The Embodiment of Memory

While not officially on the field school itinerary, Ho Chi Minh’s Mausoleum was perhaps the most important site in all of Hanoi, for me, and put the rest of the museums in the area into a new and somewhat clearer perspective. I wasn’t exactly sure what to expect. All I knew was that there, in the centre of the city, was the embalmed body of the “uncle” of the Vietnamese people, and I felt a peculiar need to visit before we left Hanoi. My ensuing reaction to the visit surprised me more than I could have guessed.

It was a bizarre experience, to be sure. There seemed to be a particular ritual to the whole visit, through the mostly silent queuing, to the reverent atmosphere in the two neat lines as we ascended the stairs, up and up, until we reached his body. I found myself torn between looking at him (looking good, nearly 50 years on!) and the Vietnamese people bowing at his feet as they walked around, worshipful and, so it seemed, immensely grateful. It was as if going to see Uncle Ho was akin to visiting church on a Sunday, only with a much greater sense of privilege surrounding it.

Ho Chi Minh seems to be a unifying figurehead in Vietnam. While outsiders from Western and other cultures such as ourselves may find it hard to understand the love of the communist regime and the almost deification of Ho Chi Minh, there is no doubt that the communist revolution was a massive leap ahead for Vietnam over French colonial rule, if the awful stories we have heard of the colonial era in these two weeks are anything to go by (I’m looking at you, Hoa Lo). Watching people bow as I walked through the strange little room, I found it felt not only disrespectful but inherently wrong to think of the experience as anything other than special and privileged.

The preservation of Ho Chi Minh very much embodies (quite literally) the memory of the revolution, which also serves as a long-lasting form of pro-communism propaganda. By keeping his physical remains intact and on public display, the public is constantly encouraged to remember – for seeing is believing (in a political ideal). Furthermore, the ritual of visiting his body seems to have become a cultural tradition, an important pilgrimage, and a lesson to remind oneself of who one has to thank for such freedom.

There are some important questions to consider, however, as we discussed variously at different points in the field school. Does his image become distorted due to the sheer overload of its reproduction in propaganda? Does anyone really remember his true persona or achievements anymore, or is his memory and ideal largely constructed and thus potentially false (which does seem to be at least partially the case, especially for the youth who never lived through the time)? And critically: would the impact of Ho Chi Minh as a symbol be lessened without a physical body to attach the deeds to and serve as a constant reminder?

I don’t think it’s really for me, or any outsider for that matter, to say or criticise something we can’t relate to. A lack of understanding or capacity for empathy does not automatically mean that a belief is unusual or wrong. In short, the experience was eye-opening in ways I never expected, and I feel like I understand the country and its museums a little better for it. Or I could be totally off base.

- by Jessica Johnson