Ho Chi Minh

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Ho Chi Minh Page 49

by William J. Duiker


  As they parted, Ho Chi Minh asked his visitor to carry back a message that the Vietnamese people would always be grateful for the assistance they received from the United States and would long recall it as a friend and ally, and that the American struggle for independence would always serve as an example for Vietnam. A few weeks later, a letter from Ho Chi Minh to President Truman was carried to Kunming by another departing U.S. military officer. But the likelihood of any U.S. assistance was rapidly dimming. Patti’s activities had strengthened suspicions among U.S. officials in both China and the United States, and when his successor cabled Washington that Hanoi would welcome a U.S. effort to mediate the dispute, both Hanoi’s offer and Ho’s previous letters were ignored.41

  By the early fall of 1945, the immediate results of the August Revolution had clearly come into view. The DRV was in control of the north, but its support was based almost entirely on the euphoria brought on by the promise of independence and the popularity of its mysterious president, Ho Chi Minh. Moreover, the area was still under occupation by Chinese nationalist troops. In the south, where the Party’s support had been weakened by the abortive 1940 insurrection and competition from nationalists was substantially greater, the French had managed to restore colonial authority, although Vietminh activists were struggling to build a resistance base in the countryside.

  For Ho Chi Minh, the key to unraveling the knot was on the international scene, where he counted on assistance from progressive forces to prevent the French from seeking to restore their colonial empire. As a student of modern revolution, he was aware of the prospects for a postwar wave of revolutionary expansion similar to that which had brought the Bolsheviks to power in 1917. But long experience warned him that Stalin had only a fitful interest in Asia and could not be counted on to throw the weight of the Soviet Union on the side of revolutionary forces there. The other potential source of support was the United States, where anticolonial sentiment remained strong. But prospects for assistance from Washington were decidedly uncertain. Should the wartime alliance between the United States and the Soviet Union come to an end under the stress of postwar conditions, the United States might be driven into the arms of the European colonial powers, and Vietnam could become a pawn in a new global conflict. In that case, Ho Chi Minh could have little doubt as to where his primary allegiance lay. At this stage in the Vietnamese revolution, the primary adversary was France. While Moscow could not be counted upon to provide firm support to the Vietnamese struggle for national independence, there was little risk that it would come to the assistance of France in seeking to restore colonial authority in Indochina. But for Washington, whose fear of world revolution he had clearly underscored in his remarks at the Tan Trao conference in August, the same could not be said.

  Still, although the road ahead was strewn with obstacles, the first step had been taken, and a newly independent Vietnamese government held tenuous power in Hanoi. In later years, the August Revolution would become inflated to almost mythic proportions, as Party historians in Hanoi portrayed the events at the end of the Pacific War as a testimony to the genius of the Communist Party and its great leader. The strategy behind the uprising—described as a combination of political and military struggle to seize power in both urban and rural areas—became a prototype for future struggles of national liberation, not only in Vietnam but also in other parts of the Third World, such as Africa, Latin America, and other parts of Southeast Asia.

  In recent years, that view has come under close scrutiny from a number of Western scholars, some of whom have argued that the element of planning was relatively limited in what was essentially a spontaneous popular uprising. Others contend that the events of August did not constitute a revolution, but a mere coup d’état. There is some truth in both observations, for there is an element of chance in all revolutions. Lenin once noted that revolution is much more complex in theory than in reality; despite all the careful planning that had gone into the Party’s efforts in its mountain base at Tan Trao, there was a distinct aura of spontaneity and improvisation about the insurrection that erupted at the moment of Japanese surrender to Allied forces in Asia. In many areas, Party activists were not even in touch with the Central Committee in the north and were compelled to take actions on their own. And, of course, the terrible famine that had swept the land during the last months of the war laid the groundwork for a swell of popular anger that thrust Ho Chi Minh and his comrades to victory.

  Such observations, however, should not blind us to the fact that the August Revolution was an extraordinary achievement. Revolutions are not waged without revolutionaries. It is to the credit of the Party and its leadership that it was able to grasp the opportunity that beckoned so enticingly at the end of the Pacific War. Where other nationalist leaders were content to remain in south China and await the defeat of Japan by the Allies, Ho and his colleagues rose to the challenge and presented the world with a fait accompli.

  By portraying the Vietminh Front as a broad-based movement armed with a program that could appeal to all progressive and patriotic forces, Ho not only managed to extend its appeal well beyond the normal constituency of the Communist Party, but he also put it into position to lobby for recognition by the victorious Allies as the legitimate voice of Vietnamese nationalism. Not all of his colleagues were comfortable with that moderate image. No less an observer than Truong Chinh later lamented that there had not been enough blood spilt during the August Revolution to rid the Party of its future enemies.42

  That moderate face, it is clear, was that of Ho Chi Minh himself. In portraying himself as the avuncular figure from the countryside, the “simple patriot” in a worn khaki suit and blue cloth sandals, Ho won not only the hearts of millions of Vietnamese, but also the admiration and respect of close observers, such as U.S. military officers like Charles Fenn and Archimedes Patti, and French negotiators like Jean Sainteny and General Leclerc. There was, of course, an element of calculation in Ho Chi Minh’s pose, and to some intimates he occasionally let slip that he was well aware of the artifice. But the tactic was an enormous success, and it is no surprise that he would adopt it as a crucial element in his strategical arsenal for the rest of his life.43

  Yet there was also a risk in adopting the tactics of moderation, for in so doing Ho and his colleagues had come to power under false pretenses. The program of the Vietminh Front was not a blueprint for the future Vietnam, but only a starting point. If and when the Party decided to show its true face and objectives to the world, the risk of popular disillusion would be great. But Ho Chi Minh was above all a pragmatist. As he declared to the U.S. journalist Harold R. Isaacs during an interview in the fall of 1945, “Independence is the thing. What follows will follow. But independence must come first if there is to be anything to follow at all later on.” Whether independence could be maintained was another question. “We apparently stand alone,” he remarked in a despondent moment to Isaacs. “We shall have to depend on ourselves.” He would need all his guile to see clearly the road ahead.44

  XI | RECONSTRUCTION AND RESISTANCE

  In the two months following the close of the Pacific War, the situation in Hanoi slipped perilously closer to disaster. The trying conditions placed a severe strain on Ho Chi Minh, and on his position as a leader of the Party and the government. While hotbloods within the ICP called for vigorous action to suppress rival groups, Ho argued tirelessly for a policy of conciliation and negotiations with the eventual goal of dividing and isolating the Party’s adversaries. Although many Vietnamese called for an attitude of uncompromising hostility to the return of the French in the north, he signaled a willingness to accept a French presence—provided that they came as friends, and not as conquerors.

  At the same time that the Hanoi government was seeking a political solution, it began to prepare for war. Feverish efforts were undertaken to organize self-defense and guerrilla units throughout the northern and central provinces. During the autumn, militia units, praised by Ho Chi Minh as “the iron w
all of the Fatherland,” were organized in almost every village, hamlet, street, and factory throughout those areas under DRV administration. In some cases, the units consisted of just one or two platoons; in others, several platoons were organized into companies. In Hanoi, the self-defense militia comprised practically all the young men in the city and numbered in the tens of thousands. All such units were placed under the authority of local Party officials and provided with military training by the government, but they were designed to be self-reliant in terms of food and equipment. The core of the government’s local forces was composed of shock troops selected from the ranks of the Youth National Salvation Association and consisted mainly of workers and students. They were armed by the Ministry of National Defense, quartered at specified locations, and underwent training at a newly established military academy called the Ho Chi Minh Self-Defense Training School.

  But the heart of the government’s defense effort focused on the National Defense Guard, the renamed Vietnamese Liberation Army. Under the direct command of the Party, the army was composed of battalions, companies, and platoons. To provide training, an anti-Japanese training institute that had been established in the Viet Bac before the August Revolution was now transformed into a Vietnamese Political-Military School, although it was disguised as a training program for cadres to placate the Chinese occupation command. In the months following the end of the war, the army was strengthened by the enlistment of former officers and soldiers from the Civil Guard. Its strength, including those units serving in the south, has been estimated at about 80,000 troops.1

  One of the government’s primary military problems was a shortage of weapons. The government had been able to lay its hands on a variety of firearms, some of them dating back to the previous century, and had obtained a few antitank mines and machine guns from surrendering Japanese forces. But many units were armed only with sticks, spears, or primitive flintlocks turned out by local blacksmiths. In a desperate effort to obtain new weapons, Ho Chi Minh reluctantly agreed to a plan to raise money from the general population for the purchase of weapons. During what was labeled “gold week” in the last part of September, the population of the northern provinces was encouraged to donate gold jewelry and other valuables to provide the government with precious funds to purchase weapons from the occupation forces.

  According to Archimedes Patti, Ho Chi Minh was not particularly enthused about the plan to solicit funds from the general populace, believing that the poor would sacrifice out of patriotic duty while the rich would give just token amounts. His fears were apparently justified, since relatively little was provided by affluent residents in the north, and Ho “felt like a traitor” for letting “the whole farce” take place. Eventually the cabinet decided to levy a tax on food products. When one government official mentioned the possibility of taxing chicken, duck, and water buffalo, “Citizen” Vinh Thuy could not resist adding, “You’ve forgotten dog meat.” The first to break out laughing was Ho Chi Minh.2

  To supplement its meager resources, the government launched another drive to obtain or manufacture additional weapons. Village blacksmiths used their forges to produce spears and scimitars for village self-defense units. Children were mobilized to collect scrap iron, while adults contributed household utensils, such as copper trays and pans, or even articles for worship, such as incense burners and urns, all to be transformed into arms. Still, Ho Chi Minh tirelessly pointed out that the primary weapon of the new armed forces was the support of the people. In visits to training centers throughout the Hanoi region, he lectured his audience on the importance of behaving in a correct manner toward the general population, quoting the Chinese poet Lu Xun: “Glaring contemptuously at a thousand athletes, Bending gently to serve as a horse to the children.”

  Ho Chi Minh continued to insist that the key to guaranteeing the nation’s survival was more political and diplomatic than military in nature. If the Chinese occupation forces could be placated, he expressed confidence that the threat from the rival nationalist parties could be deflected. And if that were to be the case, the Hanoi government might be able to present a united front in opposition to the possible return of the French to the north. The problem was that Chinese commanders Lu Han and Xiao Wen were not especially sympathetic to the Vietminh, but were inclined to support the nationalists. The pressure they applied to broaden the composition of the cabinet intensified with the visit of Chiang Kai-shek’s chief of staff, General He Yingqin, to Hanoi in mid-October. The general’s message to Chinese commanders was simple and direct: Reduce the influence of the Communists in Indochina.

  In what may have been a signal of his government’s willingness to work with nationalist elements—even those who were openly hostile to communism—Ho ordered the release from official custody of Ngo Dinh Diem, a politician who had been briefly incarcerated by Vietminh authorities. The son of a well-known patriotic court official in Hué, Diem had served as Minister of the Interior in Bao Dai’s cabinet before World War II, but resigned in protest over the failure of the French to grant Bao Dai sufficient authority. A fervent Catholic, Diem openly detested the Communists, an attitude that was undoubtedly intensified when one of his five brothers, Ngo Dinh Khoi, was executed by the Vietminh during the August Revolution.

  Ho’s decision to release Diem (he had been detained in the Northern Palace rather than in prison) aroused concern among some of his colleagues, including an old friend from Paris days, Bui Lam. But when Lam complained, Ho replied that the execution of Diem would only tarnish the reputation of his illustrious father. In any event, he added, the French could always find someone else to replace Diem, so it made sense to seek the support of as many people as possible. Ho Chi Minh may have been motivated in part by a desire to win support from the Catholic community, many of whom were among the most educated and affluent people in the country. He had appointed a Catholic to his cabinet and on occasion attended Catholic ceremonies in Hanoi. But he also sent conciliatory signals to other groups as well, visiting with representatives of mountain peoples and taking part in the celebration of the birth of Confucius at the Temple of Literature.3

  Ho Chi Minh also used his powers of persuasion and manipulation in his dealings with the Chinese, taking advantage of rivalries among the various Chinese military commanders in Indochina. Under pressure from General Xiao Wen, beginning in late October Ho opened secret talks with leaders of the various non-Communist nationalist parties, such as Nguyen Hai Than, the newly named “supreme leader” of the Dai Viet party, as well as with representatives of the VNQDD and the Dong Minh Hoi. But the negotiations were plagued with difficulties from the start, as the Dong Minh Hoi demanded the formation of an entire new government, which would include several non-Vietminh cabinet ministers, a change in the name of the Vietminh Front, and the adoption of a new national flag. Some of Ho Chi Minh’s colleagues questioned the wisdom of negotiating with the Party’s bitter rivals, but Ho reassured them that it was for tactical purposes only. As one of his followers put it:

  In our encounter with agents of the Viet Quoc [VNQDD] in the pay of Chiang Kai-shek, I was a partisan of their immediate liquidation. One day, in the course of an informational session, I asked him: “Respected Uncle, why do we allow this band of traitors and assassins to survive? At your order, we would exterminate them in the space of one night.”

  Uncle smiled, and pointing to his office, asked us in turn: “Suppose that a mouse entered this room. Would you throw stones or try to trap it or evict it?”

  “If we threw stones we would risk destroying precious objects in the room.”

  “It’s the same with counterrevolutionary elements,” said Uncle. “By themselves, they are nothing to fear, but they have masters. To accomplish a big task, we must know how to look ahead.”4

  Ho Chi Minh rejected most of the nationalist demands, but on November 11 the Indochinese Communist Party startled local observers by suddenly announcing its own dissolution and the formation in its place of a new Indochinese Ma
rxist Study Society (Hoi nghi nghien cuu chu nghia Mac o Dong duong), which presumably would not actively promote the cause of world revolution. Party sources explained that the move was motivated by a desire to demonstrate its willingness to put the needs of the nation above those of class struggle, and the general interests of the people over those of the Party. As it turned out, the action did not reduce the antagonism among political organizations in the capital. The following day, a bitter clash between supporters of the Vietminh and nationalists in front of the Municipal Theater left a dozen killed.

  The propaganda value of the decision among the Vietnamese people should not be underestimated, but undoubtedly the key desire was to placate Chinese occupation authorities and bring about a compromise agreement with the nationalist parties. As Party sources in Hanoi would confirm many years later, the ICP did not actually dissolve, but simply retreated into clandestinity, where it continued to dominate policy decisions for the next several years until its emergence under a new name in 1951. Nevertheless, internal sources confirm that the decision was a controversial one and aroused considerable opposition within the Party from those who placed class interests over those of the nation. It certainly inspired concern among other Communist parties. After the decision was announced, leading Party members were sent to various localities to explain it to the membership.5

 

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