The Chief

This morning was one of those mornings...you know, the morning after the night before when you wake up and then suddenly remember something.  Neither of us had slept well and the events of the previous night were still running through our heads.  I was just looking forward to a relaxing weekend, trying to forget about what had happened.  Unfortunately, after calling her office to let them know what had happened, Em was told we had to report the incident to the police as it was company policy.

My heart sank when Em relayed this message.  My reluctance to go to the police might seem odd to a reader outside of Cambodia, after all we had just been mugged at gunpoint, but I did have good reasons.  My only encounters with Cambodian Police to date were with corrupt traffic cops, scamming money out of innocent motorists to supplement their meagre income.  I'd heard from fellow expats that the Police are just as corrupt and ineffective when dealing with other crimes, and any serious criminal investigation tends to work on a pay as you go basis ie: you pay, they investigate.  Given that we hadn't lost anything we couldn't replace, and couldn't provide accurate descriptions of assailants or motorbikes there really didn't seem to be much point.  Finally, the request from Em's Khmer work colleague that we meet her first to get our stories straight before going to the police station didn't bode well, although she would be coming along as our interpreter.  As we left the apartment, I remember insisting to Em that I would refuse to pay money to the police if asked.

The police station was just another residential house on a dusty back street of Phnom Penh, only a sign on the gate giving it away.  It wasn't exactly a hive of activity; the yard contained a few moto's, an old ping pong table, and a chicken scratching around in the dirt.  We were intercepted by a Khmer chap (not in uniform) who asked a couple of questions, then led us into the main room.  Five guys were huddled closely around a table laughing raucously at something I couldn't quite see.  There didn't seem to be much police work going on.  Our friend fetched the Chief of Police who asked some more preliminary questions before ushering us into his office.  Plastic canteen chairs were fetched for the three of us.  The interview lasted 45 minutes or so, we gave as much information as we could, and a series of forms were filled out, one of which Em had to sign with a thumb print (many people are still illiterate in Cambodia).

Whilst Em filled out her victim statement, I looked around the room.  It was a small office, maybe 3m squared, containing a desk, filing cabinet and changing room screen.  The walls were covered with gilt-framed pictures of the King, King Father, Prime Minister, Police officials in dress uniform, and family graduation photos.  A random stack of manila files lay untidily on the desk, no doubt where our report would get filed when we left.  Behind the clothes screen was a gun rack with what looked like ten or so AK-47's, loaded but covered in dust.  The room was messy and the building run down, the lack of investment in the police service was plain to see.

The Chief of Police and his colleague (presumably a detective) however, were thorough, courteous and apologetic.  The interview was interspersed with clearly genuine regret for what had happened to us, frank admissions that his service was underfunded and incapable of preventing these type of crimes, and most surprisingly a genuine fear from the Police Chief that he would face retributions from his superiors for the number of unsolved crimes being committed on his patch.  During the interview Em & I had both agreed that we thought the moto's were pretty fancy and the muggers were wearing nice clothes.  The Chief suspected that the perpetrators were likely to be rich young Khmer's stealing for drug money and therefore hard to prosecute due to powerful parents.  My overall impression of the Chief was of a well-intentioned, principled and thorough man, trying his best to do a job in incredibly difficult circumstances, with insufficient funding, training, equipment and officers.  I felt guilt at my own preconceptions, and to be honest by the end of the interview I would probably have paid him some money if he had asked.  We were even asked to stay for lunch with the other officers who were just sitting down to eat rice together at the ping pong table as we left.

So, what's the rub...did we put ourselves at risk with our behaviour ?  We were walking late at night, true, but in our own neighbourhood, and catching a tuk tuk the 200 metres home seems crazy.  Everyone else we know here would do the same as we did, but perhaps in the future we will consider a tuk tuk.  Undoubtedly, my own behaviour when confronted with a gun was foolish and I hope i've learnt from this experience.

Is Phnom Penh a dangerous place ?  There's no doubt it is more so today than yesterday, at least to me.  Despite numerous 'Wild West' stories and high levels of gun ownership in Phnom Penh, we had never been exposed to this underbelly before, and the village atmosphere had lulled us into a false sense of security.  After dark the city does become a different place, the smiling friendly locals on your street replaced by dark shadows and occasionally sinister characters on the empty streets.  These kind of muggings are apparently on the increase, particularly in areas popular with expats, and it seems as though at least in our case, the crime was motivated by drugs and not poverty.

Are the police corrupt and ineffective ?  Maybe or perhaps certainly, but I have to say that I found the police we dealt with to be efficient, courteous and honest.  I doubt they will be able to catch the assailants, but this is mostly due to the complete lack of detail we were able to provide them.  I confess that I have modified my view of the police institution a little, and I think even more strongly now that civil society is being let down by those in power at the highest level, their endemic corruption, and lack of investment in essential public services.

Finally, the reaction of Khmer's to our experience was fascinating - both Em's work colleagues and the police were ashamed, apologetic and unfailingly helpful.  It's as if they feel that our experience here reflects poorly on them personally, or at least their nation and culture, of which they are very proud.  This is just another example of that wonderful Khmer spirit and kindness which makes this place so special, in spite of it's problems.