By Thomas A. Bass
Five years ago I began an experiment not of my own devising to study censorship in Vietnam.
In 2009, I signed a contract to publish one of my books in Hanoi. Called The Spy Who Loved Us, the book tells the story of Pham Xuan An, Vietnam's most celebrated journalist during the Vietnam War. (He ended his career as bureau chief for Time magazine in Saigon.)
Only after the war did we learn that An had received a dozen military medals as a Communist spy and served as North Vietnam's deadliest secret weapon.
One might think that a book about a Hero of the People's Armed Forces would be published in Vietnam without difficulty. But nothing is published in Vietnam without being censored. For five years, I watched people nip and tuck my book.
When a translation was finally published in 2014, I flew to Hanoi to meet my censors at least the half-dozen who would talk to me. These were the good guys, the brave ones, who were willing to acknowledge the situation. Behind them stood the faceless phalanx that operates throughout Vietnamese society.
My censors, several of whom doubled as my editors and publishers, apologized for what they had to do. They hoped things would improve in the future. But as Vietnam and China throw an increasing number of journalists, bloggers and other writers in prison, the tide is flowing in the opposite direction. This is why I decided to commission an accurate translation of my book and publish side-by-side editions of both the censored and uncensored versions.
What did the censors cut from my book? Among other things, Pham Xuan An is not allowed to love the United States or the time he spent studying journalism in California. He is allowed only to understand the United States. Removed were the names of exiled Vietnamese and their comments. Also removed was any criticism of China or mention of bribery, corruption or malfeasance on the part of public officials.
Even Vo Nguyen Giap, the great general who led Vietnam to victory over the French at Dien Bien Phu in 1954, was cut from the narrative, having fallen from favor before his death in 2013.
Known events were excised from Vietnamese history. And An's last wishes that he be cremated and his ashes scattered in the Dong Nai River disappeared. They were replaced by a scene describing his state funeral, with the eulogy delivered by the head of military intelligence.
Original post:
Censorship thrives in Vietnam