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left journalists of his time, he was on the front lines in Korea
and Vietnam. Chris Reed on Wilfred Burchett, the man who made
Murdoch foam at the mouth.Katrina
washes whitest. Bill Quigley in New Orleans reports tales of
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Ho Chi Minh City (HCMC) swings, rocks
and buzzes. Its teeming traffic dwarfs the worst of Hanoi's.
In upscale hotels like the Rex, Caravelle, Sheraton, Hyatt and
Continental, tourists mix easily with locals. Neon signs for
US, European and Asian products litter the landscape and new
and old buildings. Hustlers abound with offers to tourists for
all kinds of services. No sign of that lack of urban energy,
the absence of commercial activity that characterized many cities
in the Soviet orbit in Vietnam's cities.
The broad boulevards in the
hotel area, the magnificent opera house and city government palace--signs
of French imperial architecture--make HCMC distinct from Hanoi.
HCMC also has twice the population (about 8 million and 2 million
motorbikes) of the northern capital, and the flavor of a modern,
buzzing albeit clearly third world metropolis.
The smug, smarmy smile of the
KFC colonel faces restaurants that serve delectable dishes. Fried
chicken versus succulent dumplings dipped in nuc mam (pungent
fish sauce), with lotus seed salad? "Hey," my wife
reminds me, "some people like prison and hospital food."
A young Vietnamese woman in
a KFC uniform smiles for a photo in the March 21 Saigon Times
(English language business magazine). "US products have
gained a lot of prestige in Vietnam," although most Vietnamese
can't afford them, the Times confirms. The telling statistic,
however, shows that from 2002-2005, Vietnamese exports to the
United States increased by 46%.
Vietnam's rising level of exports
and imports, especially to and from the United States, and the
growing foreign investment and tourism in the country will inevitably
shape the country's political direction. Indeed, note how many
articles of clothing sold in US malls bear "Made in Vietnam"
labels!
Ho Chi Minh City's growth also
signals the future direction of Vietnam. A university official
explains that the government maintained the hotels from 1975
to 1986, even though they "had a low occupancy level."
In late March, rooms became scarce because of an Asian tourist
industry convention. The lobbies of the Rex, the rebuilt Caravelle
and the spanking new Hyatt and other expensive hotels have become
meeting places. Vietnamese in suits and ties--or more casually
dressed--meet their western counterparts and head off in air
conditioned SUVs.
In the growing industrial park,
south of the city, dozens of new factories produce a wide variety
of goods, including high tech electronics. At 5:15 in the afternoon,
the motorbikes lined up at the traffic light near the plants.
I could not see the end of the line on the horizon. The green
light flashed. A thunderous roar of two and four stroke engines
blasted the atmosphere. In awe at the sheer size of this daily
motorcade, I watched the mostly young--teens and twenties--pass
by en route to their homes.
"Many share rented space,"
a biologist friend explains. "They earn about $40 a month,
and send money home. They can't afford apartments. They need
motorbikes to get to work." So, factory workers, like government
employees, have access to credit and buy bikes, some for less
than $500.
Nearby, newly built high rises,
for sale or rent, house the burgeoning middle class. Those that
have cashed in on Vietnam's "opening" buy spacious
and well-designed homes--valued at $300,000 each. Korean, Taiwanese
and Japanese plant managers, floor bosses and skilled technicians
also share the new housing. Outside of a condo complex, a deli
displays a sign in Korean and English: "specializing in
Korean and Japanese food." Next door, real estate offices
have opened and upscale shops display Visa and MasterCard stickers.
Late afternoon traffic congestion
reminds me of Mexico City--except without rules, other than might
makes right. Motorbikes dart into the street, stop when larger
vehicles threaten and give no quarter to pedestrians. I learn
to walk between oncoming vehicles and trust God to pay attention.
Each crossing becomes an exciting adventure, a virtual exercise
in broken field running.
At the Saigon river, near Cholon's
vibrant market (the city's Chinese section), the government relocated
tens of thousands of slum dwellers, some from house boats, to
more adequate housing. In their place, a riverfront highway will
alleviate some traffic. In addition, the government plans to
build a subway. What happens when motorbike owners trade up to
cars?
Inside the massive market,
women and men sit at stalls selling dried shrimp, spices, fruit,
vegetables, plastic kitchen ware and fabrics for clothes, drapes
and anything else one could imagine.
The new Vietnam reeks of capitalism,
old and new, small and large. The State retains control of some
key "productive forces." The new privatization schemes
allow foreign capital a means of securely buying substantial
interests in some of formerly nationalized industries, like the
French owned Victoria Hotel chain that began as a joint venture
and is evolving into a privatized hotel business.
On the social front, even the
lowest wage workers and poorest farmers must pay small fees,
which hurt the very poor and are unaffordable for the rural poor
for health care and education. My biologist friend assured me
that without paying people don't get decent treatment.
In two weeks of traveling (Hanoi,
Hue, Hoi Anh, HCMC, Can Tho, Chau Duc), I have yet to meet a
Vietnamese who wants to return to older models, although some
worry aboutconsequences of the new road.
Two academics, Party members,speak approvingly of the prosperity and growth. They also
express concern about looming environmental nightmares that accompany
fossil fuel burning models. China, after all, is next door.
They speak warmly of Cuba,
"although they need help in development," and admiringly
of the United States, "a country we need in order to develop
our own country."
The War Museum is crowded with
Western and Asian tourists. The modest structure stands in stark
contrast to the buildings around the hotel area.
Silently, people move from
photo to photo. Hanging on one wall is an anguished, frightened
looking GI, with a five day growth, cigarette hanging from tense
lips. Nearby, hangs the Vietnamese girl running down the road
photo. Her face, contorted with pain from the napalm, was burned
into my memory decades ago. Below that black and white photo,
another photo shows the girl as a woman thirty five years later,
holding her own child. Burn scars cover her arms and shoulders.
Several walls contain exhibits of children victimized by chemical
warfare, too horrible to contemplate, yet undeniably real.
We read about US troops carrying
out massacres, journalists killed, villages destroyed. A smiling
Lyndon Johnson stands with General Westmoreland. Next to that
photo is one of General Giap and his North Vietnamese high command.
Some viewers are Vietnam vets age. Their somber faces preclude
conversation.
I asked a young blond woman
with freckles how she felt. "Disgusted," she replied
in an English accent. "And they never learn do they?"
I signaled that I didn't understand.
"The politicians who make
war in Iraq," she replied. "They're doing it all over
again."
In one room, children's art
adorns the walls, art of hope, brightly colored, but with some
pictures showing bombers raining dioxin on the land. Why isn't
every US presidential candidate forced to spend two weeks locked
in this museum?
The solemn crowd moves to the
courtyard to see captured US tanks and artillery pieces, and
an unexploded bomb of massive proportions. The explanatory sign
gives its weight in kilotons. Next to it, museum curators have
placed a jet bomber felled by anti aircraft. Then groups explore
the "gift shop," selling replicas of US army gear along
with post cards and cheap jewelry.
Near the Hotel Rex a legless
man begs for money. He tells our Vietnamese friend he stepped
on a landmine left over from the war. In the opulent hotel area,
the crippled man serves as a grim reminder of "the American
War." Do tourists or locals think about him as they join
in choruses of "yum and um" over spicy fish-noodle
soup, delicate steamed spring rolls and succulent green papaya
salad? I try unsuccessfully with young University faculty members
to engage in political discussion. Don't you take into account
the past war with 3 million dead, dioxin, napalm, relocation?
"It's over, done,"
says Tuan, an economics student. "Time to move on."
Yes to economic growth, control pollution and get more US investment.
No to the Iraq war. "I think America did not learn its lesson
from 'the American war.'" They look forward to Bill Gates'
visit in April and President Bush in November.
I mention socialism. "Between
1975 and 1986 we had lots of problems, not sufficient food and
inefficient government services. Since the collapse of the Soviet
Union,life in Vietnam has improved. Just look around,"
says Van, a science student. Unemployment and sub-employment
remain problems, the students admit, but foreign investment will
create jobs.
An environmental science professor
says she is not naïve. "We know foreign companies want
to take more out of Vietnam than they put it. But for now, this
is the best, maybe the only road, we can choose."
A conversation stopper.
Saul Landau is a fellow of the Institute for Policy
Studies.
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