Việt Nam 2025: 50 Years of Reunification, Celebration, and Unhealed Wounds
2025 marked a significant milestone for Việt Nam, commemorating the 50th anniversary of national reunification and the 80th anniversary of
2025 marked a significant milestone for Việt Nam, commemorating the 50th anniversary of national reunification and the 80th anniversary of Hồ Chí Minh’s Declaration of Independence. While these should have been moments of joyful celebration, they were instead marred by division, discrimination, and public shaming. Near the year's end, the heated controversy surrounding the novel The Sorrow of War reignited a wave of denunciation.
These developments highlighted a year in which the propaganda apparatus operated at full strength. Revolutionary history was woven into divisive narratives of accusation and ideological hostility, ostensibly to polish the regime's image.
Consequently, 2025 serves as a meaningful moment for introspection. After half a century of reunification, has the regime truly matured? Has it been honest in reflecting on the past to correct itself, and has it truly lived up to the spirit that the Declaration of Independence once proclaimed?
Half a century after the historic events of 1975, the wounds of a divided nation remain unhealed. The “winning side” expends vast resources glorifying its victory through propaganda while branding the other side with the moral indictment of “a blood debt to the people.” [1]
Memories of the war cannot be unified simply through commemorative anniversaries or history written like an indictment. A unified memory is impossible when the victor writes history at will, erasing inconvenient truths, while the defeated preserve their past through familial memory, overseas culture, music, and literature. On this sacred anniversary, General Secretary Tô Lâm once again raised the familiar refrain of “national reconciliation and harmony.” [2] Yet, can a nation truly reconcile when the mentality of denunciation and persecution remains so strong? The entrenched “enemy–ally” mindset persists deep into peacetime, long past its historical purpose.
Việt Nam has failed to reconcile over the last fifty years for three primary reasons.
First, there has never been a formal, meaningful reconciliation process. Although the country is unified, the victors have never acknowledged the harm inflicted upon the South—including the tragedy of millions fleeing by boat—nor admitted that war losses were suffered on all sides. Unlike South Africa’s Truth and Reconciliation Commission, no institution exists here to ensure that, regardless of disagreement, no one is forced to lie about the past.
Second, history remains monopolized. Reconciliation is impossible when one side clings to self-serving propaganda and denies the suffering of the other. Historical narratives cannot remain trapped in black-and-white terms of righteous versus evil, or hero versus traitor.
Third, a generation that never lived through the war has inherited its conflicts. It is a bitter paradox that as the war generation passes away, younger generations speak the harshest words against their compatriots. Whether born of inherited trauma or history curricula steeped in hatred, this animosity prevents true reconciliation.
Fifty years later, Việt Nam exists as a nation with “two souls” and two separate heartbeats—a spiritual divide deeper than any physical border. The people have never been truly unified in how they speak or listen to one another. True unity means that when people from the North speak of revolutionary achievements, they are heard; and when people from the South speak of loss and suffering, they are not denounced.
Consider the opening lines of Hồ Chí Minh’s Declaration of Independence from Sept. 2, 1945:
“Compatriots throughout the country, All people are created equal. They are endowed by the Creator with certain inalienable rights; among these are the right to life, the right to liberty, and the right to pursue happiness.”
While Hồ Chí Minh spoke fiercely against French colonialism, one must ask how the regime he founded now treats dissenting voices. A clear example arose when the artist Trấn Thành was condemned by Báo Công an nhân dân for crying over a colleague, labeled as being “out of tune” with the patriotic chorus. This sparked a public denunciation campaign against those refusing to sing in unison with the Communist Party. Such witch hunts betray the very spirit of the National Day celebrated in the Declaration.
Eighty years later, the specific grievances listed in the Declaration resonate with an ironic familiarity:
“Politically, they deprived our people of every democratic freedom. They enacted barbaric laws. They divided our country into three regions to prevent national unity and to sabotage our people’s solidarity. They built prisons more than schools. They ruthlessly slaughtered our patriots. They drowned our uprisings in seas of blood. They suppressed public opinion and enforced ignorance. They used opium and alcohol to weaken our race. Economically, they exploited our people to the marrow of their bones…”
Today, the validity of these complaints must be re-examined. Do the people possess “democratic freedom” when slogans like “the people know, the people discuss, the people supervise” mask a reality where Central Committee meetings are concealed from the public? [4] Freedom of assembly and electoral freedom remain absent.
Regarding “barbaric laws” and the mistreatment of patriots, the answer lies in the current state of the penal system. The imprisonment of figures such as Phạm Đoan Trang, Trương Huy San, Trần Đình Triển, and Trịnh Bá Phương speaks volumes. [5][6][7][8]
The Declaration spoke of uprisings drowned in “seas of blood.” Today, one asks if the police “bathed Đồng Tâm in blood” [9] or if small hydropower projects have “bathed” thousands in floodwaters. [10]
After eighty years, painful contradictions emerge. Hồ Chí Minh was once able to openly write in French newspapers criticizing the colonial government, yet today, Vietnamese media cannot freely criticize the state. [11] Amidst the hostility toward fellow citizens during these commemorations, the country risks sliding back toward the mentality of the “land reform” era—a historic mistake tied to Hồ Chí Minh himself. [12]
Ultimately, one must question what has truly become of the slogans of freedom, equality, and independence that were raised eighty years ago.
Just as the ideological conflicts of the year's anniversaries appeared to subside, a new denunciation campaign erupted targeting author Bảo Ninh and his novel, “The Sorrow of War.” This resurgence of hostility served as a test for the nation's maturity. One must ask: how can a people who endured such profound suffering refuse to acknowledge that pain, insisting instead on framing war as a source of joy?
While denunciation campaigns often accompany official commemorations, the backlash against “The Sorrow of War” was different. It targeted the novel specifically because it dared to challenge the heroic myths and symbols enshrined in the public consciousness. [13]
This incident raises a question about national identity: Has Việt Nam truly matured if it still relies on embellished myths for comfort, too afraid to confront its own trauma? A mature nation accepts that wartime memory is not monolithic. A nation truly grows only when it dares to confront its sorrow rather than deny it. Only then can such sorrow serve not as a weakness, but as the foundation for a more humane and honest nationhood.
Đan Thanh wrote this article in Vietnamese and published it in Luật Khoa Magazine on Dec. 25, 2025. Đàm Vĩnh Hằng translated it into English for The Vietnamese Magazine.
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