Ending an Intolerable Silence Among Vietnamese Americans

Recently, I considered not honoring a commitment I kept last month to deliver a talk on Vietnamese arts at the Bowers Museum in conjunction with its current exhibition “A Winding River, the Journey of Contemporary Art in Vietnam.” As a member of the Vietnamese American community, to come to the Bowers Museum meant I would incur the fury of the demonstrators who see the show as Communist propaganda.

I’m not insensitive to the wounded feelings and anger of the demonstrators. Who can ignore the tales of oppression and abuses under communism in this century? What Vietnamese can forget what communism has done to Vietnam and its people in the past 55 years? How does one stay blind to the stories of hundreds of thousands of men imprisoned in the past 25 years?

For a year in a refugee camp in Indonesia in the early 1980s, I tried in vain to make sense of the desperation, the suffering and the impossible courage of the boat people--young, old, angered, afraid, but above all, resolute on building a new life outside of Vietnam. Those who have survived the treacherous trip out of Vietnam have now found that free world. It makes no sense that some are now demanding the censure of artistic expressions from Vietnam.

It would have been impossible to allow myself to stay away from the Bowers Museum because of the tiresome demonstrations. Silence would have been an act of travesty against all the suffering I’d seen and heard about. It would have tarnished the history lessons I’d learned about Vietnamese heroes who fought against oppression. It would have reduced to nothing the meanings of my father’s years of determination to survive in countless prison camps under Communism. And silence would have betrayed my belief in a writer’s absolute need, and duty, to protect freedom of expression--his or anyone else’s.

Colleagues and friends tried to dissuade me from coming to the museum. I would be branded a Communist sympathizer and risk damaging the reputation and business opportunities of the broadcasting network I work for. But what media organization can accept censorship, unless in a Communist state? Some warned that those stirring up the demonstrations were beyond reason, merely using the anti-Communist banner for their own empowerment. Among the demonstrators, there are those who may fear that I am too naive, having never lived under Communism. But a thousand propagandistic paintings from Communist Vietnam would not erase the demonstrated failings of this system.

I may agree with those who argue that cultural exchange with Communist Vietnam has been a one-way street. But censorship isn’t the answer. Concerned parties should start a dialogue with the ambassador of Vietnam in Washington to discuss whether Vietnamese leaders are ready to allow freedom of expression in Vietnam. I fear that Vietnamese American artists who exhibit their works in Vietnam will be called Communist sympathizers, as has happened.

Several editors, writers and artists from the Vietnamese diaspora advised me against a confrontation at the Bowers Museum, even as they knew that when I appeared there on July 18 I would show slides of works by Vietnamese American artists and speak a little about what they wish to and are able to say in this country.

They are respected friends and colleagues, elders who wish to live a more serene life in America. But I ask that they join me and younger people who desperately wish to maintain our links with our community. Will those who thus far have stayed silent for fear of being labeled speak out now? They have debated the issues with me in private. What reason will they give for not doing so publicly? Will they pen editorials denouncing censorship? Will they take the examples of Vaclav Havel and other oppressed writers and artists throughout the world to publish open letters in community newspapers?

They have indicated to me that they find the voices demanding censorship at the Bowers Museum intolerable. They must as well, in their hearts, find their own silence intolerable.

I believe there is a silent majority that represents that feeling in an otherwise peaceful and sensible Vietnamese American community. It is a majority that opposes censorship, both in the homeland and in America. Will it remain a silent majority, or will it speak out now?