Book Review: Drawn Swords in a Distant Land

The ambitious program’s objective was to “dispense 2.5 million acres of free land to farmers, converting roughly six hundred thousand families from poor landless peasants to middle class landowners over a three-year period.” The program was popularly received with Thiệu touring the countryside to meet the program’s beneficiaries face to face. Thân’s vision can be explored in more detail in his essay, “Land Reform and Agricultural Development, 1968-1975,” in The Republic of Vietnam, 1955-1975.

Following the LTTT, Thân’s “rural renovation” also included resources including allowing farmers to not be taxed in their first year, opening regional banks to grant low interest loans, providing credit to farmers to purchase water pumps and critical tools to transition away from animal and human labor to machinery, and providing enhanced agricultural methods and products such as improved animal husbandry to increase protein production, technical advice on vegetable production, and fertilizer, pesticides, and “miracle rice.” All of these economic reforms worked towards Thiệu’s efforts to “promote agricultural production, combat poverty, and better the lives of the farmers, thus attracting [them] to the Nationalist government in the fight against Communism.”

Nguyễn Văn Thiệu handing out titles to farmers of Vinh Long Province in 1970. (Nixon Foundation)

In addition to unparalleled insider insight throughout, Drawn Swords also has two great reveals: the “Anna Chennault Affair” from the South Vietnamese perspective and a stunning discovery regarding China’s intent in the final days before the Fall of Saigon.

One of the most intriguing topics covered in Veith’s book is a piece of scandalous Vietnam War history that has continued to inspire speculation decades later—that of Anna Chennault’s role in delaying peace negotiations during the 1968 presidential campaign. Anna Chennault was a Republican member of the U.S. China Lobby and an ardent anti-communist who held a strong belief in the U.S.’s moral obligation to South Vietnam. She believed that a U.S. withdrawal would be a betrayal—just like the U.S.’s failure to adequately support Chiang Kai-shek’s anti-communist efforts in China.

Rumors in the U.S., backed up by FBI wire-tapping, shows Chennault as a key mover to urging Thiệu to delay Paris peace talks brokered by President Lyndon B. Johnson in 1968. Johnon had dropped out of the 1968 Presidential election leaving Republican candidate, Richard Nixon, neck and neck with Democrat and Vice President, Hubert Humphrey. Humphrey was popular because of his promise to end bombings of North Vietnam, if elected. The rumor mill had Chennault serving as Nixon’s voice, urging Thiệu (who appeared to need no extraneous urging) to tank the peace talks in order to increase Nixon’s chances of winning the election. Thiệu’s alleged incentive was Nixon’s promise of a more advantageous peace agreement. Historians differ on the actual impact of Chennault’s interventions, which, if true, would have been an act of treason in violation of the Logan Act.

All of the above is a truly American-centric perspective. The truth, however, as Veith gleaned from Thiệu’s closest advisors, was remarkably different, reflecting not only Vietnamese but Asian interest.

One other surprising character that showed up time and again was the last President of South Vietnam, Dương Văn Minh, who surrendered to North Vietnam on April 30th, and who infamously announced the dissolution of the Republic of South Vietnam. Dương Văn Minh, a six foot giant among Vietnamese known as “Big Minh,” had been the last hope for the negotiation of a cease-fire with North Vietnam.

Veith reveals that, as North Vietnam advanced on Saigon, France and China became two active players in considerations to slip in as Washington was jumping ship to serve as key players in an independent South Vietnam under the Provisional Revolutionary Government (PRG)—basically the Việt Cộng. Veith lays out France’s scheme, which necessarily involved ousting Thiệu, as well as a less known plan by China that Veith gleaned from a decade of interviews with Nguyễn Xuân Phong, the head of South Vietnam’s delegation to the Paris Accords from 1968 to 1973. Despite holding out on providing his secret intel during his gulag days to Communist cadres, Phong did share with Veith through a series of communications that span a decade, the final involvement of China prior to the Fall of Saigon.

In short, China, with a vested interest in an independent South Vietnam and being bordered both in the North by Moscow and in the South by a Moscow leaning Hanoi, wanted to prevent a unified Vietnam. In the final days, China made overtures to Minh, offering military support according to the “French formula” to prevent a North Vietnamese takeover in Saigon. The formula would involve the PRG taking power, Minh then making an appeal for help, and the French responding with an international force that included “two Chinese Airborne divisions into Bien Hoa.” This, Veith details, is aligned with China’s long-standing intention to maintain a “fragmented Indochina free of the major powers.” Right as Saigon was falling, retired French Général de Division Paul Vanuxem, serving as a correspondent for the French weekly magazine Carrefour, met with Minh to implore him to align with China and accept their support. Minh declined, stating that his days as a “lackey” are over.

Among an intriguing cast of characters that popular culture is already familiar with, Veith also covers the activities of lesser known individuals who all represent the diversity of South Vietnam’s citizenship during the Thiệu years. These included many individuals and organizations within South Vietnam who were vocal against Thiệu’s leadership, corruption, and the American military presence. These included individuals such as the An Quan Buddhists, Revolutionary Đại Việts, Father Trần Hữu Thanh, who led the People’s Anti-Corruption Movement, and the fiery leftist dissident, Madame Ngô Bá Thành, who makes a few cameo appearances.

In total, the chaotic political turmoil that enveloped South Vietnam as seen in Drawn Swords serves as evidence of its legitimacy, squashing the myth perpetuated by Communist Vietnam’s characterization of South Vietnam as “puppets” (“nguy quán,” puppet army, and “nguy quyén,” puppet government). In fact, as scholar Lien-Hang Nguyen argues, “often, American leaders were at the mercy of actors in Hanoi and Saigon.”

Veith’s statement best summarizes the core of his book: “[t]hat the South Vietnamese were defeated does not mean they failed to achieve political legitimacy. My contention is that they did, but South Vietnam suffered similar growing pains as other new countries, particularly those enduring long years of a deadly war. Ultimately, South Vietnam could not build and fight at the same time.”

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What has always impressed me about Veith’s work since I met him in 2017 is the extent that he will go to collect first-hand accounts from the mouths of South Vietnamese ARVN who served on the battlefield or who served as officers. Last I checked, when Veith was just starting work on this book, he was pulling dimes out of the lint in his own pockets to fund his trips to various cities, bouncing from Little Saigon to Little Saigon to visit and interview old cats who thought the world had forgotten about them. Veith had not. His commitment was so constant, I once asked him, because I felt so sure of it, “George, are you like…a reincarnated ARVN soldier or something…like do you have dreams at night of fighting in these battlefields you write about?”

Author George J. Veith.

He just laughed. But if you read Veith’s books, you will experience the depth of his commitment. One thing I appreciate about Veith’s work is that, although his angle is South Vietnam, he offers an academic’s balanced portrait, sparing none of the flaws, mistakes, and missteps of South Vietnam and a tenacious, determined, and hard-working Thiệu. Thiệu is just one of many South Vietnamese or Northerners who migrated to the South, who had aspirations for Vietnam that did not come to fruition. All of their dreams are evidence of the complexity of a civilization, to be studied, understood, debated, and ultimately remembered.

Drawn Swords confirms a fact that many scholars such as Tuong Tu and Trinh Luu have noted in their works: that the South Vietnamese and their ideals of Republicanism have a long history spanning from the 19th Century in Vietnam. This history continues to today and deserves recognition. Though we failed to keep South Vietnam, our elders took these ideals and dreams with them on the boats and the planes that were their vehicles for escape from oppression. They brought them to the diaspora and implemented them in a myriad of ways in “Little Saigons” all throughout the world.

Drawn Swords in a Distant Land: South Vietnam’s Shattered Dreams
by George J. Veith
Encounter Books, $40.99


Contributor’s Bio

Z.M. Quỳnh is currently working on a novel that highlights the experiences of ARVN soldiers. You can visit her at zmquynh.com.

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