Why Dith Pran and The Killing Fields Matter

This piece was published in the Cape Cod Times on April 11, 2008, and can be viewed at: http://www.capecodonline.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20080411/OPINION/804110349/-1/OPINION0310

Last weekend, Dith Pran, a photojournalist with the New York Times, passed-away. Though many Americans may not know him, Cambodian American immigrants do. To them, Dith Pran and the movie about his life represent the Cambodian people and the uncomfortable truth of Cambodia's past.
In the early 1970s, Dith Pran worked with Times foreign-coorespondent Sydney Schanberg covering events in Cambodian. At the time, Cambodia was a Cold War hot-spot, caught between the pull of Washington, Hanoi, Moscow, and Beijing. Though the government was largely aligned with the United States, North Vietnamese troops and a Communist guerilla group called the Khmer Rouge ruled much of the Cambodian countryside.
In 1975, the Khmer Rouge overran Phnom Penh and embarked on a plan to transform Cambodia into an agricultural-based, utopian society. Immediately, citizens were dispersed to rural work and prison camps, and all potential enemies of the regime were eliminated. By the time Vietnamese forces drove the Khmer Rouge from power in 1979, some 1.7 million Cambodians—one-fifth of the country’s population—was dead.
Dith Pran and Sydney Schanberg were in Phnom Penh when the city was taken. Though Schanberg escaped to the French Embassy, Pran endured years of torture and forced labor. He escaped to Thailand in 1979 and then came to the United States where he was reunited with his family. He continued working for the Times.
I first learned of Cambodia's “forgotten genocide” about fifteen years ago when I watched the 1984 film, The Killing Fields. The movie, which stars Sam Waterston and Haing Ngor, portrays the experiences of Schanberg and Pran during the Khmer Rouge years. It’s a true story.
The film stayed with me long after I watched it. Mostly, I was disturbed that such a monumental world event had escaped my attention. I wanted to know more.
Therefore, when asked to cover an immigrant people in my first year at journalism school, I chose Cambodian Americans.
I soon learned that the community, which numbers some 4,000 in the Washington area, are largely eager to tell their stories. Through my reporting, I was introduced to a strong and resilient people who've endured astonishing atrocities. Torture, murdered siblings, missing parents, death camps, and ethnic cleansing are common elements in the lives of adult Cambodians. So are endurance, self-reliance, inner-strength, and optimism towards the future.
It must have been obvious to those I interviewed that I had trouble comprehending their stories. To help clarify a few suggested that I watch The Killing Fields.
So I watched it again.
It’s not often that a movie accurately portrays reality, but The Killing Fields comes close. It recreated in me the same uncomfortable feeling I had when interviewing survivors.
Though that was only a few weeks ago, it wasn't until I heard of Dith Pran's death that I understood the significant of his life and the movie about him.
Cambodia's genocide has been largely forgotten. As one of my friends at the community center explained, "Every day it fades more and more."
But because Pran's experience was recreated in The Killing Fields, the story of Cambodia's past will never be completely lost. To Cambodians, Pran was more than a survivor of the Khmer Rouge: he was a New York Times reporter and the subject of a movie that tells their story.
Pran is gone, but The Killing Fields survives and can be found in any video rental store. Do yourself a favor and rent it. I warn you that it's a bit uncomfortable, mostly because it's true.
But it's also true that the world is a dangerous place and insulation from the truth is false security. Our best protection against mankind's worst deeds is the acquisition of knowledge.
And that's exactly what Pran's story in The Killing Fields delivers.