From a distance, Cambodia seems all confusion and tragedy. But a group of young reporters eagerly give reason for hope -- and, now, for concern. PNS commentator Eric Pape recently returned from a two-year stint working at English language papers in Cambodia. Read a response to this article from a Jinn reader.

In a move that could mark an end to Cambodia's newborn free press, the Hun Sen government is threatening to close down two of the nation's few independent newspapers.

Such a move would have far reaching effects. While the two publications -- the English-language Cambodia Daily and the Phnom Penh Post -- provide key information to the local and international community, by far their most important function is to show Cambodians how to report truthfully. As most of the country's "independent" journalists were killed or forced to flee the Khmer Rouge reign of the late 1970s, this is a crucial task.

Cambodia's foreign-language papers -- unlike the local opposition press -- have generally escaped government harassment, partly because they are protected by foreign embassies which need reliable information. But that protection may not stand up to the planned crackdown, which reflects the government's determination to keep its skeletons from affecting the massive foreign assistance it needs.

In the process, the government may also place a rope around the neck of local reporters.

The pro-government press has repeated official pronouncements accusing the two independent papers of lacking professionalism and fairness. In fact, absolute political neutrality is a reporter's best defense in Cambodia's constantly shifting terrain, and no one is more aware of this than reporters for these two papers. They are careful to give a source, whenever possible, for every quote, comment and allegation, and always make it clear when they are just passing along other people's words. Almost all are in their 20s or early 30s, and have only a few years experience.

Lor Chandra, my colleague at the Cambodian Daily, went so far as to say he might not vote because "journalists are supposed to be neutral." This seems naive, but the choice is understandable. In the long run, he may have little more than his wits to protect him.

When I arrived in Cambodia, I was assigned to work with this young (then 25) but seasoned reporter on a piece focused on the return of the last Cambodian "boat people" from refugee camps in Indonesia.

While stories about a rift among the Khmer Rouge grabbed headlines, LC showed me the importance of the "smaller" stories, the ones with a direct impact on people's lives. For example, the "boat people" were being forced back into the hands of people they saw as their enemies -- a situation familiar to the many Cambodians who have spent the better part of a generation being ruled by former nemeses.

LC probably doesn't know it but he and those "smaller stories" convinced me to stay at the newspaper. He and others taught countless other things as well. For example, when we met with top government officials -- men thought to be former members of death squads -- the Cambodian reporters made it clear that I, the "prestigious foreign journalist" was asking all the troubling questions and they were simple "translators."

On the phone with arrogant ministers who rarely had time for lowly Cambodian reporters, LC put on his ingratiating "I am a peon, you are so important" voice. In this way he obtained answers about prison breaks, illegal logging or other officially-sanctioned swindling from people trained in secrecy.

LC wasn't alone. Others reporters, each with a distinctive style, talked to vendors at the central market about the falling value of currency and the rising cost of rice. Some visited the dump, where children scavenge for food and clothing. Others talked their way into grim prisons where as many as 25 men shared a cell.

The fruits of their efforts show in the paper, which includes a portion translated into Khmer. When reporter Saing Soenthrith and I motorcycled out to squatter settlements, he was treated like a hero, one with the power to break silence.

The situation was much the same at the bi-monthly Phnom Penh Post, where a former office assistant named Bou Saroeun, 32, has blossomed into one of Cambodia's most intrepid reporters. Bou Saroeun has written articles exposing deception by politicians of all stripes, not just against the government.

He has braved minefields to unearth information about the death of Pol Pot and obtained notes taken during Khmer Rouge leadership meetings. He has also spent time helping unearth proof that Hun Sen loyalists were minimizing casualties suffered during a useless assault on an opposition stronghold.

The Hun Sen government does not appreciate this kind of reporting -- and periodically makes its ire known. One colleague has repeatedly been warned "not to work so hard with the foreigners." In Cambodia, where at least five journalists have been murdered and 20 injured in recent years, such warnings are taken seriously.

A press crackdown would merely put expatriates working in Cambodia onto the job market -- with a resume highlighting the repression of their previous employer -- but it would trap the new generation of Cambodian reporters in a country where those in power have little respect for peons without patrons.

As much of the international community pays lip service to prosecuting those responsible for the Khmer Rouge genocide, the least they could do is offer protection to those who record the abuses of a new generation. It can be done -- last year, when Cambodia's Information Ministry threatened to expel a Canadian CNBC television correspondent international pressure forced them to back off.

Hopefully, a similar message will be communicated and the young "eyes and ears" of the Cambodian free press, those who have shown the power to break silence, will not be forgotten.