use of aerial bombardment has also nourished civilian support for the Taliban and Al Qaeda anti-U.S. insurgency. In March 2010, the New York Times reported that “civilian deaths caused by American troops and American bombs have outraged the local population and made the case for the insurgency.”3 Beyond the moral meaning of inflicting predictable civilian casualties, and contravention of international laws of war, it is also clear that the political repercussions of air strikes outweigh their military benefits.

 

 

Cleanup following U.S. bombing of a village wedding in 2008 (EPI photo)

 

This is not news. The extension of the Vietnam War to Cambodia, which the U.S. Air Force bombed from 1965 to 1973, was a troubling precedent. First, Cambodia became in 1969-73 one of the most heavily-bombarded countries in history (along with North Korea, South Vietnam, and Laos).4 Then, in 1975-79, it suffered genocide at the hands of Pol Pot’s Khmer Rouge communists, who had been military targets of the U.S. bombing but also became its political beneficiaries.

Despite key differences, an important similarity links the current conflict in Afghanistan to the 1970-75 Cambodian war: increasing U.S. reliance on airpower against a heterogeneous insurgency. Moreover, in the past few years, as fighting has continued in Afghanistan supported by U.S. air power, Taliban forces have benefited politically, recruiting among an anti-U.S. Afghan constituency that appears to have grown even as the insurgents suffer military casualties. In Cambodia, it was precisely the harshest, most extreme elements of the insurgency who survived the U.S. bombing, expanded in numbers, and then won the war. The Khmer Rouge grew from a small force of fewer than 10,000 in 1969 to over 200,000 troops and militia in 1973.5 During that period their recruitment propaganda successfully highlighted the casualties and damage caused by U.S. bombing.6 Within a broader Cambodian insurgency, the radical Khmer Rouge leaders eclipsed their royalist, reformist, and pro-Hanoi allies as well as defeating their enemy, the pro-U.S. Cambodian government of Lon Nol, in 1975.

The Nixon Doctrine had proposed that the United States could supply an allied Asian regime with the matériel to withstand internal or external challenge while the U.S. withdrew its own ground troops or remained at arm’s length. “Vietnamization” built up the air and ground fighting capability of South Vietnamese government forces while American units slowly disengaged. In Cambodia from 1970, Washington gave military aid to General Lon Nol’s new regime, tolerating its rampant corruption, while the U.S. Air Force (and the large South Vietnamese Air Force) conducted massive aerial bombardment of its Vietnamese and Khmer Rouge communist opponents and their heterogeneous united front, across rural Cambodia.

U.S. policy in Afghanistan has shown a similar reliance on air strikes in fighting the motley insurgency there. These strikes, while far more precisely targeted than the earlier bombing campaigns in Indochina, inflicted substantial civilian casualties in the first year of the Afghan war in 2001-02. The Project on Defense Alternatives estimated that in a 3-month period between October 7, 2001 and January 1, 2002, between 1,000 and 1,300 civilians were killed by aerial bombing,7 and The Los Angeles Times found that in a 5-month period from October 7, 2001 to February 28, 2002, between 1,067 and 1,201 civilian deaths were reported in the media.8 Deaths reported in newspapers should be treated with caution, but not all are reported, and the total was undoubtedly high. And the toll has continued long after the initial U.S. invasion.9 According to Human Rights Watch, airstrikes by the U.S. Operation Enduring Freedom (OEF) and its NATO-led coalition, the International Security Assistance Force (ISAF), killed 116 Afghan civilians in 2006, and 321 civilians in 2007.10 And the number rose again in 2008: according to a UN study on the humanitarian costs of the conflict, airstrikes accounted for 530 of the 828 civilians killed that year by U.S. or Afghan government forces. The same study found that between January and June 2009, 200 of the 310 recorded civilian deaths were caused by airstrikes.11 Overall in 2009, the UN reported that 2,400 civilians were killed in Afghanistan, though the number killed by foreign and Afghan troops was down 25%.12

While their largescale killing of civilians presented a moral challenge to the U.S.-led coalition forces, there has also been increasing acknowledgment of strategic costs accompanying these casualties. In mid-2007, the London Guardian reported that “a senior UK military officer said he had asked the U.S. to withdraw its special forces from a volatile area that was crucial in the battle against the Taliban,” after the U.S. forces were “criticized for relying on air strikes for cover when they believed they were confronted by large groups of Taliban fighters.” The paper added: “British and Nato officials have consistently expressed concern about US tactics, notably air strikes, which kill civilians, sabotaging the battle for ‘hearts and minds’.” NATO’s Secretary-General added that NATO commanders “had changed the rules of engagement, ordering their troops to hold their fire in situations where civilians appeared to be at risk.”13 More recently Command Sgt. Maj. Michael Hall, the senior NATO soldier in Afghanistan, has argued that many of the insurgents being held at Bagram Air Base had joined the insurgency due to deaths of people they knew. He told the troops, “there are stories after stories about how these people are turned into insurgents. Every time there is an escalation of force we are finding that innocents are being killed.”14 The same report cited a village elder from Hodkail corroborating this argument: “The people are tired of all these cruel actions by the foreigners, and we can’t suffer it anymore. The people do not have any other choice, they will rise against the government and fight them and the foreigners. There are a lot of cases of killing of innocent people.”15

Yet the bombings have continued and the civilian death toll has mounted. In 2008, after U.S. aircraft killed more than 30 Afghan civilians in each of two bombardments of rural wedding parties, the top U.S. commander in Afghanistan, General David McKiernan, “ordered a tightening of procedures for launching airstrikes,” and proclaimed that “minimizing civilian casualties is crucial.”16 In December 2008, McKiernan issued another directive, ordering that “all responses must be proportionate.”17

Again new procedures failed to stop the slaughter from the air. Following an investigation into a 2009 airstrike in Farah Province which killed at least 26 civilians (the Afghan Government reported a much higher toll of 140 dead), McKiernan’s replacement, General Stanley McChrystal, issued new guidelines meant to minimize civilian casualties.18 In earlier testimony to the Senate Armed Services Committee, McChrystal had stressed the strategic importance of civilian protection. “A willingness to operate in ways minimizing causalities or damage … is critical,” he argued. “Although I expect stiff fighting ahead, the measure of success will not be enemy killed. It will be shielding the Afghan population from violence.”19 So far the cost of failure, for instance by inflicting more civilian casualties, has included a political windfall for Taliban insurgents, who by 2009 posed a much stronger threat than they had in 2005.20

Since the issuing of McChrystal’s 2009 directive, however, airstrikes have continued to kill civilians, the toll increasing with the escalation of the U.S. ground war in response to the greater Taliban threat. In February 2010 alone, 46 Afghan civilians were killed in just three strikes. An errant rocket attack on February 14 killed 12 civilians.21 Four days later a NATO airstrike mistakenly killed 7 Afghan police officers.22Another NATO strike on February 20, 2010, killed 27 civilians.23 In comparison to the previous year, the three-month period from March to June 2010 saw a 44% drop in civilian casualties caused by the coalition.24 Yet, nine years after the U.S. went to war in Afghanistan, bombing remains part of U.S. strategy and the death toll in aerial strikes continues. In a March incident, a U.S. airstrike killed 13 civilians,25 and in June, 10 more civilians, including at least five women and children, were killed in a NATO airstrike.26

One reaction to the McChrystal directive has been an increased U.S. use of unmanned aerial drones to deliver air strikes.27 While proponents of targeted drone strikes argue that they offer greater precision, and therefore minimize civilian casualties, it is also possible that the greater ease with which they can be deployed could instead increase the number of raids and thus the civilian casualty rates. For example, a Human Rights Watch report on civilian casualties in Afghanistan argued that most civilian casualties do not occur in planned airstrikes on Taliban targets, but rather in the more fluid rapid-response strikes mostly carried out in support of “troops in contact”.28 A recent US military report on a drone strike that killed 23 civilians in February found that “inaccurate and unprofessional” reporting by the drone operators  was responsible for the casualties.29 In response, General McChrystal repeated what he had said many times, “inadvertently killing or injuring civilians is heartbreaking and undermines their trust and confidence in our mission.”30 In late June 2010, in the second change of Afghanistan commander in eighteen months, President Obama fired McChrystal and replaced him with General David Petraeus.

The resort to drones, while potentially useful for well-planned long term surveillance-based strikes, could also enable the execution of more frequent troop support strikes. More generally, any shift to increased air power, even in conjunction with ground troops, will likely inflict greater civilian casualties. The resulting local outrage could benefit an insurgency seeking civilian support and recruitment. While air strikes today can be much more accurate than they were in Indochina in the 1970s, it would be perilous to ignore a disastrous precedent: the political blowback of the U.S. air war against Cambodian insurgents.

 

On December 9, 1970, President Richard Nixon telephoned his National Security Adviser, Henry Kissinger, to discuss the ongoing bombing of Cambodia. U.S. B-52s, long deployed over Vietnam, had been targeting Cambodia for only a year. In a “sideshow” to the war in Vietnam, American aircraft had already dropped 36,000 payloads on Cambodia, a neutral kingdom until the U.S.-backed General Lon Nol seized power from Prince Norodom Sihanouk in a March 1970 coup.31 The 1969-70 “Menu” B-52 bombings of Cambodia’s border areas, which American commanders labelled Breakfast, Lunch, Supper, Dinner, Desert and Snack, aimed to destroy the mobile headquarters of the South Vietnamese “Viet Cong” and the North Vietnamese Army (VC/NVA) in the Cambodian jungle. However, these and later bombardments  forced the Vietnamese communists further west and deeper into Cambodia, and ultimately radicalized Cambodian local people against Lon Nol’s regime.

After the U.S. ground invasion of Cambodia in May-June 1970, which also failed to root out the Vietnamese communists there, Nixon faced growing congressional opposition to his Indochina policy. The U.S. President now wanted a secret escalation of air attacks, further into Cambodia’s populous areas. This was despite a September 1970 US intelligence report, which had warned Washington that “many of the sixty-six ‘training camps’ on which [Lon Nol’s army] had requested air strikes by early September were in fact merely political indoctrination sessions held in village halls and pagodas.”32

Telling Kissinger on December 9, 1970 of his frustration that the U.S. Air Force was being “unimaginative,” Nixon demanded more bombing, deeper into Cambodia: “They have got to go in there and I mean really go in . . . I want everything that can fly to go in there and crack the hell out of them.  There is no limitation on mileage and there is no limitation on budget. Is that clear ?”

This order ignored prior limits restricting U.S. attacks to within 30 miles of the Vietnamese border33 and prohibiting B-52 bombing within a kilometer of any village,34 and military assessments likening the air strikes to “taking a beehive the size of a basketball and poking it with a stick.”35 Kissinger responded hesitantly: “The problem is Mr President, the Air Force is designed to fight an air battle against the Soviet Union. They are not designed for this war . . . in fact, they are not designed for any war we are likely to have to fight.”

The U.S. insistence even today on using airpower against insurgencies raises this same dilemma: perhaps even more than the civilian casualties of ground operations, the “collateral damage” from U.S. aerial bombing still appears to enrage and radicalize enough of the survivors for insurgencies to find the recruits and supporters they require.

Five minutes after his telephone conversation with Nixon, Kissinger called General Alexander Haig to relay the new orders. “He [Nixon] wants a massive bombing campaign in Cambodia. He doesn’t want to hear anything. It’s an order, it’s to be done. Anything that flies on anything that moves. You got that ?” The response from Haig, recorded as barely audible, sounded like laughing.

As in Vietnam, the U.S. now deployed massive airpower over Cambodia to fight an insurgency that enjoyed significant local support. One result was more growth in the insurgency. In recent years the impact of the U.S. bombing on Cambodia has become much better known. An apparently near-complete Pentagon spatial database, declassified in 2000 and detailing no fewer than 230,488 U.S. aircraft sorties over Cambodia from October 4, 1965 to August 15, 1973, reveals that much of that bombing was indiscriminate and that it had begun years earlier than ever officially disclosed to Congress or the American people.

A decade ago, the U.S. Government released to the Governments of Cambodia, Laos, and Vietnam extensive classified Air Force data on all American bombings of those countries.36 This data assists those countries in the search for unexploded U.S. ordnance, still a major threat in much of the region, and it can also be analysed in map and time series formats, revealing an astounding wealth of historical information on the air war there.

We now know, for instance, that from 1965 to 1969, before Nixon’s ‘secret’ Menu bombing even started, the U.S. Air Force had dropped bombs on, among other places in Cambodia, eighty-three sites at which the Pentagon database described the intended target as ‘Unknown’ or ‘Unidentified.’ The detailed record reveals that for these 83 cases, the U.S. Air Force stated in its confidential reporting that it was unaware of what it was bombing. It nevertheless dropped munitions on those sites which it could not identify, in a neutral country at peace.

This practice escalated after the ground war began in Cambodia in 1970. For that year alone, the number of U.S. air strikes on targets recorded as ‘Unknown’ or ‘Unidentified’ increased to as many as 573 bombing sites. American planes also bombed another 5,602 Cambodian sites where the Pentagon record neither identifies nor cites any target — fifteen percent of the 37,426 air strikes made on the country that year. Interestingly, after Nixon’s December 1970 order for wider bombing of Cambodia, the number of such attacks fell in 1971, but that year still saw as many as 182 bombing raids on ‘Unknown’ targets, and 1,390 attacks on unidentified ones (among the 25,052 Cambodian sites bombed that year).

The longterm trend favored more indiscriminate bombardment. In 1972, the U.S. Air Force bombed 17,293 Cambodian sites, including 766 whose targets it explicitly recorded as ‘Unknown,’ plus another 767 sites with no target identified in the military database. These figures dramatically increased the next year. In the period January-August 1973 alone, the U.S. Air Force bombed 33,945 sites in Cambodia, hitting as many as 2,632 ‘Unknown’ targets, and 465 other sites where the Pentagon record identified no target.

May 1973 saw the height of the Cambodia bombing. During that month, U.S. planes bombed 6,553 sites there. These sorties included hits on 641 ‘Unknown’ and 158 unidentified targets, at a rate of over 25 such strikes per day for that month.

Overall, during the U.S. bombardment of Cambodia from 1970 to 1973, American warplanes hit a total of 3,580 ‘Unknown’ targets and bombed another 8,238 sites with no target identified. Such sites accounted for 10.4% of the U.S. air strikes, which hit a total of 113,716 Cambodian sites in less than four years.

Also unknown is the human toll that these specific air strikes inflicted on ‘Unknown,’  ‘Unidentified’ or non-identified targets, and the toll from the additional 1,023 U.S. strikes on targets identified only as a ‘sampan.’ Civilian casualties from the former, at least, are properly considered U.S. war crimes (not genocide), though they remain unprosecuted.

However, it is possible to cross-check other information in the Pentagon bombing database with details that Cambodian survivors provided to Ben Kiernan in interviews he conducted in 1979-81.37 We can also begin to answer important further questions concerning the strategic efficacy and political consequences of aerial bombing: Can insurgencies be beaten with bombs? What are the human and also the strategic costs of “collateral damage”? For a strategy of replacing or reinforcing ground troops with air strikes in Iraq and Afghanistan, Cambodia at least shows how strategic bombing can go disastrously wrong.

 

The new data transforms our understanding of what happened to Cambodia, even today one of the most heavily bombed countries in history. The total tonnage of U.S. bombs dropped on Cambodia, at least in the range of 500,000 tons, possibly far more, either equalled or far exceeded the tonnages that the U.S. dropped in the entire Pacific Theater during World War Two (500,000 tons) and in the Korean War (454,000).38 In per capita terms, the bombing of Cambodia exceeded the Allied bombing of Germany and Japan, and the U.S. bombing of North Vietnam (but not that of South Vietnam or possibly, Laos).

 

The U.S. dropped 160,000 tons of bombs on Japan during World War Two. The Pentagon data records the bombardment of Cambodia to have been at least three times heavier (around 500,000 tons), perhaps much more. To put this massive figure in global perspective, during all of WWII, the U.S. dropped 2 million tons of bombs, including 1.6 million tons in the European Theater and 500,000 tons in the Pacific Theater (including the bombs dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki: 15,000 and 20,000 tons respectively).39 In the Korean War, the total U.S. bombardment was 454,000 tons.40 Cambodia’s total thus equalled or exceeded the U.S. bomb tonnages dropped in the Pacific War and the Korean War.

 

Not only was the total payload dropped on Cambodia significant, and much of it indiscriminate, but also, the bombardment began much earlier than previously disclosed. The “secret” 1969-70 Menu campaign, when later uncovered, caused congressional uproar and provoked calls for Nixon’s impeachment, but we now know that U.S. bombing had actually started over four years earlier, in 1965, as Cambodian leaders had claimed at the time. These early tactical strikes may have supported secret U.S. Army and CIA ground incursions from across the Vietnamese border. During the mid-1960s, the Studies and Operations Group, U.S. Special Forces teams in tandem with the Khmer Serei (U.S.-trained ethnic Cambodian rebels from South Vietnam), were collecting intelligence inside Cambodia.41 Perhaps the U.S. tactical air strikes supported or followed up on these secret pre-1969 operations.

This revelation has several implications. First, U.S. bombing of neutral Cambodia significantly predated the Nixon administration. Early individual bombardments of Cambodia were known and protested by the Cambodian government. Prince Sihanouk’s Foreign Minister, for instance, claimed as early as January 1966 that “hundreds of our people have already died in these attacks.”42 The Pentagon database reveals escalating bombardments. From 1965 to 1968, the Johnson Administration conducted 2,565 sorties over Cambodia. Most of these strikes occurred under the Vietnam War policy of then Secretary of Defence Robert S. McNamara, which he subsequently publicly regretted.

Second, these early strikes were tactical, directed at military targets, not carpet bombings. The Johnson Administration made a strategic decision not to use B-52s in Cambodia, whether out of concern for Cambodian lives, or for the country’s neutrality, or because of perceived strategic limits of carpet bombing. However, Nixon decided differently, and from late 1969 the U.S. Air Force began to deploy B-52s over Cambodia.

 

Why did the United States bombard a small agrarian country that attempted to stay out of a major war, and what were the consequences?

In the first stage of the bombing (1965-69) the U.S. goal was to pursue the Vietnamese communists retreating from South Vietnam into Cambodia, then to destroy their Cambodian sanctuaries, and cut off their supply routes from North to South Vietnam, through both Laos to the north and later, the southern Cambodian port of Sihanoukville. These early U.S. attacks failed to find, let alone hit, a mobile Vietnamese headquarters, or to stop the flow of weapons and supplies.

The second phase of the bombing (1969-72) aimed to support the slow pullout of U.S. troops from Vietnam, ironically by expanding the war to Cambodia in the hope of winning it faster by attacking the Vietnamese communists from behind. Lon Nol’s 1970 coup facilitated much more extensive U.S. action in Cambodia, including the short ground invasion and the prolonged carpet bombing, until 1973.

In 1969, Nixon first introduced B-52s into the still secret U.S. air war in Cambodia to buy time for the U.S. withdrawal from Vietnam. Later, as Emory Swank, U.S. ambassador to Lon Nol’s Cambodia, recalled, “time was bought for the success of the program in Vietnam . . . to this extent I think some measure of gratitude is owed to the Khmers.” Former U.S. General Theodore Mataxis called it “a holding action. You know, one of those things like a rear guard you drop off. The troika’s going down the road and the wolves are closing in, and so you throw them something off and let them chew it.”43 Thus Cambodians became a decoy to protect American lives. In its attempt to deny South Vietnam to the Vietnamese communists, the U.S. drove them further into Cambodia, producing the domino effect that its Indochinese intervention had been intended to prevent. Phnom Penh would fall two weeks before Saigon.

 

 

Map showing 115,273 targets of U.S. secret bombing of Cambodia between October 1965 and August 1973. (Taylor Owen)

 

The final phase of the U.S. bombing, January-August 1973, aimed to stop the now rapid Khmer Rouge advance on the Cambodian capital. U.S. fear of this first Southeast Asian domino falling translated into a massive escalation of the air war that spring and summer – an unprecedented B-52 bombardment, focussed on the heavily populated areas around Phnom Penh, but also sparing few other regions of the country.44 As well as inflaming rural rage against the pro-U.S. Lon Nol government, the rain of bombs on non-combatants also reduced the relative risk of their joining the insurgency.

The impact of the resultant increased civilian casualties may not have been a primarystrategic concern for the Nixon administration. It should have been. Civilian casualties helped drive people into the arms of an insurgency that had enjoyed relatively little support until Sihanouk was overthrown in 1970, the Vietnam War spread to Cambodia, and extensive U.S. bombing of its rural areas began.

Even before that, the initial U.S. bombardments of border areas had set in motion a highly precarious series of events leading to the extension deeper into Cambodia of the impact of the Vietnam War, contributing to Lon Nol’s 1970 coup, which also helped fuel the rapid rise of the Khmer Rouge.

 

The final phase of the story is better known. In 1973 the U.S. Congress, angered at the destruction and the deception of the Nixon Administration, legislated a halt to the Cambodia bombing. The great damage was already done. Having grown under the rain of bombs from a few thousand to over 200,000 regular and militia forces by 1973, the Khmer Rouge took Phnom Penh two years later. They then subjected Cambodia to a genocidal Maoist agrarian revolution. Is there a lesson here on combating insurgencies?

Apart from the large human toll, perhaps the most powerful and direct impact of the bombing was the political backlash it caused. Because Lon Nol was supporting the U.S. air war, the bombing of Cambodian villages and its significant civilian casualties provided ideal recruitment rhetoric for the insurgent Khmer Rouge.

The Nixon administration knew that the Khmer Rouge were explicitly recruiting peasants by highlighting the damage done by U.S. air strikes. The CIA’s Directorate of Operations, after investigations south of Phnom Penh, reported in May 1973 that the communists there were successfully “using damage caused by B-52 strikes as the main theme of their propaganda.”45 Years later, journalist Bruce Palling asked a former Khmer Rouge officer from northern Cambodia if local Khmer Rouge forces had made use of the bombing for anti-U.S. propaganda:

Chhit Do: Oh yes, they did. Every time after there had been bombing, they would take the people to see the craters, to see how big and deep the craters were, to see how the earth had been gouged out and scorched… The ordinary people … sometimes literally shit in their pants when the big bombs and shells came… Their minds just froze up and they would wander around mute for three or four days. Terrified and half-crazy, the people were ready to believe what they were told… That was what made it so easy for the Khmer Rouge to win the people over… It was because of their dissatisfaction with the bombing that they kept on cooperating with the Khmer Rouge, joining up with the Khmer Rouge, sending their children off to go with them …

Bruce Palling: So the American bombing was a kind of help to the Khmer Rouge?

Chhit Do: Yes, that’s right…, sometimes the bombs fell and hit little children, and their fathers would be all for the Khmer Rouge…

The Nixon administration, aware of this consequence of its Cambodia bombing, kept the air war secret for so long that debate over its toll and political impact came far too late. Along with support from the Vietnamese communists and from Lon Nol’s deposed rival, Prince Sihanouk, the U.S. carpet bombing of Cambodia was partly responsible for the rise of what had been a small-scale Khmer Rouge insurgency, which now grew capable of overthrowing the Lon Nol government, and once  it had done so in 1975, perpetrating genocide in the country.  The parallels to current dilemmas in Iraq and Afghanistan, where genocidal Al-Qaeda factions lurk among the insurgent forces, are poignant and telling.

 

Today the technology of U.S. bombing has become more sophisticated. “Unknown” targets are bombed less frequently, and collateral damage is now lower than it was. Yet it remains high, and perhaps these days, information travels faster. What are the strategic consequences of the continuing civilian death tolls that U.S. forces inflict in Iraq and Afghanistan, and of the outrage they spawn among rural communities there? Are they worth the risk, let alone the moral consequences, to say nothing of the implications under international criminal law?

The January 13, 2006 aerial strike by a US predator drone on a village in Pakistan, killing women and children and inflaming local anti-US political passions, seems a pertinent example of what continues to occur in Afghanistan and Iraq. “Collateral damage,” in this case, even undermined the positive sentiments previously created by billions of dollars of U.S. post-earthquake aid to that part of Pakistan. Aside from the killing of innocent civilians, how many new enemies does U.S. bombing create?

In the lead-up to the Afghanistan and Iraq wars, neither the U.S. media nor the Bush administration seriously included the impact of civilian casualties in public discussion of the overall war strategy. Even with official assurances that civilian casualties will be limited, when it comes to a decision to bomb a village containing a suspected terrorist, the benefit of killing the target trumps the toll on innocents. This misguided calculus is quite possibly a fundamental threat to longterm Afghan and American security.

If the Cambodians’ tragic experience teaches us anything, it is that official disregard of the immorality and miscalculation of the consequences of inflicting predictable civilian casualties stem partly from failure to understand the social contexts of insurgencies. The reasons local people help such movements do not fit into Kissingerian rationales. Nor is their support absolute or unidimensional. Those whose lives have been ruined may not look to the geopolitical rationale of the attacks; rather, understandably and often explicitly, many will blame the attackers.

Dangerous forces can reap a windfall. The strategic and moral failure of the U.S. Cambodia air campaign lay not only in the toll of possibly 150,000 civilians killed there in 1969-73 by an almost unprecedented level of carpet, cluster and incendiary bombing, but also indirectly, in its aftermath, when the genocidal Khmer Rouge regime rose from the bomb craters to cause the deaths of another 1.7 million Cambodians in 1975-79. These successive tragedies are not unrelated. It is only predictable that an insurgency in need of recruits may effectively exploit potential supporters’ hatred for those killing their family members or neighbors. That Washington has yet to learn from its past crimes and mistakes is a failure of strategic as well as moral calculation. Until it does, America’s hopes for Afghanistan and for its own improved security may be misplaced.

 

Ben Kiernan is the Whitney Griswold Professor of History, Chair of the Council on Southeast Asia Studies, and Director of the Genocide Studies Program at Yale University (www.yale.edu/gsp). He is the author of How Pol Pot Came to Power (1985), The Pol Pot Regime (1996),Genocide and Resistance in Southeast Asia (2007), and Blood and Soil: A World History of Genocide and Extermination from Sparta to Darfur (2007).

Taylor Owen is a Doctoral Candidate at the University of Oxford.

They wrote this article for The Asia-Pacific Journal.

Recommended citation: Ben Kiernan and Taylor Owen, “Roots of U.S. Troubles in Afghanistan: Civilian Bombing Casualties and the Cambodian Precedent,” The Asia-Pacific Journal, 26-4-10, June 28, 2010.

Owen and Kiernan are the authors of Bombs Over Cambodia: New Light on US Air War

Notes

1 New York Times editorial, June 24, 2010, p. A32; see also, “Pakistan is Said to Pursue An Afghanistan Foothold,” New York Times, June 25, 2010, p. 1.

2 New York Times, October 14, 2002; emphasis added.

3 New York Times, March 4, 2010, p. A16.

4 Bombing Civilians: A Twentieth-century History, ed. Yuki Tanaka and Marilyn B. Young, New York, New Press, 2009.

5 Ben Kiernan, How Pol Pot Came to Power: Colonialism, Nationalism and Communism in Cambodia, 1930-1975 (New Haven, second edition, 2004), pp. 284, 345, 349-57, 390.

6 Ben Kiernan, “The American Bombardment of Kampuchea, 1969-1973,” Vietnam Generation 1:1 (Winter 1989), 4-41, e.g. pp. 6, 13-14; accessible online here.

7 Carl Conetta, Operation Enduring Freedom: Why a Higher Rate of Civilian Bombing Casualties? Project on Defense Alternatives Briefing Report #13, January 18, 2002. Available here.

8 “The Americans . . . They Just Drop Their Bombs and Leave,” The Los Angeles Times, June 2, 2002.

9 Ben Kiernan, “‘Collateral damage’ means real people,” Bangkok Post, October 20, 2002.

10 Human Rights Watch, 2008. Troops in Contact: Airstrikes and Civilian Deaths in Afghanistan.

11 United Nations Assistance Mission to Afghanistan, 2009. “Afghanistan: Mid Year Bulletin on Protection of Civilians in Armed Conflict, 2009,” pp. 10-12. Human Rights Unit, 30 July 2009. Available here.

12 Reuters AlertNet, April 15, 2010, “Spate of Afghan civilian deaths ‘disturbing.’”

13 “British officer wants US out of Afghan zone,” Guardian, August 17, 2007, pp. 1-2.

14 New York Times, March 26, 2010, “Tighter Rules Fail to Stem Deaths of Innocent Afghans at Checkpoints.”

15 Ibid 

16 “Afghan Officials Say U.S. Strike Killed 40 at Wedding Party,” New York Times, November 6, 2008, p. A19.

17 “Civilian Deaths Imperil Support for Afghan War,” New York Times, May 7, 2009, p. A1.

18 CNN, June 23, 2009.

19 CNN, June 2, 2009.

20 See e.g., “U.N. Sees Rise in Attacks by Afghan Insurgents,” New York Times, June 20, 2010, p. 12

21 The Guardian, February 14, 2010; New York Times, February 15, 2010, “Errant Rocket Kills Civilians in Afghanistan,” pp. 1, A6.

22 AFP, February 18, 2010.

23 BBC News, February 22, 2010; New York Times, February 23, 2010, “NATO Airstrike Is Said to Have Killed 27 Civilians in Afghanistan,” p. A4.

24 “U.N. Sees Rise in Attacks by Afghan Insurgents,” New York Times, June 20, 2010, p. 12.

25 New York Times, March 21, 2010, “Bombs Kill 13 Afghans; Elderly Man Dies in Raid.”

26 New York Times, June 20, 2010, “Afghan Civilians Said to Be Killed in an Airstrike.”

27 The Washington Independent, January 14, 2010.

28 Human Rights Watch, 2008. Troops in Contact: Airstrikes and Civilian Deaths in Afghanistan. pp. 3-4.

29 ABC News, May 29, 2010, “US Drone Crew Blamed for Afghan Civilian Deaths;” see also New York Times, May 30, 2010, p. 6, and June 3, 2010, p. A10.

30 The Washington Post, May 30, 2010, “Drone operators blamed in airstrike that killed Afghan civilians in February.”

31 To be precise, there were 35,914 U.S. B-52 attacks on Cambodia in 1969 and 1970.

32 See Kiernan, How Pol Pot Came to Power, p. 350.

33 William Shawcross, Sideshow: Kissinger, Nixon and the Destruction of Cambodia, New York, 1979, p. 145.

34 Henry Kissinger, Ending the Vietnam War, New York, 2003, p. 479.

35 Seymour Hersh, The Price of Power: Kissinger in the Nixon White House, New York, 1983, p. 64.

36 The GIS database comprised data originally recovered by the National Combat Command Information Processing System (NIPS) on missions conducted between 1965 and 1975.  The data was classified top secret and maintained by the Joint Chiefs of Staff until declassified and delivered to the National Archives in 1976. It was originally compiled in four separate databases. These files are Combat Activities File (CACTA – October 1965-December 1970); Southeast Asia Database (SEADAB – January 1970-June 1975); the Strategic Air Command’s Combat Activities report (SACCOACT – June 1965-August 1973); and herbicide data files (HERBS – July 1965-February 1971). E. Miguel and G. Roland (2005), The Long Run Impact of Bombing Vietnam. Draft Manuscript, p. 45, and Tom Smith, ‘Southeast Asia Air Combat Data,’ The DISAM Journal, Winter Issue, 2001.

37 See Ben Kiernan, “The American Bombardment of Kampuchea, 1969-1973,” Vietnam Generation (1989), accessible from http://www.yale.edu/cgp/us.html; Taylor Owen and Ben Kiernan, “Bombs over Cambodia,” The Walrus (Toronto), October 2006, pp. 62-69.

38 In The Walrus magazine in October 2006, we stated that newly-released Pentagon bombing data revised dramatically upwards the heretofore accepted total of 539,129 tons of U.S. bombs dropped on Cambodia. The total of the individual bombing load figures entered in the database’s records of 230,516 aircraft sorties over Cambodia indicates that from 1965 to 1975 Cambodia would have been the target of 2,756,941 tons of U.S. bombs, nearly 5 times more than previously believed. The Phnom Penh Post reported a similar figure: “The [data] tapes show that 43,415 bombing raids were made on Cambodia dropping more than 2 million tons of bombs and other ordinance including land mines, experimental weapons and rockets” (April 14-27, 2000). However, this tonnage data may be incorrect. In new work using the original Air Force SEADAB and CACTA databases, Holly High and others have re-analyzed the total Cambodia tonnage figures and argue in a forthcoming article that the total tonnage dropped on Cambodia was at least 472,313 tons, or somewhat higher. While both data sets derive from the same U.S. Air Force database, the one we used for Cambodia had been decoded by an independent contractor, as was the database the U.S. provided to Laos. The resulting GIS databases for Cambodia and Laos have been used extensively in both countries to guide de-mining efforts there, and have proven accurate for that purpose. As we did not ourselves decode the Cambodia data from the original Air Force tapes, and so far have been unsuccessful in our efforts to contact the independent contractor who did so, we cannot yet be certain as to how the total tonnage field was calculated. It remains undisputed that in 1969-73 alone, around 500,000 tons of U.S. bombs fell on Cambodia, one-sixth of the total bombing of Indochina (six million tons over nine years). This figure excludes the additional bomb tonnage dropped on Cambodia by the U.S.-backed air force of the Republic of Viet Nam, which also flew numerous bombing missions there in 1970 and 1971. William Shawcross reported that from 1970, “Cambodia was open house for the South Vietnamese Air Force,” and subsequently “the South Vietnamese continued to regard Cambodia as a free fire zone” (Sideshow, pp. 174-75, 214-15, 222-23.)

39 Miguel and Roland, Long Run Impact, p. 2

40 Grolier, 1996, cited but not fully referenced in Miguel and Roland, Long Run Impact.

41 Over four years, this group conducted 1,835 missions and captured 24 prisoners, but did not find the Viet Cong command center. Shawcross, Sideshow, p. 64.

42 The Australian, Jan. 15, 1966, quoted in Kiernan, How Pol Pot Came to Power, p. 285.

43 Shawcross, Sideshow, pp. 331, 191.

44 Kissinger made the case for escalation, stating “our analysis was that the Khmer Rouge would agree to a negotiated settlement only if denied of hope of military victory.” Kissinger, Ending the Vietnam War, 476.

45 “Efforts of Khmer Insurgents to Exploit for Propaganda Purposes Damage Done by Airstrikes in Kandal Province,” CIA Intelligence Information Cable, May 2, 1973; for more details see Ben Kiernan, The Pol Pot Regime: Race, Power and Genocide in Cambodia under the Khmer Rouge, 1975-1979 (New Haven, third edition, 2008), 22; and Kiernan, “The American Bombardment of Kampuchea, 1969-1973,”Vietnam Generation 1:1 (1989), 4-41; see http://www.yale.edu/cgp/us.html

Of Post Doctors and Glorious Geniuses

Source: http://latitude.blogs.nytimes.com/2013/05/09/in-cambodia-real-politicians-give-themselves-phony-degrees/

By JULIA WALLACE

PHNOM PENH — Late last month, the prime minister of Cambodia awarded his long-serving finance minister the title “Kitti Setah Banditt,” which roughly translates to “Glorious Economist of Genius” and is the supposed equivalent of a doctoral degree. It was a variation on an obscure “Glorious Genius” honor that seemingly came out of nowhere in 2011, when it was given to two senior leaders of the governing Cambodian People’s Party as well as the prime minister’s wife.

A similar title — Glorious Preacher of Genius — was recently conferred on several high-ranking members of the Buddhist monastic order, which is closely aligned with C.P.P.

When the powers that be aren’t burnishing their credentials, they invent them out of whole cloth.

Khmer-language newspapers frequently carry advertisements congratulating officials on their latest academic degrees. Mong Reththy, a C.P.P. senator and businessman, has amassed at least three doctorates. Cheam Yeap, the head of Parliament’s finance committee, has two doctorates, as well as what he calls a “post Ph.D.” from Isles International University, an unaccredited institution and a diploma mill that once operated in Cambodia. In official communications, his name is prefaced by the title “His Excellency Post Doctor.”

In 2010 Nhiek Bun Chhay, leader of the C.P.P.-aligned Funcinpec Party, claimed to have earned, after studying online for seven years, a Ph.D. in dispute resolution from St. Clements University in Switzerland, apparently another degree mill. Chea Sim, the Senate president and C.P.P. leader, has at least three Ph.D.’s — including one in “high leadership in the Senate” — as well as two honorary doctorates, despite never having progressed beyond high school.

Prime Minister Hun Sen, for his part, says he received a doctorate in political science from the National Political Academy in Hanoi in 1991 and at least 10 honorary Ph.D.’s, many from obscure universities. On his Web site, he also boasts of being a member of the bar, a five-star general, a Royal Academician and an Honorable Professor of Diplomatic and International Relations with the Universidad Empresarial de Costa Rica.

One likely reason Cambodia’s leaders fetishize doctorates is insecurity: Many received little schooling because of interruptions to their studies caused by civil war and then the Khmer Rouge regime during the 1960s and 1970s. And while they do, Cambodia’s educational system remains abysmal. According to a 2011 World Bank report, Cambodia spends just 2.3 percent of G.D.P. on education — less than other low-income countries — and the share of the budget allocated for teachers’ wages has declined over the past few years, even as the budget for military wages has increased significantly.

Primary-school teachers are so badly paid they often collect bribes from students before class. Only around one-fifth of students progress to high school. At even the best universities in the country, the quality of education is poor by international standards and graduates learn few of the skills sought by the labor market. A few Cambodian universities offer doctoral programs, but with only about 7 percent of university-level teachers holding Ph.D.’s, any student with serious scholarly aspirations must go abroad.

Instead of accumulating phony doctorates, Cambodia’s leaders would do better to improve the quality of the country’s schools and universities so that one day they might produce their own — legitimate — Ph.D.’s.


Julia Wallace is managing editor of The Cambodia Daily.

2013 AutoCAD File Phnom Penh

Thank you to Serey Pagna for sharing. Download file here.

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Next City – 2011 Floods

This special issue of Forefront is part of The Rockefeller Foundation’s Informal City Dialogues, a year-long collaboration with Next City exploring stories and insights from six rapidly urbanizing cities around the world.

When the water started rising in October 2011, the ground snapped and squeaked as it broke into pieces. Bricks shattered, floor tiles cracked and water rushed up through the fissures. The deluge blindsided the 150 families living here, in a cluster of villages known as Kittiyarak nestled in Thailand’s Sai Noi district in Bangkok’s northwest suburbs. By the time the devastating flood receded some three months later, it would be on record as the worst natural disaster in modern Thai history.

“No one expected it to be this bad,” says Fongpol Konpruek, a 52-year-old former farmer from northern Thailand who moved to Sai Noi 16 years ago. “We were the first ones wet and the last ones dry.” Konpruek remembers the overwhelming confusion of those early days. “The water came from everywhere. It came slow, but it also came fast. I don’t know any other way to explain it.” Rising 20 to 30 centimeters per day until reaching a height of 1.5 meters, the debris-clogged tide submerged streets, sidewalks, parking lots and the ground floor of every building in the area.

What happened next says a lot about the power of social networks and informal systems in moments of urban crisis. Left with little official help, residents here — along with hundreds of thousands of people in other flood-struck parts of Bangkok — sprang into action. They quickly improvised a series of informal networks, and repurposed existing ones, to perform the vital tasks normally carried out by the government in emergencies. People with no training and few resources built barriers and monitored flood levels, delivered food and drinking water, evacuated residents trapped in their homes, provided medical services to the sick and injured, and policed their neighborhoods for looters. And when the water receded, these networks shifted focus and led a localized cleanup and rebuilding effort that helped the city rebound.

A child waits in the shade while workers harvest nearby in Sai Noi. These fields were inundated during the flood in 2011.

As cities around the world grapple with rising sea levels and strengthening storms, governments are responding with an array of infrastructural solutions. Since Hurricane Sandy, New York has increased the minimum elevation required for new and reconstructed buildings in flood-prone areas, and is raising subway entrances and ventilation grates off the ground. San Francisco is redesigning its water and sewage treatment system to the tune of $40 million to prevent rising sea waters from entering the pipes during storm surges. The Netherlands — nearly 60 percent of which is prone to flooding — is reimagining its entire coastal protection system, one of the most elaborate in the world, by allocating at least a billion euros annually to extend storm-surge barriers, relocate tidal channels, nourish beaches and increase the flood-protection levels of diked areas “by a factor of 10.” And for every mega-project like these, there are smaller, micro-targeted ones: The modest but growing Vietnamese city of Quy Nhon, for example, is spending $550,000 to restore 150 hectares of mangrove forests, helping to protect 14,000 households along its coast from strengthening monsoons.

But there’s also a growing awareness that combating disasters with hard infrastructure alone ignores half the equation. Perhaps just as important is a city’s social infrastructure. Recent research suggests that informal networks are critical to dealing with calamity and that areas with strong social cohesion fare better than areas where such networks are weak.

Bangkok isn’t the only place recognizing this. San Francisco’s Empowered Communities Program is working with local neighborhoods to increase their resilience in advance of disasters. The initiative supports communities as they develop action plans, but also generates higher levels of social capital among key stakeholders that can be invaluable during traumatic events. Participating groups include Neighborhood Emergency Response Teams (NERTs) and merchant associations. The city has even created a role-playing game called Resilientville that helps communities test and streamline their informal emergency response capabilities.

One of the most comprehensive efforts currently underway is in Wellington, New Zealand, where the largest unit of that city’s emergency management office is the Community Resilience Team (CRT). Dedicated solely to equipping and empowering informal networks to respond when disaster strikes, the CRT trains “Community-Driven Emergency Management” (CDEM) volunteers in how to promote preparedness among their own networks, as well as to respond as a community or plug into the official government response. Community response plans are facilitated by the CRTto guide planning at the local level to coordinate activities and manage resources like food and fuel. “Our whole model is getting normal people involved,” says Dan Neely, senior adviser for emergency preparedness at the Wellington Emergency Management Office. “People who are capable in their daily lives will be capable during an event. We’re trying to get to those people now… so that when a large-scale event happens, John Doe can tap into the wider community response plan.”

Wellington sent some of their CDEM volunteers to Christchurch when that city was devastated by an earthquake in 2011. But Neely emphasizes that you can’t just parachute in an informal response. “Part of this is building social capital,” he says. “We’re working to increase connectedness. Strong communities have better outcomes during a response.”

For evidence of this, look to Chicago, where informal networks played a major role in determining survival rates when a five-day heat wave killed 733 people in 1995. As Eric Klinenberg recently reported in The New Yorker, the neighborhoods that lost the fewest lives during that event weren’t necessarily the richest, but rather the ones that had especially strong social ties. His book Heat Wave documents the surprisingly high survival rate in the working-class Latino neighborhood of Little Village: “The social environment of Little Village protected not only the area’s Latino population, but the culturally or linguistically isolated white elderly, who were at high risk of death as well.” He points to the neighborhood’s “social contact, collective life and public engagement” as factors that “foster tight social networks among families and neighbors.” When crisis struck, those networks responded almost instinctually.

Such informal networks were critical lifelines for many in Bangkok in 2011, and as storms intensify and sea levels rise, they’ll only become that much more crucial. Cities everywhere are grasping the importance of such networks, but in many ways Bangkok has a head start — it’s a place where informality already infuses many aspects of everyday life. “The government is inefficient and corrupt,” says Bangkok-based engineering professor Visit Hirankitti, who is working on methods to enhance the city’s informal disaster response. But what Bangkok lacks in bureaucratic competence it makes up for in people-powered strength.

Ideally, a combination of capable government and robust informal networks, working in tandem, could provide the bulwark that cities will need in the age of climate change. This will require not only social cohesion, but a willingness on the part of governments to help equip communities for self-reliance and develop disaster plans that allow for a citizen-led response. There are signs that this is slowly occurring — from New York to Bangkok, recent events have forced cities to let informal networks react to disasters with relative autonomy. Whether they embrace a model in which private citizens and government agencies work in partnership could define their resilience as the coming storms arrive.

Saving Sai Noi

In Bangkok, informal networks are not only strong, they’re omnipresent. They have their roots in rural society and are intricately interwoven with the social fabric, even in urban areas. The greater metropolitan area has grown rapidly in the last several decades, doubling in size since 1980. In search of economic opportunities, migrants from the countryside have driven much of that growth. Despite the speed of this population expansion — or perhaps because of it — its residents have maintained strong social bonds. Such robust informal networks are also the product of a population that expects little of its government, aside from two revered institutions, the monarchy and the military.

Those networks attained new importance in late 2011, after Tropical Storm Nock-ten had made its way overland from Vietnam to Thailand in July. Over a period of weeks, rain from the storm, combined with heavy seasonal monsoons, overwhelmed the city’s dams. The Grand Palace was deluged, and Don Mueang Airport shut down after water flooded its runways. Panic gripped the city as the government declared a five-day emergency holiday. When all was said and done, 815 people were dead, 14 million were affected and over $45 billion in damage was left in the catastrophe’s wake, making it the fourth-most expensive natural disaster ever.

But in the days before the flood arrived, official channels of communication were strangely sanguine. The government urged Bangkok residents to stay calm, insisting there would be no emergency. As late as October 13, the Bangkok Post quoted the city’s governor, MR Sukhumbhand Paribatra, saying: “Right now, everything is under control. If we can’t control it, we will let people know straight away.” And even as the news media reported on the gigantic rain-fed pool growing ominously to the city’s north, they assured Bangkok’s residents that the water would never reach them.

Soon, however, dramatic images of the destruction of Southeast Asia’s second-largest economic powerhouse were swirling around the globe. But hardly anyone was looking at Sai Noi — not the media, and certainly not the government, which proved overwhelmed, unprepared and impotent in the face of a worst-case scenario. By late October 2011, the villages of Sai Noi were isolated and in dire straits.

A little over a year after the flood had receded, I hopped in a taxi one weekday morning and made the 45-minute drive from the gleaming shopping malls and high-rises of Bangkok’s central districts to the district of Sai Noi. I wanted to speak to residents there about how they had dealt with the flood, and how they’ll respond to the next big one, which nearly everyone is expecting someday soon.

Sai Noi is where booming New Bangkok collides with the rural customs and lagging economic growth of Old Thailand. In feel, it is neither urban nor rural. Instead, it’s a mishmash of the two, with rice fields and winding village lanes abutting the strip malls and multi-million-dollar commuter villas of Bangkok’s ever-expanding urban sprawl. It was areas like these, on the city’s north side, that were hit hardest by the flood and where the citizen networks were strongest. In part, they bore the brunt for geographic reasons, but also because the authorities decided to sacrifice them, releasing water into suburban areas in order to staunch the flooding in central Bangkok.

Vichain Kongsub, the elected chief of his village in Sai Noi. He and the local residents’ committee quickly improvised a plan when it became clear the flood would reach their area.

Surprisingly, there is little bitterness about this among the residents; their attitude is more like resigned acceptance. “It’s true that we were sacrificed, but not as badly as other areas,” says Vichain Kongsub, an affable man of 75 whose energy and trim build make him appear 20 years younger. “And anyway, what can you do? We had to suck it up.”

Vichain was at the center of Sai Noi’s informal flood-relief network. As the phu yai baan — which translates roughly as “village chief,” an elected, semi-official advisor found in nearly every community this size in Thailand — the people looked to him for direction. When it became obvious that the floodwaters would reach them, Vichain quickly called a meeting of the local residents’ committee, a nongovernmental body of 15 elders, to create an action plan for the community’s response.

Through consensus, the committee members decided how best to use the two resources the government had provided: Sandbags and a large water pump. “It was all very informal,” says Vichain. They organized residents into work crews — men shoveled sand and women carried the sandbags — and collected money from community members to buy a second water pump. The hope was, at least in these early stages, that they could stop the water from entering the villages. As it surged in, however, their defenses were overwhelmed. “We did our best,” says Vichain, “but it just didn’t work.”

Undeterred by this initial setback, the community found its stride as the situation worsened. Using a loudspeaker mounted on an electricity pole, Vichain and the residents’ committee organized a distribution network for food and water that was flowing into the area courtesy of a city-wide volunteer network formed by the television station Channel 3. Then, with the floodwater rising rapidly, they set into motion an orderly evacuation of residents. They selected six volunteers who would stay behind to monitor the situation and police the area for looters. All the while, this crew of volunteers was in touch with officials at the local sub-district government office by cell phone, to whom they provided updates, as well as the military, which was intermittently delivering aid to Sai Noi.

As one of the leaders of his village’s informal response network, Kritsada Rotcharatch was one of six people who stayed behind during the flood.

Kritsada Rotcharatch, a brash construction foreman who favors t-shirts with the sleeves cut off and carries a cell phone that rings constantly, was one of the six who volunteered to stay behind. He moved to the second floor of his house (the ground floor was underwater) where he kept an eye on property for his evacuated neighbors, who checked in regularly by phone. Kritsada armed himself with a gun for confrontations with looters. “There were no police. My role was to protect the neighborhood,” he says. I asked if he was prepared to use it. “Yes. And I wouldn’t have aimed for the legs,” he chuckles. Kritsada maintained a running list of who was in the community at all times and relayed the information about what he saw to the sub-district office. During this period, he and the five other volunteers were the sole authority governing this area of Sai Noi.

By the end of December, the floodwaters had receded from area. Residents returned and turned their attention to recovery. Cleanup crews made up of five households each collected debris from public areas and worked to put their homes back together. Then, through a system of barter and labor exchange — money was scarce due to the disruption of business caused by the flood — community members tackled larger jobs like repairing their houses. The villages were back up and running in less than a week. In the three months since the water had appeared, not a single member of the community had died or was seriously hurt. Against all odds, law and order had prevailed, and life returned, more or less, to the way it was before. With minimal help from the government, the neighborhood had survived the worst disaster ever to hit Thailand.

Near the end of a long conversation with Vichain and Kritsada, the dark stains of the high-water mark still clearly visible above us on a nearby wall, the discussion shifts to other cities that have been struck by natural disasters in recent years. I bring up Hurricanes Sandy and Katrina, and the hostility that residents of New Orleans and New York felt toward their own governments in the aftermath of those events. I ask them if they felt something similar. “No,” Vichain says without hesitation. “The government already had their hands full managing the water as it moved down from the north. They can’t take care of everyone.”

Cooperation came naturally to the residents of Sai Noi, in this case partly because of another shared identity: Their background as migrants from rural northern Thailand. In these regions, in particular the hardscrabble Isan area in the northeast, flooding is common and the people know how to deal with it. The residents of Sai Noi brought that knowledge with them to Bangkok. “I experienced my first flood when I was four years old,” Vichain says. “People in the countryside are better prepared. We had boats and built our houses on stilts.”

But there was more to it than that. Although they hadn’t come from the same province and didn’t know each other when they arrived, the residents shared a cultural sensibility that, when they found themselves in unfamiliar urban surroundings, brought them together as a community. “It’s very normal for us to cooperate like this. It’s instinct,” says Kritsada, echoing a sentiment I heard from a range of Thais involved in relief networks, including those who’ve spent their entire lives in cities. Sai Noi’s flood network now lies dormant. But when the next disaster comes, the community will re-establish it quickly. “Next time,” Vichain says, “we will be ready.”

Next time may come sooner than the last time. Researchers at MIT and Princeton University have found that the types of superstorms that used to make landfall once a century could now arrive every three to 20 years, and that so-called “500-year floods” might arrive as often as every 25 years, according to findings published in Nature Climate Change. “The volatility of large events of recent years has really grabbed hold of people, whether it’s Bangkok or Japan or Hurricane Sandy,” says Robert J. Sampson, a professor of social sciences at Harvard. “These things have made it clear that we have to think anew about how to prepare for disaster.” Sampson’s work, for instance, involves a method of disaster planning called ecometrics: “Taking the temperature of communities so you know which ones are vulnerable. It allows one to identify breaches of social defenses, not just seawalls,” he says. Like much of the thinking around social infrastructure and disaster preparedness, this is relatively new territory. But Sampson sees it catching on quickly. “There’s been a sea change,” he says. “It’s now on the radar.”

The Power of Low Expectations

Part of the reason cities like Bangkok and Wellington seem to be catching on to the role of informal social networks more quickly is simply because they have to. “New Zealanders are a scrappier people,” says Dan Neely from the Wellington Emergency Management Office. “We don’t have the level of resources that the U.S. has, so we’re forced to rely on our communities to a degree.”

Vichain echoes this sentiment. “If you expect the government to help you all of the time, you have to pay more in taxes, and Thais aren’t willing to do that,” he said. (This is a city where 150 formal ambulances attempt to serve 12 million residents, after all). Low expectations about government involvement meant that the people of Sai Noi were under no illusions about the level of assistance they would receive. And even if more outside help were available, they told me, it would have been no substitute for the on-the-ground expertise that residents were able to provide as events unfolded. “Based on our experience with the flood, it would work better for us to propose something to the government rather than waiting for them to help us,” says Vichain. “If we want something, we need to stick together and figure it out ourselves.” In turn, the government recognized its limitations and was prepared to cede authority to local networks.

A villager tending a field in Sai Noi.

This last point is salient for discussions about how to empower such informal networks in Western cities, where governments may be less accustomed to letting local actors take the reins. But maybe Western cities are more willing to cede control than one might expect — especially when overwhelmed by crisis. After Hurricane Sandy, when New York was consumed with major tasks like restoring power and subway service, one of the hardest hit neighborhoods, the Red Hook section of Brooklyn, also benefited from one of the most impressive informal responses. A relatively unknown community nonprofit called the Red Hook Initiative instantly transformed, in the words of its executive director, “from a small youth development center into a major hub for the disaster relief effort here.”

With an operation that was thoroughly informal yet, by all accounts, highly efficient and essential, the initiative turned its tiny headquarters into a makeshift storm-recovery center. It provided hot food, cell phone charging (it was one of very few local buildings to keep its power) and perhaps most important, a central command for much of the neighborhood’s flood-relief efforts. In the weeks that followed, the media marveled at the idea that such a rag-tag group could respond so effectively without being led by the government’s hand.

But they needn’t have been so surprised. Even when the sun shines, Red Hook is an unusually isolated neighborhood. It sits on a peninsula, untouched by the subway, and its denizens proudly consider themselves a city apart. Its remoteness seems to foster a shared identity, which felt palpable when residents later talked about organizing their own response in the wake of the storm. “I think many in the Red Hook community feel geographically and psychologically disconnected from the city,” an aide to New York City Speaker Christine Quinn told Capital New York, adding that confronting Hurricane Sandy’s wrath themselves, without top-down intervention, “may have been more empowering for the people of Red Hook than being rescued by a federal agency.”

A Thousand Little Sensors

In Bangkok, how to respond to the next flood is a question that has consumed Visit Hirankitti for the past year and a half. Visit is a professor of engineering at King Mongkut’s Institute of Technology in Ladkrabang, a district in eastern Bangkok that is home to high-tech manufacturing and the crown jewel of the city’s economic ascendance, glittering Suvarnabhumi International Airport. Until recently, though, Ladkrabang served as a catchment for flood waters, a mostly empty plain for the authorities to divert water into during heavy rains.

Visit was in the midst of exams when the flood arrived. Given the area’s history as a catchment, he expected things to get bad quickly. “But the water stopped rising at just above my ankles. This surprised me. I thought it would be much worse,” he says. As it turned out, with Ladkrabang’s recent development as a key economic zone — Japanese heavyweights Honda and Isuzu have factories here, and the airport is the hub of the country’s $30 billion tourism industry — the authorities were desperate to keep the area dry and functioning.

Throughout final exams, Visit was able to come to his office every day. Some of his students, though, were commuting in from harder-hit areas and decided to temporarily relocate their living quarters to the engineering lab, where they had a dry place to sleep and access to food and clean drinking water. Visit and his students watched with alarm as events unfolded across the city. “I became very frustrated. As an engineer, I wanted to do something and not just sit there and watch it happen on TV. I kept thinking, ‘What can I do for the country?’” When he finished grading exams, he recruited several students to stay on through winter break and assist him in developing a system that he hoped would help Thailand cope with future floods.

Engineering professor Visit Hirankitti has been developing a system through which citizens armed with iPhone apps would collect data during floods.

As far as Visit could tell, the key problem had been a lack of information. The authorities never really had a handle on where the water was and, as a result, couldn’t make effective decisions on how to manage it. In addition, Thai citizens, left in the dark, were caught scrambling when the flood arrived. “What I realized was that, as an engineer, I could provide data,” he says. Visit specializes in developing systems that synthesize complex information. His past projects include the country’s first electronic taxi dispatch system and a detailed GIS map of Thailand’s electricity grid. Visit realized that the country’s water management authorities, who were relying on antiquated sensors installed on a few dozen flood gates scattered around the country, needed something similar to respond effectively.

Perhaps counterintuitively, his first decision was to work outside the government, which he believes suffers from a toxic blend of incompetence and corruption. “I didn’t believe in going that route,” he says. Instead, he would rely on the strength of citizen involvement, which had proven to be so decisive in responding to the flood. Visit and his students set out to create a nationwide flood-monitoring system that would rely on thousands of volunteers, creating a vast, cheap, technologically advanced network that could provide up-to-date information to anyone who wanted it, including the authorities. After producing a prototype, he eventually decided to apply for government grants to fund further development.

On a recent afternoon in his lab, which was strewn with computers, tangles of cable and the fast-food-wrapper detritus indicative of late-night research, Visit showed me the version that he believed would be ready next year. The technology was simple: a PVC pipe housing a piece of twine and a small float, a circuit board to collect measurements and a Bluetooth device to transmit data.

Once he’s secured patents for the system, Visit hopes to set up over 1,000 of these sensors around the country. He estimates that they will cost about $30 USD apiece to produce, and he’s currently assessing various funding options, including donations and corporate sponsorship. The sensors will send data to thousands of volunteers who have downloaded a free iPhone app developed by one of Visit’s students. A central server will then collect the data from the phones and generate a three-dimensional map of water levels throughout the country, to be displayed on a public website. When operational, the system will be the largest flood-related network in Thailand. “With the increase in global warming and natural disasters, I have no doubt that another big flood is coming. The question is, what can we do about it? We want to see if people can help people to sort out the problem.”

Since the advent of the smartphone, developers around the world have launched apps designed to help people in crises. Organizations such as theAmerican Red Cross and the U.S. Federal Emergency Management Agency have created apps designed for emergencies, while privately developed software like BuddyGuard allows users to send out GPS-enabled distress signals. Meanwhile, city governments in urban areas such as Jacksonville, Florida, and Auckland, New Zealand, have created apps that provide real-time emergency information to residents. But Visit’s system is different in that it harnesses the power of users to generate information.

Given the strength of informal networks in Thailand, there is every reason for Visit to feel confident his system will work. Compared to the monumental tasks undertaken by volunteers to save their communities, installing an iPhone app and traveling to within range of a Bluetooth sensor would seem almost trivial. Yet relying entirely on unofficial networks is no solution to the problem, either. Volunteers working together are capable of powerful things, but there are limits to what they can achieve, especially when the authorities and official services underperform.

The view from the Klong Phraya Suren water gate.

I was reminded of this during a morning spent touring the Klong Samwa area with Samai Charoenchang, a former government official. Like Sai Noi in the northwest, Klong Samwa, located on the city’s northeast side, had been submerged in up to two meters of water. Samai drove me around the area in his minivan, introducing me to dozens of people who had joined relief networks. I met a woman who put her lucrative home-based TV production studio on hold for two months to set up a temporary kitchen in her front yard. When running at full capacity with 30 volunteer cooks, she churned out 3,000 free meals per day. I met a man in his seventies who helped deliver that food with members of his local Buddhist meditation center, which had transformed itself into an emergency distribution network. There were many others, and all said that while their networks were currently dormant — there was no flood to respond to — they could be brought back to life within hours.

But there was another, more sinister side to the networks. We stopped at a floodgate that regulates water on Klong Phraya Suren, a canal that runs north to south through Klong Samwa. In early November, at the height of the flood, the gate divided the area into two vastly different worlds. The area on the north side of the gate was completely flooded, while the southern side was dry. The city government, which controlled the gate, had decided to stop the water from flowing south toward central Bangkok, thus flooding the north. Enraged, residents on the northern side organized themselves into a small fighting force and attempted to seize the gate. The southern side responded in kind, and the two met in violent, pitched battles that lasted for two weeks. Armed men on both sides fired shots and fought hand-to-hand with one another before the police arrived and restored order (no one died, though there were plenty of injuries). “By the end, both sides wanted the other to suffer,” says Samai.

Suporn Rujapan in her living room next to a portrait of King Rama V on which the high water mark from the flood is clearly visible.

Regardless of these conflicts, Thais retain faith in their ability to respond to crises informally. Suporn Rujapan, a mother of grown children living on the city’s north side, stayed in her home for the entire duration of the flood. After initially finding herself a victim of the disaster, she quickly grew into a role as front-line leader of her community’s relief efforts, directing government and volunteer resources and becoming a minor media celebrity in the process. During a conversation in the kitchen of her modest concrete shop house, she echoes the thoughts of many Thais I had spoken with. “During the flood, we found that it was better to help ourselves than to rely on the government,” she says. Although she worries that her children’s generation has lost the sense of collective responsibility she feels so deeply, Suporn believes that the country will continue to rely on informal means to respond to future crises. “We’re Thais,” she says simply. “It’s in our nature to help each other.”

The Story of a Boat

“We have to go! We have to go!” Chetsarish Smithnukulkit says, his eyes wide under the silver bangs bouncing on his forehead. Chetsarish was standing in the offices of VS Service, a Thai production company that assists Hollywood film crews with local shoots, recounting the moment when he knew he would get involved in the flood. He didn’t have to take action; the worst of the water was dozens of kilometers away to the north. But Chetsarish’s calculus was simple: “We have the boat. We have the people. We have everything we need to help.”

The boat. Whereas what happened in Sai Noi was hyper-local, a small neighborhood helping itself when no one else could, a story repeated thousands of times across Bangkok, Chetsarish’s experience was different. His is a story of one man’s initiative, and how he marshaled not just his own resources, but also those of large volunteer networks and the government, to help an estimated 2,500 people. But first and foremost, this is the story of a boat.

Chetsarish Smithnukulkit and his crew with the boat that allowed them to aid people in a province north of Bangkok.

“I bought it five or six years ago from a film crew we worked with. They used it to shoot scenes in Rambo 4,” says Chetsarish. “I thought I could use it for another shoot. It didn’t have a motor, so we had to push it around with a bamboo pole.” Essentially a massive floating platform, the barge could hold nearly 50 people and hundreds of pounds of cargo. As the floodwater bore down on Bangkok, he got a call one day from the governor of Ayutthaya, a province north of the city. “He asked us to help. He said they had no food, no water, and that the people were in danger. He told me where to go,” Chetsarish says.

Chetsarish rounded up a crew of young production specialists from his company and student volunteers from a nearby university. But the journey would take hours, even days, if the crew were to push their way, gondola-style, all the way up to Ayutthaya. Chetsarish got on the phone again, this time reaching his friend Major General Adis Ngamchitsuksri, a high-ranking police official. “He said he needed a motor for his boat. I flew one in by seaplane the next day,” Adis says.

For the next two months, working 14-hour days, Chetsarish and his crew traversed the flood-ravaged city in their barge, which played many roles: Floating hospital, search-and-rescue-ship, mobile power station and aid-delivery platform. In coordination with local sources — government, volunteer networks and trapped citizens — they went to places the authorities simply couldn’t reach. They carried a generator that allowed those left behind to charge their cell phones and reestablish contact with the outside world. They transported doctors who provided medical care to the injured. They became a floating morgue, removing several dead bodies.

A woman feeding catfish at the temple next to the Klong Phraya Suren water gate.

They also had some close calls. Ten crewmembers, including Chetsarish, nearly died when they were electrocuted by a submerged power cable. And then there was their fear — perhaps irrational, in retrospect — of crocodiles, hundreds of which had reportedly escaped from illegal farms. “We heard rumors. We though they might be true,” he says, laughing sheepishly now. But the danger mattered little in the face of the overwhelming gratitude they encountered from those they helped. “When we came into an area, everyone stood and applauded,” he says, rubbing his forearms, remembering the goose bumps.

I ask Chetsarish what lessons he took from the flood. He leans in, his voice lowering to a near-whisper. “I have to say something bad about Thai politics.” The country’s two parties, in perpetual conflict, were not equipped to handle the crisis. “They look after themselves and not the people,” he says. “And besides, we’re ten times more efficient. The police had no way of helping people. That’s why they needed me.” On this last point, Major General Adis agrees. “We’re always ready to go to the public for help. We knew we couldn’t do this alone.” When the next flood comes, Adis will get on the phone and call his friend Chetsarish, the man with the boat. “The engine is working. I just checked it a couple of days ago,” Chetsarish says. “We’re ready to go.”

Dustin Roasa is a journalist based in Cambodia. His writing has appeared in the Los Angeles Times, the Guardian, Foreign Policy and Dissent, among others.

The Fresh Princes of Phnom Penh

Source: http://latitude.blogs.nytimes.com/2013/05/03/prime-minister-hun-sens-dynasty-over-cambodia/

May 3, 2013, 8:18 am
By JULIA WALLACE

PHNOM PENH — Ten years ago, the children of Cambodia’s ruling elite were busy cementing interfactional alliances with a dizzying blitz of marriages. Having accomplished that, they’re now working on taking over the country.

At least six sons of high-ranking members of the Cambodian People’s Party, which has had a stranglehold on the government for over a decade, have been announced as parliamentary candidates in July’s national elections, and their candidacies are being actively promoted by their famous fathers as pre-election barnstorming heats up.

Even if there are no more angels, there are still baby angels,” Prime Minister Hun Sen reportedly said in a recent campaign speech. In a reference to the angel scattering flowers that is the longstanding symbol of the C.P.P., he was anointing his and his associates’ progenies as Cambodia’s next generation of leaders.

Hun Many, the youngest of Hun Sen’s three sons, is his deputy cabinet chief; he also heads the C.P.P.’s Youth Association, a crucial conduit for recruiting young people into the party. Now, at 30, he is also running for a seat in the National Assembly. So is the son of Interior Minister Sar Kheng. At 33, Sar Sokha has already risen through the ranks of his father’s ministry to become a senior police official, and is married to the daughter of the former chief of the army.

Prime Minister Hun Sen of Cambodia, center, walked ahead of government officials during an inauguration ceremony for a road in Phnom Penh in June 2010.Tang Chhin Sothy/Agence France-Presse — Getty ImagesPrime Minister Hun Sen of Cambodia, center, walked ahead of government officials during an inauguration ceremony for a road in Phnom Penh in June 2010.

Other newly announced candidates include Cheam Chansophoan, son of Cheam Yeap, a prominent member of Parliament; Say Sam Al, son of the Senate’s president; Ty Dina, son of the Supreme Court president; and Dy Vichea, the son of the late, immensely powerful (and immensely feared) national police chief, Hok Lundy.

Dy Vichea, a senior police official, also happens to be married to Hun Sen’s daughter, Mana, a businesswoman with investments in nearly every sector. (This is a second marriage for both: His first wife was the daughter of Hun Sen’s brother, while her first husband was the son of the army’s procurement czar.) Mana’s brother Manith is married to Dy Vichea’s sister Chindavy.

Manith and Hun Sen’s other son, Manet, are also highly placed, with each holding multiple positions. Manith is a colonel in the army, deputy head of the Military Intelligence Unit and head of an ambitious new land-titling program staffed by student volunteers loyal to Hun Sen. Manet, a West Point graduate, is a major general, deputy chief of his father’s bodyguard unit and head of the army’s counterterrorism unit. He is widely perceived as his father’s favorite son and heir apparent.

In a nationally televised speech Thursday, Hun Sen told voters he believed Manet was the child of a neak ta, a powerful local spirit, who had been living in a tree nearby. “When he was born, there was a bright light flying around the cottage’s roof,” Hun Sen said, before turning to his son. “You should go visit that banyan tree, because you come from that tree.”

Even as it builds a dynasty of young politicians ever more closely linked through blood and business ties, the C.P.P. has denied any claims of nepotism. It argues instead that the children of the ruling elite are simply the most qualified candidates for the positions they hold or seek. This is not untrue, since these children of privilege attend the best international schools in Phnom Penh, and are often sent abroad for expensive degrees. But merit hardly seems to be the point.

The prime minister has been warning voters recently of what may happen if the C.P.P. loses power: New infrastructure projects will end; the schools and pagodas bearing Hun Sen’s name will be destroyed; civil war may break out. “Just tick the angel box and you are electing Hun Sen,” he has advised. He will probably be heard. The election’s outcome already seems inevitable, so why not tick that box and be on the side of the angels?

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