The Vietnamese Odyssey in Germany

From the Editorial Board: Every year on September 2, Việt Nam proudly marks its National Day. But the meaning of this date is still debated. Some say it was a moment the Communist Party claimed as its own-casting itself as the force that brought independence from French colonial rule.

We won’t dive into that debate here. Instead, as Việt Nam celebrates, we want to look at something just as telling: even today, many Vietnamese continue to leave the country in search of better opportunities abroad. How do these overseas communities keep their traditions alive? Does coming from the North or the South shape how they live and see the world? And after the long shadow of the civil war between 1954 and 1975, do Northerners and Southerners carry different views of Việt Nam with them?

We begin this exploration with a look at Vietnamese communities in Germany. Once divided into East and West, Germany has long since been reunified. But what about the Vietnamese who settled there - did they come together as well?

The Vietnamese community in Germany, one of Europe's most vibrant and multifaceted diasporas shaped by Cold War-era migration, embodies a profound narrative of resilience, adaptation, and cultural preservation. 

With an estimated 215,000 people of Vietnamese descent in Germany, this community represents one of the largest Asian populations in the country, forged through distinct waves of migration that mirror the geopolitical divisions of both nations.

From the contract workers and students who arrived in the socialist German Democratic Republic (GDR) starting in the 1950s to the “boat people” fleeing the Vietnam War and finding refuge in West Germany in the late 1970s and 1980s, the Vietnamese diaspora is marked by its heterogeneity. These groups, once divided by the ideological fault lines of North and South Vietnam, have navigated the challenges of integration, xenophobia, and economic upheaval in a reunified Germany, while maintaining strong transnational ties to their homeland.

The community’s story is one of transformation, from isolated workers in the GDR’s tightly controlled enclaves to entrepreneurs, artists, and professionals who have reshaped urban landscapes, particularly in cities like Berlin, Leipzig, and Munich, with cultural hubs such as the Đồng Xuân Center in Berlin’s Lichtenberg District.

This diaspora’s journey is deeply rooted in the parallel histories of division and reunification in Vietnam and Germany, creating a unique interplay of identities and experiences.

In the GDR, North Vietnamese contract workers and students, numbering around 59,000 by 1989, were recruited as part of socialist solidarity, yet faced strict regulations that limited integration, including forced abortions for pregnant women and prohibitions on personal relationships with locals.

In contrast, the “boat people” in West Germany, approximately 40,000 by the mid-1980s, benefited from generous integration policies, including language courses and social support, fostering greater assimilation into German society. 

Post-reunification, the Vietnamese faced new challenges, including xenophobic violence and precarious legal statuses, yet their perseverance led to thriving businesses, restaurants, flower shops, and nail salons that have become integral to Germany’s cultural fabric.

Today, the second generation, often described as a “model minority” for their educational and professional success, navigates a complex identity, balancing Vietnamese heritage with German citizenship, as explored in recent studies on their intergenerational dynamics and cultural hybridity.

To delve deeper into this rich tapestry, we interviewed Nguyễn Xuân Thọ, an entrepreneur and writer in Cologne, whose personal odyssey reflects the broader struggles and triumphs of the Vietnamese in Germany.

What was your experience of moving to Germany? Do you know someone who arrived in East or West Germany, and how did this impact their integration?

I came to Germany twice. The first time was in 1967, during the Vietnam War. At that time, we were warmly and lovingly welcomed by the people and government of the GDR. We didn’t have to worry about anything: housing and food were provided by the socialist state. However, integrating into German society wasn’t easy.

As valued guests in a closed Vietnamese state, we faced little pressure to fully integrate, as our livelihood was secure without struggle. However, Việt Nam actively sought the return of its diaspora members; the government’s strict policies prohibited us from forming close friendships with Germans and Soviet citizens, viewing such connections with suspicion.

Labeled as traitors, we were unable to remain in Europe, where the revisionist communism, marked by adaptations and reforms that deviated from strict Marxist-Leninist principles, as seen in some European communist states’ willingness to engage with the West or modify economic policies, differed sharply from Việt Nam’s rigid, orthodox ideology, which adhered strictly to centralized control and revolutionary purity.

We, the “beloved guests”, lived an isolated life in a German society tightly monitored by the Stasi. I wrote about this in my memoir, Hai Quê Hương, “Two Homelands”. In 1971, I returned to Vietnam and experienced the war as an employee of Vietnam TV.

Due to political discrimination, I had to leave Vietnam and emigrate to Germany in 1991. By then, the Berlin Wall had fallen, and the first wave of refugees from Eastern Europe flooded into Germany. Later, triggered by the Yugoslav War, the second wave of refugees followed.

From 1992 to 1995, right-wing extremist xenophobia peaked, with foreigners’ homes in Rostock, Mölln, and Solingen set ablaze. Starting life in Germany was very difficult. Finding an apartment on my own was nearly impossible, as was securing a proper job. I was lucky: long-standing friendships with Germans helped me find both housing and employment.

Despite the hostile climate, German immigration policy was generous. My wife received free German courses, and our four-year-old son got a place in a Catholic kindergarten. Since my salary couldn’t cover the rent for a family of four, I received a housing subsidy. All this greatly aided my integration into life in Germany.

What motivated you to choose Germany as your destination, given its history of division and reunification?

I had been in East Germany 20 years earlier, spoke fluent German, knew the culture and lifestyle, and had many loyal German friends in the media industry. Germany’s reunification played no role in my immigration decision.

How would you describe the relationship between the Vietnamese community and German society in different parts of Germany (East vs. West) today?

When I arrived in Germany in 1991, I noticed two very different Vietnamese communities in the East and West. The Eastern community consisted of guest workers and academics from socialist-influenced Vietnam. Many spoke excellent German and were socially qualified, but life in the GDR didn’t promote full integration.

Foreigners—not just Vietnamese but also Cubans, Angolans, and Russians—lived in modern “ghettos.” After the socialist economy collapsed, the majority of Vietnamese in the East only found opportunities within their community, focusing on trade and restaurants. The better educated ones, such as academics, could not join German society, due to their weak integration. So they also tried to find jobs within the community like document translation, tax preparation, and wholesale. 

This led to what is known as the ghetto-effect. These ghettos sometimes turned dangerous, a dark phase that lasted about 15 years until capital accumulation and generational change improved their image.

In West Germany, a part of the Vietnamese community was made up of elites from South Vietnam who arrived in the 1960s and 1970s for studies, later joined by boat people in the 1980s. The majority of the boat people had its roots in the former regime in Sài Gòn.

So this community was closely tied to the pro-Western South Vietnamese culture. West German policies forced greater integration: graduates worked in German companies, and boat people were distributed across districts and states, fully integrating by 1991. There was no room for ghetto formation like in the East. 

Western Vietnamese looked down on “Việt Cộng” (Vietnamese Communists) as “immoral.” Twenty years later, the picture shifted dramatically. Eastern Vietnamese capitalized on the post-reunification chaos, often through illegal means like cigarette trading and tax evasion, quickly amassing wealth. Ties to Vietnam’s emerging capitalist economy helped them reinvest rapidly. They also leveraged Germany’s education system for their children, creating a new generation of intellectuals, artists, and politicians active in German society. 

Today, Eastern Vietnamese are opening restaurant chains and buying prime city properties. The gap between the two groups has narrowed, partly due to Vietnam’s political and economic opening. However, tensions persist: as long as April 30, Reunification Day,  is celebrated in Việt Nam as a revolutionary victory, Western Vietnamese will protest with the three-striped yellow flag of the former Republic of Vietnam outside the offices of the Vietnamese government offices in Germany.

Have you noticed cultural or social differences between East and West Germany, and how have these affected your daily life?

Yes, cultural and social differences between East and West Germany date back centuries, starting with the histories of Prussia and other parts of the German Empire, shaped by Martin Luther’s Reformation in 1517, which impacted the East more. Geopolitical influences from Russian, Kyivan, and Estonian cultures shaped Prussia, while the West was influenced by French and Anglo-Saxon cultures.

During my stay in the GDR from 1967 to 1971, I admired the precision, seriousness, and scientific rigor of the socialist regime, a modern Prussian state led by strict Marxism-Leninism. Everything was perfect. These experiences shaped my life and influenced my later immigration to the West.

What have been the biggest challenges in adapting to life in Germany, especially in light of the country’s unique history?

I have many German friends who shared the ups and downs of the Vietnam War with me. I became a successful businessman in Germany, but the biggest challenge has been xenophobia. In 1991, the situation was really tense, then it gradually improved until, in the last six years, it worsened again. When I sent out job applications, I was often ignored, so much so that I sent them anonymously. I only found a job thanks to a friend of mine.

In the GDR, the government mandated respect for Vietnamese as heroes fighting the Americans. We received support and affection but weren’t seen as equals; foreigners were always “exotic”, due to their different education, culture and lifestyle.

West German society, with guest workers from Turkey and Southern Europe since the 1960s, is more open to foreigners, and integration is better than in the East. Yet, deep down, even progressive Germans look down on immigrants, despite outward politeness.

For non-European immigrants, cultural and possibly racial differences compound this. As a Vietnamese, I’m acutely aware of this. I can speak accent-free German, write like a native, but I can’t hide my Asian appearance or my surname Nguyễn. In business, I offer competitive solutions and prices, but to succeed, I must be far better than my colleagues. Being equal means losing.

Does the Vietnamese community in Germany maintain cultural ties with Vietnam? How do you celebrate Vietnamese traditions?

Yes, we try to maintain ties as much as possible, sometimes more intensely than our compatriots in Vietnam. People have formed numerous “compatriot” associations. In Berlin, Hanoians founded groups like Hội người Hà Nội, Hội người Tràng An, and Hội Thăng Long. Vietnamese find any occasion to gather: a son’s birthday or a daughter’s first day of school becomes a reason to celebrate. The more you miss something, the more you strive to hold onto it.

The Vietnamese diaspora in Germany exemplifies the intricate interplay between migration regimes, political histories, and integration processes in a reunified nation. Emerging from divergent trajectories in the GDR and West Germany, the community has navigated structural barriers, xenophobic hostility, and shifting socioeconomic opportunities, while simultaneously preserving transnational cultural ties.

The trajectory from marginalized contract laborers and refugees to a socially mobile “model minority” underscores both the constraints of state policy and the agency of migrant actors in shaping their destinies. As subsequent generations continue to negotiate questions of identity, belonging, and cultural hybridity, the Vietnamese in Germany exemplify how diasporic communities can move from peripheral positions to integral roles within European societies, while still carrying the imprints of their divided histories.