General Secretary Tô Lâm, the most powerful man in Việt Nam, extended a hand to the Vietnamese American community during his visit to New York on September 21, 2026. According to BBC News Vietnam, he stated:
“Closing the chapter on the past and working together to build the nation’s future is also about the future of our own children and grandchildren. This is not merely an aspiration but our generation’s responsibility to those who come after us.”
These words echo a familiar refrain because it is the one that the current regime has repeated every April 30, the date commemorating the fall of Sài Gòn in 1975. Yet more than 50 years after the war’s end, a troubling question remains: How can a nation genuinely close its past when one party still refuses to acknowledge the entire truth of it?
The Historical Erasure: A Regime’s Selective Memory
To understand why Tô Lâm’s call for closure is unconvincing, we must first examine what the Vietnamese government continues to deny. The South of Việt Nam, which existed from 1954 to 1975, remains conspicuously absent from the regime’s official history books.
Rather than recognized as a distinct nation with its own legitimate government, it is dismissed as a “puppet regime.” Even the yellow flag—the symbol of South Vietnam and the heritage of Vietnamese Americans—routinely draws ridicule from state-controlled internet troll accounts in Việt Nam today.
This erasure matters deeply. In many American states and cities, the yellow flag is officially recognized as representing the Vietnamese American community. But in Việt Nam itself, it is treated as a shameful relic to be mocked and banned. How can the descendants of the South move forward when the government asking them to reconcile denigrates the very symbols of their history?
The truth is uncomfortable for Hà Nội: between 1954 and 1975, two distinct nations existed on Vietnamese soil—North Việt Nam and South Việt Nam. By refusing to acknowledge this historical reality, the regime does more than rewrite history; it delegitimizes the lived experiences of millions who fled. This selective amnesia is not a foundation for reconciliation. It is an obstacle to reconciliation.
In short, Tô Lâm and his party should “walk the talk” and take concrete actions and not just recite these rhetorical messages when they ask for more investments and financial incentives from overseas communities.
Why the Government Resists: Understanding the Regime’s Dilemma
To move beyond mere criticism, we must ask: Why does the Communist Party resist acknowledging these historical truths?
The answer lies in the regime’s legitimacy. An explicit recognition of South Việt Nam as a sovereign entity—or even its distinct identity—would undermine the narrative upon which the current government rests. Admitting that the war was a civil conflict between two nations, rather than a liberation struggle against foreign occupation, threatens the ideological foundation of one-party rule.
The regime fears that acknowledging these truths might embolden domestic dissent or suggest that alternative political systems (like the democratic South) were valid historical alternatives.
This fear is not irrational. The government knows that reconciliation built on an honest acknowledgment of history is fundamentally incompatible with authoritarian control. True closure requires truth-telling; the regime chooses silence instead.
The Story of the Boat People Exodus: A Living Testament to What Must Not Be Forgotten
Between 1975 and 1995, nearly 800,000 Vietnamese fleeing by boat reached places of asylum, according to UNHCR. By June 1996, more than 755,000 Vietnamese asylum-seekers from the broader regional refugee population, which also included overland arrivals, had been resettled in Western countries.
Many others never reached shore. The exact death toll remains unknown, but a scholarly estimate cited in UNHCR’s 2022 history puts the number who died at sea at about 200,000. However, the Vietnamese overseas communities believe the deaths would be about one-third of the number who had resettled in third countries.
This exodus has been recounted by many, including those who survived and resettled in Western countries, such as actor Ke Huy Quan in his book, Never Say Die: A Memoir, released on Sept. 15, 2026. As a child, he fled Việt Nam by boat with his brother and father, escaping political persecution. In his book, he reflects on his parents’ sacrifice with striking clarity: “To erase that part of my story would be to erase my parents’ sacrifices—the very things that gave me a chance at life.”
Quan’s words expose the cruelty embedded in Tô Lâm’s call for closure. The regime is essentially asking millions of boat people and their descendants to forget not just historical facts but the sacrifices that their parents and grandparents made under duress. It is asking them to pretend that the suffering—the drowning people and children, the overcrowded vessels, the years in refugee camps—never shaped who they became.
The Missing Conversation: What Reconciliation Actually Requires
If Tô Lâm and his regime truly wish to reconcile with overseas Vietnamese communities, a fundamental shift must occur. Reconciliation cannot begin with a demand for closure. It must begin with acknowledgment.
True reconciliation would require:
First, admitting that a civil war between North and South Vietnam occurred and that the South was not merely a puppet construct but a nation with its own government and identity.
Second, recognizing the suffering endured by those who fled—not as traitors or ideological enemies, but as human beings forced to choose between political persecution and exile.
Third, addressing the regime’s ongoing repression. How can the government credibly ask for forgiveness while currently imprisoning writers, journalists, and activists for speaking truth? Can we expect Vietnamese Americans to invest in and rebuild a nation that continues to silence its people?
These conditions may seem demanding. But consider the alternative: a shallow, performative reconciliation that ignores history and perpetuates injustice. Such reconciliation serves only the regime’s economic interests. It does not serve the truth.
A Different Path Forward
Instead of asking the overseas communities to “close the past,” Tô Lâm should prioritize closing the systems of repression that continue to define his regime. Meaningful reconciliation requires:
– Releasing all political prisoners, including writers, journalists, and human rights activists
– Acknowledging the legitimacy of South Vietnam’s historical existence
– Committing to political pluralism and free and fair elections
– Respecting human rights according to international standards
These are not impossible demands. They are the bare minimum required to transform a call for closure into a genuine commitment to truth and justice.
A Call to Vietnamese Americans and Global Witnesses
To the descendants of boat people and the broader Vietnamese diaspora: your hesitation to “move on” is not obstruction. It is moral clarity. Do not let rhetoric that demands you forget what you have endured manipulate you.
To international observers and policymakers: do not enable a false reconciliation. Do not reward a government with investment and diplomatic recognition while it continues to imprison journalists and activists while denying historical truths. Hold Việt Nam accountable to the principles it claims to embrace.
To those within Việt Nam who yearn for change: your struggle for truth and democracy is not an obstacle to national development. It is the only path toward genuine reconciliation and lasting peace.
The conversation about Việt Nam’s future must shift from “closing the past” to confronting it honestly. Only then can healing truly begin. Only then can the descendants of Sài Gòn, the survivors of the boat exodus, and the people still suffering under repression look toward a shared future, not as subjects of an authoritarian regime, but as citizens of a nation that respects their dignity and truth.
The choice is Hà Nội’s. The world is watching.
