Vietnam's yuppie dreams
BY ANDREW LAM
HO CHI MINH CITY -- DESPITE enormous changes in Vietnam,
despite all the new freedoms the young people boast about enjoying
for the first time in their otherwise restricted lives, freedom of speech
is not one of them. They are free to get drunk, to stay out all night,
to
fornicate, to drop out of school -- but they are not free to think
critically for themselves. They are not free to tell their stories in any
constructive way.
Few young people I talked to have ever heard of the term tu do phac
bieu y kien -- freedom of speech. For that matter, none have heard of
multi-party systems, civil disobedience and so on. All they know is
that there is injustice and that they are helpless.
Newspapers, radio stations and TV stations in Vietnam are still
controlled by the government, as well as bookstores. So while Tuan
and Cuong can easily find text books -- ``Windows 95'' and ``English
in 20 Easy Lessons'' and ``Oh Pascal'' -- and even translations of
Sidney Sheldon and Danielle Steele, they would be out of luck when
it comes to work by Vietnam's finest contemporary writers. The
reason is simple enough: Writers like Duong Thu Huong and Bao
Ninh, both of whom fought for the North during the war, write
critically about the regime they once helped put in power. Their
works, deemed ``anti-revolutionary,'' are banned.
But the communist regime's attempt at censorship is a lopsided
endeavor. While it keeps its own people politically silenced,
prohibiting them from creative efforts that would fully explore their
contemporary life, Vietnam opens its doors to the world. A rich
person, for instance, can put up a satellite dish on his roof and catch
CNN and MTV. And oddly enough, while bookstores are
governmentally controlled, video stores are not. These privately
owned stores are free to rent out everything from Hong Kong kung fu
movies and soap operas to Japanese animations to Hollywood action
flicks. A few even carry illegal but highly popular pornography
starring blond Europeans and Americans.
Foreign videos, translated books and colorful billboards have made a
frontal assault on youthful imaginations. ``We are allowed to absorb
information, but not encouraged to express ourselves,'' said Thuy Le,
26, an out-of-work actress who is about to marry a Frenchman and
move to France and who is, therefore, the envy of her friends. ``And
that's why many of my generation express themselves in the only
way they know how. They go wilding. They live fast. They don't listen
to authority. And they ride their bikes like they were chased by
ghosts.''
Thuy is quick to disapprove of this behavior. ``I'm afraid those
people of my generation are no longer Confucian. We hate people in
power, but that eats us inside out and it changed us. We've become
rude and disobedient to everyone, including our parents, teachers,
family members. We are so different from the past.''
Different, indeed. Vietnamese communities in the United States and
France still manage to retain many Confucian rules of behavior. But
at home, those traditional behaviors are in danger of being
undermined in many of Vietnam's urban centers. I have seen
teenagers tonguing each other in the middle of the dance floor in
Saigon discotheques, some still wearing their school uniforms. I have
stumbled over young people making love in a park at night in Hanoi.
And I have seen teenagers racing their motorbikes at 2 a.m. along the
Hoang Kiem lake in Hanoi, not far from where the rulers of this
country live, one girl stripped down to her underwear while her
boyfriend wore torn jeans. As they raced laughing with other young
couples into the dark of night, the helpless cong an -- Vietnamese
police -- looked on.
These are exceptions, of course. But still, Duong Thu Huong, that
sadly unread novelist, is right. The young of Vietnam are revolting.
But if they are, their revolution lacks any coherent direction. While
youth movements in Vietnam in previous generations changed the
political direction of the country -- the August Revolution in 1945
comes to mind, when youths responded to Ho Chi Minh's call and
joined the fight against French colonialism -- it is doubtful that this
generation can do more than posture a la James Dean in ``Rebel
Without A Cause.''
Vietnam, after all, is not under siege. It has no discernible foreign
enemy. Though still among the poorest countries in the world, it has
a growing GNP and a small but conspicuous middle class. While
previous generations may have been moved by nationalism, this
generation definitely is not. Nationalism, the cause of so much
bloodshed this century, was woven so closely with communism that
when the ideology shattered after the Cold War ended, nationalism,
the emotional backbone of communism, fell from grace.
Now, the old men -- ministers and politburos and party apparatchiks
-- appear nightly on TV to warn the populace about the danger of
``peaceful evolution'' and dangerous foreign influences. They are
preaching to deaf ears. They continue to emphasize the finer points
of collective strength, invoking memories of a war against invaders.
But the young of Vietnam, who, of course, do not share those ancient
memories, have moved away from a parochial us-vs.-them mentality.
``If the ministers tell us to be `vigilant against foreign influences,'
then why are they sending their kids to school in the U.S. and driving
Lexuses and Mercedes-Benzes?'' asked Tinh Tran, a precocious
14-year-old in Hanoi whose favorite pastime is playing video games.
Capturing the hypocrisy of the situation, Tinh continued, ``They tell
us to be good communists in school, but they live in big villas and
their wives shop in Japan and Europe. They stink. They make no
sense whatsoever.''
The wall in the living room of Tinh's home tells a fascinating story. At
the bottom is a 19-inch television set and a VCR. On top of the TV is a
wooden family altar where photos of family members who died
fighting the French and Americans hide behind a burning urn of
incense. Above that altar is a strangely white rectangle where, so I'm
told, Ho Chi Minh's picture was once installed for three decades.
Recently removed, it left behind a white space on the smoke-stained
wall.
But never fear, the television is on. Drink Coke, it tells the enthralled
viewers. Buy Kodak film. Fly to Bangkok on Vietnam Airlines. Just
about the only vision that catches anyone's attention these days is
the one that comes from the brightly lit billboards and the TV sets.
``Among young college students, there is a saying: `First English,
second informatics, and third economics, '' said Lan To, a successful
sales executive for a construction company that specializes in condos.
Lan is one of the lucky 2 percent who went to college and graduated
with a degree in marketing. She is a bright and shiny model of what
many youths now want to become, a Vietnamese yuppie. ``Uncle Ho
said it's better to be a communist than a professional, but the truth is
the other way around. We know if there's hope for us, it's from
abroad. Before the Cold War ended, it's money from relatives who
live in the U.S. and Europe. Now, it's from tourism and lucrative jobs
with foreign companies. Young, ambitious people all want to become
tour guides, sales persons, secretaries for foreign companies. And
some of my friends just want to marry a Westerner and move
abroad.''
Lan's job as an executive is a rare one. She makes a staggering $600
a month, 12 times what her high school teacher makes. And she is
quick to acknowledge that the rest of her generation, those who
dropped out of high school or even from grammar school, are all
content to work for factories and other grueling, labor-intensive jobs.
``I have a friend who works for the Nike factory and she says it is
very hard work. But she says if she quits, there'll be 10 or 20 people
who will jump in to take her place. The truth is, for many it's better
than working the rice field day in and day out.''
My last few days in Vietnam I spent in Hue, the imperial city where
kings of millennia past lie sleeping in scattered tombs along the
Perfume River. In contrast, the royal castle at the city's center teems
with foreign tourists who play kings and queens for an afternoon.
These camcorder-toting visitors from France and England and the
U.S. pay handsomely to dress up as royalty in silk brocade as they sit
on throne-like seats while Vietnamese waiters in traditional dresses
serve them a royal dinner.
Since the war ended, Vietnam's story of itself has gone from one of
pride to one of ignominy, from a country that defeated American
capitalists and imperialists to the poor subservient man lurking at
the edge of the global village. The scene on the ancient pavilion of
Hue is painful to watch. If it provides a few glimpses of what it must
have been like the years after the first French gunship sailed up the
Perfume River below, it occurs to me that the young, kowtowing
Vietnamese who brings the middle-aged, blond tourist her drink is
not re-enacting the past. He is prophesying Vietnam's retro-future.
Andrew Lam is a Bay Area writer.