Tearful Times

Past the mint-and custard-colored roofs of Pnompenh's lacquered palaces, a black Lincoln limousine sped south, bound for the rambling Cambodian seaside resort of Kep, 90 miles away by the green waters of the Gulf of Siam. Inside the big car, lonely and unhappy, sat cherub-faced Norodom Sihanouk, who gave up his throne to serve as Premier and had already resigned the premiership three times in less than two years. Behind him in Pnompenh Prince Sihanouk left with his father, King Suramarit, a statement of his intention to resign for the fourth time.

Whether or not he holds office, 34-year-old Prince Sihanouk will go right on running his country's affairs. He has no other choice, for there is no one else in Cambodia's scantily schooled and politically unsophisticated 4,500,000 populace who is up to the job. To Cambodians, Sihanouk is the government, and the government is Sihanouk.

Back to Work. A basically soft and kind young man, a devout Buddhist who abhors seeing any of his people suffering, Sihanouk has been through many changes of heart. The whole world cheered the way his representatives at the 1954 Geneva Conference withstood Communist attempts to subvert Cambodia by treaty. Then he fell under Nehru's spell, and hinted darkly that U.S. aid ($120 million in three years) was being used as a device to take over Cambodia. He welcomed Chou En-lai to Pnompenh last November --but then became alarmed at the Communists' evident strength in Cambodia's economically powerful Chinese community. Recently, shocked by Russian intervention in Hungary, Sihanouk told his people that Communism is servitude, added: "Polish and Hungarian people have preferred to shed their blood."

Sihanouk took back the premiership of his country only eight weeks ago, after sacking dutiful Premier San Yun in a welter of malicious and unproved charges that San Yun had been doling out valuable import licenses, mostly for high-priced consumer goods, to assorted ministers' wives, political chairwarmers, and some ladies closely related to the royal family itself.

Sihanouk then appointed his longtime friend and adviser Sam Sary as special economic counselor to the government, with the personal rank of Prime Minister. But Sam Sary, even with his special rank, still approached the real Prime Minister, Sihanouk, only on his hands and knees. Sam Sary instituted a new economic policy of liberalized imports, but they, too, came under fire. Rival ministers whispered in Sihanouk's ear that Sam Sary was being paid off by Chinese merchants, accused him of accepting diamond-studded platinum wristwatches and other bribes.

Off to the Monastery. Angrily, Sihanouk summoned a meeting of the Central Committee of his Sangkum Party, which controls all 91 seats in the National Assembly. Sihanouk listened, near to tears, while official after official accused Sam Sary of giving import licenses to the wrong people, i.e., someone else. The criticisms, said Sihanouk, were "unjustified." Nevertheless, because they could "be construed as casting a shadow over the reputation of the Sangkum Party," His Royal Highness forthwith annulled all import licenses.

Sad Sam Sary crawled up to Sihanouk on his hands and knees and asked to be relieved of his economic responsibilities. Distressed to see his friend in this state, Sihanouk acceded to the request. Sam Sary sadly crawled away, had his head and eyebrows shaved, and betook himself to a Buddhist monastery. Sihanouk was so upset himself that he burst into tears.

While Sam Sary meditated in his monastery, Sihanouk's father, King Norodom Suramarit, held on to his son's resignation as Premier, hoping he would reconsider. Last week Sihanouk did. He motored back to Pnompenh, categorically denied there had ever been a government crisis, then set to work setting up a "National Investigation Commission" to combat Cambodia's galloping corruption.

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