The celebrations in Saigon in October 1956 over the proclamation of the new constitution of the Repub­lic of Vietnam tended to obscure the inscription on the statute books of a law which could alter substantially the pattern of Vietnamese agrarian society.¹ Though framed as the South’s bold answer to the Communist-style “land reform” in the North, this law (Ordinance No. 57) was in fact proclaimed at a time when large landowners seemed to be regaining influence in places of political power and was in many respects an inade­quate compromise measure. Emboldened by the crush­ing of Communist organizations in Southern Vietnam’s countryside and reestablishment of their control over their estates, large landed proprietors succeeded in pre­venting President Diem’s government from undertaking as drastic a program as had first been envisaged. In fact, it is conceivable that no land transfer program would have been possible if the political elite of Diem’s regime had been drawn entirely from Cochinchina.²

Vietnam has long been faced with a tenancy problem as acute as any in Southeast Asia. Unfortunately the most reliable data are even less up-to-date than elsewhere in the area. Nor does the invaluable study by Yves Henry in 1931³ clearly state the number of tenants or the amount of land they cultivated. One can only estimate the figures indirectly. In Annam, out of a total population of 4.9 million, there were 658,000 landowners; less than one in every eight persons owned land. If the average family is taken to be five persons, it may be estimated that more than 35 per cent of family heads were landless. What proportion of these had non-agricultural occupations is not known, but it was certainly small. Of the total number of landowners, 93.9 per cent, or 614,000, owned less than 2.5 hectares. But many of these, even, must have rented out their land, since only 590,000 owners cultivated their own land.⁴

Henry’s data for Cochinchina were more detailed. Out of less than 4.5 million total population, or ap­proximately 900,000 family heads, there were only 255,000 landowners. Holdings in the South are much larger than those in Annam: about 184,000 landowners, or 71.7 per cent of the total, farmed holdings less than 5 ha. covering 12.5 per cent of the total area of rice-land. But not all these were owner-cultivators: 90,300 landowners rented out their land to tenants; only 72,200, or 28.3 per cent of the total, owned more than 5 ha. The figures for percentage of area are even more revealing. The 25.8 per cent of owners having from 5 to 50 ha. held 45 per cent of the total area.’⁵ The per­centage of riceland area held by owners with more than 10 ha., who can safely be assumed to be non-cultiva­tors, varied tremendously from province to province, being 50.6 per cent in Cholon and 89.5 in Baclieu. The most heavily populated and longest cultivated provinces tended to have the highest percentage of small owner-cultivators. For five provinces which Henry claimed were representative of all Cochinchina, the holdings of non-cultivators averaged 73.8 per cent of the total riceland area. This indicates a tenancy per­centage even higher than that in Central Luzon or Lower Burma during the same period. Acquisition of large holdings, either by purchase of virgin land, or by foreclosing on mortgages-the former being apparently more important in Cochinchina-continued at least un­til 1939, and perhaps even during part of the war period. Since it now seems to be government’s policy to reestablish the legal claims to land which existed before the disruption caused by the Vietminh, these figures can probably be taken as a conservative estimate of the present situation.Henry also pointed out that share-cropping is very rare in Cochinchina (where a fixed rent lease is most common) but is the predominant form of tenancy in Annam. Post-war legislation has been so written as to allow for either type of agreement.

An agrarian pattern dominated by tenancy is seldom a stable one, and it is least stable when the party at a disadvantage sees the possibility of change. The Viet­minh stood for revolutionary change which most of the peasants naturally welcomed,⁶ though when the Viet­minh took over a village the resident landlord tem­porarily lost many, and the absentee all, of his former advantages, the tenant did not gain correspondingly. Reductions in rent were often offset by tax and other levies. Nevertheless, the Communists often gave the poorest farmer new power and a new sense of impor­tance in helping to direct village affairs. The psycho­logical changes served to protect the economic changes. The Vietminh legacy in the South, even after its sup­pression, made it almost impossible permanently to re­establish the status quo ante.

The first rent reduction ordinance to emanate from Saigon (proclaimed by Premier Nguyen Van Tam on June 4, 1953, after many months of promises) came when the Vietminh was still very active, and the law was supposedly part of the battle against it. It pro­vided that the land rent embodied in a five-year con­tract between tenant and landlord would in no case exceed 15 per cent of the annual crop. For the tenants who had been farming land of absentees or “traitors” under the Vietminh, and were paying no rent, this was regression, not reform. Assuming for the rest that Viet­minh rent reductions were roughly equivalent to the 25-35 per cent reduction decreed by the Democratic Republic of Vietnam and that the actual rent outside Vietminh areas was 40-50 per cent of the crop (as re­ported by Henry before the war), this would appear to be a clear case of undercutting Communist reforms. But Premier Van Tam’s ordinance never really had this effect because it was rarely enforced. The few land­lords who did sign contracts found that it was not ne­cessarily to their disadvantage. The 15 per cent rent ceiling was only for “la terre nue”. The “model” con­tract specifically provided for additional charges for the use of buildings, farm implements, work animals, and for seed and fishing and grazing rights, placing no limit on them. These charges could be legally increased to compensate for the decrease in land rent. Landlords also frequently made written contracts conditional on the tenants’ willingness to make certain extra-legal payments.⁸ Tam’s government, French-supported and land­lord-staffed, neither felt the need nor had the will for agrarian reform and thus accomplished practically nothing.

The government was essentially of the same nature when Ngo Dinh Diem was appointed premier in June 1954, but he soon brought about significant changes. The new premier was faced first with the problem of maintaining order in a small country torn, not only between Communist and non-Communist, but (of more immediate importance) by competing non-Communist armed groups. He first turned his attention to problems of internal security and disloyal army officers. U.S. officials, who began to play a much more important role in Vietnam’s affairs after the Geneva truce, were, on the other hand, concentrating their attention on the all-Vietnam plebiscite then scheduled for July 1956. They felt that the Saigon government should inaugurate positive programs that would appeal to the electorate. Land reform had high priority among such programs in U.S. circles. On October 25 President Eisenhower sent a note to Premier Diem, offering American aid di­rectly, instead of through France, and, at the same time, expressing the hope that the Vietnamese government would, in turn, carry out “indispensable reforms.”⁹

Agrarian reform specialist Bernard Jensen was sent to assist the U.S. aid mission (USOM) in Saigon to con­duct a study. There was some enthusiasm for land transfer at first, but it soon waned. In December 1954, working closely with French High Commission advis­ors, the U.S. mission presented detailed proposals for a rent reduction law to Diem. On January 8, 1955, the Premier signed Ordinance No. 2, which substantially amended the rent reduction law of June 4, 1953, and was in harmony with the Franco-American proposals.

The amendment to Article 13 (the most crucial one in the new law) appeared to be a gain for the land­lord over Ordinance 20. Instead of a maximum rental, 15 per cent became the minimum and 25 per cent the maximum. But the gain for the tenant came in the limitation of additional fees. The law prohibited any charge for fishing or grazing and fixed the maxi­mum rental for animals and farm implements at 12 per cent of value (“value” to be determined by the Cantonal Joint Committee) . Advances of seeds and fertilizers were to be repaid at cost plus 12 per cent. The article closed with the provision that, “in no in­stance can the farmer be obliged to make any pay­ments or provide any service in kind, cash or in labor whatever its origin or form” over and above the pay­ment of the rentals already delimited. Unwittingly no doubt, this is almost an exact copy of a phrase in Ar­ticle 5 of the Agrarian Policy Decree of April 20, 1953, of the Democratic Republic of Vietnam.¹⁰ To describe this new version of Article 13 as meaning “reductions of between 50 and 75 per cent in comparison with pre­war rates”¹¹ is to conjure up false optimism as to the program’s reception on the rural scene. Pre-war rates prevailed only in those areas which the Vietminh had never controlled-in other words, in some ricefields adjacent to large towns, and perhaps in Hoa Hao and Cao Dai enclaves. Even in those restricted areas many tenants-and their number was not inconsequential-who had heard of Tam’s “15 per cent rental” but had not seen the law and its loopholes, called the new 25 per cent maximum exorbitant.

The ordinance did not provide criteria for determin­ing at what rate, between 15 and 25 per cent, the rental should be set. The exact rate “for each homo­geneous crop area” was to be decreed by the Govern­mental Delegate for the Region¹² upon the recommen­dation of first the District Joint Committee and then the Provincial Joint Committee, and with agreement of the Minister of Agriculture. Because of the delay in organizing the Joint Committees, implementation of this cumbersome procedure has been slow. The process set forth in the law ignored the fact that the chefs de province are the most powerful governmental offi­cials outside of Saigon at present. In Ben Tre the chef took matters into his own hands; he called a meeting of tenants and landlords, apparently siding with the former, and worked out with them a formula as fol­lows: 25 per cent for the landlord when production exceeded 80 _gials _per ha. (a very rare phenomenom) ; 15 per cent when production was between 40 and 80 _gia; _and no rent when the yield fell below 40 _gia, _(which is not too infrequent) .¹⁴ Whether the rental is to be 15 or 25 per cent of the crop, or something in between, is determined in the majority of cases, where there is no effective governmental intervention, by the relative bargaining power of tenant and landlord.

Tenancy Contracts

The amended version of Article 7 gave more impor­tance to the tenancy contract and provided a way to gauge the extent of implementation of the law which had not existed before. Instead of two copies of the contract (one to be kept by each party), there were to be three, the third being kept in the files of the vil­lage office. At the end of the first year of operation of the act, in January 1956, the Ministry of Agrarian Reform reported that 272,000 contracts had been signed.¹⁵ Since both American and Vietnamese experts agree on the estimate that there are slightly more than one million tenants in the country, this is about a quarter of the total. Response varied tremendously from province to province. Two important provinces in Cen­tral Vietnam did not even report. Of those provinces reporting, the number of contracts ranged from about 6 to 0.1 per cent of the total population. On a national average tenants (i.e., family heads) form 10 per cent of the population. South Vietnam, with 62 per cent of the Republic’s population, accounted for 229,562 con­tracts, or 84 per cent of the total of contracts signed. In part this merely reflected the higher tenancy rate in the South Vietnam provinces, but it was also due to different degrees of administrative enthusiasm. The highest number of contracts (36,106, equaling the high­est percentage of the population, 12 per cent) was in Soctrang province. But two other southern provinces reported contracts numbering only 0.5 per cent of their respective populations. During 1956 contracts continued to be signed, at different rates in different areas, but the national total at the end of 1956 was 537,000, less than twice that in January.

Thus, in just two years approximately half of the Republic’s tenants and almost one-fourth the adult male population signed and registered contracts. Com­pared with the administrative accomplishments of other Southeast Asian governments, this is a feat of no mean significance. Some critics of the program believe that the figures on contracts signed are inflated. Consider­ing the pressures put on local officials from above and the lack of adequate supervision, a certain amount of padding is not impossible, but if it is recalled that some provincial officials had the honesty to report nothing if there were nothing to report, and others reported ridiculously low figures, it may be assumed that the percentage of falsification was of very minor importance. No evidence has been presented to challenge this as­sumption.

If one persists, nevertheless, in focussing on the 50 per cent failure instead of the 50 per cent success, then there are certainly sufficient explanations available. In the first place, there was so much military activity, both against the Communists and the sects, and internecine conflict within the government, during the first six months of 1955 that the normal functioning of the ci­vilian administration was impossible. Secondly, even had there been peace and order, there was no admin­istrative machinery to undertake this new task. A Min­istry of Agrarian Reform existed, but it had no per­sonnel outside Saigon. It was at this point that American assistance became more than advisory. The U.S. aid mission’s budget for fiscal year 1956 allotted more than $1.5 million in dollars and piastres for the addi­tion of 180 land reform agents to existing Ministry rosters, for printing of 2,000,000 contract forms, and for office equipment and vehicles needed by the Ministry.¹⁸ Nearly half these funds were set aside for the cadastral service which is not under the Ministry of Agrarian Reform. The Ministry itself used only $267,404. In addition, Wolf Ladejinsky,17 USOM Agrarian Reform Specialist with an outstanding knowl­edge of Asian agrarian reform problems, became an adviser to the Vietnamese government at all levels of administration. When he later resigned from U.S. gov­ernment service, he was succeeded in these duties by J. Price Gittinger. Occasionally the reward for such services was a “then why don’t you do it yourself” re­tort from an inefficient Vietnamese official who re­sented American prodding. But prodding was needed.

Long after the printed contract forms had been dis­tributed, the Minister of Agrarian Reform had signed no agreement with his own numerous tenants. But in spite of such handicaps, many contracts were signed.

Six agrarian reform agents were assigned to each province, a rather inflexible arrangement for such un­equal units. The original intention had been for these agents to establish themselves in the district offices, which is the next administrative subdivision below a province. But for numerous reasons, including the pro­clivities of civil servants for urban life, they found of­fice space in the provincial capital. Because the real cost of travel was about three times the 30$¹⁸ author­ized per diem, the agents usually spent less than 20 per cent of their time out of this office; and since expense allowances were almost never paid, anyway, though vouchers were sent to Saigon, one can not really blame them. Often an already overworked official in the dis­trict office was given responsibilities for agrarian re­form. One such person admitted that he never went to villages on official business. On the provincial level agrarian reform agents were not infrequently given time-consuming duties in other departments. Thus the Joint Committees, though having their paper work done for them, received only sporadic on-the-spot supervision and advice.

Joint Committees Established

Section III of Ordinance 2 was entirely new. The Provincial Parity Commissions provided for in 1953, but existing largely only on paper, were abolished. These commissions, composed of the chef de province _or his representative, an official of the agricultural service, two landlords, and three tenants, had been charged with fixing “each year the average yield of different categories of rice lands” and empowered to act as a Provincial Conciliation Commission to hear tenant-landlord disputes and to render decisions, which could be appealed to the courts. In their place Ordin­ance 2 established Joint Committees on the provincial, district, and cantonal level. The cantonal and district committees each have two landlords’ and two tenants’ representatives with the cantonal and district chiefs, respectively, as chairmen. The provincial committee has five tenant and five landlord representatives with the _chef de province, or his delegate, as chairman. Tenant and landlord representatives are chosen for two-year terms in a complicated procedure, involving first elec­tion on the village level, then drawing by lot from those so elected. In fact, this procedure was so complex that it was frequently ignored in practice; the chef de province would simply appoint the committee mem­bers. The excuse (often valid) given for such impromp­tu and extra-legal appointments was usually “lack of internal security”, but in other cases it merely con­cealed the persistent reluctance of many tenants to have anything to do with the machinery of the new rent control law. In some areas many potential electors stayed away during balloting for tenant representatives, and there were even instances of tenants going to polling places in groups, then ostentatiously refusing to vote.

It is also worth noting that Mr. Ladejinsky, in April 1955, had said that, in contrast to experience in other countries, tenants in Southern Vietnam were more hos­tile to the land reform than the landlords.” This rever­sal of traditional roles was caused in part by the peas­ants’ continued recognition of earlier “expropriation” by the Vietminh of the land of absentees and “traitors”. Entering into lease agreements would have validated the claim to ownership by landlords who had been thus “expropriated”. Farmers would have then been forced to pay rent on land they felt was already their own. Tenant reluctance was also a tribute to the continuing influence of Communist organization and propaganda. Vietminh agents repeated incessantly in the villages that after the projected July 1956 elections the South would come under the jurisdiction of the Democratic Republic of Vietnam which would confirm earlier Com­munist expropriation of land. Village Communist cadres also warned that it would be wise to avoid any contact with the doomed regime of President Diem.

Thus six months after the ordinance was proclaimed, independent observers in the provinces were saying that “almost nothing” had been done to implement it. Two months later less than 10 per cent of the potential total of contracts had been signed. But events in the latter part of 1955 cleared away some of the obstacles. Government military action rapidly diminished the area controlled by the sects and eliminated most Vietcong²⁰ remnants. Information media stressed the government’s intention to refuse to allow all-Vietnam elections in 1956. But this return of stability posed a new obstacle. Landlords, who had previously seen the signing of a contract as the only way to reestablish a claim to their land, now began to find friends among increasingly powerful _chefs de province _and to hope for both their reestablishment and the imposition of pre-war rents. It is in this context that in January 1956 a 25 per cent accomplishment of a goal could be counted as success.

But a large number of contracts, though indicative of a certain amount of administrative activity, does not tell what rent the tenant is actually paying. Are the con­tracts enforced? Vo Van Giao, president of the Fed­eration of Tenant Farmers’ Unions, the only national tenants’ organization in Vietnam,²¹ says “very few”. Judging from a petition his Federation presented the Minister of Agrarian Reform in March 1956, there are even some contracts which specify rents higher than the legal maximum (the tenants having signed such contracts out of ignorance) . Since the rental is stated as an exact amount of rice calculated as a percentage of the estimated yield of the land, the tenant, who often did not know the yield, could be persuaded to sign a contract in which rent was based on a deliberately exaggerated yield.

Other complaints in that petition, which followed a two-day tenants’ conference in Saigon called by the Ministry of Agrarian Reform, indicated different ways in which Ordinance 2 was not being properly enforced. They also gave evidence of the resurgent power of the landlords. Many complaints centered on the prob­lem of evictions. The underlying cause for a large por­tion of these was the tenants’ insistence on a 15 per cent rental before they would sign the contract. Article 28 clearly prohibited cancellation of verbal contracts which pre-dated Ordinance 2 and required that they be revised according to the provisions of the law, then reduced to writing. Any landlord who, instead of com­plying, evicted his tenants was liable to a maximum penalty of 20,000$ fine and three months in prison. The petition asked the government to restore tenants to land from which they had been illegally evicted by “oppressive landowners”. If such appeals had to be brought to authorities in Saigon, it was apparent that the District and Provincial Joint Committees22 were not functioning effectively as arbitral boards. These com­mittees had been given jurisdiction by Articles 22 and 24 over “conflicts and disputes arising out of the ap­plication of the terms of rural leases”.

The tenants’ complaint that these committees did not dispense true justice was in part the consequence of the boycott of the election for tenant representatives by some of them. When the _chef de province, _often a landlord himself, found it necessary to appoint tenant representatives to the committees, he tended to choose inarticulate, politically “safe” tenants. Thus educated landlords, accustomed to taking a dominant role, domi­nated the proceedings of the committees and more often than not won over the government member to their side. A tenant dissatisfied with the Provincial Joint Committee’s decision could appeal the dispute to a regular civil court, but filing of the appeal alone cost nearly twice the price of a _gia _of rice, and this was not the only cost of litigation. Fortunately the Tenants’ Union had the assistance of lawyers who would handle members’ cases free of charge or for a small fraction of their regular fees.

The solution that the Tenants’ Union proposed was both a reinvigoration of the present system (by hold­ing new elections for the joint committees, providing them with salaried staffs, and training them to fulfill their duties) and the establishment of a new agrarian court accessible to the tenant at no expense. Despite a verbal assurance by the Minister of Agrarian Reform in March that an agrarian court would be established, no such action has yet been taken.

The Tenants’ Union, along with the Confederation Vietnam ienne du Travail Chrétien (Vietnam’s largest labor federation) to which it is affiliated, was one of Diem’s few supporters in the early days of his regime. It then had close liaison with the Palace, but recently the most active members of the Union have been sub­ject to several instances of arbitrary arrest and kid­napping, which is invariably explained in official circles as the result of “Vietcong activity”. In October the Government Delegate for South Vietnam announced that he had “discovered” an old statute, a legacy of the colonial era, which required unions to get prior police approval for all meetings. The Tenants’ Union, and the CVTC, have refused to do so. There have, as a result, been arrests in some provinces, warnings in others. A court test of the law is expected.

The study released in June 1956 by the Michigan State University Technical Assistance Project in Viet­nam (financed by U.S. aid funds and entitled _Report on the Organization of the Department of Land Regis­tration and Agrarian Reform) _affords opportunity for a fitting comment to conclude the discussion of Ordin­ance 2. After describing the multifarious functions of the Department, the Report recommended its dissolu­tion and the distribution of its functions among three other departments, with agrarian reform programs su­pervised by a Directorate of Agrarian Reform in the Department of Agriculture. Though the cause of good administrative organization would certainly have been served thereby, apparently the President felt that de­motion of agrarian reform from a department to a di­rectorate would not accurately indicate to government officials and to the public the emphasis he wants placed on the program, for he has not so far followed this recommendation. Within the proposed Directorate the Report suggested two very practical changes: alloca­tion of agrarian reform agents to each province ac­cording to the expected work load (not six to large and small provinces alike as at present) ; and the in­crease of those agents’ travel allowance, to be paid promptly. At another point, however, the Report crossed the boundaries of a public administration survey and recommended the abolition of a program. Alongside the statement that “the success of the present phase of the Agrarian Reform Program . . . is largely de­pendent upon the work of the Agrarian Reform agents in the province”,²³ it advocated the discontinuance of the use of government personnel in the implementa­tion of Ordinance 2 and their shifting to the adminis­tration of land redistribution.

Such a recommendation does not indicate that its authors appreciated the very partial character of the program’s “success”, namely that the job was less than half done at the time of the Report’s release. To sug­gest that the program “be allowed to coast on the momentum it has gathered”²⁴ overestimates the capa­bilities of the only organizations that would remain to benefit from what little momentum actually exists, i.e., the joint committees, stripped of their secretariat. For a different reason-an understandable desire to redirect the aid program away from budget support projects-. USOM hesitated for months to allocate FY 1957 funds to the Ministry of Agrarian Reform; then, with the fiscal year nearly half over and the field staff prac­tically disbanded, support was again given. Without continued U.S. financial assistance the remainder of the task cannot be finished.

In nearly a decade of dodging bullets many Viet­namese peasants grew tired of being caught in the cross-fire between French and Vietminh, Vietminh and Hoa Hao, dissident Cao Dai and loyal Cao Dai, Nationalists and Binh Xuyen, and other factions. Though it meant abandoning their traditional means of livelihood, thousands of farmers found it healthier to go to the towns and to Saigon-Cholon to eke out a living there. Nearly one fifth of the cultivated area of South Vietnam in 1945 had been abandoned by 1955. Thus one of the three most important rice sur­plus areas in Asia before the war ceased to export any rice at all by the first quarter of 1956. The most ef­fective step toward rehabilitation of Vietnam’s economy which the Diem regime has taken so far has been its wielding of both carrot and stick in order to speed the recultivation of abandoned lands. Though the aban­doned land development program is not, strictly speak­ing, agrarian reform, it is so inter-related with several aspects of agrarian reform as to merit discussion here.

The District Joint Committee was held responsible, in Article 22 of Ordinance 2, for compiling a list of uncultivated farm lands. The results of that compila­tion showed, as of April 1956,25 that there were 77,499 has. of abandoned land in Central Vietnam and 397,537 in South Vietnam. Seven provinces reported more than 20,000 has., and three, more than 40,000. There were probably other abandoned lands not yet reported.²⁶

Ordinance No. 7 of February 5, 1955, offered incen­tives to the tenants to cultivate this land. Type B con­tract, which was to be concluded between a tenant and the owner of uncultivated land, differed from a Type A contract, which embodied the essential pro­visions of Ordiance 2, in two important respects. In a Type B the length of the contract was for 3 years in­stead of 5, but the landlord could not refuse to renew it for another 5 years unless he could prove that he or an adult member of his family was going to farm the land. The rental was fixed at the same level in Type A and Type B contracts, except that Type B exempted the tenant from paying any rent the first year, required him to pay only half the regular rent in the second year and three quarters in the third year. Type C contract, to be used when the landlord or his personal agent was not present to sign the lease, is the same as Type B except that the Communal Council “acts on behalf” of the absent landlord in drawing up the contract. If the landlord returns within three years, he may renew the contract in person; otherwise it will be renewed by the Communal Council. Nothing is said about what is to be done with the rent the Council collects for the landlords.

Agricultural Credit Program

The Popular Agricultural Credit Program was a kind of carrot even more tasty than excused rentals for inducing tenants to cultivate abandoned lands and sign contracts. With characteristic American optimism, and naivete, USOM allotted, and hoped to distribute during FY 1955, 225$ million for loans to tenants. But there was no administrative machinery to effect the distribution, and it was months before any money reached the provincial offices. There the _chefs de pro­vince _occasionally took the opportunity to make a quick profit on short-term usury before sending the money on to the district. Thus by April 30, 1956, nearly one year after the end of FY 1955, Saigon rec­ords indicated that less than 50$ million had actually been received by farmers.²⁷ Nevertheless, though there may not have been enough money, the way in which it was frequently distributed made it an effective in­strument in getting contracts signed. The formula was simple: no B or C contract, no loan.

Since a 50$ million carrot had achieved only 30 per cent cultivation of registered abandoned land by April 1956, the President decided to apply the stick. Ordin­ance No. 28 of April 30 provided, in Articles 14 and 16, that:

Any owner who, after having promised to do so, does not recultivate or have recultivated the registered areas and does not have a legitimate reason for his failure is liable to a fine of 5,000$ to 50,000$.

Any tenant who, without good reason, allows the agricul­tural season to pass without undertaking the work necessary to cultivate the rice fields or other agricultural land which he has leased or which have been allotted to him . . .

shall forfeit his right to be allotted other land and be subject to the same fine as the landlord. “Any per­son who, directly or indirectly . . . tries to impede the application of this ordinance . . . is liable to” two to five years imprisonment. This ordinance also estab­lished a Provincial Census Commission which took from the District Joint Committee the responsibility for com­piling the list of abandoned lands. Its membership was taken from the Provincial Joint Committee. The Census Commission was empowered to “act on be­half” of the landowner in signing a Type C contract in place of the Communal Council, and to deposit the funds collected in rent, after deduction of taxes and costs, in a special account in the provincial treasury.

The most concentrated effort to recultivate aban­doned lands has been coupled with resettlement of re­fugees from the North, in the spectacular Caisan pro­ject in the southern Mekong delta. Caisan is spectacu­lar because in October 1955 one could stand in the center of the project area and look to the horizon in any direction on an unbroken expanse of swamp, which a few years before had all been riceland. In October 1956, standing in the same spot, within the radius of human vision one saw only rice, and houses, 8,000 of them. In the intervening year 200 kilometers of canals had been dug, 16,000 ha. drained, plowed by tractors, and planted, and 43,000 refugees from Communism, mostly Catholics from the North, had been resettled.” The Minister of Agrarian Reform had considered the undertaking of such high priority that he abandoned his Saigon office and lived at the project headquarters for several months. The project was financed out of the $37 million U.S. aid funds set aside in FY 1956 for resettlement and rehabilitation of refugees. It rep­resents a much larger portion of that total than the approximately 7 per cent of total refugees affected would indicate. In addition to the huge expense of land reclamation, each family head was given 800$ for building a home and 4$ a day per person for sub­sistence until after the first harvest. The U.S. aid au­thorities have been so pleased with the economic re­sults, and the propaganda effect, of Caisan that they are planning to finance more such projects, with some modification and improvement, in the present fiscal year.²⁹

But the impressive record of physical accomplish­ment at Caisan was not always paralleled by harmoni­ous relations between the settlers and administrators. Before the April 30, 1956 ordinance no refugee in the project was asked to sign a tenancy contract, though the land is all owned by private persons (a French company is said to own a 1000 ha. tract, and a per­sistent rumor holds that the Minister of Agrarian Re­form, Nguyen Van Thoi, and his wife have holdings of 3000 ha.). One explanation could be that there were no legally constituted Communal Councils within the project to “act on behalf” of the absent landlord. But after April 30, when the Provincial Census Commis­sions were empowered to assume this responsibility, there was no such obstacle. In the late summer of 1956 Minister Thoi’s chef de cabinet,³⁰ who is also his nephew, was appointed Project Coordinator, permitting the Minister to return to Saigon. Mr. Hi began to insist that refugees sign Type C contracts.

At this point the dangerous policy of appearing to promise more than can be given began to bear fruit. The priests, who had led their flocks out of the North and remained their spokesmen on all occasions, in­sisted, in turn, that the land belonged to the farmers, for had not Mr. Thoi, in his speech inaugurating the project, promised to give the land to the tillers? The administration explained that this was “giving” for a price and that the procedure for sale to the tenants would be worked out later. Officials also tried to argue that a Type C contract was between the tenant and the government, but the priests knew the law better than the officials suspected and were not deceived.

Mr. Hi then cut off the daily subsistence payments to the recalcitrant refugees, and when faced with continued resistance, took even stronger measures. As re­fugee unrest neared the explosion point, the President became alarmed at these developments and removed Mr. Hi. Subsistence payments were resumed without strings, but officials assured observers that after further explanation the refugees “understood the real situation” and had “promised” to sign contracts. Both to prevent anomalies and to reduce the priests’ power, the project administrators began paying subsistence directly to re­fugees, after it was discovered that under the old sys­tem of giving the money to the priests for redistribu­tion some priests were receiving per diems for more people than actually existed within their parishes. But the only solution that could be permanent was, of course, a plan to make the refugees’ dreams of land ownership come true.

Ordinance No. 57, promulgated on October 22, was a fulfilment of these dreams for many. It had been under discussion for several months. Late in 1955 the President had received from one of his foreign advis­ors a memorandum which set forth most persuasively the two main arguments for the necessity of land re­distribution: the political (in order to meet effectively the threat of Communism the regime must be strengthened by carrying out the most urgent socio­economic reforms and by broadening the base of poli­tical power) ; and the economic (in order to improve agricultural techniques and thus increase production, the farmers must have a greater economic and emo­tional stake in the land they till).

This “outline of a land redistribution program” de­scribed the 1953 land transfer ordinances as an ex­ample of “how not to do it”. Ordinance 21 of June 4, 1953, had fixed a maximum retention limit of 45 ha. for Central Vietnam and 100 ha. for South Vietnam, any proprietor owning land in two regions being en­titled to retain the maximum for both. Furthermore, landlords were allowed a 25 per cent increase in the retention limit for the fourth and each succeeding child; and the landed elite usually had large families. Ordinance No. 19 of the same date had provided, in addition, that all land above the retention limit and all abandoned land could be purchased by the tenant at current market prices, with the assistance of govern­ment credit. The Service National du Credit Agricole et Artisanal Cooperatif began lending money under this scheme in November 1953, and stopped a year later. During this period 3,131,230$ was actually loaned to 115 cultivators to finance the purchase of 640 ha.

The loans were made for ten years at 8 per cent interest.³¹ Bernard Fall has commented that this procedure would “make the national land reform a mat­ter of centuries”,³² but as has been noted, it was a matter of one year; after that there was no further at­tempt to implement the legislation.

Proposals on Land Redistribution

The memorandum argued that the maximum reten­tion limit should be applied to the total land holdings of the family unit, whether rented or owner-cultivated, in whatever province, though, of course, without forc­ing anyone to sell land that he cultivated himself. It also suggested that absentee owners, as in Japan, should not be allowed to retain any land, and that land cul­tivated entirely by hired labor should not be exempt from redistribution. It warned that no tenant could pos­sibly afford to pay the market price for land in Central Vietnam, where it is sometimes more than 60,000$ per ha., or perhaps even the much lower price in South Vietnam. It then recommended that the system used in Formosa, where the land price was set as a multiple of the annual crop, be applied in Vietnam. The ob­servation was made that a workable redistribution pro­gram usually requires a price not to the liking of the landlords. If the annual cost of purchase to the tenant were to exceed 40 per cent of the income from the land, it was predicted that the economic and political aims of the entire program might be defeated. The President was advised against cash payment of more than 20 per cent even if the government should find itself in a strong financial position, because of the danger of inflation. To insure the landlord against the possibility that inflation might nevertheless develop, the memorandum recommended that the value of the bonds given in payment be stated in terms of rice and that they should not be negotiable, except for payment of taxes, buying shares in government enterprises, or as surety for loans to develop essential industry. There was also a wise suggestion that there should be no at­tempt to equalize the size of holdings but that tenants merely be assisted to purchase the land they already cultivated.

Early in August 1956 the fruits of a different kind of technical assistance appeared in the form of _Esquisse d’un Programme de Redistribution des Terres au Viet-nam _by Nguyen Manh Tu of the Ministry of Agricul­ture. Mr. Tu had just returned from a brief U.S.-financed tour of Japan and Formosa to observe agricultural administration. After reviewing some of the statistics on tenancy and land ownership in Vietnam, he launched into detailed proposals for a land reform program. Mr. Tu had one especially ingenious sugges­tion for cash payments-a regressive rate. Owners of holdings of less than 100 ha. would receive 10 per cent of the value in cash, while owners with more than 500 ha. would receive only 5 per cent, with gradations in between. Most of Tu’s proposals were in agreement with the advice the President had already received.

Soon after Mr. Tu’s “sketch” had been distributed, a draft of the law itself was circulated for comment. The special committee appointed by the President to draw up the ordinance appointed in its turn represen­tatives who did the actual research and writing. The full committee sat twice to discuss and revise what had been prepared. Then a copy of the revised draft was sent to USOM for study and finally USOM represen­tatives were invited to meet with the committee on August 21. Representing the committee were the Secre­taries of State for National Economy, Finance, and Agriculture, and Nguyen Manh Tu, among others. The Secretary of State for Agrarian Reform sent an assist­ant.

It was apparent from the draft that expert advice had not influenced the authors of certain paragraphs. In spite of warnings about the dire consequences if the cost of repayment should each year take more than 40 per cent of the cultivator’s gross income from the land, the six-year payment period in Article 13 would, based on an expected price for the land of 7,000$ per hectare, take nearly 45 per cent of that income. The Americans at the meeting raised this point and advo­cated a longer payment period. The committee mem­bers present agreed to discuss the matter further. When USOM representatives estimated that administrative costs might run as high as $5 million, the committee admitted that they had not yet considered that question.

Several questions of considerable importance were not discussed at this meeting. Expert advice had been further disregarded with the exemption from redistribu­tion of all land devoted to industrial crops, such as coffee, rubber, sugar, tobacco, or fruit trees, and land “capable of being shifted” to such production (if ac­tually shifted within six months from the date of proc­lamation of the ordinance) . All the crops mentioned have been or are being successfully grown in large quantities by small holders in Indonesia or the Philip­pines. Admittedly, however, breaking up of such es­tates would at least temporarily reduce production. The concept of the limited family as the unit of land­holding was discarded in Article 6 which would make it possible for husband and wife or minor children each to hold land up to the retention limit. At least, no land could be registered in a different name after the law’s promulgation. A very onerous provision for the tenant was found in Article 13: during the six years he is paying for the land, pending final registration of the land in his name, he would have to pay rent to the government also. Fortunately this provision was omitted in the final version.

Nor were the technical advisors’ recommendations followed entirely regarding the method of fixing the price to be paid to the landlord. Article 19 provided that the owner was entitled to receive compensation equal to “current value”. If “current value” turns out to be 7,000$ (a figure frequently mentioned in Viet­namese government circles), this amounts to only slightly more than 2.5 times the annual production, the same rate as was applied in Formosa. But deter­mination of “current value” is left up to a special com­mission, and there is no assurance that it will not be more than 7,000$. Cash compensation was to be a moderate 10 per cent according to Article 20. The bonds issued to make up the balance of the payment could be used as legal tender for mortgage debts with the government agricultural credit agency or any other privileged creditor, for paying land and inheritance taxes on the expropriated land, and for subscribing to securities of state enterprises. These bonds would bear an annual interest of 3 per cent and be amortized in twelve years.

The administrative structure, in addition to the exist­ing Ministry of Agrarian Reform provided for in Title IV, included a National Council for Agrarian Reform which was “to settle in last resort questions raised by the application of this ordinance”. But there was no explanation of the relationship between this Council and the local agrarian judges, mentioned in Article 28, who would “have jurisdiction over the litigation in the actions arising from the implementation of this ordi­nance”. Other commissions-how chosen or where lo­cated was unspecified-were to be formed with “com­petence” in several fields of administration, such as listing the lands to be expropriated, granting of titles to new owners, etc.

Title V (“Penalties”) was not lenient. Any land­owner who opposed application of the ordinance by any illegal means would have all his land immediately confiscated without compensation; one who attempted to reduce the value of his land was subject to fine or imprisonment. Article 29 was so sweeping as to be reminiscent of restrictions surrounding Communist land reform: “any person acting in a manner to discredit or impede the application of this ordinance will be liable” to fine or imprisonment. The “crime” of total insolvency on the part of the new owner-cultivator who has not completed payments was punishable, in Article 32, by eviction from his holding without reimburse­ment for the installments he had already paid.

Discussions on the draft continued. Some quarters pressed for a reduction of the retention limit to 50 hec­tares. But, surprisingly enough, the increase in area for redistribution would have been very slight with such a change. Henry reported in 1932 only 51 landlords hold­ing more than 50 ha. in all of Central Vietnam, though he did not indicate the area they owned. The detailed figures he gave for five representative southern prov­inces permit a fairly accurate projection for South Vietnam, which indicates that only 9 per cent of the cultivated area was owned by landlords with 50 to 100 ha. The number of landlords affected by a 50 ha. retention limit would have been more than doubled, however.

Inflationary Dangers

Vietnamese officials again approached USOM for $30 million in financial assistance, as they had first done in June. The cost of the 10 per cent cash pay­ment has been estimated at more than $12,000,000, a sizable sum in a total annual budget of $448,570,000 (in 1955) . But the USOM director was adamant against U.S. support for any kind of cash payment be­cause of the inflationary dangers involved. Instead he offered a suggestion to the drafting committee, which had been made also by Mr. Tu, that payment to the landlords be made in blocked foreign exchange avail­able only for the importation of approved capital goods. Under such an arrangement he was willing to profer American aid. But this suggestion was not accepted by the whole committee.

Concern for a rational payments system is com­mendable. Transformation of the landlords into indus­trial entrepreneurs is one of the important aims of agrarian reform. But the failure of the U.S. mission to give any financial assistance at all to land redis­tribution, except on its own terms, seemed to indicate that the mission had an order of priorities quite dif­ferent from that of those who have been most closely associated with the land reform program. During the fiscal years 1955 and 1956, about 85 per cent of the U.S. aid program in Vietnam was devoted to military budget support³³ —a very inflationary venture. This was a calculated risk, a much greater risk than that involved in the $12 to $30 million now under discus­sion. Certainly under present conditions land redis­tribution is no less important as a protection against Communism than the armed forces. Moreover, if the Vietnamese government is determined to proceed with reform that requires a 10 per cent cash payment, then there will be a little inflation anyway.

The government does seem to be so determined: the final draft of the ordinance left Chapter III (on Com­pensation to Landlords) practically unchanged, except for additional restrictions on the bonds by addition of the modifying word “non-transferable” and omission of payments to “all other privileged creditors” from among their possible uses. In most other respects-except for the removal of the requirement that the tenant pay rent at the same time that he is buying the land by installment-the final draft was a retrogression instead of an improvement. Most serious was this addition to Article 3: “The maximum area which the landowners have the right to exploit directly for themselves is fixed at 30 ha.” It does not say whether the 30 ha. is in addition to the 100 ha. retention limit, but it would seem to have been useless to insert this sentence if it were not. Furthermore, the landlord is given one year instead of six months in which to shift from rice to industrial crops, if he so desires. A new article (No. 5) was added to allow an additional 15 ha. to landowners who have set aside certain land for ancestor worship.

Article 11 prevents cultivators “who have not signed farm lease contracts or paid either rent or land tax during the past year, and who refuse to pay them by March 31, 1957, from being beneficiaries of the re­form. Article 12, already very confusing in its attempt to name the priority of allotments, lists another cate­gory in the final draft, “those owning no land”, which would appear to allow non-cultivating landless to ac­quire lots. Though lands allotted under the reform cannot be rented, there is nothing in the law to pro­hibit them from being worked by wage laborers. The local committees or commissions, which were given “competence” in several fields in the earlier draft, were reduced to “studying and proposing solutions” on the same subjects by the final draft. In Title IV fines and imprisonment under Article 29 (Article 27 in the final draft) were raised from 20,000$ to 120,000$ and from six months to two years, respectively. Penalties in other articles were raised less sharply.

Article 33 was added in the final draft: “The mo­dalities of carrying out of this ordinance shall be de­termined by decree”. And well it might have been added, for the final draft was every bit as vague as the earlier one. It is little more than a statement of principles, or of an intention to do something. The real fate of land redistribution has not yet been de­cided. The most perplexing problems of allocation of lots—“who gets what”, and pricing—“for how much”, have been left to administrative discretion, along with other matters almost equally important. It is much too early, therefore, to judge whether the legal and ad­ministrative framework will be adequate to the task ahead.

Social legislation is enacted as the result either of effective agitation by the group to be benefited or of a determination of need by the political elite. The Tenants’ Union only sent a few petitions to the Min­istry of Agrarian Reform requesting land redistribution and these were generally disregarded. At the time of enactment of the rent reduction ordinance the Union was much younger and smaller. Vietnamese agrarian reform was initiated by the elite in the national gov­ernment.

When social legislation is thus initiated, its charac­ter is determined by the politico-economic character of that elite. The group which formulated the agrarian reform ordinances can be said to be both domestic and foreign. It was foreign in two senses. American ad­visors had some influence, and Tonkinese government officials originally from the north who, though not foreign, were not indigenous to Southern Vietnam, had much greater power. Neither had landholdings in Southern Vietnam. Within the truly domestic elite the Annamese and Cochin-chinese had divergent economic interests. These interests did not produce significantly divergent views on the rent-reduction program, but did in the discussions of land redistribution. As has already been noted, there were practically no landlords with more than 100 ha. in Central Vietnam. Thus Annamese leaders could argue for the political advan­tages to the regime of land redistribution with a 100 ha. retention limit without having to worry about the possibilities of personal economic disadvantage. The Cochin-Chinese within the national political elite, al­most all large landowners, though beginning to regain influence, were less powerful than natives of the other two regions. It may have been the desire to prevent such a political “come-back” that, in part, motivated enactment of redistribution legislation, for in an agrar­ian society such as Vietnam’s land is, in the long run, the basis of political power. The 100 ha. retention limit prevented medium-sized landlords’ support for large landlords’ opposition.

Social legislation in which the disadvantages fall dis­proportionately on an alien minority is comparatively easy to enact. This is especially true during periods of strong nationalist feeling. The easy adoption of Burma’s Land Nationalization law, in which the main casualties were the Indian Chettyars, is a case in point. So is the new land transfer ordinance in Viet­nam, though to a lesser extent. Judging by Henry’s pre-war figures, which showed that 253,000 ha. of rice-land in Cochin-china was owned in 1931 by French citizens,” it may be assumed that a sizable portion (perhaps a quarter) of the land to be redistributed under Ordinance 57 is alien-owned. This fact may soften the blow to the Vietnamese landowners.

The implementation of the agrarian legislation will also reflect changes in the economic interests of the elite. We have already noted how the gradual aboli­tion of Communist armed forces in Southern Vietnam during 1955-56, which greatly facilitated the collection of land rents, transformed the landlords’ attitude to­ward signing lease contracts from eagerness to extreme reluctance. We have also seen that the increase in landlord power in Southern Vietnam is continuing. It is thus difficult to imagine that the administrative decrees drafted, and other decisions taken, to imple­ment Ordinance 57 will be more favorable to the tenant than the Ordinance itself, unless, of course, the Ten­ants’ Union is more successful in mustering its forces and making its power felt than it has been in the past year.

In making this comment, however, it is important to remember that many expert observers predicted that Southern Vietnam would be under the Communist heel by 1957. But the dynamic leadership of President Diem has confounded the experts, and the Republic of Vietnam is now struggling with its basic economic, social and political problems, not without mistakes, yet in such a way as to give real hope that it can be­come a real stronghold against Communism in South­east Asia.

Notes

Mr. Wurfel, now in the Southeast Asia Program of Cornell University, has made detailed studies of agrarian reform in the Philippines and other parts of Southeast Asia.

¹ Research for this article was made possible by a grant from the Ford Foundation. That Foundation is not, however, to be understood as approving any of the statements made or views expressed herein. In Vietnam the assistance of Mr. J. Price Gittinger in acquiring pertinent materials was in­valuable, and is much appreciated, but he is in no way re­sponsible for the author’s interpretation.

² Now termed “South Vietnam”. In this article “the South” or “Southern Vietnam” refers to the territory con­trolled by the non-Communist Republic of Vietnam, but “South Vietnam” always means Cochinchina.

³ _Economie Agricole de L’Indochine, _Hanoi, 1932.

⁴ _Ibid., _pp. 144-145.

⁵ _Ibid., _pp. 189-190.

⁶ It is interesting to note that land reform decrees of the Vietminh regime (the Democratic Republic of Vietnam) never applied to South Vietnam, though, of course, some rent reduction schemes were implemented in Vietminh-controlled areas there. See Bernard Fall, _The Viet-Minh Regime. _New York: Institute of Pacific Relations, 1956, P. 107.

⁷ Etat du Viet-Nam, Ordonnance No. 20, June 4, 1953.

⁸ Fall. loc. cit.

⁹ Brian Crozier, “The Diem Regime in Southern Viet­nam”, _Far Eastern Survey, _April 1955, p. 51.

¹⁰ Fall, loc. cit.

¹¹ _Land Reform in Vietnam, _Saigon, 1956, P. 7.

¹² There are two regions, South Vietnam and Central Viet­nam (Annam), headed by a Governmental Delegate appointed by the President.

¹³ One _gia _is about one eighth of a bushel.

¹⁴ The power of the _chef de province _is not always wielded so as to produce such good results for the tenant. In Central Vietnam one _chef _advised landlords that they had nothing to worry about and failed to distribute contract forms.

¹⁵ _Bilan des Realisations Gouvernementales, _Saigon, 1956, Pp. 134-135.

¹⁶ FOA/Saigon, PEA/EL, Project #30-12-089 (Adminis­tration, Agrarian Reform).

¹⁷ Mr. Ladejinsky is now Pres. Diem’s personal agrarian reform advisor.

¹⁸ The dollar sign to the right of the figure denotes piastres. _In early 1956 the official rate was 35 _piastres _for 1 U.S. dol­lar, while the Hong Kong free market rate was 80 to 1. U.S. aid funds are exchanged at the official rate, of course; but the Hong Kong exchange more nearly indicates the real ex­change value of the _piastre.

¹⁹ _New York Times, _April 5, 1955.

²⁰ Denoting “Communist”, the term now officially preferred in Saigon to Vietminh, which implies “coalition”.

²¹ It claims a membership of about 250,000, which is equal to the total number of all other organized workers in Vietnam.

²² Cantonal Joint Committees, those closest to the tenant, were only advisory bodies and could do no more than in­vestigate disputes filed with the District Joint Committee. See Article 20.

²³ _Report on the Organization of the Department … _p. 17. The Vietnamese term is translated into English both as “ministry” and “department”.

²⁴ _Ibid., _p. 16.

²⁵ _Ibid., _Exhibit No. 10.

²⁶ In an interview with the Agrarian Reform Agent of Rachgia province in October 1956 the author was given a figure for abandoned lands in that province which was three times the total for Rachgia in Exhibit No. 10. This indicates not only feverish activity in the intervening six months but a lag in provincial reporting to Saigon.

²⁷ Report on the Organization… Exhibit No. 11. Per­sonal observation in October 1956 led the author to believe that this figure was much larger by that time.

²⁸ Leland Barrows, Director, United States Operation Mis­sion, Speech to the Vietnamese-American Association, Saigon, October 9, 1956, p. 6.

²⁹ See Leland Barrows, Statement before Committee on Foreign Aid, Washington, June 14, 1956, pp. 19-20, Part II.

³⁰ Roughly equivalent to private secretary.

³¹ John L. Cooper, “Study of Agricultural Credit Needs in Vietnam”, ICA, Saigon, January 30, 1955, p. 6.

³² “Indochina since Geneva”, Pacific Affairs, March 1955, p. 10.

³³ Barrows, Statement before Committee on Foreign Aid, Part I, p. 7.

³⁴ Henry, op. cit., p. 224. Some of these “citizens” were, of course, Cochin-chinese who had chosen to acquire French citizenship.

Introduction

Despite the ideological rhetoric so common in the 1970s, Vietnamese foreign policy practised the age-old strategy of allying with a distant friend against a nearby enemy — both of whom were ideological comrades. China had become that nearby enemy when it supported the aggressively anti-Vietnamese Khmer Rouge regime. When Vietnam moved to liberate Cambodia from that bloody band in December 1978, China undertook to punish Vietnam with a massive border crossing, effectively resisted at great cost.

This sequence of events, far from solving problems, resulted in a multiplication of enemies — for the first time in history Vietnam faced enemies on both the north and the south, as well as to the west. This was a low point for Vietnamese foreign policy. Nevertheless, in 1979 that policy was aimed simply at getting diplomatic recognition for the status quo, i.e. Vietnamese domination in Cambodia. In fact, the brief incursion into Thai territory by the Vietnamese army in 1980 further hardened ASEAN opposition to Vietnam, and made it easier for the Thai to move closer to China with ASEAN approval.

By the mid-1980s there began to be tectonic changes in world politics. Gorbachev was re-evaluating the Soviet role in Asia, which also required rethinking in Hanoi. This rethinking was initiated in large part by the very bright, cosmopolitan foreign minister, Nguyen Co Thach. He saw the need to make accommodations in Cambodia especially to end the embargo and speed normalization of relations with the United States. By 1988 the whole Politburo was moving in this direction, as embodied in Resolution no. 13, which “held that the SRV should establish a new balance in relations with major powers”.¹ A decision was also made to try to normalize relations with China. Vietnam was forced into accommodation with neighbours when the “distant friend” showed a desire to withdraw from South East Asia. However, these new policy principles were not easy to translate into action, and in any case, there was considerable disagreement within the policy-making elite about what action should be taken.

The purpose of this chapter is to show how the method of, and justification for, rapprochement with China developed and how it was related to the slightly later initiatives towards ASEAN. A brief comparison of Vietnam’s China policy with those of its Southeast Asian neighbours notes the interaction of regime maintenance and national security goals. Finally, an evaluation is offered as to whether this combination of policies towards neighbours large and smaller might be characterized as “enmeshment” or “containment”, or some mix of the two, and what its prospects of long-term success may be. So far, Vietnam’s utilization of ASEAN may have helped to some extent to discourage Chinese expansionism, but whether an “ASEAN Ten” will be of further assistance in this regard is doubtful.

I. How to approach China

The period 1988-June 1991

After Resolution no. 13, a series of events occurred around the world which were surely cataclysmic in the view of Hanoi leaders: the Tiananmen Square massacre, the collapse of the Berlin Wall, and the dissolution of the Soviet Union and its ruling party. The international conditions for a multidirectional foreign policy had changed. Some had adopted a kind of bunker mentality and wanted to return to the eternal verities of Marxism-Leninism, which, it was thought, would help protect the regime. Others continued to put emphasis on accommodation with the West that would permit the lifting of the American embargo on trade and investment, thus facilitating economic growth under the new policy of renovation. At the ninth plenum of the Central Committee of the Vietnam Communist Party in August 1990 Foreign Minister Thach was attacked as a rightist, partly because the military withdrawal from Cambodia had not achIeved the early lifting of the embargo, which he had foreseen.(He was also involved in a larger power cum ideological struggle within the leadership, and was known as a friend of Tran Xuan Thach, who was removed from the Politburo after being accused of advocating pluralism.)²

This attack on Thach was in part the fallout from his very tough stance in informal talks with the Chinese, which began to take place in 1989. The fourth round of talks in Hanoi with the Chinese Vice Foreign Minister was partlcularly stormy. Nevertheless a switch in U.S. policy in July 1990 caused the Chinese to become more accommosating, as they saw new possibilities for an Indochina settlement.

They agreed to a summit meeting in September 1990 in Chengdu attended by premiers and party heads. Thach, at the request of the Chinese, was excluded. The Chengdu summit marked the start of Sino)- Vietnamese normalization; there was substantial agreement on the outlines of a Cambodian settlement.³

Vietnamese Party leaders were also very much interested in a Chinese suggestion that they would be willing to resume economic aid to Vietnam after a settlement in Cambodia was implemented and nornlalization with Vietnam was finalized. There was a strong hint, hovwever, that aid would be linked to co-ordination of Chinese and Vietnamese foreign policies. After the Chengdu summit this approach was opposed by other Politburo members, especially Thach.⁴ Nevertheless at the January 1991 eleventh plenum of the Ceatral Committee there was again support for drawing closer to China, in the wake of the shocking events in the Soviet Union; the same group reiterated attacks on Thach. The imperative of regime maintenance temporarily strengthened some key elements of the old Vietnamese world-view.⁵ In the seventh party congress in June, Foreign Minister Thach counter-attacked with a strong speech criticizing China. This proved his undoing. He was then removed from both the Politburo and the Central Committee, and later from the foreign ministry. Too much co-operation with capitalist countries which Thach symbolized-would lead to increased pressure on Vietnam’s one-party system, it was feared. The goal of regime maintenance dominated foreign policy strategizing.

Between 1991-93, control over policy relating to Cambodia and China was handed to the defence minister, General Le Duc Anh, the second-ranking member of the Politburo, thus marking the end of the transition to a different foreign policy orientation. In July General Anh travelled to Beijing for more discussions, defining further agreement on all outstanding issues, but finding Chinese willingness to offer aid waning.⁶ Perhaps they were getting sufficient Vietnamese co-operation without it. In any case, contacts between party officials of the two countries multiplied at all levels. Finally in November 1991, Vietnamese leaders went to Beijing for a summit which completed the normalization process. A communique rejected hegemonism; reiterated Vietnamese commitment to one China, including Taiwan; and affirmed support for the Paris agreement of 3 October on Cambodia. Vietnamese requests for secunty guarantees from China within the framework of a military alliance indicated that a closer relationship with China was clearly still the desire of the dominant group in the VCP Politburo-but China rebuffed it. Ideological comraderie with a powerful, but very similar regime was needed by those in Hanoi fearful of international trends.

Subsequent events, however, made such a partnership more and more difficult to achieve. Those with a more pragmatic, less ideological approach to international affairs would thus be given another chance to play an important role in foreign policy making.

On the one hand, the fruits of a Cambodian settlement-which Thach had promised, somewhat prematurely — began to emerge. Prospects of membership in ASEAN and normalization with the United States improved. At the same time, economic progress under doi moi increased regime legitimacy and reduced the chances of a repeat of Eastern European events. But Chinese actions at variance with words were crucial.

In February 1992 China promulgated a law claiming as Chinese territory almost the entire South China Sea. When the matter was referred to the National Assembly in Hanoi, there was a stormy, unpublicized debate. Some delegates advocated economic, even military retaliation, but finally-with advice from the External Affairs Commission of the Party Central Committee-the Assembly adopted an appropriate response: a mild, but firm, declaration. In May Nguyen Van Linh, by then Senior Adviser to the Central Committee, again visited Beijing to hold discussions with Chinese leaders. Only hours before he was ushered into the Great Hall of the People, the Chinese, at the same spot, signed an agreement with Crestone Energy Corporation to engage in exploratory drilling on the Vietnamese continental shelf. Thus, not surprisingly, at the June 1992 third plenum of the party Central Committee, the debate on whether China constituted a long-term threat to Vietnam security was reopened. Those who continued to advocate an alliance with China advised the party to ignore small conflicts.⁷ Others were less patient; even Do Muoi was reported to have called China expansionist — a good indication of how the debate was going.⁸

However, the issue was not settled; one source from inside the party reported that as late as the latter part of 1992 the Central Committee adopted a secret resolution ranking Vietnam’s foreign relations in five different priorities, with China and other Marxist-Leninist states first, and the United States last. ASEAN neighbours who have to be won over to co-operate were in the middle.⁹

Efforts to deal with China at the highest level continued. In December 199x Premier Li Peng visited Hanoi, assuring his listeners that China would never become a hegemonistic and expansionist power. In a final joint communique agreed to speed up negotiations on territorial disputes, on land and in the Gulf of Tonkin, and to refrain from developmental activities in the disputed area pending a final accord. (At this point the South China Sea was excluded from the understanding.) In November 1993 President Le Duc Anh went to Beijing — the first Vietnamese president to do so in thirty-eight years. While finding consensus on the importance of expanding economic relations, he could not secure agreement on conflicting claims in the South China Sea.¹⁰

In the meantime, the Chinese had been active. For instance, in May 1993, less than six months after Li Peng agreed to the contrary, a Chinese drilling rig entered Vietnamese territorial waters, only to be withdrawn on the eve of a visit to Vietnam by China’s defence minister-following a pattern to be repeated. And while Chinese behaviour undermined the position of those favouring an alliance, new options opened up, particularly that of ASEAN. ASEAN foreign ministers, meeting in Manila in July 1992, issued a declaration on the South China Sea calling for restraint by all parties. China, while not mentioned by name, was clearly the target.¹¹ Vietnam, which had just signed the 1976 Treaty of Amity and Cooperation, quickly endorsed the declaration. In Manila during the same year, Vo Van Kiet and President Cory Aquino had jointly expressed their commit ment to the peaceful settlement of the Spratlys dispute.¹² Thus the Vietnamese leadership, which in 1991 had wanted an alliance with China, became more aware of the opportunity to find allies to the south who had a common interest in opposing Chinese incursions.

Said one foreign ministry official in 1993 in an interview with Carlyle Thayer, “we tried for a full year to forge new relations with China, but we failed … They will always pressure us and try to dominate Southeast Asia”.¹³

Thus two or three years before Vietnam became a member of ASEAN, most Hanoi policy makers had abandoned the quest for a China alliance; this successful regional organization was beginning to play a major role in Vietnamese elite thinking. Those in Hanoi who favoured membership must have felt that the decision for ASEAN was vindicated by the results of the China-ASEAN Dialogue in Hangzhou, China, in April 1995. There, for the first time in a multilateral setting, ASEAN officials raised the Spratly issue with the Chinese. ASEAN concerns were expressed in terms that were unusually forceful, according to Philippine Foreign Affairs Under-secretary Rodolfo Severino.¹⁴

Studies were also undertaken which validated the decision to join. Fear of exploitation by other wore advanced ASEAN members was countered with the conclusion that experiences from other economic co-operation organizations have shown that new members with a lower level of economic development often get more benefits than the more developed countries.¹⁵ In the security area It was argued that “any attempt at military and security cooperation would require a certain commonality in strategic outlook and threat perception … The possibility is there”.¹⁶ As early as 1992 a Vietnamese foreign ministry official spelled out the new rationale in a Singapore publication: “Sino-Vietnamese relations will be meshed within the much larger regional network of interlocking economic and political interests. It is an arrangement whereby anybody wanting to violate Vietnam’s sovereignty would be violating the interest of other countries as well. This is the ideal strategic option for Vietnam. It is also the most practical”.¹⁷ This is a more straightforward formulation than one has heard recently.

Vietnamese China policy in comparative perspective

Fear and distrust of China must surely be the most important emotional foundation of Vietnamese foreign policy, a feeling much older than the ideological camaraderie of the 1950s and 1960s-the revival of which in 1991 was so short-lived. Yet that feeling, quite realistic in view of recent experience, is veiled when officials speak. The manifestation of growing Chinese power and self-confidence has taught them that verbal barbs are quite counterproductive.

China is probably perceived as a greater problem for Vietnam than it is for other Southeast Asian countries, but their policies towards the colossus of the north can be analysed in a common set of categories. First is regime affinity, an influence so powerful at one point in Vietnam as to change the direction of policy. This has also been a strong factor for Laos, Cambodia, and especially Burma. Second is an historical/cultural factor, the size and political/social role of ethnic Chinese minorities and their perceived link with external threats.

Indonesia has a large, unassimilated Chinese minority that in 1965 was thought to be linked to foreign intervention, and is still suspect. Desplte normalization, Indonesia’s relations with China are not warm.

In the Philippines, past suspicion of local Chinese complicity in Beijing’s aid to insurgents has waned as the reality of such linkage has faded and as local Chinese have better assimilated into Philippine society. Thus closer relations with China in the 1980s became Possible, despite memories that linger. In Thailand high levels of Chinese assimilation into both the economic and political elites facilitate good China relations. Vietnam is the only Southeast Asian country to experience repeated Chinese invasions, the most recent in 1979. Suspicion of local Chinese because of links with China are still strong.¹⁸ This was a cause as well as consequence of the 1979 confrontation with China. Third, the geopolitical/strategic factors, which seem to be most important, are the nature of historical and contemporary relations with neighbours, and with other great powers.

When immediate neighbours are seen as threats, then this creates the opportunity for China to play the role of protector, as with Cambodia. This was most obvious in the Khmer Rouge era, but may be re-emerging with Hun Sen, reinforced by regime affinity. Thailand moved closest to China when Vietnamese troops were on its border. For Vietnam, on the other hand, China itself is the threatening neighbour.

Friendship with a great power which itself has an antagonistic relationship with China should allow a Southeast Asian state to stand up to China, though the USSR was not of much assistance to Vietnam in 1979, and the United States insists that the mutual defence agreement with the Philippines does not cover the disputed Spratlys.

The United States, whatever its intentions may be, is now the only power in Asia with the military capacity to contain China, and is thus quietly courted by both the Philippines and Vietnam. Nevertheless, the realistic limitations on its likely actions cause those two states to seek a degree of accommodation with China as well. Both welcome closer economic ties with Japan, even though, besides economic, Japanese support can be, at most, diplomatic. Fourth, economic factors may influence policy towards China in more than one direction. Investment from Southeast Asia in China, very substantial in the case of Thailand and Malaysia, is appreciated; it is the kind of engagement that fosters closer relations. For those sharing land borders with China, trade-often in the form of smuggling may as well be a cause of friction as of friendship. This is the Vietnamese case. When relations with China involve major territorial disputes, economic factors are likely to be of secondary importance in determining the tone and direction of foreign relations.

Regardless of the role of local Chinese, the historical memory of frequent Chinese invasion among both elite and populace makes the Vietnamese image of China unique. Thus it is understandable for Vietnam to look to other great powers as a source of some kind of protection against a renewed China threat. Yet Vietnam’s approach to China is still moderated by the recognition of regime affinity and the potentially positive consequence this could have for regime maintenance in Hanoi. Thus there may still be debate between ideologues and disciples of realpolitik. Though Vietnamese officials will, understandably, deny the existence of factions in foreign policy making, as Brantley Womack has said, immobilism — which he describes as the character of present day elite politics in Hanoi — “is a measure of the severity of factional differences”.¹⁹ What is very new about the current era of Vietnamese foreign policy is the recognition that not only great powers, but also small and medium powers within the region, if banded together in a vigorous regional organization, may also have a role to play in dealing with China.

The China policy of Vietnam in ASEAN

There was, of course, some opposition to Vietnam’s membership in ASEAN, especially by Thailand, because of a fear that Hanoi was all too eager to use ASEAN as a club against China. One Vietnamese scholar/official recognized in 1994 that “in the short period after joining, it would be difficult for Vietnam to take the lead or put forward its own initiative on security issues as Hanoi needs to learn the mechanism of ASEAN co-operation, and for their part, some ASEAN members might not want to see Vietnam do so”.²⁰ Thus for the first year Vietnam did indeed maintain a low profile. Staff was being trained in English, and in the structures and processes of ASEAN. At the same time, as we shall see, Vietnamese participants in ASEAN seemed to be learning a great deal as well about its political dynamics.

Meanwhile, Vietnam needed to deal with its mammoth neighbour one on one, which was the way China preferred. On the surface it appeared that relations were improving. Rail links were re-established in early 1996, while in June Premier Li Peng attended the Eighth Vietnam Communist Party Congress in Hanoi, the highestranked Chinese leader to do so in more than thirty years. Ten rounds of negotiations on border disputes were held, but without any agreements. As Foreign Minister Nguyen Manh Cam said in an interview, “We strive to accelerate all existing ties with China. These ties have created benefits for both countries… Some issues, however, still remain unsolved …”²¹ In any case, trade in 1996 reached US$1 billion. Military exchanges continued with a group of Chinese officers, including the commander of the PLA Navy Air Force, visiting Vietnam-as well as Malaysia and Singapore-in late February 1997.²² In April a Vietnamese military delegation was received in Beijing by the Chinese Defence Minister, who in his welcome speech said, “The two countries share a common belief and common goals, and both are faced with the challenge of securing peace and development”.²³ There seemed to be some attempt to sustain ideological ties.

Other aspects of the relationship were entirely devoid of ideological overtones. To counter a similar tactic used earlier by China, in April 1996 Vietnam awarded a contract for oil exploration in the South China Sea to Conoco-in an area also claimed by Chinawhich China protested. But no drilling has been undertaken. Less than a year later China undertook bolder steps, commencing exploratory drilling on the Vietnamese continental shelf less than sixty-five nautical miles from Vietnam’s coast, in an area not covered by claims of any other ASEAN members (and thus designed to antagonize them less). This was despite an October 1993 agreement between the two powers, which said that “while negotiating to settle the [territorial] issues, the two sides shall not conduct activities that may further complicate the disputes”.²⁴ The oil rig began drilling, according to Vietnamese authorities, on 7 March. Vietnam unsuccessfully tried quiet diplomacy before going public with its protest nearly two weeks later. An unnamed official in Hanoi used uncharacteristically strong words: “This action has added another example that the Chinese expansionist policy has remained unchanged”.²⁵ The diplomatic note handed to the Chinese ambassador merely said: “This act of violation runs counter to the good trend in which bilateral relations of friendship and cooperation are developing”.²⁶ Vietnam insisted that China withdraw the rig and discuss the disputed maritime claims. On 7 April it was announced that the rig had been withdrawn; discussions on the claims began in Beijing two days later. The Vietnamese press, however, barely mentioned this apparent diplomatic victory. There was a reason for their reticence; they had boldly played the ASEAN card and wanted to avoid antagonizing China further by gloating over their success. This marked a new stage in Sino-Vietnamese, and in ASEAN-Vietnamese relations.

II. Vietnam and ASEAN

Vietnam’s remarkable diplomatic coup in March 1997 was built on the cultivation of relations with key ASEAN members for some time before that. To review those relationships is a necessary prelude to understanding the events of March.

Indonesia

Indonesia had long been Vietnam’s best friend among the noncommunist states in Southeast Asia. Indonesia had recognized the Provisional Revolutionary Government of South Vietnam before 1975 and became the crucial liaison between Vietnam and ASEAN in preparation for a settlement of the Cambodian crisis. Indonesia shared Vietnam’s fear of China, even though it had no claims in the South China Sea that were threatened by China-until a careful reading of Beijing’s 1992 legislation. Despite some degree of regime affinity with China, Indonesia was sympathetic with Vietnam’s position.

Singapore

Singapore was a major trading partner and source of investment for Vietnam. Lee Kuan Yew had even been invited several times to Hanoi as a senior adviser. Despite somewhat different views of China, Singapore still could appreciate Vietnam’s situation.

Malaysia

Malaysia’s foreign policy has been determined in the last decade largely by Prime Minister Mahathir Mohamad’s personal views, which have shifted. While in the early 1990s he was still talking about his concern for the long term threat of China, recently he has been saying there was nothing to fear from either Japan or China.

The Chinese have been supportive of the prime minister’s proposal for an East Asian Economic Group. Relations with Vietnam had been particularly rocky in the period of the boat people.

Thailand

Thailand had traditionally been an enemy of Vietnam, particularly on matters concerning Cambodia. Until Premier Chatichai took office, Thailand led the hard-line faction in ASEAN on negotiations for a Cambodian settlement, even joining an alliance with China, receiving Chinese military assistance and allowing transport of supplies from China across Thai territory to the Khmer Rouge. After Vietnam’s withdrawal from Cambodia, the Thai began to look at economic opportunities (without abandoning military links with China, which were profitable for the Thai high command). More than US$1 billion was invested in Vietnam (much less than in China), and trade expanded greatly-some illegally transiting Cambodia.

Thai-Vietnamese relations improved further after Vietnam joined ASEAN. Prime Minister Chavalit Yongchaiyudh’s March 1997 state visit to Hanoi — one of several high-level exchanges — was described by the Bangkok press “as a part of Thailand’s quest to be treated seriously by Hanoi as an economic partner”.²⁷ That visit also had to deal with serious conflict, derived from overlapping claims to 14,000 square kilometres of the Gulf of Thailand. The Vietnamese had arrested hundreds of Thai fishermen whom they claimed were illegally in Vietnamese waters. Prospects of oil intensified the conflict. In January the Thai Cabinet, on Chavalit’s initiative, had unilaterally declared an extension of the Thai continental shelf, over the protest of neighbouring countries. (Perhaps the Thai had learned some techniques from the Chinese.) In fact, the King was so concerned about the impact of this move on relations with Thailand’s neighbours that he summoned the Premier to an audience to discuss the matter.²⁸ The March trip by Chavalit to Hanoi could not resolve this problem, but the two sides agreed that “if agreement cannot be reached, then a joint committee will be established”.²⁹ By April they were talking about joint naval patrols in the disputed area.³⁰ The constructive approach to bilateral issues was especially impressive for two countries which were traditional enemies and had such different feelings about China.

When Prime Minister Chavalit visited China in early April, he was greeted by the Chinese defence minister with the plea: “China is hopeful that Thailand will help create understanding with neighbouring countries”, which probably meant help against the buildup of antipathy towards China within ASEAN. Chavalit responded with effusive praise for China’s support of the Thai military, which had just been offered additional Chinese aid. Professor Kusuma Snitwongse of Chulalongkorn University, an experienced observer of Thai foreign policy, commented: “Thailand wants a lead role in ASEAN, and Thailand can act as a bridge to China”-which was denied by foreign ministry officials wary of upsetting ASEAN partners.³¹

Philippines

The Philippines, which had been one of only two Southeast Asian members of the South-East Asian Treaty Organization (SEATO) that had sent troops to help South Vietnam during the Vietnam War and which had had a virulent streak of anti-communism in domestic politics but warmed to China during the Aquino presidency, seemed an unlikely ally for Vietnam. The close relations that have, in fact, developed are a tribute to the potency of a common perception of threat.

Even before the completion of the United Nations Transitional Authority in Cambodia (UNTAC) mission in Cambodia, Vo Van Kiet visited the Philippines in 1992. He and President Aquino “expressed their commitment to the peaceful settlement of the Spratlys dispute”.³² In 1993 the Vietnamese foreign ministry showed special favours to the Philippines as it was expanding its embassy.

There was already an awareness of common problems with China. The Philippines strongly supported Vietnam’s admission to ASEAN even before Vietnam officially applied for membership. In March 1994 President Ramos went to Hanoi, where he “sought to strengthen the strategic partnership between the Philippines and Vietnam”.³³ A Joint Commission for Bilateral Cooperation was created.

Co-operation intensified after discovery of the Chinese occupation of Mischief Reef in 1995. The Philippines was quite explicit in stating its disappointment with the level of ASEAN support at the time of this incident, and obviously an ASEAN that included Vietnam would have a somewhat different outlook. Vietnam President Le Duc Anh visited Manila later in 1995. In April 1996 Vietnam and the Philippines signed a Memorandum of Understanding on Joint Oceanographic and Marine Scientific Research in the South China Sea. Said Ambassador Rosalinda Tirona, “The example set by the Philippines and Vietnam through this initiative is concrete evidence that despite conflicting territorial claims, states can still cooperate”.³⁴

Was China listening? The first research project undertaken was in the vicinity of Mischief Reef. In January 1997 the commander of the Vietnam People’s Navy visited the Philippines to meet the Secretary of National Defense and the Chief of Staff of the Armed Forces, among others. The stage had been well set for the way in which the Philippines would react to incidents involving China in 1997.

III. Multilateral approaches

On 20 March at the same time that Vietnam went public in its protest against the Chinese oil rig, the deputy foreign minister, Vu Khoan, quietly called together the ASEAN ambassadors to explain Hanoi’s position, an event unprecedented in the history of ASEAN.³⁵

Basically Vietnam was trying to convince other ASEAN members that “if China behaves this way to Vietnam, it could behave the same way towards [them]”.³⁶ The restraint practised by Vietnam within ASEAN up to this point had apparently been helpful. ASEAN diplomats were swayed. A senior ASEAN official noted: “We don’t recognize any Chinese rights to Vietnam’s continental shelf, nor do we recognize the right of the Chinese to do what they did. Now we’re all in this together”.³⁷

While the Vietnamese tactic may have been helpful in regard to the oil rig, at the same time, China was playing host to a conference on regional security under the auspices of ARF, where it mounted a strident attack on U.S. military presence in the region. And at that conference China refused a request to sign the 1992 Manila Declaration on the South China Sea, which pledged the signatories to use only peaceful means to settle their disputes. There, Beijing had not yet gotten the message from ASEAN.

If ASEAN protests in confidential diplomatic notes did indeed cause the Chinese to withdraw their oil rig shortly after this conference closed, as Vietnamese officials now suggest,³⁸ then some notes must have been quite forceful, for it appears that only the Philippines released a critical public statement. Foreign Affairs Undersecretary Rodolfo Severino said that his government “is very much concerned over China’s reported oil exploration on the Vietnamese continental shelf”.³⁹ On the other hand, when asked to comment on a Chinese oil rig in waters claimed by Vietnam, Thai Premier Chavalit carefully said that “both China and Vietnam are friends of Thailand “.⁴⁰

A more important indicator of the accomplishments of Vietnam’s strategy was the outcome of the annual China-ASEAN dialogue in mid-April held at the Chinese mountain resort of Huangshan. There issues in the South China Sea were raised forcefully, and for the first time China agreed to talk about the ASEAN member’s claims in a multilateral setting. Beijing also offered to negotiate a code of conduct governing ties with ASEAN.⁴¹ At the same time, to mollify China, and in their own interests, Vietnam and Indonesia praised China for fending off a vote on human rights pushed by the West in the United Nations. All agreed that “certain Western powers” were trying to drive a wedge between China and ASEAN-just as China was trying to do to U.S.-ASEAN relations.

Then soon after this somewhat conciliatory conference behaviour, the Chinese again moved assertively in the South China Sea. At the end of April, Chinese vessels appeared near an islet claimed by the Philippines, which quickly deployed air force jets in the area.⁴² In addition to making a diplomatic protest to China the presidential palace informed other ASEAN members of the events.⁴³ Within a few days the vessels did withdraw. The Chinese had first said that navy ships involved were doing “marine survey measurements”, but later contended that they were fishing boats approaching the shoal as part of “youth non-government organization” activities!⁴⁴ Later research revealed that the ships, belonging to the State Oceanic Administration, carried an international group of short wave radio hams, including both Americans and Japanese, who wanted to broadcast from a new and exotic call sign-which just happened to be designated as “Chinese territory”.⁴⁵ To re-emphasize their position, the Philippine Navy arrested Chinese fishermen in the vicinity, part of the Philippine Economic Zone, a few weeks later-even though international experts now say that the Chinese territorial claim to the islet, far north of the Spratlys, was probably valid.

Nevertheless, this followed a pattern of inconsistency between diplomatic words and seaborne action. Filipino statements regarding what ASEAN should do have been the most open, and blunt, of any from ASEAN members. Said General Arnulfo Acedero, Armed Forces Chief of Staff, in Bangkok, “China is asserting itself too much … It is about time we put China in its proper place” through diplomatic means.⁴⁶ Defense Secretary Renato de Villa put it more cautiously: ASEAN members should allot more time “to take stock of the real situation in the area, with the end in view of enhancing the strength of its defenses, if necessary”. Foreign Secretary Domingo Siazon also raised the question of ASEAN involvement with Japan, and the foreign ministry in Tokyo agreed to raise the question of armed Chinese vessels in disputed water of the South China Sea at the ARF meeting in Kuala Lumpur on 27 July 1997.⁴⁷

There is no prospect that ARF would discuss enhancing the strength of ASEAN defences. ASEAN is not a military alliance. Nevertheless, de Villa’s comment is interesting because it brings to the fore the question of bilateral military co-operation between ASEAN members, which is already taking place. To a degree one could hardly have expected two years ago, Vietnam itself is involved in this process. Said a leading foreign ministry official, “Integration in South East Asia is the wave of the future … [It] has both economic and political, i.e. security, aspects. Vietnam has exchanged military delegations with ASEAN countries and joined in military exercises. This helps to maintain Vietnam’s security, since Vietnam cannot fight alone”.⁴⁸

Vietnam, however, has a problem with confidence building measures (CBMs), the rubric under which so much military dialogue takes place. For it requires transparency, the release of information on military budgets and weapons acquisitions. Said a leading Vietnamese diplomat, “Vietnam is not accustomed to such procedures. If it means revealing secret information, it is very difficult. But it must be done. Even Russia will report to the UN the weapons it has sold to Vietnam”.⁴⁹ In fact, a Russian scholar/general has already reported that Vietnam was one of the top six purchasers of Russian arms in 1995.⁵⁰ Still, among older Party leaders, and, of course, the military, greater transparency is seen as having limited feasibility. Thus Vietnam’s military co-ordination with ASEAN will also be limited. This would seem to imply a fairly low priority for such activity.⁵¹

China and ASEAN: balance or enmeshment?

How then is the role of ASEAN, ARF, and individual ASEAN members, in Vietnamese foreign policy to be evaluated? What is the underlying strategy? Let us first look at Vietnamese views and then at those of observers and analysts from other countries. One senior Party foreign affairs analyst,⁵² who revealed himself as being rather conservative on other issues, said that too much cannot be expected of ASEAN. Each country has its own interests and would not join with Vietnam if real action is required. Yet this view was expressed at the same time that he was confident that the Chinese oil rig was withdrawn as a result of protests by most ASEAN members. A younger, U .S. trained foreign ministry official was both more cautious and more positive about ASEAN’s role. Said he: “ASEAN protest probably helped in removal of the Chinese oil rig. Some other ASEAN members had a common interest with Vietnam to challenge Chinese territorial claims. ASEAN membership has given Vietnam some comfort in dealing with China, even though ASEAN can never balance China.⁵³

In a lecture at the Institute of International Relations in Hanoi, the head of the policy planning staff of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs was even more straightforward in rejecting the concept of ASEAN as balance: “ASEAN does not have the purpose of balancing China. In fact, it cannot, since China is becoming a superpower. But tighter ASEAN integration can strengthen the region’s bargaining position with all great powers.” He went on to say, “after more than one year it is clear that Vietnam’s decision to join ASEAN was correct. Now big powers must deal with Vietnam as a member of ASEAN”.

A Japanese scholar has a similar view of Vietnam’s stance: “Convinced that the China threat is real, but anxious to avoid hostilities, Vietnam is … trying to draw closer to ASEAN, which shares Vietnam’s concerns about ambitions in the Spratly Islands. China, it is argued would hesitate to attack the islands of an ASEAN-related Vietnam since such an attack would antagonize the other countries of ASEAN, which China looks on … as potential allies in its struggle with the big countries in the Asia-Pacific region.”⁵⁴

Donald Zagoria sees this approach as typical of Southeast Asia generally: “The South East Asian states are aware that their power resources are limited and that they will not be able to deal to their satisfaction with an aggressive China at any time soon. The best strategy is to engage China as a participant in regional affairs and to increase the incentives for China to play a peaceful and constructive role”⁵⁵ An Australian-based scholar advocates such an approach to China for all states in the Asia-Pacific: “A mild form of enmeshment [or engagement], with emphasis on rewards rather than punishments, would seem the most, and really the only satisfactory option. The objective would be to convince Beijing that conciliation pays and heavy-handed unilateralism does not”.⁵⁶

Vietnam, and Southeast Asia, are thus taking the liberal view that by involving a potential opponent in an international regime, that power may be persuaded to respect the values of the regime and thus modify its behavior accordingly. David Shambaugh is also supportive of this approach: “Engagement … is a … vehicle to the ultimate goal of integrating China into the existing rule-based, institutionalized, and normative international system”.⁵⁷ While entering a realistic caveat, which he explains at some length: “For numerous reasons, China will be reluctant to respond positively to the policy of engagement”, he concludes, “yet this remains the best option available to the international community at present”. (ASEAN, while following the same rationale, avoids the term “engagement”, which the Chinese sometimes characterize as an American plot.)

While ASEAN diplomats and most Western scholars share a consensus that an old-fashioned balance of power approach for dealing with China today would be a great mistake — at best, ineffective power-based, realistic strategies have not disappeared from the policy horizon. As Allen Whiting puts it, “ASEAN members vary widely in their degrees of apprehension over China’s intention, but they concur on the absence of imminent threat. This provides time for a balance of politics [or enmeshment] to reduce Chinese assertiveness so that exercising the balance of power may be unnecessary”.⁵⁸ This suggests that the relationship between enmeshment and power .balancing may be sequential-if the first fails, the second comes into play.

Some Chinese scholars, however, see the two as co-existing today. In an article that is generally balanced, and takes ASEAN quite seriously, Shi Yongming recognizes that “ASEAN defence capability cannot be considered strong”,⁵⁹ and notes that it is precisely the weak and decentralized defence forces that have motivated ASEAN to use political means to pursue security through strengthened regional multilateral co-operation and negotiation. He adds that “on the other hand, the weak defense forces have also forced ASEAN countries to adopt the military policy of balancing superpowers, namely allowing the U.S. to exercise military functions … in South East Asia”. Even while pointing out that both United States and Japan are attempting to persuade ASEAN to become allies, Shi concludes that “maintaining a balanced relationship with various larger nations is conducive to ASEAN’s own security and regional stability” and that of the whole Asia-Pacific. If this were indeed Chinese policy then Vietnam would feel no reluctance to strengthen strategic, as well as economic, links with Japan and the United States-which is, in fact, being done.

When Prime Minister Ryutaro Hashimoto toured Southeast Asia in January 1997, he put more emphasis on security matters than had any previous Japanese premier. While he was in Hanoi, it was reported that throughout the meeting with Premier Vo Van Kiet there were indications of both countries’ concern that China may become a common threat for Japan and ASEAN.⁶⁰ In the final communique Kiet and Hashimoto agreed to promote security dialogue between their countries, at first through vice-ministerial consultations, which have, in fact, proceeded.⁶¹ During a courtesy call on Do Muoi, the Party leader told Hashimoto that it is important that Japan, the United States and China co-operate to maintain stability in the Asia-Pacific. The desire persists for a concert of powers-which plays well in Beijing, but discussions are ongoing to plan for other contingencies.

One concrete result of Hashimoto’s tour was the positive, though qualified, ASEAN response to his proposal for a regular summit meeting between ASEAN leaders and Japan.⁶² Some members of ASEAN were wary of agreeing to an exclusive ASEAN-JAPAN summit. An earlier proposal to include China and South Korea along with Japan in a high-level meeting was revived and later approved.

In December 1998, the first meeting of “ASEAN + 3” (China, Japan and South Korea) was held in H&noi following the conclusion of the informal ASEAN summit. This meeting represented the de facto achievement of Mahathir’s dream of an East Asian Economic Group (EAEG) which Japan had initially opposed.

Vietnam’s attentions to security relations with the United States were highlighted by the fortuitous presence in Hanoi of Admiral Joseph Prueher, U .S. Pacific Fleet Commander, at the time of the Vietnamese protest about the presence of a Chinese oil rig on their continental shelf. On the occasion of this visit, Deputy Prime Minister Tran Duc Luong praised the contribution of improved Vietnam-U.S. relations to “stability and development in the region”.⁶³

The contribution of the relationship to “security and peace of the Asia Pacific” was reiterated in Hanoi at the time of the Senate confirmation of the new U .S. ambassador to Vietnam. Vietnamese military officers have also had a chance to visit the United States.

All states are aware, therefore, that Vietnam’s aspiration is for a concert of powers, consultation, trade, the sharing of goals and the avoidance of overt conflict among the members of ARF. Vietnam will use ASEAN and ARF to raise concerns and seek consensus. When consensus within or beyond ASEAN is not possible, Vietnam will nevertheless use this channel to make protests about violations of its security. At the same time bilateral security dialogue will help prepare for eventualities that Vietnam-along with all ASEAN members-hope to avoid. Constructive dialogues with China and close consultation with ASEAN are the preferred tools by which Vietnam hopes to insure its security. Nevertheless, other courses of action are not ignored.

Prospects

In July 1997 the “ASEAN Seven” became “ASEAN Nine”, with the inclusion of Laos and Myanmar. Cambodia was admitted as ASEAN’s tenth member on 30 April 1990. How will that affect the utility of Vietnam’s policy? Will ASEAN still be as likely to react towards China in a manner basically sympathetic to Vietnam’s position? Bilson Kurus, writing in 1995, took an optimistic view: “The inclusion of Vietnam and the other Indochinese states as well as Myanmar would further bolster the ability of ASEAN to deal with extra-regional actors over troublesome issues such as the conflicting claims over the Spratly Islands.”⁶⁴ A Vietnamese scholar was more cautious: “even though from the prevailing ASEAN viewpoint [China] can pose a direct threat to regional security, … dealing with China in bilateral and multilateral terms will be a challenge to ASEAN solidarity in the years ahead”.⁶⁵ In a more recent comment, Lee Poh Ping of the University of Malaya had similar concerns: “It will be more difficult to maintain the cohesion of ten disparate countries”.⁶⁶ Vietnam itself has been quite enthusiastic about the expansion of ASEAN membership. Though unstated, it seems rather clear that this is because of regime affinity; Vietnam will be more comfortable in ASEAN with a greater preponderance of authoritarian regimes.

The special enthusiasm for Myanmar’s entry is also a reaction to U .S. opposition to that move. Vietnam wants to reinforce the principle that human rights are a matter of domestic jurisdiction. Said Foreign Minister Cam of the announcement of U.S. sanctions against Myanmar, “Vietnam shares the view of many countries that economic sanctions are imposed with the aim of interfering in the internal affairs of a nation”.⁶⁷ In late May, a few weeks after the sanctions were announced, Do Muoi, with a large delegation, made a visit to Yangon.⁶⁸ The Burmese were very appreciative of Vietnamese support.

Even Philippine Foreign Minister Domingo Siazon, who was under a lot of pressure at home to oppose Burma’s entry into ASEAN, supported the move, arguing that Burma’s relations with ASEAN had strategic implications, and could not exist only on one dimension, human rights.⁶⁹ This furthered the argument, which had been used elsewhere, that bringing Burma into ASEAN would end its dependency on China-which is, at least, a possibility. Yet why was China itself supporting the expansion of ASEAN so vigorously? Partly, of course, to drive a wedge between ASEAN and the United States. But perhaps it was a more long term strategy. Chinese scholars recognize the fragility of ASEAN unity: “When larger nations have sharp confrontations, it is still unknown whether ASEAN as a whole can insist on neutrality”. They noted the economic dimension as well: “If Laos, Burma and Kampuchea are accepted in the ASEAN, problems caused by differences in the economic development of different nations within ASEAN will further worsen”.⁷⁰

In fact, it seems unlikely that China would have supported Burma’s entry into ASEAN if it had thought that in the process it would be losing a close ally. China has also been wooing Hun Sen, Cambodia’s most powerful leader, in recent years. Even Laos is trying to end its dependence on Vietnam by building closer ties to both China and Thailand. Thailand under Chavalit has been open both about its close links to China and its desire for leadership in ASEAN.⁷¹ Therefore, in the future a smaller percentage of ASEAN members are likely to come to the support of Vietnam if it has a problem with China in the South China Sea. Cambodia has no territorial conflict with China and regards Vietnam as its traditional enemy. The two members which joined in 1997 do not have coastlines to the disputed Sea. It may be that Vietnam’s eagerness to oppose the United States on human rights and intervention in internal affairs will backfire. It may have helped create a new power structure, a new set of orientations toward China within ASEAN that will be fundamentally inimical to Vietnam’s interests.

Vietnam’s success in utilizing ASEAN engagement, or enmeshment, with China as a political defence against Chinese incursions may not be a policy with long-term viability. The reluctance of the Vietnamese military to allow greater transparency may also frustrate Vietnam’s efforts to establish closer military relations with ASEAN states. As many have said, the shifting shoals of multilateral diplomacy in a multi-polar world pose considerable risk. Putting high priority on protecting a relatively closed political system complicates an already complex diplomatic task.

The less prominent, but emerging, theme in Vietnam’s foreign policy strategy, that of seeking a more traditional form of balancing by increasing military links with Japan and the United States, is also fraught with danger. Quite aside from the question of whether either Japan or the United States has the political will to act in the defence of Vietnam, there is the problem of psychological impact on China. Any hint that neighbours may be involved in a scheme to “contain” China seems to make its government even more militant. So far the level of military contact with those two major powers is lower than that of their interaction with China itself. It is far from the overt strategic alliance with the USSR that caused so many problems for Vietnam in the 1970s. It will be a delicate maneuver indeed to maintain significant military exchanges with two great powers that have their own conflicts with China, at the same time preserving a constructive dialogue with Beijing. In any case, Vietnamese policymakers seem to be well aware of the dangers of the past, and thus may also be sensitive to the pitfalls of the future.

Notes

¹ Gareth Porter, The Politics of Bureaucratic Socialism (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 19931, p. 208.

² Bui Tin, Following Ho Chi Minh (London: Hurst and Co., 1995), p.160.

³ Carlyle A. Thayer, “Sino-Vietnamese Relations: The Interplay of Ideology and National Interest”, Asian Survey 34, no. 6 (June 1994): 516-17.

⁴ Ibid., p. 518.

⁵ Porter, The Politics of Bureaucratic Socialism, op. cit., p. 193.

⁶ Bui Tin, Following Ho Chi Minh, p. 188.

⁷ Murray Hiebert, Far Eastern Economic Review, 16 July 1992, p. 21.

⁸ Thayer, “Sino-Vietnamese Relations”, op. cit., p. 525.

⁹ Bui Tin, Following Ho Chi Minh, op. cit., p. 191.

¹⁰ Thayer, “Sino-Vietnamese Relations”, op. cit., p. 527.

¹¹ Mark Valencia, “The Spratly Embroglio in the Post-Cold War Era”, in David Wurfel and Bruce Burton, eds., Southeast Asia in the New World Order (London: Macmillan, 19961, pp. 248-49.

¹² Donald Zagoria, “Joining ASEAN”, in James W. Morley and Masashi Nishihara, eds., Vietnam Joins the World INew York: M.E. Sharpe, 1997), p. 167.

¹³ Thayer, “Sino-Vietnamese Relations”, p. 528.

¹⁴ Quoted in Zagoria, “Joining ASEAN”, op. cit., p. 158.

¹⁵ Hoang Anh Than, “Vietnam’s Membership in ASEAN: Economic, Political and Security Implications”, Contemporary Southeast Asia 16, no. 3 (December 1994): 263.

¹⁶ Ibid., p. 266.

¹⁷ Nguyen Hong Thach, quoted in Thayer, “Sino-Vietnamese Relations”, op. cit., p. 528.

¹⁸ Interview by the author with a party official in Hanoi, 28 March 1997.

¹⁹ Brantley Womack, “Vietnam 1996: Reform Immobilism”, Asian Survey 37, no. 1 (January 1997): 86.

²⁰ Hoang Anh Than, “Vietnam’s Membership in ASEAN”, op. cit., p.267.

²¹ Saigon Giai Phong, 5 April 1997 in FBIS-EAS-97-105.

²² Xinhua, Beijing, 27 February 1997 in FBIS-CHI-97-039.

²³ Xinhua, Beijing, 9 April 1997.

²⁴ Agence France-Presse (AFP), 31 March 1997, in FBIS-EAS-97-090.

²⁵ Vietnam Investment Review, 31 March 1997, in FBIS-EAS-97-093.

²⁶ Michael Vatikiotis, Far Eastern Economic Review, 3 April 1997, p. 15.

²⁷ The Nation (Bangkok), 26 March 1997, in FBIS-EAS-97-058.

²⁸ Naeo Na, 31 January 1997, in FBIS-EAS-97-026.

²⁹ Bangkok Business Day, 1 April 1997.

³⁰ Bangkok Post, 26 April 1997, in FBIS-EAS-97-116.

³¹ Michael Vatikiotis, Far Eastern Economic Review, 17 April 1997, p. 20.

³² Quoted in Zagoria, “Joining ASEAN”, op. cit., p. 167.

³³ Statement by the Philippines Embassy, Hanoi, 12 July 1996.

³⁴ Vietnam-Southeast Asia Today (Hanoi), July 1996, p. 10.

³⁵ Bangkok Post, 21 March 1997, in FBIS-EAS-97-079.

³⁶ Michael Vatikiotis, Far Eastern Economic Review, 3 April 1997, p. 14.

³⁷ Ibid.

³⁸ Interviews with the author, Hanoi, April 1997.

³⁹ Business World, 31 March 1997, in FBIS-EAS-97-090.

⁴⁰ Quoted in Far Eastern Economic Review, 17 April 1997, p. 20.

⁴¹ Michael Vatikiotis, Far Eastern Economic Review, 8 May 1997, p. 15.

⁴² AFP, 30 April, 3 May 1997 in FBIS-EAS-97-120, FBIS-CHI-97-123.

⁴³ International Herald Tribune, 30 April 1997.

⁴⁴ AFP, 10 May 1997, in FBIS-EAS-97-130.

⁴⁵ Andrew Sherry and Rogoberto Tiglao, Far Eastern Economic Review, 12 June 1997, pp. 17-21

⁴⁶ Business World, 21 May 1997, in FBIS-EAS-97-141.

⁴⁷ Kyodo, 16 May 1997, in FBIS-EAS-97-136.

⁴⁸ Interview with the author, Hanoi, 9 April 1997.

⁴⁹ Ibid.

⁵⁰ A. Kotelkin, “Russia and the World Arms Market”, International Affairs (1996): 34.

⁵¹ Interview with the author, Hanoi, 10 April 1997.

⁵² Interview with the author, Hanoi, 10 April 1997.

⁵³ Interview with the author, Hanoi, 11 April 1997.

⁵⁴ Tatsumi Okabe, “Coping with China” in Morley and Nishihara, eds., Vietnam Joins the World, op. cit., p. 129.

⁵⁵ Zagoria, “Joining ASEAN”, op. cit., p. 157.

⁵⁶ Denny Roy, “The China Threat Issue: Major Arguments”, Asian Survey 36, no. 8 (August 1966): 770.

⁵⁷ David Shambaugh, “Containment or Engagement of China?”, International Security 21, no. 2 (Fall 1996!: 181.

⁵⁸ Quoted in Far Eastern Economic Review, 24 April 1997, p. 28.

⁵⁹ Shi Yongming, “The Elevated Status and Influence of the ASEAN after the Cold War”, Guoji Wenti Yanjiu [International Studies]. 13 January 1997, 29-33, in FBIS-CHI-97-077.

⁶⁰ Mainichi Shimbun, 13 January 1997, in FBIS-EAS-97-008.

⁶¹ Kyodo, 11 January 1997, in FBIS-EAS-97-008.

⁶² Kyodo, 26 March 1997, in FBIS-EAS-97-085.

⁶³ Quan Doi Nhan Dan, 28 March 1997, in FBIS-EAS-97-087.

⁶⁴ Bilson Kurus, “ASEAN-izing Southeast Asia”, in Derek da Cunha, ed., The Evolving Pacific Power Structure (Singapore: Institute of Southeast Asian Studies, 19961, p. 75.

⁶⁵ Hoang Anh Than, “ASEAN Dispute Management: Implications for Vietnam and an Expanded ASEAN”, Asian Survey 18, no. 1 (June 1996): 77.

⁶⁶ Quoted in Far Eastern Economic Review, 12 June 1997, p. 15.

⁶⁷ New Light of Myanmar, 17 May 1997, in FBIS-EAS-97-140.

⁶⁸ Rangoon Radio, 22 May 1997, in FBIS-EAS-97-143.

⁶⁹ The Nation (Bangkok), 30 April 1997, in FBIS-EAS-97-120.

⁷⁰ Shi Yongming, “The Elevated Status and Influence of the ASEAN after the Cold War”, in FBIS-CHI-97-077.

⁷¹ See Thailand Times, 16 March 1997, in FBIS-EAS-97-075.

The character of the present political elite in South Vietnam is crucial for the success of American policy there and will be a major determinant of the way in which the new constitution is implemented. A study of this elite is, therefore, timely. It is also consistent with a growing interest among political scientists in such research as a means to better understand the development process.

The makeup of the Saigon elite will be examined here with special reference to four cabinets, those led by President Diem and by Premiers Tho, Huong, and Ky. Some data on members of other cabinets in the 1962-65 period will also be included. It will be the theme of this paper that, in so far as top civilian office-holders are representative of the group, this elite has not substantially changed its character in the last few years. It is true that since 1962 at least two important new groups have entered the elite of power: the military and the Buddhists. Political parties and Southern sects that were active in the mid-1950’s have also reappeared and have been given an institutional base in the 1966 election of the Constituent Assembly. But most indications point to the conclusion that their leaders come from educational and social backgrounds very similar to those of cabinet members. The extent to which this is also true of the Buddhists and military men needs further research. In any case, there can be no claim here that the cabinet provides a cross-section of the entire political elite.

The Saigon elite has been the product of colonialism, war and revolution. It is composed of factions warring on the basis of region, religion and other less obvious considerations. But these factions also have qualities in common. The predominance of French education, either in Vietnam or in France, is noticeable. Separation from rural life is a consequence of the most frequent career patterns. Robert Shaplen has emphasized the psychological isolation of the elite from the peasantry.¹

Its emergence from a Confucian tradition has given the Vietnamese elite some common as well as distinct characteristics.²Vietnam is alone in Southeast Asia in having been ruled by a mandarin bureaucracy before the coming of the West. This pattern of government, borrowed from China, seems to have been adequate for the needs of a traditional society. Independence and a modicum of internal order were maintained for centuriesuntil the intrusion of the modern West. Nor were Confucian ideas and institutions immediately set aside upon the arrival of the French. Mandarinal examinations were not abolished until 1922; the traditional bureaucracy was only gradually displaced by the French administrative system. In the 1950’s Ngo Dinh Diem tried to revive public obeisance to The Sage.

Indications are strong that in Ching China there was a high degree of self-perpetuation within the mandarinate. About 80% of those who obtained mandarinal degrees in the last Chinese dynasty were offspring of degree holders, despite the ideal of open access to the examinations.³Though no comparable research has been done for Vietnam, preference elsewhere in elite recruitment for sons of mandarins has also been noted.⁴It would be natural to assume that status and educational opportunity correlated highly throughout the French period also.

Educational facilities under colonialism were not extensive. In the early 1930’s, less than 1,000 attended universities. Nearly two-thirds of this number were in the single Indochinese university at Hanoi, and most of the rest were in France.⁵ As late as 1939, only about 6,000 Vietnamese were in secondary schools of all types, i.e., beyond the 10th grade. In the population as a whole, literacy was variously estimated at between 5 and 20 percent, thus differentiating a well-educated elite even more sharply from the ordinary citizen. Robequain has pointed out that in the 1930’s some young men of modest means gained access to the intellectual elite through higher education, but emphasized that it was the exception rather than the rule.⁷ Nearly twenty years later, Scigliano reiterated: “Secondary and higher education has been the preserve of the well-off.”⁸

In more recent years, of course, the educational gap between elite and mass has narrowed. Literacy is now attributed to nearly two-thirds of the population. By 1964, secondary school (10th to 12th grade) enrollment in South Vietnam had reached 62,000 and there were more than 20,000 in universities and higher technical schools.⁹Thus, with only slightly less population than all of Vietnam in the 1930’s, educational opportunity in South Vietnam beyond the 10th grade was available to about 10 times more people than in the previous generation.

The political elite which attracts our attention is, as in most late-developing countries, a part of a very small upper class. No reliable survey of the structure of South Vietnamese society as a whole is available today, though we are fortunate in having some data from a recent sample drawn by the Opinion Research Corporation of Princeton.¹⁰ This sample is admittedly skewed toward an over-representation of urban areas, but only 1% of the population is classified as “professionals” and only 8% as “white-collar workers,” a category which undoubtedly includes a large percentage that would, on income criteria, not even qualify as middle-class. The economic elite has been, at least until recently, dominated by the French and the Chinese, while the political elite has been confined to ethnic Vietnamese. Formerly, only among the great landlords were there those who held significant amounts of both political and economic power; grandiose corruption may have allowed others to attain that distinction in recent years.

With this very inadequate introduction to Vietnamese society and the place of the political elite within it, let us focus more directly on the cabinet. Since this is an interim report on a long-term study, the data are still quite incomplete and the figures can only be suggestive of characteristics. The decision to concentrate on the four cabinets is itself a result of data limitations. The author has had to rely primarily on a collation of published data: books, newspapers and Viet Nam Press. Some information has also been obtained from interviews.

The cabinet has not in recent history been the exclusiveor even primary locus of power within the Vietnamese political system. The Diem cabinet without Nhu, the Huong cabinet without General Khanh, and the Quat cabinet without General Ky are merely three of the most patent instances of supreme political power lying outside the cabinet. Nguyen Thai has described how President Diem often treated his cabinet members as errand boys. Professor Fishel chose words which seem to best describe the situation when he said that the Quat cabinet was “in charge of the civil administration.”¹¹ Yet while the cabinet was subordinate to the Ngo family until 1963 and under military direction since then, not to mention growing American influence, it is still the most significant civilian political institution within the South Vietnamese government and thus deserves our close attention. No policy decision can be implemented without the full cooperation of its members.

The first of the four cabinets on which we will focus is that of Ngo Dinh Diem, as constituted in 1962. This was after Diem had weathered two unsuccessful coups, the second of which resulted in the bombing of the palace, and the defection of some of the outstanding young men in his administration, most notably Vu Van Thai, Director of the Budget and Foreign Aid. The second cabinet was headed by Nguyen Ngoc Tho, formerly Diem’s vice-president, who was appointed to do the bidding of the junta headed by Gen. Duong Van Minh from November 1963 to January 1964. General Khanh’s cabinet followed. Incomplete data prevents its inclusion in the detailed tables; however, four members of Khanh’s government help to make up the total of some fifty cabinet members about whom there is sufficient information to make certain generalizations. The Tran Van Huong cabinet, formed in November 1964, marked an unsuccessful attempt to restore civilian government while ignoring the Buddhists. It was followed in February 1965 by the Phan Huy Quat cabinet, which, while more sensitive to religious currents, was weakened by factional quarrels and toppled in June by pressures from the military. (Again, data on this cabinet are very incomplete.) The cabinet then formed was headed by General Nguyen Cao Ky, still premier today after at least three governmental reshuffles.

Since only the transition from the Quat to the Ky cabinet was not marked by a fundamentaland sometimes violentchange in the top elite of power, one might have expected important differences among the various ministerial line-ups. In regard to educational background, however, there was very little change. Since the Diem regime, all civilians on which we have data have attended university and nearly one-fourth in each cabinet have had a doctor’s degree of some kind (Table I) . This is in contrast to only 1.5% of the civil bureaucracy having university education as of 1961.¹²

Nor has there been a change in the locale of higher education. The two cabinets on which data are most comparable, the first and the last, seem to be very similar in make-up, with approximately the same ratio of U.S. to European to Vietnamese schools (Table II). An analysis of forty ministers in six cabinets since 1962 indicates that little more than one-third had all their advanced training in Vietnam, whereas 40% took all or part of their university work in France and a full 60% were included in a broader category of those educated in Europe and America.

The relative impact of foreign and domestic university training is a significant influence on the pattern of political development and is receiving increasing attention among scholars.¹³It has been correctly pointed out that under a colonial regime a modern university tends to be an alien institution, even if located within the colony. Certainly Hanoi University, staffed largely by Frenchmen, was patterned closely on the Gallic model. Nevertheless, thecultural experiences that accompany extended residence abroad while attending university cannot help but affect one’s values more greatly than attendance at an almost identical institution within one’s own cultural milieu. The plurality of cabinet members who attended French universities in France are likely to be more westernized than their colleagues who did not. (They are also likely to be more disdainful of American culture.)

Vietnamese cabinets, in fact, appear to be among the most westernized in Asia. Comparison with Korea in this regard is noteworthy: a study of political leadership there revealed that only about 25% of university graduates had attended Korean schools, while 35% had gone to Japan and 20% to Europe and America.¹⁴ But Japanese universities, while alien, were not Western. In Nehru’s 1956 cabinet, only 7 out of 26 had European degrees.¹⁵ A much smaller proportion of Philippine cabinet members have studied abroad.

The National Liberation Front constitutes a counter-elite to Saigon’s leadership. Though data are neither complete nor entirely trustworthy, it is clear that a French education in Europe is rare among NLF Central Committee members; only 3 out of 27 report studying in France.¹⁶ In contrast, in a comparable setting, a higher percentage of the leaders of the Chinese Communist Party in the 1930’s had educational experience in Europe and America than did the Central Executive Committee of the Kuomintang.¹⁷ It appears that foreign education in itself is neither a decisive help nor hindrance to leaders attempting to build a mass political base. Other kinds of experience must be more crucial.

The average age of Saigon cabinet members stabilized from 1962 to 1964 at around 47; then, following a slight upswing in the Quat cabinet, it dropped to nearly 41 with Ky, whose own youth was certainly a factor in bringing down the average (Table III). In Korea, a similar pattern was evident: the average age of civilian cabinet members was over 50; in General Park’s government which followed, it was under 42. In both South Korea and South Vietnam, then, the ages were well below the average of 57.7 years which obtained in Nehru’s India and which probably reflects the long history of the pre-independence nationalist movement there. In the even greater stability of Japanese society and politics, cabinet members have averaged nearly 60 years of age.¹⁸

While a concentration on average age shows considerable stability from Diem until the appearance of Ky, the spread of ages within each cabinet is also important. All of the four cabinets studied included one or more members born before 1909 and one or more born in the 1930’s. This constitutes a spread of approximately 25 years, or the difference of a generation. The spread from the oldest to the youngest in the 3-year period is 35 years. This is comparable to the spread for Japanese cabinets from 1954 to 1961, reported by Ward¹⁹ to be 39 years, but considerably more than that in the Indian cabinet of 1956, only 23 years.²⁰ In any case, given the traditional respect for age in Vietnamese society and the great difference in life experiences between those born during the Russo-Japanese War and those born following the Great Depression, this age spread must be an important barrier to easy communicationlet alone true consensuswithin the cabinet. And certainly lack of cohesion within the Vietnamese decision-making elite is an important phenomenon to explain.

With data on less than forty persons, the link between age group and place of higher education is not decisively established, but the trend is clear. The percentage of foreign trained increases in the younger age brackets. Given the conditions existing in Vietnam since 1941, there were obviously many advantages to studying abroad. And as might be expected, foreign study other than in France is a recent phenomenon. These distinctions reinforce generational gaps.

The lower age of the Ky cabinet might be significant in terms of basic attitudes to national problems. But we cannot be confident that youth creates a more revolutionary spirit. The Ky government seems no closer to stamping out corruption or to giving land to the landless than were its more elderly predecessors. The NLF Central Committee members, on the other hand, had an average age of 49 in 1965; 59% of them were born before 1920, compared to 13% of Ky’s first cabinet.

Regional affiliation in Vietnam is an important level of identity which has been overlayedbut not replaced by nationalism. One’s regional origins are immediately evident in the type of Vietnamese spoken. Reference to regional differences is part of everday conversation; each region stereotypes the others.²¹Regionalism was a problem even for the 19th Nguyen dynasty, the period of greatest Vietnamese national unity. Regional differences were further sharpened by the varying impact of French colonialism in each of the three ky. The competition among the elites from all three regions in Saigon politics today makes the problem more intense than ever.

Since 1966, regional differences in Vietnamese politics have come to the attention of the press and of many American government officials, especially with the cabinet crisis that preceded the 1966 Manila conference and the subsequent assassination of Tran Van Van. Scholars have been aware of the potency of regional sentiments for some time.²² Scigliano’s check of 186 higher civil servants in 1961 revealed the combined dominance of Northerners (57) and those from the Center (62) over Southerners (67) , though about two-thirds of the population were in the South, i.e., the former Cochin-China. At the cabinet level, Diem first included no Southerners, but 40% were from the South by 1962. Subsequent cabinets did vary somewhat in the matter of regional composition (Table IV). No successor to Diem gave as many cabinet posts to those from the Center, Diem’s own region, as he did. Premier Tho’s cabinet was overwhelmingly Southern in its composition, a reaction to Diem. And Ky, himself a Northerner, gave greater representation to the North than was true in any other cabinet. Northerners also dominated top military leadership. If resentment against Northerners was so intense that it helped bring down the Diem government in 1963, it was unlikely that it had disappeared in 1965, for the South continues to be under-represented at the highest decision-making levels. That three-quarters of the NLF Central Committee is made up of Southerners seems well-designed to exploit the discontent, even though the Central Committee may be no more powerful in its camp than the cabinet is in Saigon.

Regional differences within a cabinet are important especially insofar as they coincide with the pattern of other cleavages. Much has been written about religious antagonisms. Precise religious breakdown of cabinets in this study is not possible without further data. (Religious affiliation is not usually part of published biographies.) Our study does show, however, some correlation between regional and educational backgrounds (Table V) . Over half the Southerners on whom we have data studied in France, while less than 15% of the Northerners did so. In fact, less than half of the Northerners had any foreign study, and two out of four of those who did go abroad went to the U.S. No Southern cabinet member reports an American educational background. This begins to give some substance to the Northern image of the Southerner as being too gallicized and the Southern complaint that Northerners are too closely identified with the Americans.

A study of career backgrounds is, of course, one of the most significant approaches to the analysis of elite composition. The career histories of over fifty ministers reveal some clear patterns. Government servicecivilian and military, career and politicalwas the main occupation of 47.1% of the population in the 1949-54 period and 52.9% during the Diem regime (Table VI) . What is particularly interesting is that despite the net return of over 20% of future cabinet members from abroad, mostly in 1954 and 1955.only one-fourth of this number was added to those in government service after 1955. This confirms the impression that many Vietnamese returned from overseas when Diem came to power, often with the intention of serving their nation in government, but then were wary and did not join the Ngo family regime. It is the professions of education, law and medicine that seem to have gained most from those returning from abroad. Pre-cabinet careers in all business and professional categories jumped from 25.5% before 1954 to 43.4% afterwards. Within that grouping, education made the largest absolute gain from one period to the next. While most educators were in government institutions, receiving government salaries, their political values and attitudes were probably closer to the free professions than to those of the bureaucrat. One measure of the degree to which Vietnamese teachers identify with the Saigon government may be found in the fact that their profession is better represented in the membership of the NLF Central Committee than is any other occupation.

In Nehru’s India, recruitment to the cabinet was along different channels; party and legislative careers were more important than either the civil service, business, or the professions. In the Philippines, business and the professions, along with professional politics, are the main avenues to the cabinet. In both countries political leadership is chosen through elections. However, despite the fact that Japan also has elected governments, Japanese cabinets have been somewhat more like those in Vietnam. In 1954, 35% of cabinet members in Tokyo had risen through the bureaucracy and only 34% through business and the professions, the rest coming through political parties.

It is not surprising that the greatest similarity to South Vietnam is to be found in the country most like it in terms of ancient history and culture, colonial experience, and recent political developments, South Korea. The military role in Vietnamese cabinets has been somewhat less than in South Korea in the 1952-1962 period, since the Vietnamese military has preferred usually to rule from outside the cabinet. More than one-fourth of 119 Korean cabinet members had military careers, compared with less than 15% of 53 in Saigon.²³The career civil servant, on the other hand, was less dominant in Korea; only 18.6% of Korean cabinet members studied were career civil servants, compared to one-third in South Vietnam. However, an almost identical proportion (65%) of Korean and post-1965 Saigon cabinet members came up from military, civil service and educational careers.

It is important to note that the military men in post-Diem cabinets all served under French command before 1954. Although General Park and other Korean officers served in Japanese forces, that service ended nearly ten years earlier than for comparable Vietnamese, nor was it primarily directed to the suppression of Korean nationalists. Neither can the Vietnamese officer corps be compared with that in Indonesia, which won its medals fighting against European colonialism.

When one compares the career histories of different cabinets, the presence (under Tho, Quat or Ky) or absence (under Diem or Huong) of the military is the only important contrastand in the case of Huong even this difference is more apparent than real (Table VII). What is more impressive is that four or more members of each cabinet served under Bao Dai and the French in a civil or military capacity. In the Tho cabinet, more than two-thirds of the members were in that category. Biographical data on only one person lists service with the Viet Minh, though there are probably more. At least two persons in all the cabinets except Tho’s spent all or part of the Bao Dai period abroad. It is easy to understand, therefore, how an ardent Vietnamese nationalist could view many recent cabinet members as ex-collaborationists or, at least, as ex-attentistes.

One of the most important findings which we may derive from these data is the degree of similarity among the four cabinets. This is partly the result of overlapping membership, which involves only two persons from the Diem to Tho cabinets, but five each from Tho’s to Khanh’s and from Quat’s to Ky’s. (The Oanh “caretaker cabinet” of 1964 was excluded from consideration precisely because it largely duplicated the previous Khanh ministry and lasted such a short time.) Carry-overs in the Khanh, Huong and Ky cabinets involved more than 25% of all posts (Table VIII).

Overlapping membership does not extend much beyond adjacent cabinets, however. No member of the Diem or Tho cabinets appears under either Quat or Ky. Nor did the first Ky cabinet include anyone from Khanh’s, and only one from Huong’s. Characteristic similarities which extend from 1962 to 1965 need to be explained by the continuing presence in the cabinets of an elite with common traits rather than simply by continuity of membership.

The important segment of the South Vietnamese elite of power which the cabinet constitutes is clearly made up of intellectuals. They are the highly westernized intelligentsia classified as “the new intellectuals” by Professor Benda.²⁴ But this does not mean, despite the tendency that Benda notes, that the Saigon elite is composed of social revolutionaries. In fact, these latter-day mandarins have combined the status of bureaucrat and intelligentsia in a conservative style unique in Southeast Asia. It is true that some of the revolutionary leadership in Vietnam came out of this elite, but that very defection seems to have hardened the attachment of the remainder to the status quo. Though in part the military leadership comes from different social strata, it seems despite some verbal innovation to accommodate quickly to much of the value system of the older elite, hoping perhaps to overcome the resentment against the nouveau arrive.

Benda explains the radicalism of the intelligentsia in the new states in terms of the unemployed or underemployed graduate. This is certainly an important part of the historical picture in many places. It was undoubtedly one of the factors spurring a revolutionary nationalist movement in Vietnam in the 1930’s.²⁵World War II and the Indo-China War which followed changed the situation in two important respects, however. In the first place, the educational output in Vietnam was held down, at least at the university level. Secondly, though the number of Vietnamese students in France and the U.S. grew rapidly in the late 1940’s and 1950’s, this did not mean an increase in the supply of graduates in Vietnam. Conditions were so bad that almost everyone who could stayed abroad. The ardent nationalist who would not work for the French was often averse to guerrilla warfare as well. Thus, despite the snail’s pace at which the French nationalized the bureaucracy, the number of Vietnamese applicants did not grow very much faster. And those who felt most comfortable about entering the civil service were those whose families were already part of the bureaucratic-intellectual elite. By the early 1950’s they saw radicalism, in the form of the Viet Minh, as a threat to their own position. The present political elite is the legacy of those developments. (The great expansion of university education within South Vietnam in the last decadewithout a corresponding increase in appropriate jobscould change the pattern in the near future, however.)

In sum, the South Vietnamese cabinets and perhaps most of the rest of the political elite have been constituted by a highly westernized intelligentsia. Though the people of South Vietnam seem to be in a revolutionary mood, this elite is hardly revolutionary. Whereas the Indonesian government suffered for years from an excess of “agitators” and “symbol manipulators” in its elite,²⁶Saigon today is witnessing the disadvantages inherent in rule by post-Confucian administrators. It seems unlikely that the solution to Vietnam’s ills is simply, as one cabinet member put it, “better administration.”

TABLE I: Level of Education of Cabinet Members

CABINET	Diem	Tho	Huong	Ky	All Cabinets==*==	%
Highest Level of Education
Vietnamese Classical Studies	1	0	0	0	1	1.9%
Technical School	7	5	9	10	30	56.6
M.D., Ph.D. or LL.D.	4	3	4	4	17	32.1
Total	12	11	13	16	53	100.1%==**==
Data Not Available	3	4	2	1	26
TOTAL Persons in Cabinet	15	15	15	17	79

* This column is not the sum of the four preceding columns, since a few persons from the Khanh and Quat cabinets are included and there is some overlap of personnel among the four cabinets covered above.

** Total may be more than 100%, due to rounding.

TABLE II: Place of Higher Education of Cabinet Members

Place of Higher Education	Diem	Tho	Huong	Ky	All Cabinets==*==
Vietnam	3	3	3	3	15	37.5%
France, or Vietnam and France	4	5	5	4	16	40.0
Part in USA	2	2	1	2	7	.17.5
Japan, Britain	0	0	1	1	2	5.0
Total	9	10	10	10	40	100%
Data Not Available	6	5	5	7	39
TOTAL Persons in Cabinet	15	15	15	17	79

* Those in the Diem, Tho, Khanh, Huong, Quat or First Ky cabinets.

TABLE III: Age Distribution of Cabinet Members and Average Ageby Cabinet

	CABINET
Age	Diem	Tho	Huong	Ky	All Cabinets==*==
1900-1904	2	0	1	0	3
1905-1909	1	1	2	1	4
1910-1914	3	5	3	1	13
1915-1919	4	4	3	0	8
1920-1924	1	0	3	6	12
1925-1929	0	3	1	5	10
1930-1934	1	1	1	1	3
1935-1940	0	0	0	1	1
TOTAL	12	14	14	15	54
Data Not Available	3	1	1	2	25
Number of Persons in Cabinet	15	15	15	17	79
Average Age on Taking Office	47.9	45.2	47.6	41.4

* Those in the Diem, Tho, Khanh, Huong, Quat or First Ky cabinets.

TABLE IV: Place of Birth of Cabinet Members

CABINET
Region	Diem	Tho	Huong	Ky	All Cabinets==*==	%
South	6	11	8	6	28	50%
Central/South	3	2	1	2	9	16.0
Central/North	1	0	0	0	2	3.6
North	3	1	4	6	16	28.6
Elsewhere (Loas)	0	0	0	1	1	1.8
Total	13	14	13	15	56	100%
Data Not Available	2	1	2	2	23
Total Persons in Cabinet	15	15	15	17	79

* Persons in the Diem, Tho, Huong, Khanh, Quat and First Ky cabinets.

TABLE V: Correlation Between Place of Education and Place of Birth

Place of Birth
Place of Higher Education	South (28)	North (16)	Total
Vietnam	4	7	11
All or Part Foreign	15	4	19
Total	19	11	28
Data Not Available	9	5	—

TABLE VI: Career Histories of Cabinet Members[a]

nbsp;	1949-1954	Diem Period
Cabinet Member	3	0
National Assembly	0	2
Sub-total: Political Office	3 (5.9%)	2 (3.8%)
Educator	4	8
Judge, lawyer	3	6
Sub-total:Professionals (including government employees)	7 (13.7%)	14 (26.4%)
Journalist	1	0
Doctor and dentist	2	5
Banker and businessman	3	4
Sub-total: Business and Free Professions	6 (11.8%)	9 (17.0%)
Exile, or study abroad	13 (25.5%)	2 (3.8%)
With the Viet Minh	1 (2.0%)	0 (0.0%)
TOTAL	51 (100%)	53 (100.1%)==*==
Data Not Available	28	26

fna. For Diem cabinet members, this indicates pre-1960 position.
* Total may be more than 100%, due to rounding.

TABLE VII: Pre-Diem Career History of Cabinet Members, by Cabinet

\2.	DIEM	THO	HUONG	KY
\2.Secretary-General, Director-General, etc.	1	3	1	1
\2.Lower rank civil servant	3	3	3	1
\2.Military officer	0	3	0	3
\2.Educator	1	0	2	1
\2.Judge, lawyer	0	1	1	1
\2.Journalist	1	0	0	0
\2.Doctor, dentist, pharmacist	0	1	0	1
\2.Banker, businessman	0	1	1	1
\2.Exile, study abroad	4	2	2	2
\2.With Viet Minh	0	0	1	0
\2.TOTAL in cabinet	15	15	15	17
\2.Data not available	5	1	4	6

TABLE VIII: Members of Five Cabinets From Previous Cabinets

	Diem	Tho	Khanh	Huong	Quat	Ky
DIEM	*	2	0	0	0	0
THO		*	5	2	0	0
KHANH			*	2	1	0
HUONG				*	1	1
QUAT					*	5
KY						*
Total Positions	15	15	18	15	19	17	99
Total Carry-overs	-	2	5	4	2	6
Percent of Carry-overs		13.3	27.8	26.7	10.5	35.3

DAVID WURFEL is Associate Professor of Political Science at the University of Missouri.

Notes

I wish to thank the Research Center of the School of Business and Public Administration, University of Missouri, and the Center for South and Southeast Asia, University of Michigan, for assistance which helped make this study possible.

¹ Robert Shaplen, The Lost Revolution (New York: Harper & Row, 1965), 253ff.

² Nguyen Thai, Is South Vietnam Viable? (Manila: Carmelo and Bauermann, 1962), 31ff.

³ See Robert Marsh, The Mandarins (Glencoe: Free Press, 1961), 82ff.

⁴ See Roy Jumper and Nguyen Thi Hue, Notes on the Political and Administrative History of Vietnam (Saigon: Michigan State University, 1962, mimeo).

⁵ See Vu Tam Ich, “A Historical Survey of Educational Developments in Vietnam,” Bulletin of the Bureau of School Service (Lexington, Kentucky), XXXII (Dec. 1959), 69ff.; also Virginia Thompson, French Indo-China (New York: Macmillan, 1937), pp. 284-307.

⁶ Great Britain, Naval Intelligence Division, Indo-China (London: HMSO, 1943), 250ff. It must be remembered that French lycees in Vietnam, though here included in the category “secondary” schools, provided up to the equivalent of American junior college education.

⁷ Charles Robequain, The Economic Development of French Indo-China (London: Oxford University Press, 1944) , p. 87.

⁸ Robert Scigliano, South Vietnam: Nation Under Stress (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1963), p. 50.

⁹ Republique du Viet-Nam, Secretariat d’Etat a L’Education Nationale, Annuaire Statistique de L’Enseignment (Saigon, 1965) , pp. 80-81.

¹⁰ Opinion Research Corporation, The People of South Vietnam: How They Feel About the War (Princeton: Opinion Research Corporation, March 1967), p. 46.

¹¹ Wesley R. Fishel, “Vietnam: The Broadening War,” Asian Survey (Jan. 1966), p. 51.

¹² Scigliano, op. cit., p. 48.

¹³ See M. Brewster Smith, “Foreign vs. Indigenous Education,” in Post-Primary Education and Political and Economic Development, Piper and Cole, eds. (Durham: Duke University Press, 1964), pp. 48-74.

¹⁴ Bae-ho Hahn and Kyo-taik Kim, “Korean Political Leaders (1952-1962) : Their Social Origins and Skills,” Asian Survey (July 1963), pp. 305-323. In this sample, which covered many leaders in addition to cabinet members, only 74% had college or university education; 14% attended military academy.

¹⁵ Robert North, “The Indian Council of Ministers: A Study of Origins,” in Leadership and Political Institutions in India, Richard Park and Irene Tinker, eds. (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1959), p. 110. Among the pro-Western elite of Nigeria, only one-third had been educated in Europe or America and only half had attended university at all. See Hugh H. Smythe and Mabel M. Smythe, The New Nigerian Elite (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1960) , p. 76.

¹⁶ See Douglas Pike, Viet Cong (Cambridge: MIT Press, 1966), pp. 422-435. “Harold Lasswell and Daniel Lerner, World Revolutionary Elites (Cambridge: MIT Press, 1965) , p. 382.

¹⁷ Robert Ward, “Japan,” in Modern Political Systems: Asia, Ward and Macridis, eds. (Englewood Cliffs: Prentice Hall, 1963), P. 85.

¹⁸ Ibid.

¹⁹ North, op. cit., p. 113.

²⁰ See George Tanham, “Nationalism and Revolution,” in Asia, No. 4 (Winter 1966), pp. 35-36.

²¹ Scigliano, op. cit., 51ff.

²² Harry Benda, “Non-Western Intelligentsias as Political Elites,” in John Kautsky, Political Change in Underdeveloped Countries (New York: Wiley, 1962), 234ff.

fn23.Ibid.

²⁴ Joseph Buttinger, Vietnam: A Dragon Embattled (New York: Praeger, 1967) , pp. 198-99.

²⁵ See Herbert Feith, The Decline of Constitutional Democracy in Indonesia (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1962) .