HAUNTED BY GHOSTS

By Anthony Spaeth

The history of Cambodia over the past 30 years has been a succession of tragedies: war, a horrific "peace"--as many as a million people perished during the "killing fields" rule of Pol Pot's communist Khmer Rouge--followed by a 10-year occupation by neighboring Vietnam. But there was one moment of true hope: in May 1993, 90% of the electorate went to polling booths to elect a government. It seemed that Cambodia was beginning to wake from its nightmare.

That hope died last week, possibly for a very long time. Tanks and uniformed teens with guns were once more out on the streets of Phnom Penh, the capital, and the government was back in the business of executing its enemies. Tourists and foreign businessmen fled any way they could. After four years of faltering promise, Cambodia took a large backward step, and Phnom Penh had a whiff of Saigon in 1975, as timorous Cambodians approached foreigners with the plea: "Can you help me get out?"

Diplomats played games in describing what happened in Cambodia, but it was simply a coup. Because of its tangled politics, the country had two poles of administrative and military power. Last week the stronger faction, led by former Khmer Rouge cadre Hun Sen, overthrew "co-Prime Minister" Prince Norodom Ranariddh, who escaped in advance of the tanks. "The international community gave them [Cambodians] a chance to recover from the ravages of civil war," said former U.S. Congressman Stephen Solarz, an architect of the $2 billion U.N. effort that stabilized the country in advance of the 1993 election, "and they appear to have blown it."

Perhaps the hope was always an illusion. After the Siamese-twin government replaced the Vietnamese-installed regime, the chaotic and corrupt new administration accomplished almost nothing except to set up Ranariddh and Hun Sen as competing warlords. The situation became increasingly unstable when Pol Pot's Khmer Rouge, the other pocket of Cambodian power for 19 years, started to fall apart last year in its hidden jungle exile. First Prime Minister Ranariddh, son of venerable King Sihanouk, started negotiations with the disintegrating guerrilla group, offering jobs in his army, which was far smaller than Second Prime Minister Hun Sen's. Those negotiations probably led to a revolt within the Khmer Rouge ranks. In June, Khmer Rouge radio announced that Pol Pot had been arrested, though the elusive despot was not produced in public.

As Khmer Rouge forces started trickling into Phnom Penh, Hun Sen, who had defected from the Maoist group in the late 1970s, became worried, and skirmishes broke out between the rival armies. "I did not want to leave," Prince Ranariddh later told a French reporter, "but my generals came to me and said, 'Hun Sen is going to attack, sire.'" The prince fled to Paris two weeks ago, and Hun Sen's troops fanned out through Phnom Penh. By early last week, they had control of the city. Two of Ranariddh's top aides were arrested and executed; others have gone into hiding. Ranariddh went on to U.N. headquarters in New York City and the State Department in Washington, where he implored the international community to restore him to power.

There was little chance of that, and Ranariddh said he wouldn't return to Phnom Penh soon. "Hun Sen would lynch me," he predicted. The U.S. suspended $35 million in aid, saying Hun Sen's action was "unacceptable." But American officials admit they have given up on Ranariddh as well. Hun Sen says the dual system of government can go on with another member of Ranariddh's party as co-Prime Minister--though the execution of the prince's associates belies that promise. Late last week a replacement for Ranariddh stepped forward: Toan Chay, governor of Siem Reap province. A former ally of the prince's who split with him and formed a rival faction in May, Toan Chay told TIME, "I already consider myself the leader of Cambodia." The best outcome would be for King Sihanouk to mediate, as he has done in many past crises, but he is currently in Beijing and ill with cancer.

For now, multinational companies are shutting factories in Phnom Penh amid fears of power blackouts, looting and a breakdown of civil authority. Neither foreign investors nor the Cambodian people have much faith that Toan Chay--or anyone else--can keep the nation from being engulfed by tragedy once again.

--Reported by Tim Larimer and Matthew Lee/Phnom Penh and Douglas Waller/Washington

With reporting by TIM LARIMER AND MATTHEW LEE/PHNOM PENH AND DOUGLAS WALLER/WASHINGTON