From these events, a larger issue arises: Literary and artistic creation in Vietnam needs to be viewed within the context of Vietnamese culture, history, and politics ; where creative freedom must always go hand in hand with social responsibility, responsibility to historical truth, to national morality, and to the sacred symbols that have been cherished and preserved by the people for generations.
Creative freedom cannot be separated from the principle of "literature as a vehicle for morality."
Literature and art have always needed freedom. Without freedom, creativity easily becomes a rigid illustration. Without individuality, a work struggles to have a life of its own. Without new explorations, literature easily repeats itself. But in Vietnamese cultural tradition, creative freedom has never been understood as arbitrariness, much less as the right to stand outside of history, outside of morality, outside of the fundamental values that constitute the identity and spiritual strength of the nation.
Our ancestors have long believed that "literature serves to convey morality." Literature carries moral principles. Art nurtures the human heart. Beauty is inseparable from goodness. The new must not turn its back on what is right. A good piece of writing not only moves the reader with the beauty of its language, but also helps people to be more virtuous, live more compassionately, and be more responsible towards their family, community, country, and national history.
This is not an outdated notion that restricts creativity. On the contrary, it is a very profound perspective on the social function of literature and art. Words are not inanimate. Images are not inanimate. A book, a play, a film, a work of art, when it enters society, participates in shaping the public's perceptions, attitudes, emotions, and beliefs. Art can comfort, enlighten, awaken, and unite; but if it lacks responsibility, it can also cause disruption, harm, sow doubt, divide, and erode shared values.
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| Illustrative image. Source: HNMO |
In traditional Vietnamese life, the reverence for sacred values has permeated every aspect of life, from eating and living to thinking. Within families, many maintain the custom of avoiding naming their children after their parents, grandparents, ancestors, or other respected figures in the lineage or community. In ancient society, avoiding the use of taboo names, royal names, or names of revered figures was not merely a matter of linguistic etiquette, but also an expression of a culture that valued respect, gratitude, moral order, and communal memory.
Of course, society today is different. Modern literature and art have more expressive space, more forms of expression, and more individual voices. Writers can delve into the human condition, pain, tragedy, loss, post-war anxieties, and even the dark corners of history and life. Art not only praises, but also reflects; not only affirms, but also questions; not only aims for the sublime, but also illuminates the contradictions, complexities, and breakdowns within humanity.
But the more freedom of expression expands, the more seriously the responsibility of creators must be considered. An inaccurate interpretation of history can be hurtful. An unfounded assessment of a historical figure can distort understanding. An extreme form of "demystification" may not shed light on history, but only create doubt, division, and gaps in belief.
President Ho Chi Minh once instructed: "Culture and art are also a battlefront. You are soldiers on that battlefront." That statement remains just as true today. The cultural and artistic battlefront is not a place to impoverish creativity, but a place where artists deeply understand that their works can contribute to strengthening or weakening the spiritual strength of the nation. Artists are soldiers not because literature must become a slogan, but because literature must stand on the side of truth, beauty, goodness, the people, and the nation.
From that perspective, when literature and art touch upon sensitive topics such as revolutionary wars, leaders, national heroes, cultural symbols, and sacred community memories, creators must set even higher ethical and intellectual limits for themselves. One cannot deny the truth in the name of fiction. One cannot insult shared beliefs in the name of individuality. One cannot harm the values that generations have sacrificed their blood, sweat, and lives for in the name of innovation.
When literature touches history, the boundaries of responsibility must be even clearer.
These two events are related and need to be viewed cautiously and fairly, without equating them or taking them to extremes, but also without avoiding the ideological, cultural, and social issues they raise.
It is a work that has had a long, complex, and multifaceted reception. Some see it as an attempt to write about the human condition after the war, about loss, haunting memories, and psychological wounds. Others question the way the work portrays war, its sense of tragedy, and its potential to create different interpretations in readers' perceptions of the nation's just resistance struggle. Debate about a work is normal, even necessary, if that debate is based on academic, cultural, and responsible principles.
The crucial question here is not whether or not a work should be allowed to exist in literary life. A mature literary tradition needs diverse voices, approaches, and emotional layers. However, a work being read, studied, and debated is different from a work being honored as a representative work in an official list summarizing national achievements after reunification.
When entering such a space of honor, a work of art is not only judged by purely artistic criteria, but also considered in relation to historical memory, social perception, community consensus, and symbolic responsibility. A work may have artistic value, but official recognition always sends a message about the value system that society chooses to uphold. Therefore, especially during major national commemorative events, caution, comprehensiveness, objectivity, and consensus are all the more necessary.
With this issue, the problem becomes even more serious at the publishing and historical standards level. When a book is determined by the regulatory body to contain serious factual inaccuracies, inaccurate information and assessments about historical figures and events, and inappropriate language when writing about President Ho Chi Minh and some of the Party's predecessors, it is no longer a matter of ordinary aesthetic debate. It serves as a warning about the responsibility of authors, editors, publishers, and governing bodies in ensuring accuracy and rigor, especially regarding content related to leaders, revolutionary history, and the spiritual foundation of the nation.
History is not afraid of dialogue. Great figures of the nation do not need to be protected by avoiding research. But historical research must be based on authentic documents, rigorous methods, a scientific attitude, and the necessary respect. Literary fiction has the right to imagine, but not the right to distort core truths. Criticism has the right to question, but not the right to trivialize symbols. Creativity has the right to find its own path, but cannot turn sacred things in the people's consciousness into arbitrary material for unverified experiments.
This is a crucial boundary in the struggle to protect the Party's ideological foundation in the fields of culture, literature, and art. Hostile forces and political opportunists often not only attack directly with blatant subversive rhetoric, but also exploit cultural, literary, and artistic issues to sow doubt about revolutionary history, dilute ideals, blur the lines between justice and injustice, between sacrifice and meaninglessness, between noble symbols and vulgar interpretations.
When a work, a book, or a cultural product creates a cognitive vacuum or a disruption of values, that vacuum can immediately be exploited to promote "peaceful evolution" on the ideological front. Therefore, the struggle here is not about extreme prohibition or simple labeling. The struggle is primarily about clarifying right and wrong, truth and falsehood, norms and deviations through reason, knowledge, law, and cultural fortitude.
The struggle is about protecting genuine creative rights while criticizing those who, in the name of creativity, harm history. The struggle is about affirming that Vietnamese literature and art can be modern, open, and diverse, but cannot be detached from its national, humanistic, patriotic, and progressive foundations. A confident society is not afraid of debate. But a responsible society cannot allow every insult to be disguised as a "different perspective," every inaccuracy to be excused as "fiction," and every extreme skepticism to be elevated to "artistic courage."
Creative freedom needs to be protected. But the historical beliefs of the people, the honor of leaders, national heroes, and cultural symbols also need to be protected with equal seriousness.
The new era of development requires consensus, not "apathy" that undermines social trust.
Our country is entering a new stage of development with great aspirations: to build a strong, prosperous, civilized, and happy Vietnam; to unleash the power of the Vietnamese people and Vietnamese culture; to streamline the administrative apparatus, improve the efficiency and effectiveness of governance; to promote science, technology, innovation, and digital transformation; and to propel the country forward through self-reliance and the strength of national unity.
In this context, what the country needs is unity, solidarity, faith, responsibility, and aspiration. We need literary and artistic works that help Vietnamese people understand their national history more deeply, be more proud of the path they have taken, be more humane in their dealings with the past, and be stronger in building the future. We need books that broaden knowledge, enrich the soul, and cultivate cultural character. We need quality, well-founded, and cultured debates so that society can grow in understanding together.
What the country does not need are extremist, baseless debates that use the re-examination of the past as a means of dividing the present; that use the insult to symbols as a way to attract attention; and that use so-called "de-sacralization" to deny the merits, sacrifices, and values that have been proven by history. A nation that has experienced war, loss, division, and sacrifice understands better than anyone that historical memory cannot be treated lightly. Behind every victory lies blood and bones. Behind every symbol lies faith. Behind every great name of the nation lies an entire spiritual heritage preserved by the people.
We cannot allow a few subjective interpretations to disrupt society's understanding of the past. We cannot allow unqualified research to create unnecessary "apathy" in our spiritual lives. When the country needs to focus its resources on development and consolidate consensus to achieve major goals, any intentional or unintentional disruption on the ideological front must be identified, refuted, and appropriately addressed.
Protecting the Party's ideological foundation in the fields of literature and art is therefore not solely the responsibility of the management agency, nor is it a task that only occurs after an incident. It must be a constant awareness of the entire creative ecosystem: writers, editors, publishers, professional associations, critical bodies, the press, schools, and the public. Creators need to enhance their cultural responsibility. Publishers need to tighten their review processes, especially for content related to history, leaders, historical figures, revolutionary wars, and national symbols. Literary criticism needs to speak out promptly, academically, and logically, preventing social media from becoming the sole medium for shaping public sentiment. Management agencies need to be transparent in their criteria, proactively engage in dialogue, and handle matters strictly but also persuasively, so that discipline goes hand in hand with trust.
From the public's perspective, a discerning capacity for cultural acceptance is also necessary. Shocking things aren't necessarily new. Negativity isn't necessarily profound. Skepticism isn't necessarily progressive. A modern society needs to respect diverse viewpoints, but it must also be able to distinguish between constructive criticism and extreme negativity, between responsible creativity and dangerous arbitrariness, between looking back at history to gain a deeper understanding of the nation and distorting history to undermine national confidence.
More profoundly, events like these remind us of the need to build a healthy culture of literary criticism. Without serious criticism, literary life easily falls into two extremes: either blind praise or emotional condemnation. Neither is beneficial to creativity. Serious criticism helps ensure that works are properly considered, provides the public with more criteria for acceptance, gives governing bodies more justification, and helps creators recognize the boundary between artistic freedom and social responsibility.
A great literature does not shy away from the suffering of a nation. But a great literature also does not use that suffering as an excuse to weaken national faith. A modern art movement is not afraid of new explorations. But a modern art movement must understand that something new is only truly valuable when it enriches the spiritual life of people, not when it impoverishes morality, memory, and gratitude.
Vietnamese history has overcome countless challenges to achieve the independence, unity, peace, and development we enjoy today. Cultural symbols, national heroes, pioneering leaders, and generations who sacrificed for the Fatherland are not inanimate objects to be arbitrarily judged, manipulated, or trivialized. They are sacred elements of the nation's spiritual identity. Literature must touch upon this with knowledge, talent, humility, and reverence.
In this new era of development, literature and art need to take the lead in igniting the Vietnamese aspiration. This is the aspiration of a nation that remembers its past but is not held back by it; that respects differences but does not lose its standards; that opens itself to the world but is not vague about its identity; and that enjoys creative freedom but does not forget its responsibility to the people, the Party, and the Fatherland.
Protecting the Party's ideological foundation on the cultural, literary, and artistic fronts is tantamount to protecting the nation's spiritual depth. This is not the closure of creativity, but rather a condition for creativity to move in the right direction: more humane, more national, more modern, and more responsible. When words stand with historical truth, national morality, and the nation's aspirations for development, literature not only beautifies spiritual life but also becomes a soft power protecting the Fatherland from within, from the deepest and most enduring foundation of faith.
Source: https://www.qdnd.vn/van-hoa/doi-song/van-chuong-khong-dung-ngoai-van-menh-dan-toc-1045287
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