A Nation Cannot Mature If It Clings to the Wounds of Its Past

A nation can hardly grow and move forward if it spends every day brooding over and resenting the past like a child.

Recently, Hùng Cao, a son of the Vietnamese people, returned to Việt Nam in his capacity as the U.S. Under Secretary of the Navy. Once a refugee who shared the fate of millions fleeing the turmoil of 1975, Hùng Cao has now come back to his homeland with honor and dignity.

And yet, the Vietnamese-born under secretary has become a target of scorn, despite this being a formal state-level diplomatic visit, not a personal trip with any questionable political intent. When a compatriot makes a name for himself abroad and earns respect in a world power, we should rejoice. Instead, many in Việt Nam reacted with hostility, from provocation to denigration to outright denial.

Photo: A Vietnamese extreme nationalist account, under the name ‘Tifosi,’ ridiculing Hùng Cao.

Perhaps it is Hùng Cao’s roots in the former Republic of Việt Nam that triggered such reactions. Even after half a century, the “ghost” of a long-defunct regime still seems to divide the nation, haunting its people. This old wound—or scar—spares no one; even the most accomplished individuals find themselves branded as traitors, met with derision simply for their background.

The road to true national reconciliation still seems distant, blocked by boulders of suspicion, resentment, and pride.

“Communist Arrogance” Syndrome

When criticism arises against the communist system, a familiar chorus resounds, accusing critics of “hostile propaganda.” But “communist arrogance” is not a slur coined by outsiders. The phrase was used by a loyal Party member, Phan Diễn, to describe his own organization after acknowledging the Party's governing responsibilities in postwar Việt Nam.

“After 1975, the arrogance of the victors was one of the causes of many crises for which Việt Nam had to ‘painfully pay the price,’” the former Politburo member and Executive Secretary of the Communist Party said in an interview with VnExpress.

Long before Phan Diễn, Lenin himself had used the phrase. In his 1921 report, “The New Economic Policy and the Tasks of the Political Education Departments,” V.I. Lenin identified “communist arrogance” as the foremost of three “internal enemies.” According to Lenin, its root lies in the belief that “with a few communist decrees, we can solve all our tasks,” and he warned that “nothing is more harmful or dangerous to communism than the conceit of thinking oneself superior simply because one is a communist.”

Many thought this arrogance would fade after the devastating poverty following the 1975 victory. Instead, it metastasized, spreading into later generations. This persistence owes much to a state apparatus that has lulled the people into a euphoric dream of victory, casting the defeated as villains and showering itself with self-congratulatory propaganda.

The most obvious symptom of this disease is the condescending refusal to acknowledge the achievements of overseas Vietnamese, especially those associated with the southern regime before 1975.

Despite this, countless people from that diaspora have brought pride to the Vietnamese name:

• Frank Jao, a 1975 refugee, founded Bridgecreek Development in 1978 and became one of the most influential Vietnamese-American businessmen in Little Saigon, California.
• Nguyễn Bảo Hoàng, the son of a South Vietnamese officer who escaped in April 1975, earned Harvard MD and MBA degrees and later returned to Việt Nam to invest, contributing significantly to the fintech and startup sectors.
• Viet Thanh Nguyen, a 1975 refugee, grew up in the U.S. but never lost his connection to his homeland, ultimately earning the Pulitzer Prize for literary works like The Sympathizer and The Refugees.

These are just a few examples of those who achieved greatness not through privilege but through resilience and a longing to reclaim dignity. Yet, within Việt Nam, many remain too proud to acknowledge their compatriots’ successes.

If only those who so harshly belittle the diaspora could realize that their own peace and prosperity are built, in part, on the silent contributions of the very people they scorn. If only the self-proclaimed “superior” could see that their pride is just the inherited mantle of “the victors” in a half-century-old war—a legacy that has produced not a respected Việt Nam, but a country whose online space overflows with hostility and uncivil discourse.

As the poet Tản Đà once lamented:

“Twenty-five million people—who among them are grown? 

A nation four thousand years old, yet still a child.” 

(Tản Đà, “Mậu Thìn xuân cảm,” 1932)

Nearly a century has passed, yet his words remain painfully relevant.

A Political Mindset Haunted by History

The term “puppet regime,” long used in official history to describe the former Sài Gòn government, reflects a mindset that has become a psychological reflex among communist commentators. These inherited labels have ingrained a paranoia that leads many to see “imperialist lackeys” everywhere, especially when a Vietnamese abroad achieves high standing in foreign military, diplomatic, or political circles. This reveals a worldview where loyalty is measured by faction and ideology, not contribution.

This way of thinking, fostered by a one-party system, has seeped into the public consciousness, equating “loyalty” with blind obedience to the ruling Party. Consequently, many Vietnamese may find it incomprehensible that, in constitutional democracies, the military and civil servants swear allegiance only to the Constitution, not to any individual, organization, or political party.

This misunderstanding is evident in accusations that Hùng Cao is a “servant” of the U.S. president. His critics fail to grasp that he is a civilian official serving the U.S. government, appointed via a constitutional process and accountable to the system, not to a specific leader. His duty reflects a foundational principle of American governance: public power serves the nation, not personal rule.

To call him a “servant” of a temporary president is factually wrong and reveals a deeply feudal, authoritarian mindset—one that measures relationships by “master and servant,” instead of “citizen and public servant” as in a modern constitutional state.

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Đan Thanh wrote this article in Vietnamese and published it in Luật Khoa Magazine on Nov 7, 2025. Đàm Vĩnh Hằng translated it into English for The Vietnamese Magazine.