Archives par mot-clé : Hanoi

Hà Nội mùa đông năm 1946 – Film de Đặng Nhật Minh [1996]

Né en 1938 à Hue, Dang Nhat Minh, qui a débuté sa carrière en 1965 comme documentariste, a réalisé de nombreuses fictions qui font constamment référence à l’histoire mouvementée du Viêtnam. Tourné en 1984, “Tro ve” (Le retour) évoque le destin d’un ancien boat people revenant à Saïgon pour le compte d’une société étrangère et découvrant les aspects négatifs de la nouvelle économie libérale. Après “Thuong nho dong que” (Nostalgie de la campagne, 1995), primé à Nantes et à Rotterdam, il signe l’année suivante “Ha Noi: Mua dong nam 1946” (Hanoi-Hiver 1946) qui évoque avec finesse la figure de Ho Chi Minh ainsi que la guerre d’indépendance contre les Français. Ecrivain, journaliste, Dang est également secrétaire général de la “Vietnam Cinema Association”.

Source : Trigon Film

Les mémoires cinématographiques (Hồi ký điện ảnh) du réalisateur peuvent être lues sur le site Viet Studies


 

Những “Vệ út” : Les enfants-soldats de Ho Chi Minh au début de la guerre d’Indochine

Lors des soixante jours de résistance à Hanoi entre le 19 décembre 1946 et le 17 février 1947, une “force spéciale” agissait aux côtés des troupes de l’armée régulière de la RDVN. Elle était constitué d’enfants d’à peine dix ans, ceux que l’on appelait alors affectueusement les “Vệ út”, les “cadets des Forces d’Autodéfense”.

Cet aspect peu connu de la résistance vietnamienne a été révélé en décembre 2006 à l’occasion du soixantième anniversaire du déclenchement de la guerre. L’emploi des enfants dans la résistance fut également mentionné dans les mémoires de Vo Nguyen Giap. L’historien Christopher Goscha a souligné l’utilisation de ces “recrues intéressantes” pour le Viêt-Minh à Hanoi et Saigon et en a rappelé les limites. [1]

Jusqu’à aujourd’hui peu de recherches se sont intéressées spécifiquement aux rôles des enfants dans la guerre d’Indochine puis plus tard lors de la guerre du Viêt-Nam de quelque bord qu’ils fussent. Il est vrai que cet aspect de la guerre nécessite un accès aux archives et à défaut la construction d’un corpus de témoignages vérifiés et solides. Qui étaient-ils ? Combien étaient-ils ? Que faisaient-ils ? Comment se comportaient-ils face au feu ? Une série d’articles parus en 2006 dans le journal Tuổi Trẻ [Jeunesse] revenait sur le destin (côté RDVN) de quelques-uns de ces survivants d’une époque qui façonna leur destin. [2]

Source : www.vnmilitaryhistory.net

“Qui étaient-ils ?” est la première question qui vient à l’esprit. Il s’agissait la plupart du temps d’enfants pauvres, d’orphelins, de petits vendeurs de rues (de journaux ou de sandwiches), de cireurs de chaussures qui passaient leurs journées dans les rues d’Hanoi pour trouver de quoi survivre et se nourrir. De nombreux orphelins ayant survécu à la terrible famine de l’hiver 1944-1945 avaient été poussés dans le hameau des travailleurs pauvres de Phuc Tân, Phuc Xa aux abords du Fleuve rouge. A cette époque la langue de terre de Phuc Tân, longeant le Fleuve rouge, rassemblait plus d’une centaine de paillotes branlantes qui abritaient les travailleurs pauvres mais également des dizaines d’enfants abandonnés ou malchanceux. Tous les “gavroches” de la ville trouvaient là un refuge et un peu de réconfort. Des liens d’amitié se nouèrent, des destins communs pouvaient s’épauler. Puis la guerre arriva à grands pas. Et le 19 décembre Phu Tân s’embrasait.

Pour empêcher le Viêt-Minh de se ravitailler, les forces du CEFEO incendièrent ce quartier de misère sans en mesurer les conséquences. Des dizaines de jeunes furent immanquablement pris dans le cercle de la guerre. Ces enfants quittèrent leur Phu Tân en feu pour investir la capitale. Dans l’autre sens, les citoyens de Hanoi cherchaient à fuir par tous les moyens vers les provinces adjacentes de Nam Dinh, Ha Nam, Ninh Binh… Quant aux “poussières de vie” de Hanoi, elles se retrouvèrent aux barricades dressées par les Forces d’Autodéfense et, de fait, furent associées à la résistance. Jeune agent de liaison de 11 ans, l’ancien “cadet” Nguyen Van Phuc expose ses motivations :

“La chose extraordinaire est que moi et de nombreux autres gamins de mon âge qui tentions d’échapper à l’évacuation se retrouvèrent là à participer à la résistance. Notre objectif étaient vraiment simple : rester pour frapper ceux qui avaient brûlé nos maisons à Phuc Tân” [3].

L’idée d’en découdre prévalait sans mesurer véritablement ce que comportait cet engagement sur les premières lignes comme le rappelle Nguyen Van Hieu : “Nous étions encore trop petits pour comprendre que la guerre et la mort se cotoyaient de très près” [4].

Những Vệ út trong mùa đông 1946 – Ảnh tư liệu.
Source : http://www.vnmilitaryhistory.net

Mais à Hanoi, la situation devint intenable pour le Viêt-Minh lorsque la voie secrète pour le ravitaillement fut découverte. Il fallut penser à évacuer. Un accord fut trouvé avec les consuls chinois, britannique et américains pour respecter avec les Français une trève de ving-quatre heures permettant l’évacuation des civils chinois, hindous et vietnamiens de la ville. Vo Nguyen Giap rappelle cet épisode dans La résistance encerclée :

Le haut commandement décida de laisser dans l’interzone I une petite unité de cinq cents combattants sélectionnés. La plupart de nos forces devant être évacuées avec les civils pendant la trève. Toutefois, après l’évacuation, selon le rapport du PC du régiment, notre effectif sur place était encore de mille deux cents combattants, dont deux cents femmes et soixante quinze enfants. Nous n’avions pas compté ceux qui, éludant le recensement sélectif, étaient décidés à continuer le combat dans l’interzone. [5]

Autant dire que ceux qui restèrent faisaient figure de volontaires de la mort car les bombardements de l’aviation et de l’artillerie françaises reprirent avec plus d’intensité pour anéantir les dernières poches de résistance du Viêt-Minh.

Evalués à plus de 175, les enfants-soldats de Ho Chi Minh des premiers temps de la résistance servaient comme agents de liaison entre les unités Viêt-Minh, comme éclaireurs logés sur les toits des maisons pour surveiller l’avancée des troupes françaises, comme agents de ravitaillement ou de renseignement. Si peu prirent les armes (elles-mêmes en nombre réduit), certains possédaient des grenades et beaucoup se sacrifièrent lors des durs combats urbains. Peu à peu, ces enfants furent intégrés dans l’armée régulière (Ve Quoc Quan) principalement en tant qu’agents de liaisons. Ils furent pris en main politiquement et militairement dans les détachements de jeunesse du Viêt-Minh. Lors de l’évacuation de la ville en février 1947, ils furent regroupés à Dai Thu dans la province de Thai Nguyên comme le souligne Dang Van Tich :

“Les cadets d’Autodéfense suivirent leurs ainés lors du repli du Régiment de la Capitale. En arrivant à Thai Nguyên, le groupement des cadets qui ne comptaient plus qu’environ 120 enfants fut rassemblé en deux compagnies. Ce fut l’unique chance pour que tous les cadets ayant participé aux 60 jours de résistance puissent faire connaissance” [6].

Nhạc sĩ quyết tử quân Lương Ngọc Trác với các em Vệ út Trang Công Lũy (phải), 10 tuổi và Phạm Đình Luận (trái), 9 tuổi – những chú bé liên lạc gan dạ trên chiến lũy Liên khu 1.

Un ouvrage illustré, rassemblant 145 photographies, a été publié en 2006 par l’ancien “cadet d’Autodéfense” Dang Van Tich mais la vie quotidienne de ces 175 enfant-soldats pris dans le feu de la guérilla urbaine de 1946 puis dans la longue guerre de trente ans restent encore méconnus. Les journalistes Tran Dinh Tu et Lam Hoai ont commencé à lever le voile sur le destin de quelques-uns de ces survivants, engagés bon gré mal gré dans une aventure guerrière qu’ils ne pouvaient imaginer aussi longue et déterminante pour leur pays.

François Guillemot, 20/12/2012.

Notes :

[1] Christopher E. Goscha, Vietnam, un Etat né de la guerre 1945-1954, Paris, Armand Colin, 2011, pp. 145-146.

[2] Voir les liens aux 6 articles en vietnamien ci-dessous : “Những Vệ út trên chiến hào vệ quốc”. Christopher Goscha s’appuie sur ces documents pour retracer l’histoire des “Vê ut”, voir Vietnam, un Etat né de la guerre, pp. 157-159.

[3] TRẦN ĐÌNH TÚ, “Những Vệ út trên chiến hào vệ quốc“, Tuổi Trẻ, 11/12/2006.

[4] TRẦN ĐÌNH TÚ, “Những “Gavroche” Hà thành“, Tuổi Trẻ, 11/12/2006.

[5] Vo Nguyen Giap, Mémoires 1946-1954. Tome 1 :  La résistance encerclée, Fontenay-sous-Bois, Anako Editions, coll. Grands Témoins, 2003, p. 53.

[6] TRẦN ĐÌNH TÚ, “Những “Gavroche” Hà thành“, art. cit.

Pour en savoir plus :

  • La série de six articles parus en 2006 sur Tuổi Trẻ : “Kỷ niệm 60 năm ngày Toàn quốc kháng chiến (19-12-1946 – 19-12-2006)”

Những Vệ út trên chiến hào vệ quốc

>> Kỳ 1: Tuổi thơ dữ dội
>> Kỳ 2: Những “Gavroche” Hà thành
>> Kỳ 3: Nữ Vệ út và báu vật 60 năm
>> Kỳ 4: Tiểu đội nhí và “chiến thuật xe bò”
>> Kỳ 5: Người chép sử Vệ út

>> Kỳ 6: Cô đầu phố Khâm Thiên

  • Nguyễn Trọng Hàm, Đặng Văn Tích, Hoàng Kim Đáng (biên soạn), Quyết tử để Tổ Quốc quyết sinh, Hà Nội : Nhà xuất bản Quân đội nhân dân, 2005.

What Really Happened in Vietnam: The North, the South, and the American Defeat – by Fredrik Logevall

Northern nemesis: A Vietcong soldier taking part in the Tet offensive © 1968 (Getty Images / Agence France-Presse)

A pathbreaking history of the Vietnam War reveals that the Northern government was far more divided and discouraged than commonly believed. Yet the fact remains that the United States and its allies in the South always faced very long odds of success.

Fredrik Logevall is John S. Knight Professor of International Studies at Cornell University and the author of Embers of War: The Fall of an Empire and the Making of America’s Vietnam.

 

[Review of Lien-Hang T. Nguyen, Hanoi’s War. An international history of the war for peace in Vietnam, Chapel Hill, University of Carolina Press, 2012, 444 p.]

This past Memorial Day, U.S. President Barack Obama marked the 50th anniversary of the start of the Vietnam War with a speech at the Vietnam Veterans Memorial. “Even now, historians cannot agree on precisely when the war began,” he said. “But if any year . . . illustrated the changing nature of our involvement, it was 1962.” It’s a debatable choice. The United States was already deeply involved in combating the Communist-led insurgency in South Vietnam in the late 1950s and before that had supplied and bankrolled France’s losing effort against Ho Chi Minh’s revolutionary forces. Historians usually date the start of the Second Indochina War — what the Vietnamese refer to as “the American War” — to 1959 or 1960.

Still, there is no question that Washington’s military commitment deepened appreciably in 1962, as vast quantities of U.S. weapons, jet fighters, helicopters, and armored personnel carriers arrived in South Vietnam, along with thousands of additional military advisers. That year, the Pentagon set up a full field command called the Military Assistance Command, Vietnam (MACV), and put a three-star general, Paul Harkins, in charge.

Journalists on the scene understood what was happening. “The United States is involved in a war in Vietnam,” began a front-page New York Times article in February by the venerable military correspondent Homer Bigart, who noted Washington’s “passionate and inflexible” support for South Vietnamese President Ngo Dinh Diem and speculated that the United States “seems inextricably committed to a long, inconclusive war.” He quoted U.S. Attorney General Robert Kennedy, who on a visit to Saigon that month vowed that his country would stand by Diem “until we win.”

Victory never came. Despite the more than half a million U.S. soldiers President Lyndon Johnson sent to Vietnam, and the more than eight million tons of bombs the U.S. Air Force dropped on Vietnam, Laos, and Cambodia from 1962 to 1973, Washington could not achieve its core objective: to preserve an independent, noncommunist South Vietnam for the indefinite future. In January 1973, U.S. and North Vietnamese negotiators signed a cease-fire agreement in Paris; two months later, the last U.S. ground troops left South Vietnam. Both the North and the South soon violated the cease-fire, and large-scale war resumed. On April 29, 1975, the South Vietnamese government collapsed, and Vietnam was reunified under a communist government based in Hanoi. By the time the fighting stopped, it had claimed the lives of three to four million Vietnamese, hundreds of thousands of Cambodians and Laotians, and more than 58,000 Americans. Now, Hanoi’s War, a pathbreaking new book by the historian Lien-Hang Nguyen, illuminates the decision-making behind the North’s relentless resistance, helping readers better understand why the struggle lasted as long as it did and why all those people died.

 

THE RECKONING

For the past four-plus decades, scholars, journalists, and memoirists have tried to explain this bloody Second Indochina War: its origins, its escalation, its long duration, and its denouement. U.S.-centered accounts written by American authors have dominated the literature. Long before U.S. archives were opened, these histories reached a broad, orthodox view of the reasons for defeat, agreeing on several key points: that U.S. involvement was the product of ignorance about Vietnam and misplaced faith in the efficacy of U.S. military power, that the successive South Vietnamese governments after 1954 were authoritarian and unpopular, and that Washington therefore made the disastrous mistake of intervening in a civil war among Vietnamese in which the other side had the mantle of nationalist legitimacy. Although U.S. forces fought well, the war was ultimately unwinnable for the simple reason that no military solution could ever be had. The war had to be won politically or not at all.

Thus, David Halberstam’s hugely influential book The Best and the Brightest, which appeared in 1972, described how hubris and a belief that victory was inevitable pulled U.S. leaders, bit by bit, into the “quagmire” of Vietnam. And thus, Frances FitzGerald’s Pulitzer Prize-winning Fire in the Lake, published the same year, argued that Americans foolishly blundered into another people’s history, in the context of which the United States’ military power was ultimately irrelevant. For Halberstam and FitzGerald, to talk of alternative U.S. strategies that might have worked was mistaken: no better option existed.

Other incisive early accounts also retain their value — those by Chester Cooper, Hans Morgenthau, Daniel Ellsberg, Paul Kattenburg, Joseph Buttinger, George Herring, and Bernard Fall, among others. The quality of these works suggests that first-cut histories, when carefully done, can stand up remarkably well over time, even as primary sources are declassified and other historians get to work. (A prediction: the same will be true of the early studies of the Iraq war.)

Nevertheless, the massive outpouring of scholarship on the war in the past 12 to 15 years has challenged the older interpretations and rendered some of them untenable. No longer can it be seriously argued, for example, as Halberstam and the historian Arthur Schlesinger, Jr., claimed, that U.S. leaders stumbled blindly into a quagmire, step by step, until one day they found themselves in what none of them wanted: a land war in Asia. To the contrary, their eyes were wide open, and they mostly understood the likely ramifications of their choices.

Nor does the internal record show much evidence of hubris, at least with respect to the military prospects. From an early point, President John F. Kennedy and Johnson, along with their top aides, were somber realists on the war. Although they were hardly experts on Vietnam’s history and culture, they were not the ignoramuses many in the antiwar movement made them out to be; they realized that the United States faced long odds, even with a major military escalation. Privately (and only privately), they also on occasion admitted the impermissible: that the outcome in Vietnam might not matter all that much to U.S. and Western security.

The United States had made a commitment to South Vietnam, however, and Kennedy and Johnson saw no option but to maintain it. They found what their predecessors in the White House, as well as a long line of leaders in France, had found, and what President Richard Nixon would discover after them: that in Vietnam, the path of least immediate resistance, especially in domestic political terms, was to stand firm in the hope that somehow things would turn out fine — or at least, as in some high-stakes version of the game old maid, be handed off to the next in line.

 

REVISING HISTORY

New works have challenged the old orthodoxy on other points, as well. The question of which among the competing Vietnamese leaders actually had popular legitimacy — one of the most slippery concepts in political science — has gotten harder to answer in recent years, as scholars have reexamined the government of South Vietnam, especially under Diem, who took power in 1954. Diem, it is now clear, was an intelligent patriot who possessed a detailed vision for his country’s future. Some revisionist authors have extended this line of argument, alleging that the legitimacy of Diem as a Vietnamese leader matched or even exceeded Ho’s and that he was well on the way to victory against the insurgency when he was deposed and killed in a U.S.-sanctioned coup in November 1963.

That claim goes too far. Over time, Diem’s defects as a leader — his obduracy, his political myopia, his easy resort to repression — became increasingly obvious to the Vietnamese people. American officials were fully cognizant of these limitations but could find no one better, and so they stuck with him, their influence sagging with each passing year despite the regime’s complete dependence on U.S. aid. By most measures, Diem’s government was losing the war when he was overthrown, which is precisely why U.S. officials threw their support behind the coup.

With respect to the later phase of the war, it is now clear that things went better for U.S. and South Vietnamese forces after the Communists’ Tet offensive, in 1968, than earlier histories suggested. Vietcong forces were decimated in the fighting, and in the months thereafter, General Creighton Abrams’ “clear and hold” strategy of controlling patches of territory and defending their inhabitants (a change from the “search and destroy” strategy used by Abrams’ predecessor at MACV, General William Westmoreland) made indisputable progress.

But it remains unclear how lasting this success was; detailed, archives-based scholarly works on the war in the South during this period are only starting to emerge. Still, the existing evidence offers little reason to think that victory was within reach. For one thing, notwithstanding the heavy Vietcong losses during Tet, the Communists maintained the ability to carry out nationwide attacks, and indeed, for most of 1969, South Vietnam was plagued by so-called mini-Tets. Although these attacks never threatened to topple the Saigon regime, they indicated that the Vietcong was still a force to be reckoned with. Hanoi largely recovered from the Tet offensive by replacing southern forces with northerners, and men and supplies from the North continued to infiltrate the South.

Few senior U.S. officials at the time believed the military situation had swung unequivocally and permanently in their favor, much less that victory was close at hand. They understood that gains in the countryside in the aftermath of Tet were limited to certain areas and did not imply growing popular support for the Saigon government, which remained incompetent, authoritarian, and corrupt. The massive use of firepower deemed essential to clear and hold territory did not help win hearts and minds. Time and again, U.S. economic reports complained that South Vietnamese authorities were unable to collect taxes outside of a few urban areas and that the government was therefore unlikely to survive long without being propped up by Washington. The Communists, meanwhile, continued to collect taxes, replenish food supplies, and draft soldiers; in other words, they did all the things that a government controlling its territory ought to be able to do.

The North’s policy in these final years is the central concern of Hanoi’s War. Years in the making, Nguyen’s book is based on a range of Vietnamese-language materials, published and archival, although not records from North Vietnam’s Politburo and other high-level sources, which remain classified. It sheds much light on how leaders in North Vietnam approached the fighting and, especially, the diplomatic negotiations from the time of the Tet offensive to the signing of the cease-fire, in 1973. Without question, Hanoi’s War stands as a major accomplishment and one of the most important scholarly works to appear on this later, and relatively understudied, phase of the struggle.

 

THE VIEW FROM HANOI

The principal player in Nguyen’s story is Le Duan, the leading figure in the North’s hierarchy in the later stages of the war yet a shadowy figure in most histories of it. A native of central Vietnam, Le Duan got his start battling the French in the years before World War II, and Nguyen traces his gradual rise within the Communist Party throughout the 1950s. What emerges is a picture of a savvy and ruthless bureaucratic infighter whose worldview and strategic outlook took form in the crucible of the First Indochina War and who, in the late 1950s and early 1960s, along with his loyal ally Le Duc Tho, defeated everyone who challenged his authority.

A signal contribution of Nguyen’s book is how it reaveals how sharp the internal disputes were between the hard-liners, such as Le Duan and Le Duc Tho, who wanted to pursue an aggressive strategy of “total war” in the South, and the moderates, led by Ho and General Vo Nguyen Giap, who advocated a “North first” strategy of consolidating the Communist Party’s control in the North and working to reunify the country without resorting to large-scale war. As the Sino-Soviet split deepened and the insurgency in South Vietnam intensified in the early 1960s, Nguyen demonstrates, the opposing factions mirrored that schism: the hard-liners used Mao Zedong’s anti-imperialist exhortations to further their position, whereas the moderates embraced Nikita Khrushchev’s calls for “peaceful coexistence” to advance their cause.

Nguyen never explains precisely how and when Le Duan consolidated his control, no doubt because of the obvious handicap under which she operated: it’s hard to make definitive judgments on internal Politburo battles without access to Politburo records. At various junctures, Nguyen is compelled to speculate that Le Duan “must have” thought this or “probably” sought to do that. She refers to Le Duan’s “assumption of power in 1960,” but her own evidence suggests that it took until the middle of the decade for him to gain authority and that even then, power fluctuated between the factions and continued to do so through the end of the conflict. Ho, a strangely marginal character in the book, ceased to be a central figure in Hanoi’s decision-making process in the late 1950s, but he continued for some years thereafter to serve as an éminence grise in the inner sanctum and to play a crucial diplomatic role vis-à-vis Beijing and Moscow, a point Nguyen concedes but does not develop.

One also wishes she had done more to explicate her frequent assertions that Le Duan was intent on waging “total war” and “going for broke” against South Vietnam. To the contrary, it seems clear that both factions in Hanoi always hoped to avoid total war if possible; when they stepped up their military involvement after the middle of 1959, they did so carefully, the better to avoid provoking a large-scale U.S. intervention. In April 1965, as the Americanization of the war got under way, the People’s Army of Vietnam had four regiments in the South, totaling roughly 6,000 men — a sizable number, to be sure, but hardly a figure synonymous with “total war.”

The book leaves no doubt, however, about Hanoi’s fundamental determination to prevail. North Vietnamese leaders, whatever their disagreements about strategy and tactics, were wholly united in their commitment to reunify the country under their control, regardless of the cost. Thus, although Nguyen does not say much about U.S. and South Vietnamese decision-making in the early 1960s, her account gives little reason to believe that Washington strategists could ever have found a breaking point in Hanoi, whatever they might have tried.

Hanoi’s War adds a great deal to historians’ understanding of the planning and execution of the Tet offensive. Nguyen details the process by which Le Duan ordered the massive and coordinated attack on South Vietnam’s cities, which was intended to deliver a knockout blow to the Army of the Republic of Vietnam and incite the populace to rise up and overthrow the Saigon-based government of Nguyen Van Thieu. She shows that Le Duan had to overcome the vehement objections of Giap, who believed the revolutionary forces were not yet ready to launch such a large-scale attack. (When Giap realized he would not get his way, he exiled himself to Hungary in protest.)

Ho, too, argued against a major assault on urban areas, as did the Chinese, who saw such a high-stakes attack as a repudiation of Mao’s strategy of protracted low-level warfare. The Chinese also feared it would increase North Vietnam’s dependence on Soviet aid and weaponry, thereby undermining their own influence in Hanoi. Le Duan’s gambit for a decisive victory failed — no uprising occurred, and the Saigon government survived while his own forces suffered huge battlefield losses — but he maintained his grip on power. And to skeptical colleagues upset about a military defeat, Le Duan could claim an important political result: the Tet offensive tipped U.S. public opinion against the war and toppled Johnson from power.

Most historians would agree with Le Duan that the Tet offensive was a major political defeat for the United States, and in hindsight, it is hard to see how it could have been anything else. As Nguyen shrewdly points out, however, Tet marked less of a turning point in U.S. policy than it might have, because the incoming Nixon administration reversed Johnson’s efforts in 1968 to stem the escalation of U.S. involvement in the war. “Like Le Duan and Le Duc Tho,” she writes, Nixon and his national security adviser, Henry Kissinger, “were confident that they could succeed where their predecessors had failed.” She proceeds to detail how the two men implemented a three-pronged strategy to regain the initiative in Vietnam — militarily, diplomatically, and domestically.

 

AN UNWINNABLE WAR

Nguyen makes equally insightful contributions concerning North Vietnam’s strategizing in 1972, illuminating the ways in which Nixon’s opening to China and pursuit of détente with the Soviet Union left leaders in Hanoi feeling squeezed. These U.S. policies spurred the North Vietnamese to launch their ambitious but only partially successful Easter offensive; Hanoi made modest territorial gains but neither ousted Thieu nor altered the overall military balance of power.

Regarding the negotiations that began in 1968 and ultimately yielded the Paris peace accords in January 1973, Nguyen exhaustively elucidates the twists and turns in the North’s bargaining posture. She demonstrates how the bitter memories of the 1954 Geneva Conference, which ended the First Indochina War and divided Vietnam, exerted a powerful influence on Le Duan and his colleagues. In 1954, Ho’s government had bowed to pressure from Beijing and Moscow to accept a lesser deal than the military balance indicated it ought to have. In 1972, Hanoi’s negotiators were determined to avoid that result and to set policy on their own. (Nguyen might have noted that their recollections were selective: in early 1954, Ho and Giap had had their own reasons for wanting a compromise. Their forces were battered and exhausted, and they also had to worry about the prospect of U.S. military intervention should the talks collapse.) The North Vietnamese were only partially successful in preserving their autonomy, as the Chinese and the Soviets again leaned on them privately to settle with Washington.

Nguyen’s study also details the fascinating ways in which the fractious Sino-Soviet relationship proved alternately helpful and problematic for North Vietnam’s leaders: they were adept at playing one patron off the other, but at times they were left marginalized, lacking support from either. In sketching these ties, Nguyen’s study lives up to its billing as “an international history of the war for peace in Vietnam.” Yet the subtitle implies a book with a broader scope than Nguyen delivers. Although the introduction promises a thorough treatment of South Vietnam and its leaders, the Saigon government emerges as a prominent actor only late in the drama. Likewise, Nguyen might have provided a fuller assessment of the government’s popular standing or of the larger state-society dynamic in the South.

When telling the U.S. side of the story, Nguyen relies mostly on published sources, including the State Department’s excellent Foreign Relations of the United States series and a select number of key secondary accounts. For the most part, her interpretations of Nixon and Kissinger’s policies track closely with those of previous histories.

Partly for this reason, it seems doubtful that this book will dramatically alter the ongoing debate in the United States about the war. Like the communist sources on the broader Cold War, works such as Nguyen’s that are centered on the Vietnamese revolutionaries enable analysts to continue the same old arguments — about the reasons the United States got involved in Vietnam in the first place, decided to fight a large-scale war there, and ultimately failed in its effort to preserve an independent, noncommunist South Vietnam — only with a higher level of sophistication.

On that basis, it may be said that Hanoi’s War offers limited support for revisionist analyses of the struggle, while still upholding the essence of the orthodox position. Nguyen makes it crystal clear that strategists in Hanoi made their share of misjudgments, bickered among themselves, and, like political and military leaders everywhere, acted partly on the basis of careerism and personal advantage. She leaves no doubt that the leadership faced periods of acute tension and uncertainty, notably in the aftermath of the Tet offensive, and at various points confronted serious morale problems, both in the armed forces and among the northern populace, as well as discontent among the intelligentsia.

Still, nothing in this book ultimately challenges the prevailing view that the United States and its South Vietnamese allies always faced very long odds in this war. Their adversary’s ruthless commitment, unshakable tenacity, and skillful fighting were, from start to finish, remarkable — as impressive as those of any combatant in the annals of modern warfare. The Saigon government, meanwhile, was crippled from the outset by three principal shortcomings that no amount of U.S. intervention could overcome: professional military inferiority, endemic corruption, and insufficient popular support.

Indeed, Washington’s involvement was part of the problem, for it presented the noncommunist nationalists in the South with an impossible dilemma: they couldn’t win without the United States, and they couldn’t win with it. Massive U.S. assistance was essential to defeating the insurgency yet killed any chance of gaining broad public backing. Bui Diem, a former South Vietnamese ambassador to the United States, would later write of this predicament: “Caught in the middle of these powerful forces, Vietnamese nationalists found themselves in a succession of precarious situations. In most cases they were forced to choose among unpalatable alternatives; often, indeed, they saw no choice at all. With their survival at stake they were forced to take refuge in a series of uneasy and uncomfortable compromises that little by little eroded their legitimacy.”

Perhaps this explains why, when the moment of truth came, the majority of officers, soldiers, and ordinary people were unwilling to defend South Vietnam to the death. In the words of General Cao Van Vien, the last chief of staff of the South Vietnamese forces, by the end, “the whole nation appeared to resemble a rotten fruit ready to fall at the first passing breeze.”

Source : Foreign Affairs, Review essay, November/December 2012.

Version intégrale à lire sur Viet Studies

1972, année cruciale pour le dénouement du conflit vietnamo-américain

[ndlr] On notera l’orientation du titre de l’article qui laisse à penser que la guerre du Viêt Nam ne fut qu’une guerre de résistance contre une invasion étrangère effaçant la dimension guerre civile pourtant indissociable du conflit entre les deux Viêt Nam (RDVN communiste sous la direction du Parti des Travailleurs du Vietnam contre République du Viêt Nam, seconde république, alors dirigée par le président Nguyen Van Thieu). Il est vrai que les bombardements aériens de 1972 furent perpétrés par les B52 américains de sinistre réputation.

Une table ronde intitulée “L’année 1972 vue d’en Haut : année cruciale pour le dénouement du conflit vietnamo-américain” a eu lieu le 11 octobre au Centre culturel français de Hanoi.

Table ronde “L’année 1972 vue d’en Haut : année cruciale pour le dénouement du conflit vietnamo-américain”, le 11 octobre à Hanoi. © 2012 Le Courrier du Vietnam

Elle a été organisée et animée par Olivier Tessier, de l’École française d’Extrême- Orient (EFEO), avec la participation de deux historiens, le Docteur Nguyên Xuân Nang, directeur du Musée d’histoire militaire, et le Docteur Pierre Journoud, chargé de recherches à l’Institut de recherche stratégique de l’École militaire (IRSEM – ministère de la Défense) et chercheur associé à l’UMR-CNRS IRICE (Identités, relations internationales et civilisations de l’Europe) de l’Université Paris I Panthéon-Sorbonne.

L’objectif était de poser un regard croisé sur les temps forts qui ont marqué l’année 1972, année cruciale pour le dénouement du conflit vietnamo-américain dont l’épilogue fut la signature des Accords de Paris le 27 janvier 1973.

Pierre Journoud a présenté au public le contexte de la guerre, des négociations, des relations franco-vietnamiennes, et plus particulièrement du bombardement de la Délégation générale de France à Hanoi.

Nguyên Xuân Nang, pour sa part, a retracé la lutte, les résultats et la signification du «Diên Biên Phu aérien».

Exposition “Vivre et mourir à Hanoi en 1972”. © 2012 Le Courrier du Vietnam

Exposition sur le «Diên Biên Phu aérien»

Cette table ronde était accompagnée d’une exposition intitulée «Vivre et mourir à Hanoi en 1972». Contribution à la recherche sur l’histoire contemporaine du Vietnam, l’exposition a été créée à l’initiative de l’École française d’Extrême-Orient et de l’ambassade de France au Vietnam, à l’occasion du 40e anniversaire du bombardement de la Délégation générale de France, le 11 octobre 1972.

De la reprise des bombardements sur le nord-Vietnam au printemps 1972 jusqu’à son épilogue, la signature des Accords de Paris le 27 janvier 1973, cette exposition a retracé avec des documents d’époque et des témoignages la vie quotidienne dans la capitale ainsi que le sort tragique des populations soumises à l’escalade des opérations aériennes.

Les archives iconographiques, audiovisuelles et écrites proviennent de différents fonds documentaires conservés au Vietnam, dont ceux de l’Agence Vietnamienne d’Information (AVI), du Musée de l’aviation militaire et du Studio national du documentaire, ainsi qu’en France avec l’Institut national de l’audiovisuel, l’Établissement de communication et de production audiovisuelle de la défense et le Centre des archives diplomatiques de la Courneuve, outre des sources privées mises à disposition par leurs propriétaires, notamment Jean-Marc Gravier, Alain Wasmes, Nicolas Cornet et Chu Chi Thành.

Des extraits de récits de témoins habitant à Hanoi au moment des faits complètent ce tableau d’ensemble.

Texte et photos : Hà Minh/CVN

Source : Le Courrier du Vietnam, 12/10/2012

Même article sur Vietnam +, 11/10/2012

Sur VOV5 : Le sens de l’appelation “Diên Biên Phu aérien”

[ndlr] La RSVN célèbre actuellement les 40 ans du “Dien Bien Phu aérien” de 1972. La rhétorique communiste officielle présente cet événement historique comme une initiative de la RDVN et une grande victoire aérienne (donc sous son jour le plus favorable) reproduisant à l’inverse le discours américain sur les motivations et les conséquences politiques et militaires de ce qui est communément appelé les “Bombardements de Noël”.

34 B52 ont été abattus lors de la campagne “Dien Bien Phu aérien”.

(VOVworld) – Pour parvenir à la grande victoire du printemps 1975 et à la réunification du pays, le peuple vietnamien est passé par d’innombrables difficultés, par des pertes et des sacrifices, tout en réalisant de glorieux exploits, dont la victoire du Dien Bien Phu aérien de 1972, qui a eu pour effet d’obliger les impérialistes américains à retourner à la table des négociations et à signer l’accord de Paris le 27 janvier 1973.

 

 

En octobre 1972, le Vietnam et les Etats Unis auraient déjà du signer une convention mettant fin à la guerre et rétablissant la paix au Vietnam. Mais la partie américaine a forfait à ses engagements, envoyant des avions stratégiques B52 bombarder Hanoi et Hai Phong. Le président américain Nixon avait envisagé de recourir à ces as de l’aviation américaine pour renvoyer le Nord Vietnam “à l’âge de la pierre” et pour l’obliger à accepter ses conditions.  Mais ces frappes massives des bombardiers B52 américains ont été un échec total. Bilan : 81 avions  américains abattus dont 34 B52, 5 F.111, plusieurs pilotes américains anéantis ou capturés vivants.

Par la force de la guerre du peuple et grâce à ses forces aériennes à trois composantes, le Vietnam a donc réussi à tenir en échec l’armée américaine. Les milices de Hanoï, de Hai Phong et de certaines localités ont fermement riposté à ces frappes aériennes sans précédent dans l’histoire. Après 12 jours et nuits de lutte vaillante entre le 18 et le 29 décembre 1972, l’armée et le peuple de Hanoï et de Hai Phong ont remporté la glorieuse victoire de Diên Biên Phu aérien, obligeant la partie américaine à constater son échec dans les cieux de Hanoï.

La victoire de la campagne de Dien Bien Phu en 1954 a infligé un échec total aux colonialistes français, en mettant à mal leur intention de poursuivre la guerre, et en les obligeant à mener des négociations avec le Vietnam lors de la conférence de Genève et à signer l’accord de Genève avec le Vietnam en juillet 1954. Indique Nguyễn Mạnh Hà, directeur de l’institut d’histoire du Parti communiste vietnamien. La victoire du Vietnam pendant les 12 jours et nuits de décembre 1972 a eu des effets tout à fait similaires. La seule vraie différence, c’est que les combats étaient aériens. Mais ces deux victoires ont les mêmes significations. Ainsi, on a appelé la victoire de 1972 celle de Dien Bien Phu aérien car elle montre la volonté du peuple vietnamien de lutter jusqu’au bout pour remporter la victoire, de ne pas plier devant n’importe quel force militaire, y compris des bombardiers stratégiques B52.

La victoire de l’armée et du peuple vietnamien dans la campagne de Dien Bien Phu aérien a marqué une maturité remarquable sur tous les plans, l’aboutissement de huit ans de résistance à la guerre d’invasion des impérialistes américains. Elle témoigne de la direction lucide et éclairée du Parti communiste vietnamien, du comité du Parti pour l’armée et du ministère vietnamien de la défense dans la tactique de défense aérienne, et de la combativité de l’armée populaire vietnamienne.

Source : VOV5 – La Radio du Vietnam, Service d’Outre-Mer

  • Sur le site de l’ambasse de France à Hanoi : “Commémoration du bombardement du 11 octobre 1972” : Le 11 octobre 2012, le personnel de l’Ambassade de France à Hanoi a rendu hommage aux victimes du bombardement de la Délégation générale du gouvernement français, il y a quarante ans, le 11 octobre 1972.

L’année 1972 vue « d’en bas » – Traces et mémoires de neuf mois de bombardements sur Hanoi

Table-ronde organisée et animée par Olivier Tessier (EFEO) – 08 nov. 2012 – 18h00 – Auditorium de L’Espace à Hanoi

Participants : Mme Huyen Mermet (Dao Thanh Huyen) et M. Dang Duc Tue, jour­na­lis­tes et co-auteurs de « Dien Bien Phu vu d’enface » (Paris, Nouveau Monde éditions, 2010).

L’ate­lier por­tera sur la vie des habi­tants de Hanoi et du Nord Vietnam (RDVN) pen­dant la guerre du Vietnam. Ce tra­vail est le fruit d’une enquête de terrain réalisée sur près de 100 témoins ayant vécu les 12 jours et nuits de bom­bar­de­ments aériens à Hanoi en 1972.

Traduction simultanée
Entrée libre

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Vivre et mourir à Hanoi en 1972

Exposition organisée et coordonnée par Olivier Tessier (EFEO) – 11 oct./09 nov. 2012 – Hall d’exposition de L’Espace

La vie quotidienne à Hanoi sous les bombes en 1972.

L’Exposition vous présente aussi chronologiquement l’enchaînement des phases de bombardements (cibles stratégiques, forces aériennes engagées, destructions et victimes civiles et militaires) ainsi que le processus des négociations parallèles.

Vernissage :
11.10 – 18h00
Exposition :
11.10>09.11

Entrée libre

Pour voir le programme, double clic sur l’image ci-dessous.