How the Communist Party is fiddling while Vietnam burns.
BY BEN BLAND |
NOVEMBER 20, 2012
"Long live the
glorious Communist Party of Vietnam," proclaims one of the many red-and-yellow
official banners that loom over central Hanoi.
Like citizens of other
one-party states, most Vietnamese have developed a handy ability to block out
propaganda as they buzz through the streets on their ubiquitous scooters in
search of subsistence, stability, or greater riches. "Is the Party really
attempting to send a message to the people, or merely trying to reassure
itself?" quips one Vietnamese academic, unwilling, like most in this police
state, to speak openly about the future of the country's self-appointed rulers.
Vietnam's leaders have
good reason to be nervous these days. After an extended period of rapid
economic growth (above 7 percent per year) that ended in 2008, the economy has
been floundering,
beset by inflationary bubbles, large outflows of capital, the collapse of two
major state-owned companies, and a crippling build-up of bad debt in the banking
sector.
In the headlong rush
to invest in Vietnam as it prepared to join the World Trade Organization in
2007, foreigners overlooked structural weaknesses such as widespread
corruption, the clunky but politically powerful state-owned sector, and a
dearth of investment in infrastructure, health, and education. With most
economists forecasting that Vietnam will struggle
to grow much more than five percent in the near future -- hardly fast enough to
absorb the young people entering the labor force -- no one is ignoring these
difficulties now. Indeed, the timing of the slowdown could hardly be worse: Other
Southeast Asian emerging-market economies, including Indonesia and the
Philippines, appear to have sharpened their acts, while Burma has peeked from
the shadows in search of connection to the global economy after decades of
isolation and stagnation.
Everyone, from
government advisers to foreign investors, knows what it would take to get the
economy back on the fast track. Hanoi must stop providing, monopoly licenses, cheap
credit, and other privileges to state-owned companies and their private-sector
cronies. The banking sector must be recapitalized and given sufficient
incentives to channel capital to enterprises with the best prospects. And the
government must get serious about preventing corruption, which has a
synergistic relationship with all the other ills. The catch is that this would
require more than technocratic tuning of policies, and an atavistic, secretive
Communist Party is hardly a promising vehicle for such reform.
Vietnam's chattering
classes (and a growing number of highly critical, if highly anonymous,
bloggers), have laid much of the blame for the country's woes at the door of Prime
Minister Nguyen Tan Dung. Critics
inside the Party, foreign diplomats, and academics all argue that Dung amassed
unprecedented power in his own office, overturning a consensus-based approach
to governing in the Politburo, the Party's 14-member top leadership body. More
importantly, they contend that he used his excessive influence to support
cronies and to drive the development of the powerful state-owned corporations
and banks that have frittered away vast sums and served as a drag on growth.
When the Party's central
committee recently met behind closed doors (as always) to thrash out a way
forward, there was much speculation (or wishful thinking) that Dung would be
deposed. But in the end, the Party opted for a classic "muddle through"
solution. It criticized the Politburo and, in particular, "one comrade in the
Politburo" -- widely rumored to be Dung, for mismanaging the economy. But it
opted not to discipline them, lest "hostile forces" use the occasion to
"distort and sabotage the country."
While senior Party
members implicitly acknowledged the threat to its survival from poor economic
performance, rampant corruption, and a surge in land and labor disputes, they
clearly felt that the threat posed by accountability was greater. It is little
wonder, then, that as the economy has struggled and social tensions have
increased, Vietnam's powerful Ministry of Public Security has stepped up its
crackdown on dissent. The latest among dozens to be arrested or jailed this
year on catch-all charges of "propaganda against the state" are two
songwriters and a bookish
student, pictured on blogs hugging a teddy bear.
In the run-up to
joining the World Trade Organization in 2007, Vietnam was on its best behavior
when it came to human rights, persuading U.S. diplomats and others that it was committed
to upholding freedom of speech and religion more seriously. But according to
those same U.S. diplomats, the bloom is off the rose; they are now reluctantly
chiding a Vietnam they have been keen to court as part of America's "pivot"
back to Asia to counter-balance a rising China.
The crackdown hasn't
been limited to political boat-rockers. Vietnamese authorities have been busy investigating the heads of state
companies and banks who are widely blamed for Vietnam's economic woes. Among
those accused or convicted: executives from Vinashin and Vinalines, the two
giant state-owned shipping companies that collapsed after amassing billions of
dollars in debt; Nguyen Duc Kien, the founder of Asia Commercial Bank
(Vietnam's largest private bank) and one of the country's most prominent
tycoons; and Tran
Xuan Gia, a former investment minister and chairman of the aforementioned
ACB.
The wide range and
high level of the people targeted has sent shockwaves through the business
community in Vietnam, domestic and foreign. Kickbacks, bribes, and fraudulent
accounting are systemic in Vietnam, and not just among domestically-owned
companies. Indeed, as many of those arrested on suspicion of economic crimes
have disappeared from view, and rumors swirl about who could be next, some
senior executives have felt compelled to appear in public just to prove that
they haven't been caught in the net.
Keen to revitalize
Vietnam's image as a successful emerging market, some foreign investors and
international donors have asserted that these arrests are a reassuring sign that
the Party is trying to get its house in order. But that's a stretch: As the
British political scientist Martin Gainsborough (who's written extensively on
the country), has argued,
crackdowns on corruption in Vietnam are typically related to infighting within
a system that is driven more by patronage than policy.
China has been facing
similar imperatives to fight corruption and restructure its economy. But,
setting aside the intrigues surrounding Bo Xilai and the recent outcry over the
reported wealth of other top leaders, China's Communists have proved far more
adept at re-inventing themselves for the modern era than their Vietnamese
comrades.
Richard McGregor, the
former Beijing bureau chief for the Financial
Times, has concluded that the Chinese Communist Party has morphed into a
large, powerful Ivy League-style networking club for those who want to get
ahead. In Vietnam, by contrast, the party and the government are hemorrhaging
their best assets. Young people have been quitting by the thousands, frustrated
by the low salaries and the old-fashioned hierarchy. Real ideology, as opposed
to vapid slogans, is notably absent in Vietnam today.
Many observers like to
argue that Vietnamese officials have a unique ability to muddle through without
facing up to systemic crises -- a talent that has been found lacking in almost
every other transition country, from Indonesia to Argentina. But this reliance
on improvisation seems to have become part of the problem. "The Party displays
an extraordinary ability to adapt, but has tended to react to challenges [only]
when they came," wrote
Tuong Vu, a political scientist at the University of Oregon. "This reactive
mentality has not helped the party to stem corruption and decay, which now
reach the top level."
In contrast to nearby Burma,
which has been freeing political prisoners and starting to implement overdue
economic and political reforms, Vietnam's leaders appear to be trying to turn
back the clock in hopes of shoring up their power. Over the last year, they
have introduced new restrictions on imports and foreign workers, and are
finalizing regulations to increase state
control of the Internet and to reassert Soviet-style price controls.
The vast scale of the
government's repressive apparatus probably assures the Party its grip on power
for many years to come. But without a radical shake-up, the Party's political
legitimacy will continue to ebb and the country's great economic potential --
only glimpsed to date -- will remain under wraps. Even reform-minded,
Western-influenced officials feel caught in a bind. "We need a major crisis if
the country is to move forward," says one mid-ranking economic official. "But
we're scared about what will happen in such a situation."
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