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[Year 2001]

Safety valve of the people

The ninth party congress brings a new leader, more vague policy, and calls for 'grassroots democracy' to alleviate public discontent

HANOI - Beneath the pageancy and the platitudes, a raw nerve throbbed at the ninth congress of Vietnam's communist party, held on April 19-22. The pain stemmed from evidence of growing public alienation from party officials--born of unresolved land disputes, obvious corruption and opaque government. In speech after speech, delegates cited "grassroots democracy" as the most effective remedy. That means bottom-up participation in decision-making and budget supervision, and linking party promotions to public feedback. Unless such measures are consistently implemented, Vietnam can expect more jolting unrest, as seen in February in the central highlands, where an estimated 5,000 ethnic minority protesters took to the streets.

In Vietnam's collectively run system, no one leader holds responsibility for making such sweeping changes in national political life. The last congress that brought real reform was back in 1986. But the widespread desire for greater transparency seems reflected in the choice of Nong Duc Manh, a member of the northern Tay minority, as the new party chief. During Manh's deft tenure as chairman of the National Assembly, ordinary Vietnamese suddenly found that they could switch on the TV and watch legislators pose hard questions to the nation's ministers, and even send in their own questions by phone, letter or e-mail. Those may sound like small steps toward "grassroots democracy," but for Vietnam, they are meaningful. Manh replaces Le Kha Phieu, an army general who became a driving force behind the party's two-year-old "criticism and self-criticism" campaign. Phieu's fall from power, triggered by the view that he was too close to China and too remote from his own countrymen, also indicates that voluntary confessions from party cadres simply don't work to clean up the system. Phieu's taste for beefed-up intelligence forays sowed discord within the party's central committee without eliminating misconduct, party sources say. Manh is no flaming reformist. Yet some Vietnamese express cautious optimism about the 60-year-old Russian-trained forestry engineer, who entered the National Assembly in 1992 and kept the peace among rival factions. "He doesn't have the army or the police in his hand. Therefore, he has to be more accountable to the people, and rely on them for support," says one Hanoi businessman. It doesn't hurt that Manh is said to be the son of Ho Chi Minh, a rumour that Manh did not entirely squelch by telling reporters his parents died when he was very young.

The leadership changes also sparked hope within the foreign business community, although Manh has not yet expressed any strong views on economic reform. "Now that they've got younger and better-educated leadership, it looks like they will be going in the right direction, in terms of integrating with the global economy and modernizing the Vietnamese system. It's definitely a positive signal," says Fred Burke, an attorney at U.S. law firm Baker & McKenzie in Ho Chi Minh City. The congress itself failed to send any clear signals on economic policy. The party stuck to a broad platform that assigned a vague "leading role" to the state sector, but also encouraged the growth of the private sector and foreign investment. The advantage of ambiguity is that the broad platform does not commit Vietnam to a detailed plan to pump up the state sector at the expense of the private sector. Manh and his revamped team will need this flexibility to comply with the conditions of a new, $368 million IMF loan designed to speed up reforms in state banks and state firms.

At the same time, the new team must figure out how to lure more foreign investment. Pledges for the first quarter of 2001 came to just $273 million. While Vietnam has become more active in promoting itself abroad, investors are still frustrated by slow-moving bureaucracy and high taxes on salaries. For a man of action, Manh can count on Vu Khoan, now strategically placed on the central committee's secretariat. Khoan was the chief negotiator for the U.S.-Vietnam bilateral trade agreement, which awaits ratification on both sides. Back-room negotiations dominated the congress, despite a new "democratic" twist in the election mechanism. For the first time, party leaders said, while the congress was in session each delegate would be asked to fill out a secret ballot for general secretary. While the ballots would not directly elect the candidate, they were to be used as a "reference" to guide the new central committee in choosing the party chief.

But delegates were in fact asked to fill out their ballots on April 16, three days before the congress formally opened. By then, the delegates already knew that Phieu had agreed to step down in the face of overwhelming opposition from the central committee. So the delegates chose Manh, known to be the central committee's favourite candidate. The new party chief dodged reporters' questions as to the precise date of the "democratic" ballot. In the face of such awkward subterfuge, why should anyone believe that the party is serious about "grassroots democracy"? Because for the party, a limited form of "democracy" represents self-preservation, not benevolence. A greater voice for the people is a practical way of defusing local frustrations before they metastasize into major protest. "It's not something potentially explosive, but acts as a safety valve," says Melina Nathan, a Vietnam specialist at the Institute of Defence and Strategic Studies in Singapore.

Driving this message home was Bui Si Tieu, who took over in January as party secretary in Thai Binh province, the site in 1997 of major protests by farmers at corruption by local officials. The extraordinary outcry prompted Hanoi to issue a 1998 decree to enhance public participation in local government. But in many provinces the decree has languished. In a forthright speech, Tieu advocated swift action. "Most of the complaints of the people were well-grounded," he reminded his audience, referring to anger at shady land deals and mismanaged rural cooperatives. Indeed, 800 officials were punished. And to supervise development projects such as roads and irrigation works, and double-check accounting, each ward now appoints four or five villagers, who are not necessarily party members. "Eighty percent of complaints could be addressed [at the local level], but because we don't have competent cadres, people bring them to a higher level," Tieu said. Voices from Danang, Ho Chi Minh City, Hanoi and even the armed forces echoed the need for more public accountability. Party officials did try to display evidence of vigilance, telling the press that 2,192 party members were dismissed from their posts and 2,983 expelled altogether from the party over the last two years. But they also admitted that many party stalwarts had ignored the rules on financial disclosure. "Leading party members must declare their assets," said Le Duc Binh, a member of the party's internal affairs committee. "We need to publicize the statements, [otherwise] these declarations will be just a piece of paper in the official file."

Dishing thee dirt

While Phieu is no longer party chief, his zeal for collecting dirt on his fellow cadres has cast a long shadow. When the central committee met for a March plenum, each member, for the first time, was handed dossiers detailing the personal "errors" they and their colleagues had made, as reported by colleagues and neighbours. Errors included indulgent displays of wealth, such as expensive cars and houses--and improper personal relationships. While such disclosures could have inflicted enduring damage on mutual trust between members of the central committee, "it had to be done," sighs one high-ranking party member. "These matters were getting increasingly sensitive." In the end, 84 people were retained for the new, 150-member central committee. Prime Minister Phan Van Khai and President Tran Duc Luong are also expected to stay on, preserving the troika's traditional balance between northern, southern and central Vietnam. One big change, however, is that the central committee's three senior advisers--Do Muoi, Le Duc Anh, and Vo Van Kiet--have respectfully been put out to pasture by a central committee decision to no longer have advisers. With no more meddling from up above, the new leadership will have no excuse if it fails to push reforms down below. Villagers remember Manh for his sympathetic visits during floods and other natural disasters. Now it's time to handle brewing political disasters, all man-made.

By Margot Cohen - The Far Eastern Economic Review - April 26, 2001.