Controlling Interest: Vietnam's Press Faces the Limits of Reform (contd.)
The Emergence of Reform Journalism
Inside the small, but bright Hanoi offices of Vietnam Courier-an English-language weekly aimed at foreign investors-are a dozen or so computers running Microsoft Windows, a young, energetic, predominantly female staff, and a relaxed, yet confident deputy editor in chief who speaks with enthusiasm about his fax news service and plans for an Internet edition. The deputy editor, Do Le Chau, occupies an unusual position among Vietnamese journalists; a former fellow at the East-West Center in Honolulu, he has had far greater exposure to the international press than most of his peers-a fact reflected in his embrace of electronic media.
Vietnam Courier is emblematic of the increasing diversity of the country's press, which has grown rapidly in recent years to number roughly 350 magazines and newspapers. The vast majority of these publications are wholly owned by various arms of the government, the few exceptions being collaborations with foreign publishers. Nevertheless, the coverage and tone of the news periodicals vary considerably. At one extreme are Nhan Dan (The People) and Quan Doi Nhan Dan (The People's Army), didactic party and army dailies that remain vigilant against foreign cultural and political encroachment. The other end of the spectrum includes the dailies Lao Dong (Labor) of Hanoi and Tuoi Tre (Youth) of Ho Chi Minh City, trade union and youth league publications that have won a large readership through their aggressive coverage of corruption and labor abuses, and-in the case of Lao Dong-by incorporating a brighter layout modeled on USA Today.
Without exception, the Vietnamese editors whom CPJ interviewed stressed the gains they had made over the past ten years. They have won responsibility for determining the content of their publications, the freedom to expose corruption in public offices, and discretion over which government actions to cover.
Several news organizations have transformed themselves into profit-making enterprises, independent of government subsidies; they include Hanoi's leading daily, Hanoi Moi (New Hanoi), as well as Lao Dong, Tuoi Tre, and Saigon Giai Phong (Liberated Saigon). And it is among these papers that the most far-reaching transformation of the Vietnamese press has taken place.
"Our paper was the first in the country to give up subsidies from the government," declared Tuoi Tre's deputy editor in chief, Huynh Son Phuoc, with evident pride, during a meeting with CPJ in his paper's Ho Chi Minh City offices. "We work as professional businessmen-this is one of the main points in the history of our newspaper." But financial independence has also made his paper more accountable to its readers. "We have to answer readers' questions better, more fairly, and protect their interests," he said. For Phuoc, that not only meant exposing corruption, but printing critical commentary on the budget and "ensuring equality between foreign and domestic investors."
While government officials portrayed the press's increased independence as an outgrowth of doi moi, several of the editors whom CPJ interviewed took pains to point out that the loosening of media controls was something journalists themselves had initiated and fought for.
"The change started in '84 to '85, even before renewal was officially declared," said Vietnam Courier's Chau. "In 1985, Tuan Tin Tic (Weekly News) launched an exposé of a corruption case involving a provincial governor. At the time, we [reporters] thought the editor in chief was going to hell. Instead, the governor was stripped of his party membership, and Vietnamese journalists realized we had new power."
Much of the initial impetus for investigative reporting came from Ho Chi Minh City, where the media have tended to be more independent than their northern counterparts. In part, according to some editors, this was a result of continuity from pre-unification Southern reporting traditions. But it also reflected the subject matter available to the Ho Chi Minh City press, which in the early 1980s began covering experiments with market reforms-most of which were undertaken in the South.
Although they share an enthusiasm for reform journalism, the Southern journalists who spearheaded this movement come from diverse backgrounds. Phuoc told CPJ that he had been part of the pro-Hanoi resistance in Ho Chi Minh City, while Tuoi Tre's editor in chief spent the war years in prison. By contrast, Ly Quy Chung, the former editor of Lao Dong, had been a member of the South Vietnamese parliament, and for a few feverish hours before unification, a cabinet member in the last government of South Vietnam.
Frustrated by the ideological orthodoxy of state journalism schools,
many editors have taken on the task of training brasher, more
probing reporters themselves. "All papers in Vietnam have
opened their own departments to train journalists," one editor
commented. "Journalism schools now are useless." But
against this initiative, the frustrations that they experience
are palpable. "We have to stay within the boundaries of the
environment and the law," another editor ruefully noted.
Limits to Reporting by the Official Press
Housed in one of the French colonial buildings that give Hanoi much of its aesthetic appeal, the city's leading daily, Hanoi Moi, symbolizes the accomplishments and dilemmas of the Vietnamese press. Its editors pride themselves on their independence and professionalism, the paper is financially self-sustaining, and several of its staff members have received journalism training in France.
But neither Hanoi Moi's prominence nor its profitability have been enough to guarantee its survival.
In mid-1996, the paper ran a series of articles about a flawed contract for the purchase of two jet aircraft between Vietnam Airlines and the Dutch aircraft manufacturer Fokker, which had recently declared bankruptcy. Having obtained a copy of the contract, the paper's staff found a fatal defect: In the event of a bankruptcy, payments toward purchase of the aircraft would not be refunded. Consequently, when Fokker was forced to close its doors, Vietnam Airlines faced a loss of US$7.2 million-a sizable sum for the state-owned carrier to bear, especially when faced with the costly task of replacing its aging Russian-made fleet. Shortly after the stories ran, the Ministry of the Interior placed Hanoi Moi under investigation for leaking state secrets, questioning editors and reporters involved in the story's publication.
The matter remained in the hands of the Interior Ministry at the time of CPJ's visit, although no criminal charges had yet been filed. In addition, two other newspapers were under investigation for revealing state secrets in articles about Vietnam's oil industry; the weeklies Tien Phong (Vanguard) and Kinh Doanh Van Phap Luat (Business and Law) had covered attempts by the Australian firm Broken Hill Petroleum (BHP) to renegotiate its contract for an oil field whose output had proved disappointing.
All three cases would have to proceed through the state's administrative and legal machinery, senior officials told CPJ, although they challenged neither the substance of the articles nor the journalists' motivation. Instead, suggested Deputy Foreign Minister Vu Khoan, Vietnam's trade interests underlay the government's actions. "We want to solve every conflict with other countries by negotiation and dialogue," he said, adding, "BHP is a very important company-a joint venture in a prospecting area, and the incidents happened in a period when the government in Australia was changing."
A more sanguine interpretation came from Huu Tho, chairman of the Ideology Commission of the Communist Party's Central Committee and former editor of Nhan Dan. Tho told CPJ that in his personal opinion, while the journalists working for the three newspapers had made mistakes, their offenses weren't very serious. "If anything, they should be reprimanded or disciplined," he said. Tho also noted that in recent years, there had been only one instance in which a licensed journalist had received a prison sentence for his reporting-a case four years ago involving an article about a land dispute that appeared in Tien Phong. "At court, his sentence was reduced to sanctions, and he is still working as a journalist." Regardless of the outcome of these three investigations, the vagueness of the term "state secrets" will continue to pose a hazard to the local media, serving as a catch-all with which officials can snare and silence enterprising journalists. The press law sheds little light on the limits of secrecy; it simply enumerates sweeping areas-"...either military, security, economic, foreign relations or other secrets as set out by law"-in which journalists are prohibited from disclosing state secrets. During CPJ's visit, Vietnamese journalists cited this legal ambiguity as a chronic problem in defining the scope of their work. "Every newspaper has a staff lawyer," an editor noted.
The Vietnamese government, journalists suggested, could clarify the press law by effecting a variety of procedural changes, including formalizing and publicizing the process by which they register state documents as "secret," specifying the level and duration of secrecy, and exercising due precautions to prevent the disclosure of a registered secret. Unless the government institutes such measures, the ambiguity surrounding state secrecy is likely to continue to inhibit the media, and to cast doubt on the express intent of Vietnamese officials to expose corruption and mismanagement.
Several Vietnamese newspapers have in the past been closed for transgressing official directives. In early January 1995, the Information Ministry suspended the publication of Nguoi Hanoi (The Hanoian), after the paper ran an article about the social and economic implications of a recent government ban on firecrackers. The ministry also ordered local authorities to discipline the publication's editor in chief, as well as the other journalists involved in the article's publication; they were eventually forced to pen "self-criticisms."
Behind the investigation and closure of state-owned media lies a gulf between the authorities' view of the press as serving the interests of the party and state, as spelled out in the press law, and the media's growing recognition of their role as serving the public interest.
"Journalists used to mistake the role of reporter for that of educator," one editor said of his colleagues' past approach to their work. On the other hand, senior officials-while speaking approvingly of efforts by the press to impose accountability on government-appeared to perceive the media primarily as a means of communicating official policy. "Through information, we have to guide the public," said Phan Quang, president of the Vietnam Journalists Association and director general of Voice of Vietnam radio. "This doesn't mean forcing the public into views, but to educate and guide." Quang pointed out that the media also had an important role as a public forum. But later, during a candid exchange in French with CPJ board member John R. MacArthur, he asserted, "The interest of the state is supreme, and public opinion serves it."
Paradoxically, the state's continued efforts to control the domestic media limit its ability to reach a wider audience through those news organizations. Some editors, for instance, are prepared to launch Internet editions of their publications, but cannot move forward without government authorization of Internet access. Courier's Chau is one of those who have already seen the potential of electronic information services; an internationally faxed bulletin that his staff produces is already the newspaper's main source of revenue. "The Internet would create more customers," says Chau, whose office is fully computerized.
Government authorities have been frank about their discomfort with the Internet; Luu Van Han, a Ministry of Culture and Information spokesman, said in late 1996, "The state must control the Internet so as to use its positive aspects and eliminate its negative influence." ("Vietnam's booming computer market still lacks Internet access," Deutsche Presse-Agentur, Hanoi, Nov. 10, 1996) The latter is seen by many observers of Vietnam as a reference to websites maintained by overseas anti-communist Vietnamese groups, which regularly post articles by dissidents, Ho Chi Minh City samizdats, and leaked party documents.
But with Vietnam now the only member of the Association of Southeast
Asian Nations (ASEAN) lacking Internet access, and with the government
officially committed to industrializing the country by the year
2020, the advent of electronic information seems inevitable. Officials
privately concede that Internet authorization awaits finalized
regulations from the Directorate General of Posts and Telecommunications
and the installation of policing technology. Draft regulations
reportedly hold subscribers responsible for both transmitted and
received content, and allow the revocation of service providers'
licenses-and the confiscation of their equipment-if their subscribers
are found to have transmitted material deemed offensive or subversive.
("Vietnam Struggles with the Information Age," Reuters
European Business Report, Ho Chi Minh City, Nov. 25, 1996)
Somewhere in Ho Chi Minh City, an anonymous Vietnamese man intermittently issues photocopied tracts in which he sardonically comments on political developments in the country and predicts-with impressive accuracy-the rise and fall of party officials. "The Saigonese," as he refers to himself, has drawn a wide audience among the city's intellectuals and among overseas Vietnamese, who carefully transcribe and post his writings on the Internet ("Underground in Vietnam," The Economist, June 22, 1996, p. 39).
He carries out his work in clear violation of Vietnam's press law, which explicitly bars the circulation of unauthorized printed matter. The press law, promulgated in 1989, sets out the parameters of a strict licensing regime. Journalists, it states, must be accredited by the Ministry of Culture and Information, and must work for one of the media organizations licensed by the same ministry. The licenses themselves are narrowly defined, spelling out the organization's charter, objectives, audience, scope of distribution, and duration of publication; any attempt to redefine one of those terms requires an application for a new license (Press Law of Vietnam (1989), Chapter V, Article 20).
The tracts circulated by the Saigonese and others constitute something of a parallel, underground press. These samizdats-based primarily in Ho Chi Minh City-represent the only outlets for information and commentary in Vietnam that are completely unfettered by state controls. While these organizations exist outside of the Vietnamese government's narrow definition of "journalism," they fall squarely into the definition of journalism shared by CPJ and much of the international media.
For samizdat journalists, forsaking anonymity carries a heavy price. The noted Southern dissident Doan Viet Hoat is currently serving a 15-year prison term for publishing an unlicensed pro-democracy journal. Six years after Hoat's arrest-and despite repeated appeals by CPJ, human rights groups, and foreign governments for his release-Vietnamese authorities still appear unwilling to reconsider the case. "One of the experiences of East Asia is that political stability is one of the most important factors for economic development," said Deputy Foreign Minister Khoan. "These persons [Hoat and his associates] have been punished for violating Vietnamese laws, not for writing articles."
Hoat's periodical, Dien Dan Tu Do (Freedom Forum), was a mimeographed collection of essays advocating the democratization of Vietnamese political life that appeared in at least four installments between 1988 and 1990, circulating privately among a loose network of dissidents in Ho Chi Minh City.
On November 17, 1990, police seized Hoat at his home in Ho Chi Minh City and held him incommunicado for six months before his family was allowed to visit him. Authorities also detained seven other contributors to the journal without charge. On May 6, 1992, before any charges had been filed, the Ho Chi Minh City newspaper Saigon Giai Phong announced that a "reactionary group" led by Hoat had employed Dien Dan Tu Do "as a most important means of rallying forces to oppose and sabotage our country." The paper's invective was a significant portent of things to come, for political trials in Vietnam are often presaged by media condemnation of defendants.
The eight detained writers were finally tried on March 29 and 30, 1993 and found guilty of subversion. Hoat had been forced to represent himself, since Hanoi denied visas to the California-based attorneys whom his wife had approached to take up his case. The sentences were unusually severe, with Hoat receiving a 20-year term, and his colleagues anywhere from eight months-reportedly in the case of a defendant who "confessed"-to 16 years. At a June 3 appeal hearing, Hoat's sentence was reduced by five years, while the other Dien Dan Tu Do defendants also received slight reductions in their prison terms. The Vietnam News Agency attributed these reductions to the fact "that their plot had been nipped in the bud before causing any serious damage."
Hoat continued to write in the prison and labor camps at which he was interred over the next six months. Through contacts in the camps, he managed to smuggle out a few essays in which he discussed, among other topics, the relevance of international human rights to Vietnamese society. As a result, authorities have relocated him to progressively more remote facilities, where, family members fear, he is unable to receive necessary medical care. He is currently serving out his sentence in Thanh Cam prison, located in northern Vietnam, near the Laotian border, and normally reserved for serious criminal offenders.
Prior to last June's party congress, the government conducted a sporadically enforced, but nevertheless pointed campaign against what the regime terms "cultural evils." While the Western press focused primarily on the whitewashing of Eastman Kodak billboards and other advertisements for American corporations, the repressive measures had far more insidious consequences for Hanoi-based dissidents, such as the arrests of several prominent dissidents in connection with their writings, most of which had been circulated as privately printed essays, and in some cases, reprinted in overseas Vietnamese journals.
Among them were Do Trung Hieu and Hoang Minh Chinh, who were arrested in June 1995 and tried and convicted in November for violating the interests of the state by writing and distributing documents