Secretly moved from prison to prison, held in solitary confinement, their families subject to constant harassment — Vietnam’s activist bloggers say they are treated like international terrorists.
While Vietnam insists it has no political prisoners — and therefore will not comment on the subject — rights groups estimate hundreds of activists are locked up for speaking out against one-party communist rule, including at least 46 jailed this year.
Activists say that while conditions are no picnic for common criminals, prisoners of conscience face particularly harsh treatment behind bars.
Prisons have a separate area for political prisoners where “anything can happen and no one knows,” said Nguyen Tri Dung, the son of high-profile blogger Dieu Cay who is serving 12 years for anti-state propaganda. Like many dissidents, Dieu Cay — whose real name is Nguyen Van Hai — refused to plead guilty. Now his relatives believe he is being punished in prison for this show of defiance.
Since he was detained in 2008 on an initial charge of tax evasion, Dieu Cay has been moved 10 times between different prisons, according to his family, who said they are never notified in advance.
The imprisoned dissident, whose case has been raised by US President Barack Obama, faces constant pressure to sign a confession as well as visitor restrictions, his relatives said.
His son told AFP that he too had been repeatedly detained by authorities — always for less than 24 hours — to disrupt his studies and prevent him sitting his exams.
Using vague, trumped-up administrative charges is a way for authorities to warn activists to cease their campaigning, experts say.
Another prominent blogger, the Catholic lawyer Le Quoc Quan, is due to go on trial on Wednesday for tax evasion. “Le Quoc Quan’s apparent crime is to be an effective public critic of the Vietnamese government,” New York-based Human Rights Watch (HRW) said Tuesday, calling for the 41-year-old’s release.
Once in jail, the Vietnamese authorities are always strict with prisoners who do not admit their guilt, said one activist who spent five years in prison in the past.
“They fear they will influence other prisoners and cause problems,” he said.
Criminal and political prisoners are held separately and treated in very different ways, he said on condition of anonymity.
“Criminal prisoners in Vietnamese jails can buy anything — food, tobacco, heroin,” he said, but political prisoners are often denied books or writing paper and held in cells on their own.
Vietnam’s authoritarian government does not allow independent inspections of jails.
But experts said arbitrary periods of solitary confinement — another measure used against political detainees — could constitute torture under the Convention Against Torture (CAT), which Vietnam has said it will ratify this year.
“The reports that we’ve received indicate that it is a standard practice and that decisions to send someone to solitary confinement are arbitrary, based on the discretion of jail officials,” said HRW deputy Asia director Phil Robertson.
Isolate the activists
Former political prisoners and their relatives interviewed by AFP described intense harassment of families: from pressuring friends to cut contact to denial of business licenses needed to make a living.
It is designed to “isolate the political activists ... and scare family, friends,” the formerly detained activist said.
“They find other ways to control, persuade or discredit [activists],” they said. The pressure exerted on families and friends means many dissidents end up isolated from normal Vietnamese life — which often makes them even more determined.
“Difficult people are the ones prepared to make a stand and then they get ostracized and that makes them act even more stubbornly,” said Bill Hayton, author of Rising Dragon who is banned from Vietnam. The excessive reaction by authorities is counterproductive, said Hoang Nguyen, a Vietnamese student living in exile in the US. “Families (of activists) learn a lot about the nature of the political regime,” she said, adding that many relatives “turn dissident” themselves.
Nguyen, whose fiancee was jailed in 2010, said the Vietnamese consulate in Washington refused to renew her passport unless she promised to give up her “dissident activities”. She refused and was recently granted political asylum.
Fighting from behind bars
Branded an “enemy of the Internet” by Reporters Without Borders, Vietnam bans private media and all newspapers and television channels are state-run.
Even so, the Internet and social media are changing the nature of the battle.
Facebook is sporadically blocked but wildly popular among Vietnamese users. “Social media connectivity and more broad and experienced activist networks are making sure that the word from prisons gets out far and wide,” said Robertson.
In June, after authorities refused to respond to a formal complaint and attempted to put him in solitary confinement for three months, Dieu Cay embarked on a hunger strike.
“He is trying to light up the real fate of political prisoners of Vietnam, which is now in the darkness,” his son said.
Separately, in May, imprisoned legal activist Cu Huy Ha Vu — the son of a revolutionary leader — also refused to eat for 25 days.
Eventually, both detainees called off their hunger strikes after receiving key concessions — a tactic seen by some as part of the communist rulers’ strategy to manage dissent.
“China and the USSR, they purged ruthlessly their competitors, killing many, sending them into exile,” said the formerly detained activist.
“The Vietnamese Communist Party is cunning, wise — they do not see killing and imprisonment as the best solution [but] the last resort. Therefore their power may last longer.”
April 6 to April 12 Han Chinese settlers from Zhangzhou and Quanzhou were such fierce rivals that simple activities such as buying supplies for festivals would often result in armed violence. It’s said that this was especially severe just before Tomb Sweeping Festival, and to prevent bloodshed Qing Dynasty officials ordered them to conduct their rituals on different days. This is not unlike the government urging people to visit their ancestors’ graves on days other than yesterday’s official Tomb Sweeping Day, also known as the Qingming Festival, to curb the spreading of the COVID-19 pandemic. While the Chinese Nationalist Party
As students wait outside an exam room in Seoul’s affluent Gangnam district, the air is tense. A girl in a school uniform rocks a guitar back and forth in her hands next to a boy who stares nervously into his fringe. Another girl sitting on a nearby bench adjusts her crop top. But in a neighborhood filled with English and maths crammers, this is no normal exam room. Mudoctor Academy is a K-pop training school, where dozens of students between the ages of 12 and 26 line up for their chance to audition for a visiting entertainment scout. Kevin Lee is
The lights shone more brightly than anything I’d ever seen. One million blinding watts strafed across the leaves of countless cannabis plants that peeled off in neat rows in every direction. The warehouse was as pristine as a pharmaceutical facility, and as we strode around in crisp white nylon overalls and box-fresh wellies, the atmosphere was surreal — interstellar, almost. It felt as if we were on a mission to Mars. It was definitely a glimpse of the future. It was 2017 and I had been invited to visit this legal medical cannabis “grow” in the town of Gatineau, near Ottawa.
The God of Medicine had an uneventful birthday yesterday. Due to the COVID-19 pandemic, even celebrations for Baoshengdadi (保生大帝), also known as the God of Medicine, were significantly downsized across the nation. Tainan’s Singji Temple (興濟宮), for example, held a low-key candle placing ritual Monday night and focused on promoting its artifact exhibition featuring its recently restored door god paintings. Created by renowned temple painter Chen Shou-i (陳壽彝) in 1977, the doors were painstakingly restored over 18 months by Lee Chih-shang (李志上) and his team at Ming Shiang Art Conservation (名襄文化) and reinstalled last year. Lee, who calls himself a