50 Years Later, Khmer Rouge's Murderous Legacy Lives On

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People digging a water canal under the guard of an armed Khmer Rouge soldier in 1976. Photo: AFP via Getty Images / The Conversation

The regime fell in 1979, when Vietnamese forces invaded Cambodia and toppled the Khmer Rouge leadership , installing a new, pro-Hanoi government. But its shadows remain. The now ruling Cambodian People's Party , in power for over four decades, has justified its grip on the country through the trauma of the genocide.

“Peace and stability” have become mantras used to squash dissent.

Every sham election becomes a referendum not just on policy but on avoiding a return to war. Critics of Cambodia's rulers are framed as threats to peace and unity. Opposition parties have been dissolved , activists jailed , media muzzled .

This political culture of fear draws directly from the Khmer Rouge playbook – minus the overt violence. The trauma inflicted by that regime taught people to distrust one another, to keep quiet, to survive by keeping their heads down. That impulse still shapes public life.

Justice delayed, and still incomplete

The Khmer Rouge tribunal – officially the Extraordinary Chambers in the Courts of Cambodia – was supposed to bring closure. It has brought some.

But it took decades to begin, cost over US$300 million and convicted only three senior Khmer Rouge leaders over the 1975–79 genocide. Many mid- and lower-level perpetrators walk free , some are still in government positions, some neighbors to survivors.

For a nation where the majority of the population was born after 1979, there remains a glaring gap in education and public reckoning over the Khmer Rouge's atrocities.

Cambodia's school curriculum still struggles to teach this period adequately. For many young people, it's something their parents don't talk about and the state prefers to frame selectively.

Economic growth − uneven and fragile

In raw numbers, Cambodia's economic progress over the past two decades has been impressive. GDP growth averaged around 7% annually before the Covid-19 pandemic. Cities have expanded, and investment – especially from China – has flooded in.

One of Phnom Penh's high-end malls. Photo: Tang Chhin Sothy/AFP via Getty Images / The Conversation

But much of this growth is precarious. Cambodia's economy remains dependent on garment exports, tourism and construction . This leaves it vulnerable to external shocks, such as the Trump administration's imposition of 49% tariffs on Cambodian goods, now temporarily paused .

Instead of building a resilient, diversified economy, Cambodia has relied on relationships – with China for investment, with the US for markets – without investing enough in its own human capital.

That, too, I believe, is a legacy of the Khmer Rouge, which destroyed the country's intellectual and professional classes .

Trauma passed down

The psychological toll of genocide doesn't disappear with time. Survivors carry the scars in their bodies and minds.

But so do their children and grandchildren. Studies in postgenocide Cambodia have shown elevated rates of post-traumatic stress disorder and depression among survivors and their descendants , resulting in intergenerational trauma.

There are not nearly enough mental health services in the country. Trauma is often dealt with privately, through silence or resilience rather than therapy. Buddhism, the country's dominant religion , offers rituals for healing, reincarnation and forgiveness. But this isn't a substitute for systemic mental health infrastructure.

Worse, in recent years, even the memory of the genocide has been politicized.

Some leaders use it as a tool to silence dissent . Others co-opt it for nationalist narratives. There's little room for honest, critical reflection. Some independent initiatives, such as intergenerational dialogue programs and digital archives, have tried to fill the gap but face limited support.

This is, I believe, a second tragedy. A country cannot truly move forward if it cannot speak freely about its past.