“When They Tell You to Sing, You Just Sing.”: The Khmer Rouge’s Musical Manipulation of Cambodian Society

“If you want to eliminate values from past societies, you have to eliminate the artists.”, reflects Prince Norodom Sirivudh of Cambodia, in the 2014 documentary “Don’t Think I’ve Forgotten: Cambodia’s Lost Rock and Roll”, recounting the systematic erasure of music from Cambodian society under the brutal regime of the Khmer Rouge in the 1970s.

“[A]rtists are influential. Artists are close to the people,” says Sirivudh.

Music is inherently political, used for centuries as a mechanism of control and mobilization. Throughout history, music has shaped public opinion and regime legitimacy by both producing and limiting access to music.

From 1955 until 1975, Cambodia’s music experienced what is known as its “Golden Era.” Thanks to increasing global communication, the rise of clubs, bars and nightclubs, and the United States’ Armed Forces’ radio, Cambodian music became infused with Western, Latin and Afro-Cuban pop influences, creating a distinct style of modern music. Traditional Cambodian styles were electrified; garage and surf rock took root in Cambodia’s art scene. Stars such as Sinn Sisamouth, Ros Sereysothea and Pan Ron gained massive popularity. Cambodia’s musical backbone was not only thriving — it was vital to the nation’s social life.

A mere 17 years after gaining independence from France, Cambodia entered into a period of civil war. In 1970, an American-backed coup ousted Prince Norodom Sihanouk’s regime as part of their larger war against communism. Sihanouk fled to Beijing, becoming a figurehead for the rising Khmer Rouge, a group of communist insurgents. The years that followed were marked by tensions between communist guerrilla fighters and Lon Nol’s anti-communist government. 1973 saw massive devastation at the hands of U.S. bombardment. The civil war came to an end in April 1975, when Pol Pot’s Khmer Rouge toppled Lon Nol’s government and seized the capital, Phnom Penh.

1975 was declared “Year Zero” by Pol Pot’s regime and the country was renamed  “Democratic Kampuchea”. The regime, stretching from 1975–1979, was marked by a radical strategy of agrarian communism and strict isolation. Civil and property rights, religious practice and Western influence were completely eradicated, and urban citizens were forced into the countryside to labor in agricultural projects. Any intellectuals, artists or elites were sent to work or killed. Cambodian society was effectively “decapitated.” 

As part of the eradication of artists, musicians were among the first targets of the Khmer Rouge. All music, other than propaganda of the Khmer Rouge, was banned in an effort to eliminate “old” identities linked to Western culture. At the time, Cambodian musical culture was deeply influenced by the French colonial period, beginning in the 19th century. French colonizers brought Western instruments and genres to Cambodia, infusing Cambodian music with Western designs. The Khmer Rouge, in opposition to anything Western, sought to destroy this Westernized musical identity and create a “new,” yet staunchly traditional, Khmer identity.

Although the majority of existing music and musicians were destroyed by Pol Pot’s regime, part of the strategy to mobilize the new Khmer identity was through music. The Khmer Rouge’s re-education program rearranged traditional hymns and melodies, such as basak and mohori, to serve their ideologies and push forth the new agrarian society.

Despite the fact that most musicians were targeted in the regime’s early days, others were recruited by the Khmer Rouge to serve as regime musicians. Touch Chhatta recounts that the only “reason I survived was because I knew how to play music.” Chhatta was enlisted by the Khmer Rouge to serve in a band that played at meetings, at which music was played with only traditional instruments, including the khim, tro, and takhe. Chhatta describes that at the beginning of the regime, he purposefully memorized the propaganda music, maximizing his utility to the regime and thus his chances of survival.

Children were also recruited by the Khmer Rouge as musicians. “We were like a blank piece of paper. When they tell you to sing, you just sing,” describes Chhom Charvin, who was a child singer under the regime. Easily persuaded and indoctrinated, children were the perfect candidates for the Khmer Rouge’s new musical strategy. “Don’t Think I’ve Forgotten: Cambodia's Lost Rock and Roll” presents footage of the Khmer Rouge’s child singers in a performance, reenacting farmers, chanting “the day is hot and dry / smoke is coming from the earth / but we can take it / we are resilient / we serve Angkar until results are produced.” Undying loyalty to serving the new, agricultural and communist state is conveyed curtly through lyrics, fashioning a new emblem for the nation of the laboring and nationalistic child. 

Music was also used as a mobilizing tool. Thida Buth, who was a child during the regime, remembers that in the work camps, the national anthem would blare over the speakers each morning, at 4am. The first lyrics are  “the bright red blood spilled in the lands of kampuchea / our motherland / the blood of our good workers and farmers / of our revolutionary soldiers / of both men and women / we will make our Motherland / the most prosperous, magnificent, wonderful!”. Every day in the Democratic Kampuchea began with music -– propaganda music. Music which was manufactured specifically to promote the idea of a new nation.

The musical construction of Democratic Kampuchea contains a dual nature: one of radical return to tradition yet a complete transformation of society. The Khmer Rouge attempted to erase the existing musical culture in Cambodia while simultaneously promoting a musical culture that was ‘traditional’, thus blurring the line between “new” and “old”. This phenomenon highlights the contradictory nature of the Khmer Rouge regime, which attempted to use old, traditional Khmer music to promote a new, revolutionized identity, which in and of itself reflected a traditional past.

Whether restoring an “old” or creating a “new” identity, it is clear that music was a critical tool employed by the Khmer Rouge to carry out their transformation of society. Despite the supposed “eradication” of music in Democratic Kampuchea, it was frequently mobilized by the Khmer Rouge to legitimize their regime and build the foundation of a new national identity. Music, as any form of art, is fundamental to the skeleton of society. Music transmits values, histories and identities; its mobilization by elites in society has the power to structurally, radically reshape what a country is, how it functions and what it stands for.

Despite the weaponization of music by Pol Pot’s regime, when the Khmer Rouge fell on January 7, 1979, music was what revived Cambodian society. Sieng Vanthy, a Cambodian singer, was one of the first to return to the capital city of Phnom Penh, which had been emptied at the start of the regime. With much of the nation hesitant to return to the city, Vanthy describes that she sang “Oh, Phnom Penh” on the radio, in an attempt to reassure the displaced that it was safe to return.

“Oh, Phnom Penh” seeps with yearning, nostalgia and memories of a place once called home. The first lyrics state, “Oh, Phnom Penh / For three years / I never stopped missing you / We were separated / and my heart was broken.”, and later, the song says, “the Cambodian soul lives on / Oh, Phnom Penh / I meet you again.” While music may have been a tool of manipulation in the Khmer Rouge regime, it was also a unifying factor. Music is what brought Cambodians back together to collectively rebuild their nation physically and culturally.

In spite of their efforts, the Khmer Rouge was not able to abolish the musical roots that run through Cambodia. Music continues to flourish, decades after the country was musically sanitized. Dengue Fever, a band formed in the U.S. in 2001, brought Cambodian music back to the global forefront. Lauren Yee’s 2016 play, “Cambodian Rock Band,” recounts the story of a Cambodian American woman and her father, a survivor of the genocide, exploring a history of music and memory.  The revival of music in Cambodia is a testament to the nation’s ability to overcome a difficult past and to their cultural resilience.

Photo Source: Emile Gsell, Picryl