Public Version
Public Version
Public Version
Author:
Jardine, Melissa
Publication Date:
2019
DOI:
https://doi.org/10.26190/unsworks/3631
License:
https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/3.0/au/
Link to license to see what you are allowed to do with this resource.
Faculty of Law
February 2019
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Abstract
Knowledge about policing has been produced and disseminated unevenly so that
our understanding comes from a skewed emphasis on the Western (largely
Anglo-American) experience. Whilst such literature usually does not openly
declare to be making claims of universal validity, it often does so by implication.
Fortunately, more empirical research is being undertaken outside the global
North.
Fieldwork was undertaken over a six-month period in 2016 (and a visit in 2017)
with approval from the Ministry of Public Security – a first in Vietnam. The
theoretical framework addresses weaknesses in current theorising of policing by
proposing a Southern Policing perspective. I offer an extension of the interactive
model of police culture and practice developed by Chan (1997; Chan et al., 2003)
which draws on Bourdieu’s (1990a) conceptualisations of field and habitus as a
relational dynamic. The framework is useful because it provides flexibility for
explaining police practices in both Northern and Southern contexts. It can also
account for differences in cultural knowledge and institutionalised practices. A
Southern Policing perspective also recognises that capital comes in forms which
may depart from those identified in previous studies.
v
Acknowledgements
Importantly, this research would not have been possible without the co-operation
of the police in Vietnam. There are so many police officers who have helped me
refine my research topic, support the fieldwork and share their ideas with me
although I will not refer to their names specifically here. I thank the Ministry of
Public Security for entrusting me with undertaking this research and the People’s
Police Academy for their support and interest in my research. I wholeheartedly
agree with the sentiment David Bayley noted in his work (Patterns of Policing,
xii), in that the research forged ‘professional links across the barriers of custom
and politics in an area of enormous sensitivity’. It is also noteworthy that in 2018,
Australia and Vietnam upgraded their relationship to a Strategic Partnership and
I see this research between Australian and Vietnamese institutions as a
testament to the strength of the relationship.
I have been given support and encouragement from a range of agencies in the
lead up to commencing this research as well as in its undertaking. I would like to
acknowledge the Australian Embassy and Australian Federal Police in Vietnam,
the United Nations Office on Drugs and Crime (Vietnam), the Vietnamese
Embassy and Consulate in Australia, the Australian Government’s Department
of Foreign Affairs and Trade (Vietnam Desk), the Coral Bell School of Asia Pacific
Affairs at the Australian National University, and, the Asia Society Australia.
I am very grateful for the financial and social supports provided by the UNSW
Law School. I would especially like to thank Jenny Jarrett as I doubt any student
vi
in the Law School can complete a PhD without her diligence and warm
encouragement. To Professor Luke McNamara, Dr Vicki Sentas, Dr Michael
Grewcock and Professor Sarah Williams – thank you for taking time to read my
work, provide feedback and navigate the processes for ensuring I reached
completion.
I want to pay special tribute to Professor Nick Crofts and Bill Stronach, both
Directors of the Centre for Law Enforcement and Public Health. My work with
them has given me extraordinary opportunities to learn from and work with police
officers from over 20 countries (especially through the Law Enforcement and HIV
Network). This has been a source of peer support (even for retired and former
police which I believe attests to a continuing form of solidarity after finishing
official service) and facilitated my thinking about policing across national borders.
Many thanks to Heather Grace Jones and Paul James for their friendship,
mentoring and feedback on parts of this thesis. Thanks to Geoff Monaghan for
his persistent encouragement, companionship when in Hanoi and sharing a love
of Vietnam.
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Peer-reviewed published articles
• Jardine, M. Gender equality and the role of women in policing in Vietnam. The
People’s Police Journal No. 3(13). Ministry of Public Security. Hanoi. 2018.
ix
Table of Contents
Abstract....................................................................................................................................... iv
Acknowledgements ................................................................................................................... vi
Chapter 2: Conflict, continuity and change: shaping Vietnam and contemporary policing
.................................................................................................................................................... 14
Introduction ............................................................................................................................. 15
Indigeneity, invasion and identity ............................................................................................ 16
Migration and markets ............................................................................................................. 20
Social control, cultivating proper conduct and culture ............................................................. 24
Emerging security challenges ................................................................................................. 33
Conclusion .............................................................................................................................. 36
x
Conclusion .............................................................................................................................. 63
Chapter 4: Police ethnography in the global South: methodology and ethics ................... 64
Introduction ............................................................................................................................. 64
Situating the researcher in ethnographic police studies in a one-party state .......................... 64
Scholarship and advocacy ...................................................................................................... 73
Research methods and design ............................................................................................... 76
Selection of the study site ................................................................................................... 77
Document review ................................................................................................................ 77
Ethics approval .................................................................................................................... 79
Approval from the Ministry of Public Security ...................................................................... 79
Observation ......................................................................................................................... 80
Semi-structured interviews .................................................................................................. 83
Data analysis ....................................................................................................................... 87
Research costs ................................................................................................................... 87
Limitations ............................................................................................................................... 88
Informed consent, data integrity and presenting a social reality ......................................... 88
Interpretation and translation .............................................................................................. 91
Ethnography or espionage .................................................................................................. 93
Moral responsibility ............................................................................................................. 94
Illness in the field ................................................................................................................. 96
Conclusion .............................................................................................................................. 97
Chapter 7: Bamboo, boundaries and benevolence: police culture, norms and practices in
transition .................................................................................................................................. 169
Introduction ........................................................................................................................... 169
Social order and local policing .............................................................................................. 170
Police as educators in an evolving legal environment .......................................................... 177
Principle of non-intervention: protected values or pragmatism? ........................................... 180
‘You can’t be a stranger in your own society’: the informal economy ................................... 184
Embracing and resisting change ........................................................................................... 190
The ‘good’ police officer ........................................................................................................ 195
Conclusion ............................................................................................................................ 201
Chapter 8: Matriarchy, mobilisation and modern women in Vietnamese policing ........... 207
Introduction ........................................................................................................................... 207
Geography, gender and a touch of grace ............................................................................. 211
Confucian influence ............................................................................................................... 213
Mobilising women: exploitation or empowerment? ............................................................... 214
Femininity and agency .......................................................................................................... 221
Motherhood, iced tea and the death penalty ......................................................................... 229
The ‘ideal’ green superMAN.................................................................................................. 231
Promotions, paperwork and progression through the ranks ................................................. 236
Views on official policy and women’s integration into policing .............................................. 240
xii
Conclusion ............................................................................................................................ 242
Appendix 1: The standards for soft skills at the People’s Police Academy...................... 308
Appendix 3: Sample of Participant Information Statement and Consent Form ................ 311
Appendix 5: Letter of Approval from the People’s Police Academy .................................. 325
xiii
List of tables
Table 1. Sample of police interviewees................................................................................... 83
Table 2. Obligations and responsibilities of People’s Public Security officers, non-
commissioned officers and men ................................................................................... 104
Table 3. Ten Disciplines of the People’s Public Security Forces ....................................... 105
Table 4. Rank, retirement age and salaries of the People’s Police Force ......................... 112
Table 5. Major units, departments and functions of the People’s Police Academy ......... 119
Table 6. Major specialisations at the People’s Police Academy ........................................ 134
List of figures
Figure 1. Map of Vietnam ......................................................................................................... 14
xiv
A note on language and terminology
In this thesis I have used Vietnamese characters (chữ Nôm) for spelling names
and places where possible and other key words. One anomaly is in the different
approaches to the country name, Vietnam, and the two major cities: Hanoi and
Ho Chi Minh City. The correct spelling for these are: Việt Nam, Hà Nội and Thành
phố Hồ Chí Minh. In this thesis I have referred to them as Vietnam, Hanoi and Hồ
Chí Minh City – the English translation in the former two and a partial translation
for the latter. The reason for this is that, given much of the research was
undertaken in Hanoi, and the frequency of use, not using diacritics may be easier
for the reader. I have used diacritics for the southern capital, formerly known as
Sài Gòn, because it provides consistency between when I am referring to (North)
Vietnam’s first President, Hồ Chí Minh or the city re-named in his honour as Hồ
Chí Minh City.
xv
disparity and a difference between former imperialists and their colonies.1 The
objective of a Southern scholarship is to draw attention to the imbalance in power
and understanding: it is a project concerned with promoting scholarship from and
on regions which have been rendered invisible.
1
Blaustein (2017) gives an account of some complexities of the North/South terminology and
the role researchers play in (re)constituting the identity of a place by prescribing it as Northern
or Southern.
xvi
Glossary
Xã/Phường Commune/Ward
Lý do Rationale
RV Republic of Vietnam
xvii
Chapter 1: Thesis overview
Introduction
This is a study of policing in Vietnam. The country is among the fastest growing
economies in Asia and has a stake in disputed territories in the East Sea which
is currently a fragile area of military and diplomatic contest. Domestic security is
an imperative for the nation’s stability, but what do we know about the institutions
who police the country’s interior, and the people who work for them? The study
examines Vietnam’s public police or those who most resemble the uniformed
police in other jurisdictions – at least according to our modern understanding of
police.
1. What are the historical, political, economic, social and cultural influences
which shape policing and police culture in Vietnam?
2. How do structural and cultural influences affect the nature of women's
inclusion in policing in Vietnam?
3. What are the theoretical and policy implications of the findings?
1
An ethnographic approach is consistent with a tradition of other police scholars
who value the contribution of observation of police in order to understand policing
from the perspective of those who have adopted it as their occupation. In his
study of police socialisation in the United States, Van Maanen (1973, p. 5) argued
that, in order to ‘gain insight into the police environment, researchers must
penetrate the official smokescreen and observe directly the social action in social
situations which, in the final analysis, represents the reality of police work’.
According to Reeves, Kuper and Hodges (2008), ‘the central aim of ethnography
is to provide rich, holistic insights into people’s views and actions, as well as the
nature (that is sights, sounds) of the location they inhabit, through the collection
of detailed observations and interviews’; thus, interviews may be a combination
of formal, informal, structured, semi-structured or opportunistic exchanges
between the researcher and participants.
In this century, empirical studies on policing began to emerge from outside the
global North which drew attention to the influences of political regime change and
the challenges of policing in unstable environments and transitioning economies
(Blaustein, 2015; Faull, 2018; Marks, 2005). For example, Marks’ (2005) study of
the Durban Public Order Police in South Africa was important because it
foreshadowed possibilities for real reform of a police culture amid difficult
2
circumstances. She is optimistic, but cautiously so, noting that wider structural
conditions can limit the scope for some changes in police culture and practice to
occur and be sustained (Marks, 2005). This accords a view of colonial policing
reforms which suggests training and specialisation do not necessarily contain the
use of unlawful violence because police are exposed to wider social conditions
which shape their actions (Blanchard, Deluermoz, & Glasman, 2011).
This research was inspired by scholarship on policing (largely from the UK, US,
Canada and Australia) that provided frameworks for exploring diversity in
policing. These frameworks help us to understand that police agencies comprise
a range of sub-cultures which can be differentiated by, for example, officer
orientation or style (Reiner, 2010), street-level or managerial roles (Reuss-Ianni,
1983), duties (Ericson, 1981, 1982; Hobbs, 1988; Young, 1991), and location
(Cain, 1973; Loftus, 2009). Although the present study is not comparative, the
impetus came from a curiosity about what drives police behaviour and the extent
to which police officers have a shared culture across national borders.
There is much to learn from policing research outside the Anglosphere, including
continental Europe and colonial policing regimes. In La professionnalisation
policière en situation coloniale, Blanchard et al., (2011) declare that police
professionalisation or reform is not necessarily a determinate or linear process in
pursuit of progress towards an ideal. The study of policing outside the global
North can therefore provide new insights on different institutional arrangements
and policing styles which can contribute valuably to the intellectual discourse
about policing generally. The significance of ‘place’ in the production of policing
knowledge, thus, comes to the fore.
The role of police in ‘teaching’ and ‘nurturing’ implies that a crucial aspect of
policing is a malleability in police practice. From this excerpt, we can begin to
consider the implications for a different thematic trajectory among dominant
policing scholarship had it originated in a communal or (post-) Confucian culture.
It also provides a different account of what constitutes ‘real’ policing and even
has correlations with the Reithian (English) perspective that policing should be
more about prevention than detection (Reith, 1956).
The extent to which broader social and cultural environments shape police
occupational cultures has been the subject of comparative studies with a range
of foci (for example, Banton, 1964; Bayley, 1976, 1990; Cassan, 2010; Choi &
Lee, 2016; Chu, 2017; Jiao, 2001; Sheptycki, 1999; Sun & Chu, 2006). The
nature of policing often takes on various forms depending on the history and
development of institutions and the broader social context. In his comparative
study of the ideology of democratic policing, J. T. Martin (2014) describes four
different styles which emerged in America, Britain, France and Taiwan. He argues
that America ‘valourizes the practical wisdom of law in action over the formal logic
of law on the books’ which contrasts with the French emphasis on ‘administrative
formalism and the civil law ideal’ (J. T. Martin, 2014, p. 470). Whilst the
5
foundations of British ‘policing by consent’ appealed to a liberal tradition and
democratic sensibilities (J. T. Martin, 2014, p. 470), ‘policing of virtue’ is the
overriding police ideology in East Asia (2014, p. 475). The socialisation process
into specific legal cultures and social norms begins in a person’s early years as
citizen. Although officers are acculturated into occupational and organisational
rules as they join the police, as Chan (1997) points out, these structures are
amenable to change. Individuals have agency to act outside or resist cultural
influences. This explains how cultural variations occur within broader ideologies
of policing. Certainly, the case of Taiwan is a recent example where police have
had to adjust to change from authoritarian to democratic governance (J. T. Martin,
2006).
Globally, the role of police is becoming more complex and subject to increasing
scrutiny. Technological advances mean the terrain of policing is no longer just the
tangible but includes an online space which presents both challenges and
opportunities. As an aspiring policing scholar, I am curious to explore how ideas
about police and policing fit with those of their peers with very different histories
and structural conditions outside the global North.
Across global jurisdictions there are some starkly different conditions under which
police work. For example, in the England, the home of the modern police model
attributed to Sir Robert Peel (Lentz & Chaires, 2007), the rise of social media
(specifically Twitter) has led to a new form of openness about internal issues
(Hesketh & Williams, 2017). It has been intriguing to watch serving and retired
police (as well as other stakeholders) publicise grievances and being openly
critical of police leaders, politicians and other service providers – in the main,
without negative consequences. I wondered to what extent this openness reflects
a new aspect of British police culture?
A further entrée to the study of police cultures, for me, came by way of interest in
the variations and similarities with routine or mundane (rather than exceptional or
controversial) aspects of police work in non-Western countries. This vantage
point also piqued the interest of French scholars examining the historiography of
colonial policing in the former colonies on the African continent (Blanchard &
Glasman, 2012). Blanchard and Glasman (2012, p. 41) urged other researchers
to ‘banaliser l’histoire de la police coloniale’ (banalise [normalise, render banal]
the history of colonial policing) as they would police in the metropole. Whilst a
colonial past cannot be separated from the present, Blanchard and Glasman
(2012) argue for an examination of colonial policing which is not bound by
assumptions tied to colonial categories. Similarly, this study set out to explore the
utility of Anglo-American literature for understanding policing in Vietnam, as well
as interrogate possibilities for new understandings of police culture.
2
Within one week of this report, the English language website of Tuổi Trẻ News used in this
citation was also suspended for three months with the homepage displaying a message that it
was ‘down for maintenance’ and will be back online in October 2018.
7
resulting from both US-led embargoes and a local government protective of
foreign interference after protracted occupation.
Although police are at the frontline of responding to crime and public safety issues
amid rapid social and economic change, to date there are few studies examining
how police officers in Vietnam are trained in order to adapt to and cope with the
pressures of contemporary policing, including adapting to the internal police
organisational environment. Lessons to reform police are being imported from
Western police forces and tertiary training institutions without first determining
through empirical investigation the extent to which police culture is shared or
dissimilar. If the latter is the case, many Western-based learnings may be
redundant in the Vietnamese context. This research aims to elucidate the extent
of shared police culture so that future engagement between Vietnamese police
8
and international partners can be appropriately adapted and effectively
implemented to better suit the needs of the Vietnamese police.
Whilst some aspects of Vietnamese society have been exposed to academic and
international scrutiny in recent decades, policing norms and structures remain
opaque. Scholarship on policing in Vietnam available in the English language
literature is limited. A notable contribution from Anderson (2015) provides insights
into the colonial policing regime under the French (1860s-1920s), noting
difficulties in recruitment and remuneration which were blamed for the sub-
standard conduct of both French and enlisted (subordinate) local Vietnamese.
Her archival research uncovered sympathy from a contributor to a 1907 edition
of the Bulletin of the Committee of French Asia (Bulletin du Comité de l'Asie
française) for underpaid French officers who engaged in corruption to subsidise
their lowly income (M. L. Anderson, 2015, p. 84).
The early chapters of this thesis examine Vietnamese history and culture and
outline the analytical framework.
11
Chapter 7, Bamboo, boundaries and benevolence: police culture, norms and
practices in transition examines ways police relate to the community and
understand their role as police officers. Police officers expressed the importance
of being ‘flexible’ or using discretion as key tools in policing the community. This
was facilitated by a style of policing which blurred public and private space.
However, access to private space did not necessarily lend itself to an over-
policing of the domestic sphere, especially where male violence against women
was concerned.
In the final Chapter, I identify key dimensions in the field of policing uncovered in
the previous chapters. I highlight how assumptions based on police scholarship
do not necessarily apply to understanding policing in Vietnam. Specifically, I
describe aspects of the field which may contribute to a police culture which are
either shared or distinct from Western conceptualisations. I highlight how
socialisation includes an officer’s childhood, education, family upbringing and
social obligations which shape the parameters for changing or sustaining police
culture. I also locate gendered recruitment and work policies in the broader
literature on women in policing. In the conclusion chapter, I also reflect on the
contributions of this study to scholarship on police ethnography. I discuss the
fluidity of researcher positionality and how the nature of scholarly inquiry can
shape research outcomes. Furthermore, that the concept of ‘culture’ in policing
research can be a useful tool for inquiry and is not necessarily a pejorative term
in some contexts.
13
Chapter 2: Conflict, continuity and change: shaping Vietnam
and contemporary policing
3
Including disputed territories, Spratly Islands (Trường Sa) and Paracel Islands (Hoàng Sa)
(Ministry of Foreign Affairs, 2018).
14
Introduction
The lands in northern Vietnam4 where indigenous Vietnamese people were first
chronicled were the site for many experiences of invasion. Nowadays, Vietnam
is a densely populated country with over 90 million people living within an area of
331,210 square kilometres (General Statistics Office of Vietnam, 2016). Its
shoreline borders the Gulf of Thailand, the Gulf of Tonkin and the South China
Sea. It is bordered by China to the north, and Cambodia and Laos to the west
and northwest, respectively. However, the seahorse-shaped country as it is now
recognised first took form in 1802 (Goscha, 2016a).
4
‘Vietnam’ was not used to refer to the current territory until the early 19th century. See Dutton
et al. (2012) Sources of Vietnamese Tradition for chronology and description of the variance of
what is regarded as ‘Vietnamese’.
15
(Lực lượng Cảnh sát nhân dân). Its structures, procedures and activities all carry
the impact of Vietnam’s contested geography. This chapter will explore how the
experiences of early and modern Vietnam have shaped the environment for
contemporary policing, especially in Hanoi.
The origins of the Vietnamese people can be traced to the Red River Delta over
2,000 years ago, which now hosts Vietnam’s capital, Hanoi. The term
‘Vietnamese’ usually refers to people from the lowland ethnic Kinh.5 There are 53
ethnic minorities in Vietnam.6 Around 221 BCE, the Red River Delta area was
colonised by a Chinese ancestral clan who migrated from north of the Yangtze
River southward and expanded into what is now known as northern Vietnam (G.
E. Dutton et al., 2012). Some of the early periods of Chinese presence in northern
Vietnam are described as ‘loose and relatively unobtrusive’ (G. E. Dutton et al.,
2012, p. 9), but the retrospective official Vietnamese view characterises this
period as a time of foreign invasion. What is uncontested is that, across these
1,000 years, there were periods where the Chinese held northern Vietnam
continuously for several centuries. These relatively stable years contributed to
entrenching Chinese customs and cultural influences as core to northern
Vietnamese values and way of life (Tran Thi Que, 1995); this included
approaches to security. It was not until 939 CE that the Vietnamese restored
indigenous rule in north Vietnam (Tran Thi Que, 1995). In the south, by contrast,
influences were much more fluid and civilisations that inhabited the region across
this time included an Indianised kingdom known as Fu-nan, the Hindu kingdom
of Champa and Khmer (Beresford, 1988). This meant that the south and the north
developed some distinct cultures and ways of thinking and of being ‘Vietnamese’
(Beresford, 1989; Goscha, 2016a; Tài, 2001).7
5
This research is based on police in Hanoi, thus, focus on what is ‘Vietnamese’ centres around
lowland ethnic Kinh. Dutton et al. (2012) provide an explanation of why the term ‘Vietnamese’ is
used as a broad descriptor for history and culture despite its being a ‘blended’ story.
6
Nowadays, these diverse groups live mostly in mountainous and remote areas after being
forced out of lowlands amid anti-colonial wars in the 20th century.
7
See Goscha (2016a) The Penguin History of Modern Vietnam for commentary about conflict,
diversity and division in ‘Vietnam’ from the 15th century onwards.
16
Vietnam underwent years of civil war with various dynasties seizing power and
seeking to establish central rule over the country. There was still instability when,
in the 1800s, trade with China became an important source of revenue for the
British and French imperialists. Vietnam’s former ruler, Nguyễn Ánh (also known
as Gia Long), had permitted foreign trade and missionary delegations to Vietnam,
but his successors began to reject foreign access to Vietnamese ports which the
French saw as key in their bid for trade with China (Beresford, 1988). The French
were initially involved in the fighting in central Vietnam when a successor of the
Nguyen family dynasty, Nguyen Anh, sought refuge with a French bishop,
Pigneau de Behaine, in south Vietnam following their defeat in the Tây Sơn
rebellion of 1765–1773 (Beresford, 1988, p. 5). Nguyen Anh enlisted the help of
the French to regain control, eventually proclaiming himself emperor (using the
name Gia Long) of Vietnam which stretched from the Chinese to the Cambodian
borders. Though the French had established Catholic missionaries and trade
organisations in Vietnam from as early as the mid-17th century, it was not until
1850 that the French conquest of Vietnam began, with the protection of the
Vietnamese Catholics serving as a pretext for occupation and conquest
(Logevall, 2012, p. 5). In 1861, the French navy took Sài Gòn and three adjacent
provinces by force, and by 1867, the French had established the colony of
Cochinchina, which surrounded the Mekong Delta. Over the next two decades,
the French also created two protectorates in central and northern Vietnam
(Annam and Tonkin, respectively) (Beresford, 1988; Goscha, 2016a). The region
was both a French asset and a site of ongoing Vietnamese resistance to foreign
intervention.
A brief timeline between 1920 and 1976 illustrates the blend of cultural, religious
and political influences that have characterised Vietnam’s search for sovereignty.
During the period 1920–1940, anti-colonial movements gradually formalised into
political parties with a nationalist or communist focus. According to Beresford
(1988, pp. 5–6), French colonisation initiated ‘fundamental social change in
Indochina’. She credits the destruction of Vietnamese social organisation as the
genesis of communist-led resistance. One example of this is the colonial
administration’s disruption of the traditional social structure which had allowed
villages to operate with substantial autonomy from central authorities, provided
17
they paid tax and supplied soldiers or labourers when needed (Beresford, 1988).
This led to many decades of war between France and local Vietnamese forces.
It also gave rise to, particularly in the north, the slow consolidation of communist-
focused resistance united against foreign intervention.
On February 3, 1930, the Vietnamese Communist Party (Đảng Cộng sản Việt
Nam) (VCP) was officially established following the merger of three communist
parties to form a national organisation. Eight months later, the VCP changed its
name to the Indochinese Communist Party (Đảng Cộng sản Đông Dương) (ICP)
to draw attention to and express support for the international nature of class
struggle (Beresford, 1988, p. 13). The merger was instigated by Hồ Chí Minh to
consolidate anti-colonial support. After studying and being politically engaged in
France, Russia and China, he coordinated (with other revolutionaries) a strategy
from outside Indochina until his return in 1941 to fight the Japanese invaders and
the French colonialists. Goscha (2016a) credits Hồ Chí Minh’s multilingual talents
(Chinese, French, Russian, English and Thai) for helping him keep abreast of
news from various channels and exposed to a range of strategic sources. This is
another example of the way Vietnam has been influenced through interaction and
engagement with foreign ideas.
In August 1945, the VCP overthrew the French in Hanoi and on September 2 Hồ
Chí Minh declared independence. The victory brought together communist
supporters and religious leaders (including Vietnamese Catholics, Buddhists and
Cao Đài supporters and Hòa Hảo followers) who sought national independence,
despite an uneasy relationship between them (Goscha, 2016a, p. 223). But the
victory was brief and in 1946 the French military regained control (Thayer, 2010,
p. 425). In 1954 the VCP finally defeated the French in the battle at Điện Biên
Phủ, gained full political control over the north, and established the Democratic
Republic of Vietnam (DRV). At the time of the defeat, a conference was being
held in Geneva to try to bring an end to the conflict in Indochina. The DRV wanted
full control over the south as well but the country was divided at the 17th parallel
of latitude and the Republic of Vietnam (RV) (South Vietnam) came into being a
year later (Beresford, 1988). The Geneva Agreement allowed free movement
between the north and south for 300 days, after which a general election would
18
be held to determine a single government. This, however, did not occur (V. C.
Nguyen, 1983).
The VCP set out to pursue reunification of North and South Vietnam in 1959,
firstly by strengthening the underground communist movement, and then by
military force in 1964 (Thayer, 2010). The bruising defeat of the French in the
1950s had been masterminded by General Võ Nguyên Giáp. He warned the VCP
that the United States would be a greater military test for Vietnam than the
French, and that better trained soldiers and modern weapons would be needed
(Logevall, 2012, p. 711). The United States military intervention in Vietnam
escalated in 1965 when President Johnson ordered Operation Rolling Thunder.
Lasting until October 1968, this involved a large-scale aerial bombing campaign
across Vietnam (Logevall, 2012, p. 712). On March 8, 1965, U.S. combat
divisions landed near Đà Nẵng. This escalation by the United States enabled the
VCP to rouse popular support based on patriotism and nationalism and to shore
up their political legitimacy as protectors against foreign aggression. In contrast,
the narrative from the South Vietnamese government was that of civil war, rather
than of opposing an external enemy (Tài, 2001). In 1969, the DRV and the United
States government (acting on behalf of the Republic of Vietnam) commenced
peace negotiations in Paris, but failed to reach an agreement (Beresford, 1988).
On April 30, 1975, communist forces took the southern headquarters in Sài Gòn,
a metropolis which would later be renamed Thành phố Hồ Chí Minh (Hồ Chí Minh
City) in honour of the communist leader who died in 1969 aged 79. The
Vietnamese casualties from both north and south totalled over three million with
several hundreds of thousands unaccounted for (Tài, 2001). The northern forces
deployed almost one million soldiers and personnel between 1965 and 1975,
19
seeking to establish northern control and customs in the south after their military
victory (Goscha, 2016a).
Vietnam’s mountains and seas present both obstacles and opportunities for trade
and contact with external populaces. Natural resources drew Chinese migration
8
Vietnam was involved in border conflicts with Cambodia and China in 1978 and 1979.
20
southward with chronicles showing that, in 231 CE, the availability of exotic goods
were exploited for revenue, as the following record indicates: ‘This place is
famous for precious rarities from afar: pearls, incense, drugs, elephant tusks,
rhinoceros horn, tortoise shell, coral, lapis lazuli, parrots, kingfishers, peacocks,
rare and abundant treasures to satisfy all desires’ (Chen Shou, SBZ cited in G.
E. Dutton et al., 2012, p. 16). The early Chinese interest in taking advantage of
Vietnam’s natural resources is reflected in current debates regarding land use,
environment and wildlife protection.
There has been a long history in Vietnam of migration and invasion to take
advantage of natural resources for exportation. These invaders have been met
by an opposition that has been not only rebellious, but also very confrontational
and highly effective. In 231 CE, a Chinese official noted: ‘The local people easily
become rebellious and are difficult to pacify; district officials act dignified but are
careful not to provoke them’ (Chen Shou, SBZ cited in G. E. Dutton et al., 2012,
p. 15); the Chinese were not to be defeated until 600 years later. One thousand
years after expelling the Chinese, Vietnamese people were forced to work on rice
and rubber plantations for the French colonial administration (Beresford, 1989).
The ‘brutal’ conditions inevitably resulted in runaways who were then pursued
and returned to their labour (Beresford, 1989). In 1927, one of the highest
mortality rates for contract labour in northern Vietnam was reported at 5.4 per
cent (Rapports au Grand Conseil, 1930, p. 177 cited in Beresford, 1989, p. 42).
Consequently, not only were Vietnam’s natural resources exploited, but the cost
of production was also counted in human lives.
Beginning in the 1940s and 50s, the Marxist doctrine used to mobilise the
Vietnamese people to expel the French colonisers also formed the basis of
socialist economic reform. This was pursued through ‘land redistribution,
collectivization of agriculture, nationalization of industry, and the institution of
central economic planning’ (Thayer, 2010, p. 425). In 1975, Vietnam gained
independence and was closed off to foreign interference after prolonged fighting
with Chinese, Khmer, Japanese, French and American forces which came at the
cost of economic growth. In the late 1970s, ensuing border wars with Cambodia
and China placed pressure on the country’s socioeconomic development along
21
with the emerging failures of central economic planning (Thayer, 2010). The
economic model which was expanded to the south after 1975 was described as
contradictory to Vietnamese economic culture and preference, especially in the
south where enterprise had been more common (Beresford, 1989). Vietnam’s aid
from the Soviet Union was drying up and the country was falling behind the
economic growth witnessed in neighbouring countries (Beeson & Hung, 2012).
In 1986, at the 6th National Congress of the VCP, political leaders sanctioned
economic reforms, widely referred to as đổi mới (economic renovation) or a
socialist-oriented market economy, along with plans to integrate politically and
economically in the East Asian region and further abroad.
The stability in Vietnamese politics has been attributed to the success of đổi mới
in that the VCP’s hold on power meant economic change was controlled, subtle
and occurred largely within the operating – nominally communist – political
framework (Beeson & Hung, 2012; Nørland, Gates, & Vu, 1995). The VCP’s
strong control may have provided stability at a time when the Asian economic
crisis in 1997 may have thought to otherwise present a more ‘fluid and chaotic’
environment (Beeson & Hung, 2012, p. 541). Consequently, economic growth
became a central platform for bolstering the Party’s legitimacy.
In the 1990s, almost 60 per cent of the population were living in poverty with a
per capita income of less than USD $100 (World Bank, 2015). The economic
restructuring which commenced in the 1980s resulted in a per capita income of
over USD $2,000 with 9.8 per cent of the populous considered to be living poverty
in 2016 (World Bank, 2018). Economic reform set out to transition from a focus
on agriculture to increasing industry and manufacturing, including garment and
shoemaking, food processing, mining, machine building and mobile phones.
However, expanding demand for land to cater for the growing population,
industrialisation and agriculture needs has led to public concern regarding
associated environmental degradation (CECODES, 2018).
In 2009, amid concerns for the environment and population near the proposed
bauxite mine, an anti-China stance gathered pace. Concern surrounded the
potential influx of Chinese workers, distaste for hazardous imported Chinese
products, Chinese attacks on Vietnamese fisherman, and disputes over
sovereignty in the East Sea (South China Sea) regarding areas with large energy
reserves. Major protests erupted across Vietnam in 2018 after the government
announced it would establish three special economic zones with 99 year leases
for foreign investors (Fawthrop, 2018). After the protests, the government said it
would revise the proposed legislation before putting it to the National Assembly.
The disruption highlights the ongoing tensions between Vietnam’s sovereignty,
anti-Chinese sentiment, economic development and environmental degradation.
The 2017 Public Administration Performance Index (PAPI) reported that among
survey respondents poverty and environmental issues were the top concerns for
Vietnamese citizens (CECODES, 2018).
23
influences and provides a contemporary example of policing in which the
personal and professional not only intersect but may be leveraged in negotiating
state power.
The influence of the Confucian ethic in Vietnam meant social order was reinforced
by promoting virtue and morality from a top-down, paternalistic government. In
1834, the Vietnamese emperor Minh Mang issued ‘Ten Moral Precepts’ which
were to be publicly recited each year by village heads, reflecting similar practices
25
in former Chinese dynasties (G. E. Dutton et al., 2012, pp. 306-307). The Ten
Moral Precepts were:9
9
Translated by George Dutton (G. E. Dutton et al., 2012, p. 307).
26
seeking intellectual support from the literary elite, the VCP published the ‘Theses
on Vietnamese Culture’ in 1943. According to Ninh (2002, p. 56), sympathetic
intellectual, Dang Thai Mai, urged his peers to accept that ‘art and literature must
be on the side of the working class and must be created to support the people’s
revolution’. The VCP established the Cultural Association for National Salvation
in 1943 to promote the Party’s platform.
Politburo chief and author of ‘Theses on Vietnamese Culture’ (Đề cương về văn
hóa Việt Nam), Trường Chinh, determined there were three main characteristics
of the new culture: scientific orientation (khoa học hóa), popularisation (đại chúng
hóa), and nationalisation (dân tộc hóa) (Đảng Cộng sản Việt Nam, 1943). Nguyen
Huu Dang and Nguyen Dinh Thi argued that the old culture was transmitted within
the family unit and in order to change culture the youth had to be educated outside
of the family. In destroying the past culture though, what was to replace it? Hoai
Thanh, also from the Cultural Association for National Salvation, suggested that
true Vietnamese culture was located in folk art and literature (Ninh, 2002).
Previously, Vietnam’s national culture referred to high culture inherited from the
Chinese. However, as Vietnam fought for independence, this high culture was
abandoned for being uncreative, and the essence of Vietnamese culture was
regarded as existing within popular culture (although ill-defined) which aligned
with efforts to focus on people and popularisation by the communists (Ninh,
2002). In the post-1975 era, the state continued to promote particular visions of
culture with a view to shaping it, including those of ethnic minorities, through
production of media and television screenings (Messier & Michaud, 2012).
27
method for recording details of the populace to order and police the community,
through the family unit, and to encourage mutual aid (M. R. Dutton, 1992, p. 24).
The French colonial administration used a similar dossier system to that of the
Chinese to monitor and control the subjugated population. However, as Anderson
(2015, p. 291) concluded from her archival investigation into the French in
Vietnam, ‘what made the Sûreté police so formidable in the realm of politics was
less new technologies of power and more the police's effective use of the
collaborators and informants cited in intelligence reports, the quintessential
Sûreté document’. The French colonial police employed Vietnamese agents at
the lower levels and engaged in political policing in order to repress anti-colonial
sentiment, subsequently exposing the Vietnamese to a new form of policing
which blended the police and a political army (M. L. Anderson, 2015).
After 1954, the DRV continued a form of the household registration system known
as hộ khẩu (Vietnam's Household Registration System, 2016). It was
implemented in the north in 1955 and 1960 in urban and rural areas, respectively,
initially by communist party officials, but later this became the administrative
function of the police. The system was a method of surveillance used to identify
political dissidents in both the north and south through compilation of dossiers to
monitor the population (Hardy, 2001). After Vietnam was reunited in 1975 the
system was expanded throughout southern Vietnam.
The household became an even more important unit for social steering and
control with the introduction of merit certificates to reward good behaviour. To
promote preferred social customs (e.g., family stability) and political objectives,
the VCP introduced the New Cultured Families (Gia đình văn hóa mới) program
after the American War in 1975 (Bich, 1999). The Party introduced the social
program to socialise children to become good citizens and help the country
develop (Bich, 1999). The family remains an essential component for achieving
socio-economic goals for the country. In 2012, the Prime Minister endorsed the
Vietnam Family Development Strategy through 2020 with a Vision for 2030
(2012). One of the targets included in the strategy is that, by 2020, 85 per cent of
households will achieve the ‘cultured family’ standard. Local authorities and
neighbourhood groups gather annually to assess whether a family will be
28
awarded a Cultured Family certificate (Cox, 2010; Hayton, 2010). The criteria
have changed in emphasis over time but generally include: having a happy and
harmonious family, abiding by the two-child policy (unless in rural areas),
supporting neighbours and participating in community activities (Drummond &
Rydstrøm, 2004). This type of peer review is used to encourage individuals to be
law-abiding and conform to family – and by extrapolation community and societal
– standards.
The families of drug addicts are also required to report people who use drugs to
local authorities, monitor the person, and: ‘oversee, supervise, prevent and stop
the drug addict from illegally using narcotic substances or committing acts of
disturbing social order and safety’ (National Assembly, 2008a, Article 26.2).
People can be rewarded for compliance and punished for non-compliance
(National Assembly, 2008a, Article 52 & 53) although the consequences are
unspecified except that they may be handled administratively (National
Assembly, 2000) or under the Criminal Code.
29
The primacy of the rule of law as assumed in liberal Western democracies is not
neatly transferrable to Vietnam. Vietnam has inherited legal traditions from
Confucianism, the French, Soviet theory, and the Anglo-American system in more
recent times (Salomon & Vu, 2010). Weaknesses in Vietnam’s legal institutions
have resulted in uneven implementation capacity. However, Sidel (2008, p. 198)
claims this is partly attributed to the Party’s ‘fundamental ambivalence about legal
authority and legitimacy’ and the ‘weak, obedient role of the courts’ (Sidel, 2008,
p. 202). Though legal institutions have been strengthened (primarily in order to
qualify for membership of the World Trade Organisation and to engage in the
international economy), they do not always benefit or protect the most vulnerable
in society (Sidel, 2008, p. 200). That police exist in a political system often
regarded as ‘authoritarian’, does not necessarily mean the state is always
repressive (Kerkvliet, 2001, 2014b). Beresford (1988) referred to the Vietnamese
state as being highly decentralised, describing a gap between centrally-made
policy and what people do on the ground. It has also been a cause of complaint
that local cadres can operate with a level of independence that means a minister
may not be powerful enough to ‘reprimand’ them (Salomon & Vu, 2010, p. 230).
Despite the difficulty in implementation, Lucius (2009) claims political decision-
making in Vietnam is conducted along predetermined scripts which embed
certain ‘protected values’. These values, taught in schools, are summarised as
maintaining social order and harmony, political stability of the Party, fulfilling
duties and obligations to the country, and working together to defend the nation
from continuous threats (Lucius, 2009).
10
More detail on the structure of government administration is included in Chapter 5.
30
could also result in a loss of ‘authority’ among the community, particularly where
a high degree of familiarity existed between officials and residents (Koh, 2004b).
This highlights the space in which rules and regulations are flexible or amenable
to negotiation. According to Turner and Schoenberger (2012), street vendors can
11
There are different definitions of what constitutes an ‘informal economy’. It can be used to
refer to unregulated or unregistered business, labour and transactions, and often people in
precarious employment (International Labour Organization, 2011). For this thesis, ‘informal
economy’ refers to practices which have financial benefits in the context that transactions also
bring other forms of ‘capital’ (Bourdieu, 1986, 1990b; Swartz, 1997) that are not only economic.
This is discussed more in Chapter 7.
31
even use their social capital and family connections to senior police to refuse to
obey police instructions or to criticise officers knowing they could invoke their
connections to thwart penalty. One street vendor reported openly chastising
police while taunting them; she was untouchable due to her status as a war
veteran (Turner & Schoenberger, 2012).
Although the campaign resulted in a ‘partial victory’ (some residents still had their
houses demolished), the scenario demonstrates there is room to push back
against central policy. The fact that Hung was a police officer shows that people
occupying positions within the organs of government and the Party can voice
opposition and, indeed, may be at an advantage in doing so. As V. T. Nguyen
(2013, p. 122) notes: ‘the very embeddedness of the state in society means that
its representatives live and work in close proximity to ordinary citizens and often
share their interests and perspectives’. That is, people, including state
employees, negotiate state power at local and centralised levels.
The police are important in Vietnam because they support the stability of the
political regime. Vietnam has undergone rapid social and economic change which
requires police to respond to public safety and security issues in novel ways.
Though economic development through global trade and foreign investment has
reduced poverty in Vietnam, it has also created an environment for new types of
transgressions, including transnational, economic, environmental, human and
drug trafficking, and high-tech crimes (Luong, 2017). When considered along with
local law-enforcement matters, such as domestic violence, traffic congestion and
33
drug use, these issues raise concerns among the community about the police’s
ability to respond accordingly.
Efforts to change police culture have been made in Vietnam due to its poor public
image. Not only are the police ranked as the most corrupt section of society
(Transparency International, 2013), but a recent report by Human Rights Watch
warns that deaths in custody and physical abuse by police are not uncommon
(2014a). Attempts have been made to improve the public image of the police by
warning that corrupt officers face dismissal (Viet Nam News, 2011), introducing
women to frontline traffic duties (Thanh Nien News, 2013a), and removing
overweight officers from duties in the public eye (Thanh Nien News, 2013b). In
July 2014, the Ministry of Public Security issued Circular 28 which was aimed at
improving the conduct of police undertaking criminal investigations (Bộ Công an,
2014). Despite welcoming the attempt to reform police practices, a Human Rights
Watch (2014b) report criticised the regulations for placing too much emphasis on
the ward/commune police (hereinafter ward police), describing them as the ‘least
professional of the country’s police’. The report also stated:
34
merely facilitates the possibility they may use abusive
methods to obtain confessions and evidence.
Though the systemic nature of corruption crosses all levels and sectors in
Vietnam to varying degrees, the Government (National Anti-Corruption Strategy
35
towards 2020, 2009) has recognised that failing to at least restrict its expansion
may likely invite questions of legitimacy for the VCP and threaten the Party’s
survival. Gainsborough et al. (2009, p. 485) argue that the difficulty in attempting
to reduce corruption is that it functions as a system with its own ‘institutional logic
or incentive structure which is self-perpetuating’. Consequently, interventions to
reduce corruption must target different aspects of the system which over time will
alter the incentives for engaging in corrupt behaviour (Gainsborough et al., 2009).
Recent data suggests there some progress has been made over the past decade
in stemming corruption in the public sector (CECODES, 2018).
Conclusion
36
Chapter 3: A framework for a Southern Policing perspective
Introduction
Policing and crime control activities in the global South have received less
scholarly attention than their Northern/Western counterparts despite affecting a
larger and more diverse population. The aim here is not to provide an abstract
general theory but rather an account of policing that considers the dynamics
which shape policing in all its variations and nuances. Such a theoretical
framework will contribute to policing scholarship and our ability to better
understand the challenges of the present and future.
37
Southern Theory and policing
The specific characteristics of policing and police culture that arise in particular
places are shaped by social, cultural and political factors as well as physical
features (mountainous, island, landlocked) and climate. These features are
important not only because local people adapt, modify and respond to them, but
they shape available natural resources and opportunities for development,
economic returns and possibilities for territorial co-operation or conflict. 19th
century imperialism saw the systemic colonisation and repression of local and
indigenous populations, particularly in the global South. This institutional
exploitation was interlinked with trade, which relied on access to land, labour and
resources to flourish. A strong policing regime was also requisite in order to
effectively harness local resources (D. Anderson & Killingray, 1991).
Globalisation has its own policing requirements. Although imperialist ventures of
nation states have receded, powerful corporations continue these processes,
investing foreign money in smaller or less developed nations whose legal
frameworks or law enforcement capacities are yet to adapt to new economic
realities (Carrington, 2016). However, in addition to foreign investment,
Goldsmith (2017) notes the occurrence of ‘duping the donors’ and new ways the
formerly colonised are finding to exploit their former masters.
American policing scholar, Peter Manning (2005), has argued for an expansion
of empirical research outside of the dominant UK and US (and to a lesser extent
Canada and Australia). In ‘The Study of Policing’, Manning (2005) laments the
limited availability of policing research with perspectives from Islamic countries,
totalitarian regimes, Continental Europe, transnational policing efforts (including
from the United Nations) and private policing enterprises. He contends that this,
combined with the historical barriers to knowledge production outside the
dominant Anglo-American experience, has led to a dearth of research around
policing in the global South (Manning, 2005). However, it may be argued that
more research is being undertaken outside the global North to advance
knowledge of policing, such as a recent contribution regarding Lusophone
contexts which have a shared legacy of Portuguese colonialism (O'Reilly, 2017).
39
created and circulated. For Hountondji (1997, 2002), factors such as access to
acquiring research skills, networks, and resources situate academic careers
forged in the metropole as a form of ‘extraversion’. Consequently, Connell (2015,
p. 51) argues the ‘theoretical hegemony of the North is simply the normal
functioning of this economy of knowledge’.
12
A brief account of Southern Policing was first published in Jardine, M. (2018b). Researching
gender and law enforcement as public health input. Journal of Community Safety & Well-Being,
August 3(1).
40
capacity to act dialectically with the physical and social environment and thus are
amenable to change and variation.
In 1973, Van Maanen quoted Trotsky’s assertion that ‘there is but one
international and that is the police’, when referring to a stereotype of police that
‘seems to run deeply through all societies regardless of social, economic or
political orientations’ (1973, p. 2). However, at the time Van Maanen invoked
Trotsky’s claim there were even fewer studies of policing under different political
paradigms than there are today. The wave of imperialism and subsequent
colonial policing that took place was largely before the ethnographic lens had
turned to police culture. Furthermore, post-colonial societies with more recent
disruptions to the political order, or transitioning democracies and economies,
remain little studied in the search for universalities among police and are,
therefore, worthy of more scholarly attention.
The role of the police and the source of their mandate in Anglo-American
jurisdictions have been the focus of most policing studies (Manning, 1978).
Manning (1978, p. 487) has described how Anglo-American police initially saw
their functions as pertaining to ‘crime prevention and deterrence’, but over time
this transitioned, or was cultivated, to emphasise a ‘crime-fighting’ orientation.
The police identify as crime-fighters, necessarily giving the impression (at least)
that police authority is based in law where infractions designated as ‘crimes’ are
found.
13
Reference to ‘Peelian principles’ has been critiqued as a ‘textbook’ construction of a collection
of principles not entirely, but to a large extent, attributable to Sir Robert Peel (Lentz & Chaires,
2007).
42
create distance between police and local politics to promote law enforcement
against vices, including gambling and prostitution, objectively and independently
(Carte & Carte, 1975; Vollmer, 1971). However, in the 1980s Bayley (1988) noted
this approach (which by this stage was considered ‘traditional’ policing) had failed
and new arguments for a community-oriented policing which emphasised
localised engagement and problem-solving had emerged.
The nature of a political system can also determine the mechanisms through
which police can be held to account and how reforms may be instigated. In some
jurisdictions, the pressures or possibilities for change in police practices or culture
may include demands for more gender and ethnic diversity following sex
discrimination cases or ‘race riots’, intense media scrutiny of police investigations,
royal commissions and judicial review (or their equivalent), examination of stop
and search practices, and unionised strikes among the police workforce. In some
countries, these avenues may be unavailable, inaccessible or even prohibited by
law and so the effects that these have had (or not) on police organisations in
stable Western democracies may not be found under other political
circumstances.
Anglo-American policing’s relationship with the law is a crucial part of its historical
identity. The legal nature of police authority and the police role have led to
44
extensive discussions of the limits and uses of police discretion within the law.
When police authority purports to be derived from the law, the circumstances in
which police use discretion to enforce the law or not is necessarily an important
focus of research. Thus, assumptions which drove early policing empirical
research in democracies was based on the rule of law focused on exploring
‘behind the mock-bureaucratic façade’ and ‘the law in action by contrast with the
law in the books’ (Reiner, 2016, p. 237). The use of discretion has been
documented in many foundational studies in the context of patrol work (Banton,
1964; Cain, 1973; Skolnick, 1994; Van Maanen, 1973; Westley, 1970) and
detective work (Ericson, 1981; Hobbs, 1988; Young, 1991). These have
differences in levels of visibility of decision-making and possibilities for
supervision or review (Brogden, Jefferson, & Walklate, 1988). Discretion can also
be used at higher levels of the police organisation through decisions by
management (Brogden et al., 1988; Reuss-Ianni & Ianni, 1983).
The ethos under Sir Robert Peel’s English model emphasised the role of police
as not unduly interfering in the lives of the public. The priority of policing was to
maintain social order. Police saw their work as discerning between the ‘rough’
and ‘respectable’ (Shearing, 1981) and manifested in an ‘us versus them’
mentality (Waddington, 1999). Despite the development of a crime-fighting ethos,
ethnographic studies on patrol-work found authors described crime work as
forming only a small part of the nature of police work which was described as
having a service-oriented or peace-keeping role (Banton, 1964; Ericson, 1982;
Reiss, 1971; Westley, 1970). Anglo-American police justified their interventions
as the exercise or expression of legal authority.
45
education. A correct moral order is hierarchical, with an inherent natural order
within the family, neighbourhood and state. By acting virtuously towards others,
with correct ‘manners, etiquette, propriety or rites’, moral and social stability are
maintained (M. R. Dutton, 1992, p. 22). The policing of virtue did not necessitate
strict rules and regulations because morality was an intrinsic behaviour to be
cultivated did not require legal form or public proclamation (M. R. Dutton, 1992).
This has implications for the relationship between police and the law. Jiao (2001,
p. 160) claimed that ‘the rejection of codified and publicly promulgated laws for
centuries in China served a practical purpose for the police – to enable them and
the community to create new and mutually acceptable solutions to conflicts
without their hands being tied’. An approach founded on policing a moral order
also has implications for the legal culture which develops and the extent of
investment in police knowledge of the law. However, the Chinese authorities have
pursued an agenda to professionalise the police driven by the need to control
market-oriented institutions amid rapidly growing prosperity (F. Liu & Martin,
2016). Efforts towards professionalising Chinese police have focused on their
being ‘more scientific, rational, rule bound, and humane’ (Wong, 2012, p. 231),
although the shape that this takes depends on the emphasis on which ‘rules’ are
prioritised, for example, Party doctrine, laws or local interpretations.
Northern policing scholarship in the 1960s and 1970s gave the impression of a
monolithic organisation with a workforce who shared similar worldviews and
characteristics (Reiner, 2015). In his classic study of police, Van Maanen (1973,
pp. 3-4) claimed: ‘In short, when a policeman dons his uniform, he enters a
distinct subculture governed by norms and values designed to manage the strains
created by his unique role in the community’. The police ‘role in the community’
was that of the ‘patrolman’. The insights garnered by Van Maanen (1973) and
other researchers such as Skolnick (1994, 2008; Skolnick & Fyfe, 1993) formed
the basis for much of the policing scholarship that followed, examining the
relationship between frontline police and citizens (Manning, 2014). Reiner (2010,
p. 3) refers to the ‘taken-for-granted’ perception of who the police are, as
‘primarily … a body of people patrolling public places in blue uniforms, with a
46
broad mandate of crime control, order maintenance and some negotiable social
service functions’.
The emphasis on police patrol work and interaction with the public resulted in
identification of core characteristics of police culture (Reiner, 2010). Police were
described as setting about their work with a ‘sense of mission’ to catch ‘villains’,
as seeing themselves as the ‘thin blue line’ between order and chaos (Reiner,
2010, pp. 119-121). Catching criminals required physical strength, machismo and
a penchant for excitement and action (Fielding, 1994). Racism has been regarded
as an enduring feature of police culture (Skolnick, 2008; Westley, 1970), although
this is partly a reflection of the multicultural societies where dominant scholarship
was based (Reiner, 2010). Research has associated some police cultural
characteristics with a masculine orientation, including ‘aggressive, physical
action, competitiveness, preoccupation with the imagery of conflict, exaggerated
heterosexual orientation and the operation of patriarchal misogynistic attitudes’
(Fielding, 1994, p. 47), and alcohol consumption (Reiner, 2010). Police are
described as typically cynical and pessimistic as means of expressing frustration
and disappointment with their mission, though often manifesting in humour
(Reiner, 2010).
The core characteristics included a sense of social isolation between police and
the community which Reiner (2010, p. 122) suggests stems from: ‘shift work,
erratic hours, difficulty switching off from the tension engendered by the job,
aspects of the discipline code, and the hostility or fear that citizens may exhibit to
the police’. It also reflects the bureaucratic and ‘professional’ portrayal of police
work which emphasised a distance between police and the community so as to
be impartial in executing law enforcement functions (W. R. Miller, 1999; Reiner,
2010). The distance between police and community formed part of the pursuit of
‘professionalisation’ which dominated American approaches to improving policing
from the mid-20th century (Sklansky, 2011), and which Manning (1977, p. 120)
described as ‘a strategy employed by the police to defend their mandate and
thereby to build self-esteem, organizational autonomy, and occupational
solidarity or cohesiveness’. Early US studies focused on the work of the
‘patrolman’ as typical of policing generally, with Van Maanen (1973, p. 38)
47
pointing out that ‘patrolmen rarely see the same people twice’, and Ericson (1982,
p. 6) observing that ‘the vast majority of their time is spent alone in their patrol
cars without any direct contact with citizens’.
48
between uniform work, which emphasised the importance of an arrest, compared
with the detective who had to pay more attention to statistics. Other differences
include the ‘low visibility’ of detectives who are seen to have more control over
their work (Ericson, 1981). Although a largely reactive role with cases typically
brought to their attention by uniformed officers, detectives maintain control over
information and a range of possible responses to reports, including determining
if a report constitutes a crime at all and thus part of their workload, and
possibilities for performance evaluation (Ericson, 1981). Hobbs (1988) also
studied detectives and described their work as ‘entrepreneurial’, distinct from the
more ‘militarist’ uniform police work. Hobbs’ (1988) contribution was to highlight
how the symbiotic relationship between the economy of London’s East End
shaped the nature of detective policing in the area. It showed that, despite
bureaucratic and militaristic approaches, the police are not necessarily involved
in a top-down controlled approach but that the specific conditions of ‘the policed’
interact with the police to create a particular style (Hobbs, 1988).
Early accounts of police culture were also captured through a narrow lens,
examining their formal position which, according to Manning (2014, p. 519),
reflected a ‘visible, preventive, reactive and responsive, uniformed, and politically
neutral’ public police. This view of the police, and their role, is one that had
obligations towards public safety and order distinct from the obligations of
members of the public. Policing was an activity in the public domain, a
demarcation limiting the role of the state in private affairs (Locke, 1982/1689). As
noted above, Manning (2014, p. 530) points to the need for the exploration of
policing models other than Peelian in order to understand ‘the role, if any, of the
political economic, and cultural context of the police organization’s operations’.
Though the British police were exemplified as impersonal authority under Peel’s
model, Miller (1999) described social isolation as a consequence. The founding
of the People’s Republic of China in 1949 under the Chinese Communist Party
saw the formation of the renmin jingcha People’s Police) which
provides a contrasting example. In theory, police were to have ‘no separate
identity and interests’ to the people and were to assist the people by responding
to crimes as personal problems, rather than as legal violations (Wong, 2010, p.
89). The relationship between the police and the people was expressed using
49
iconography of ‘fish (police) in the water (people)’ (Damin, 2001, cited in Wong,
2010, p. 88). Policing constituted a rather informal activity emphasising education
and rehabilitation, and interactions with the people. This included broad social
functions and administrative tasks of the state, such as population management
and collecting taxes (M. R. Dutton, 1992). The low mobility of the Chinese
population (prior to economic reform in the 1980s) contributed to a localised,
familiar neighbourhood or clan approach to mutual surveillance. Thus, the lines
between police and community were more blurred and overlapping than those
described in early Western policing literature. The mass-line policing approach
under Mao Zedong aimed to mobilise the people into an active role in policing
where collective responsibility for reducing crime was emphasised (Wong, 2010).
Therefore, assumptions from Northern literature about the relationship between
police and community and the extent of social isolation among police may not
necessarily be valid for police in the global South.
Given the police are drawn from the citizenry, they are necessarily embedded in
the social relations of the broader culture. Some scholars have drawn broad
comparisons between Western and Asian societies and implications for crime
and social control (Jiao, 2001; J. Liu, 2017). Asian societies in general are
regarded as having closer familial relationships and more social relations than
their Western counterparts (J. Liu, 2017; Nisbett, 2001), often framed as a
difference between collectivist and individualist cultures. J. Liu (2017) asserts that
‘relationism’ and collectivity characterise East Asian societies, giving rise to
particular ‘cultural values, and thought patterns’. He cites four key features which
inflect criminal justice responses with certain features: attachment to families and
communities, preserving honour (including behaving correctly to preserve the
honour of others), harmony over conflict avoidance, and holistic over analytical
thinking (J. Liu, 2017).
Although not all Asian societies are the same, some (including China and
Vietnam) are marked by a focus on the collective, especially family (and extended
family) relations and close community networks. Expectations of police may be
that they participate in social functions of local residents which can blur the lines
between public and private concerns. Where gift giving is a social custom in these
50
environments, police can be the recipient of offerings which may not be easily
refused. Cao, Huang, and Sun (2014, p. 154) describe the dilemma in the context
of Taiwanese community police:
Cao et al. (2014) note that police in Taiwan have a different experience to those
in the West where the public and private spheres are more clearly delineated. In
the case of the latter, maintaining a distance between the police and the policed
was a means to avoid close relationships which may risk officers being corrupted
(Herbert, 2006). Whereas in Taiwanese society, ‘the ubiquity of informal
relationship networks means that large sectors of the social order penetrate the
boundaries of the police in Taiwan’ (Cao et al., 2014, p. 151). Though the
combination of informal networks, social obligations and gift giving can facilitate
corruption, it also means the cultural characteristic associated with social
isolation of police in Western countries may be experienced differently where the
lines between public and private are more blurred.
In the mid-19th century, police training in England constituted two weeks of ‘drill
and sword exercises’ and some lectures with an emphasis on learning law by rote
(Emsley, 2014, p. 206). At the turn of the 21st century, a report critical of police
training in the UK described it as rigid, militaristic and focused on knowledge
acquisition (especially legal) (Charman, 2017; HMIC, 2002). The HMIC (2002)
report criticised the length of formal police training, comprising 31 weeks (out of
a 104-week total probationary training period), and recommended that it should
be increased given the complexity of police work and the need for it to be
regarded as a proper profession. Though police should know relevant law, the
report found the composition of police training focused too heavily on knowledge
of the law and recommended greater emphasis on communication, use of
information technology, problem solving, team working, techniques of reducing
crime and evidence-based practice (HMIC, 2002, pp. 44-45). In 2018, the College
of Policing (UK) began recruiting under a new Police Education Qualifications
Framework which provides pathways to tertiary-level qualifications (College of
Policing, 2018).
52
universal application as it is predicated on the assumption that police training and
university education are separate enterprises. Indeed, in Taiwan, China, South
Korea and Japan, a university policing degree is a standard requirement (Cao et
al., 2015).
The perception of police culture as unitary was borne from research that ignored
the diversity of police work. Notwithstanding, Crank argued police had a shared
‘common culture’ because frontline officers ‘everywhere’ responded to ‘similar
audiences everywhere’ (1998, p. 26); however, the audiences he refers to appear
to be confined to the United States populace and institutions. There is an
increasing body of knowledge outside the global North showing that street-
policing culture is not universal because the dynamic between the police and the
policed is subject to cultural variations.
With respect to police cultures in Asia, some scholars have drawn attention to the
way broader cultural characteristics shape understandings and expectations of
policing (Haanstad, 2013; Jiao, 2001; J. T. Martin, 2016; Wong, 2012). In a study
on drug control in China, the researchers found citizens ‘tend not to hold police
accountable for neighbourhood conditions in the same way as Americans do’ (Dai
& Gao, 2014, p. 217). In the East Asian context, Wong (2010) refers to the way
broader culture provides different perspectives on community policing
approaches. He refers to Goldstein’s problem-oriented policing (POP) (H.
Goldstein, 1990) as a ‘police’ theory which seeks to address a ‘community
problem’ where an individual or community seek police support to solve a
problem (Wong, 2010, p. 96). In contrast, Wong (2010, p. 85) proposes that a
community policing approach in China is better understood through ‘police power
as social resource theory’. Here, people see police as one of many social
resources they can draw on to solve a problem but with a view that police advise,
facilitate or empower people to solve their own problems without formal legal
intervention; this amounts to a ‘people’ theory where police are not central for
resolution (Wong, 2010). Theorising about police culture, therefore, relies on an
understanding of community expectations of police because they only function in
relation to each other (J. T. Martin, 2018). This includes understanding the
53
historical underpinnings that have formed a ‘friend–enemy’ (Schmitt, 2007)
conceptualisation of police–community relations (J. T. Martin, 2018).
Outside the Asian and Anglo-American context, scholars have considered the
relationship between the police and community with respect to historical and
cultural influences (Marks, 2005; Strobl, 2011, 2016). Marks (2005, p. 149)
referred to the dynamic between police and some communities in South Africa
where antagonism could develop over time. She describes how the accumulation
of ‘localised historical memories … which created a vicious circle of response and
counter-response’ acts to sustain particular types of relationships between the
police and the policed (Marks, 2005, p. 149). Marks also noted that, even after
six years of reforms in the Durban Public Order Police, the level of violence and
brutality to which the officers were exposed would continue to shape their
memories of and behaviours towards specific communities.
Furthermore, Wong (2010) takes issue with Bittner’s (1970, p. 41) proposition
that when people call the police there is an expectation they have the capacity to
employ the use of force (not that they will), arguing that, in the Chinese context,
the Western conception of the expectation of force as being central to the police
role is not neatly transferrable. J. T. Martin (2016, p. 463) argues that the
‘reduction of police power to physical force’ misses other understandings of the
capacities of the police. For example, in Taiwan, a dimension of police work is to
be called upon to ‘help out’ which, as Martin (2016, p. 469) describes, ‘is intimate,
the mode of policing implicated in the sphere of social obligations’. But in Taiwan,
the police are not necessarily the only people citizens call upon to solve problems
that are in the police remit, and patronage networks can be brought to bear on
situations that disrupt (or shape) police authority. If we conceptualise police
54
culture as something that is the product of a relational dynamic between the
environment and individual, as per Chan’s (1997; Chan et al., 2003) framework,
then an environment where police and citizens navigate social obligations,
reciprocity and patronage networks may mediate an officer’s disposition towards
the use of force differently.
55
A study by Chan (1997) in Australia critiqued previous research, arguing there
was an under-recognition of the interactive nature of factors that result in the
production of police culture. She contended that police culture should not be
viewed as static because changes in the political environment or challenges of
new social issues could influence police, and because individual officers had
agency in choosing how to respond or interact with their environment, more so
than was previously recognised by academics. Chan (1997; Chan et al., 2003)
drew on organisational theorists to position police as ‘actors’ within organisations
who are ‘active decision-makers who are nevertheless guided by the
assumptions they learn and the possibilities they are aware of’ (Chan, 1997, p.
74). Chan (1997; Chan et al., 2003) introduced Bourdieu’s (1990a) concepts of
field and habitus to conceptualise police culture as a relational dynamic between
the environment and an individual’s dispositions. Here, individuals take up
objective positions in the social world which subsequently shapes their subjective
dispositions towards their social world acting as a dialectic. Therefore, the field of
policing is a social world which can shape the individual dispositions (habitus) of
officers. The habitus is where an individual processes information about the
environment and organises it into ‘schemas’. These schemas shape the
parameters for an individual’s perceptions and determine whether information
received in the future will be accepted or rejected. Though responses are not
predetermined, they are fashioned to an extent by an individual’s knowledge of
possibilities, described by Powell and DiMaggio as ‘menus of legitimate accounts’
(Powell and DiMaggio 1991, cited in Chan, 1997, p. 75) or a ‘vocabulary of
precedents’ (Ericson, Baranek, & Chan, 1897). Actors may also respond
subconsciously and then be inclined to consider ‘how an action can be
retrospectively justified rationally, that is, what types of justification are
organisationally permitted’ (Chan, 1997, p. 75). The interactive model proposed
by Chan challenges the assumption that individual officers are ‘passive entities’
participating in an organisation’s culture rather than having a capacity to be active
change agents.
There is some commentary on how, once socialised into the police culture, police
take on an identity which influences their attitudes and behaviours outside work.
While Van Maanen (1973) asserted that police don the uniform and enter a
56
distinct subculture, Waddington (1999, p. 291) suggests that some police culture
research may have engaged in ‘interpretive over-reach’ by assuming too much
distance between the culture associated with police and that pertaining to the
society more generally. The fact that racism is present within police culture is
described as a likely reflection of prejudice in the community and especially the
communities from which police officers were typically drawn in the US and UK –
lower and middle working class. Similarly, a high tolerance for violence amongst
police in South Africa was seen by Faull (2018) as a reflection of societal attitudes
given the political upheavals and instability. Furthermore, Dixon (1997, p. 161)
critiqued the tendency of some researchers to ‘over-socialize’ conceptions of
police officers by attributing to them characteristics that are indistinct from (the
ordinary) activities of other work cultures. Waddington (1999) posits that the
problem of detecting or measuring a cultural attribute of an occupation can be
determined only with an appropriate benchmark, otherwise how can it be
determined that a characteristic arises from the occupation or wider society?
There are examples of how police culture has been defined and addressed in
China: the Public Security Bureau (PSB) in Jinzhou, Hebei Province, regards
police culture as pertaining to:
57
Other examples of deliberate cultivation of police culture focus on art,
photography, singing and organising festivals (Fuzhou PSB, Fujian Province) or
sport and physical activities (Shanghai PSB, Baoshan subdivision) (Wong, 2012,
pp. 112-113). In addition, there was the establishment of a Police Culture Salon
(jingcha wenhua shalong) where police could meet from 7.30 p.m. to 1 a.m. three
times per week and discuss various topics, not necessarily related to policing, but
to provide space for police to ‘relax and reflect’ and learn new things (Wong,
2012, p. 113). In China, police culture has been viewed not simply as the product
of a disposition attributed to the nature of police work but as encompassing a
wider identity that is not wholly distinct from broader social culture. From the
examples presented above, we can begin to elucidate differences in how different
cultural settings can lead to different assumptions about what police culture is,
and that theoretical constructs developed in the West may not be applicable
elsewhere.
Gender
The progression of women’s inclusion in Western police forces has been towards
full integration where men and women undertake the same training and
operational duties despite the fact they may end up doing (and wanting) different
roles (Chan et al., 2010). and can vary depending on the national context (Van
der Lippe, Graumans, & Sevenhuijsen, 2004). However, this approach is not
reflected globally and Strobl (2008) argues the imposition of this model is itself a
colonial act and fails to take into account local needs and cultures.
Notwithstanding, segregated models instituted locally, such as the Delegacias de
Policia dos Direitos da Mulher (Women’s Police Stations) in Brazil, do not escape
criticism for their ability for meeting expectations of their employees and the
segment of the community they set out to serve (Hautzinger, 2002). Strobl
argues for more empirical research to be undertaken to provide evidence for the
circumstances under which variations and alternatives should be implemented,
and that hybrid or ‘two-track’ systems for women’s integration into policing are
suitable for some contexts (2008, pp. 55-56). Chu and Abdulla (2014) echoed
Strobl’s assertion following their study of self-efficacy beliefs and gender roles
among policewomen in Dubai, noting that Western gender integration models
may not be suitable for non-Western settings.
60
The nature of women’s participation in policing is also shaped by the incentives
which propel their inclusion. For example, some jurisdictions may seek to employ
women to address specific problems of gendered violence where women officers
are regarded as providing more empathetic responses to victims, and that victims
are more likely to feel comfortable to report crimes (Hautzinger, 2002). However,
some drivers for women’s inclusion arise out of a broader push for gender
equality and equal opportunity, sometimes driven by top-down government
employment policies. For example, in Taiwan, Gingerich and Chu (2013) report
that, in line with changing consciousness regarding gender equality, the police
are recruiting more women and integrating them into a wider range of roles,
although overall the proportion of women was just 7.72 per cent. Although Asian
countries share strongly patriarchal social structures, policy directions for women
in policing are varied. A theoretical framework for policing must also consider the
broader culture, especially those with different religious or ideological
backgrounds.
Within this context it becomes clear that in a Southern Policing perspective, the
field pays attention to the historical relations of a particular place, its political
system, broad societal culture, legal frameworks, organisations, relations
between police and the community, and gender as a social institution. Each of
these constitute a subfield of power, and their positions are not fixed and have
varying degrees of autonomy which can change over time. Changes in one field
may not have a determinate impact on another field, and indeed, may have
unintended outcomes. A Southern Policing perspective recognises that capital
comes in forms which may depart from those identified in Northern-dominated
research. If we understand police culture to be fluid because officers have agency
to pursue different forms of capital, it is important to recognise that societies may
weigh various forms of capital differently leading to different manifestations of
police culture.
62
Conclusion
This chapter has shown the limits of northern and specifically Anglo-American-
focused studies of policing which assume that what they describe are necessary
elements of policing everywhere. Though some aspects of Anglo-American
principles and practices have been exported to countries outside the global North,
they overlay and interact with established cultures and norms of a specific place
– cultures and norms are also amenable to change over time. Some examples of
transfer of policing strategies are the result of colonial and globalising practices.
In addition, indigenous forms of social control occur in societies with non-Western
roots. These have to be understood not as deviations from Anglo-American
normality but as significant separate practices and traditions of policing from
which the North may have something to learn.
63
Chapter 4: Police ethnography in the global South:
methodology and ethics
Introduction
14
Christine Bonnin (2013) also refers to ‘professional, personal and political’ although their
rearrangement here indicates the order of primacy I perceive for my study.
64
characterise fieldwork as being not only well planned, but smoothly executed in
order to demonstrate a level of competence worthy of academic status. To do so
in this case would exclude many of the crucial insights elicited through confronting
and navigating (not always successfully) challenges relating to the intertwining
exercises of process and method, research and writing, as described by
Sowerwine (2004). ‘Methods’ chapters often separate the research process from
its content. However, it became increasingly clear to me that the process (broadly
including positionality and reflexivity at the time of, or even prior to,
conceptualising the research idea) determines the content of the thesis.
Sowerwine has argued that explicating the research process is essential due to
the ‘politics of data inclusion or exclusion’ (2004, p. 229), but in my experience
the politics of inclusion or exclusion begins before data collection starts,
especially where policing in a one-party state is the subject of study. For example,
when I was considering undertaking the type of research I wanted to do on
policing in Vietnam, I knew that I would have to seek official approval. A wholly
informal approach would not have been possible in this case for several reasons
which I outline below. The fact that I had to obtain official approval from the MPS
meant the scope for my study would be limited.
65
in socialist states in China, Laos and Vietnam. The accounts of researchers
(anthropologists, geographers and ethnohistorians) describe challenges in
relation to how positionality is negotiated in the field with poor, often marginalised
communities with huge differences and disparity in wealth, education levels,
access to information, and even their ability to leave the field after the research
was completed. Although participants in this study were not ethnic minorities,
holding positions of relative power within the Ministry of Public Security, there
were many similarities in the challenges faced in conducting fieldwork under
socialist rule.
A police officer in this study explained to me: ‘In Vietnam, you can’t get anything
done without relationships’. Relationships were key in the process to gain
approval for this study which I believe was facilitated by my ability to speak
Vietnamese and previous work history in Vietnam. 15 Language helped me to
bridge a gap with Vietnamese police officers who supported my application with
the Deputy Minister of Public Security, enabling me to be the first foreigner to be
granted this type of access. That I had been a police officer (Victoria Police) and
that the Australian Federal Police work closely with, and provide significant
funding for, police capacity building in Vietnam were mentioned as supporting
factors by Vietnamese officers. A researcher’s appearance or ethnicity can affect
the way they are perceived or accepted in the field. Sowerwine (2014, p. 102)
examined how her nationality (as an American) may have shaped her research
with ethnic minorities in Vietnam given the post-war, post-colonial environment.
She considered that her nationality may have attributed to her some ‘baggage’
with regard to the American War (Sowerwine, 2014, p. 100). Indeed, it was
suggested by a Vietnamese academic that had I been American it might have
been more difficult to be given access for the study.
15
I commenced Vietnamese language study at Monash University in 1997. I also studied for
one year at the Victorian School of Languages and received a scholarship to study at
Intermediate level at the Vietnamese Language School for Foreigners in Hồ Chí Minh City in
2005. Between 2006 and 2013 I had intermittent tutoring in Melbourne, Hồ Chí Minh City and
Hanoi.
66
advised to include a list of activities I had been involved in to support Vietnamese
police to date. I was able to detail activities spanning several years such as
organising international study tours and helping police with successful
scholarship applications to study in Australia. That my access was leveraged by
my status as a former Australian police officer and current policing consultant
could ascribe me the ‘position’ of an ‘outside insider’, someone who is a serving
or retired officer with inside knowledge of the police officers’ world observing their
colleagues (J. Brown, 1996; Westmarland, 2016). 16 I return to the issue of
researcher position in Chapter 9.
16
My ‘position’ as a researcher might be considered more accurately as ‘outside outsider’. I’m
inclined to regard myself as both ‘outside insider’ and ‘outside outsider’ as previous policing
experience provides occupational knowledge although it has obvious limitations in a foreign
organisation and country.
67
to police in China, to interview a cohort of officers on the sensitive topic of job
satisfaction (there appeared to be very little) although she does not indicate
whether she had official endorsement. The necessity of obtaining formal approval
at all was challenged by Goldsmith who states: ‘While the advantages of
obtaining it are fairly obvious, it comes at a price and its absence should not be
allowed to dictate the viability of field research’ (Goldsmith, 2003, p. 110).
Studying police without formal approval depends on the context and the nature
of the data sought by researchers. Furthermore, a PhD project is subject to the
demands of the university research ethics committee which, in this case, required
a Letter of Support from the Vietnamese police, in-country ethics approval and
the appointment of an in-country supervisor. Consequently, the ‘price’ (as per
Goldsmith) paid for these prerequisites includes satisfying (or negotiating)
conditions set by the institutions involved. Alternative approaches at various
stages of seeking approval through ‘gatekeepers’ could have been to negotiate
different terms with the university ethics committee and the police about the
conditions of the research. It is not known to what extent some conditions could
have been adjusted at the outset and with what consequences. By not agreeing
to conditions set by the police, it may be the research would have taken a different
course where formal access may have been rejected altogether, rather than
restricted. The specific conditions relating to this project and their implications are
detailed below in the sections on methods and limitations respectively.
68
1967). This could be a concern if one was attempting to investigate or oppose
the political regime in Vietnam, but this was not the focus of my study.
69
activities with police as I would have liked (typically late-night drinking) despite
receiving direct invitations. Behar’s (1996, p. 20) assertion that ‘an
anthropologist’s conversations and interactions in the field can never again be
exactly reproduced’ weighs heavily on me given the lost opportunities to learn
more for inclusion in this study. Even so, the circumstances would allow for many
fruitful conversations.
Some scholars suggest that, when building rapport with new acquaintances, a
good rule of thumb is to avoid ‘religion, sex and politics’ (Goldsmith, 2003, p. 122).
I found these topics difficult to evade. In Vietnam it is considered normal, indeed
good manners, to enquire about a person’s age, marital status and whether one
has children yet (literally ‘yet?’ (chưa?) because parenthood is an expectation).
Age is important because it denotes how people should address each other in
Vietnamese language (as described in Chapter 2), and to enquire about a
person’s family is a mark of politeness. It was not uncommon for police students
and officers to ask me these questions at the start or end of an interview. In 2016
I was 37 years old and, according to Vietnamese culture, it is unusual for women
of my age not to have children. After initiating the subject, some students
responded to my predicament with laughter or sympathy – sometimes both.
Fortunately, over the years I have assembled a series of amusing retorts for just
such scenarios with a view to take advantage of the situation and build rapport
rather than dampen it. Perhaps it was my single relationship status that prompted
one police officer to give me advice (over dinner with his wife) based on Buddhist
teachings about how to control my sexual urges – despite my having mentioned
nothing in relation to the subject. Equally, politics was a frequent topic of
conversation. I have often wondered whether it is Vietnam’s past and its school
curriculum that promote an outward-looking perspective on international
relations, or that simply my ‘foreign-ness’, and the opportunity for cross-cultural
exchange, is what stimulated the many discussions on global issues I had with
Vietnamese people. Whatever the case, these conversations required that I
share facts about my personal life as well as my values and opinions about the
world. For better or worse, these interactions shaped this research project and
accords with Behar’s (1996, p. 17) view that, ‘as a mode of knowing that depends
on the particular relationship formed by a particular anthropologist with a
70
particular set of people in a particular time and place, anthropology has always
been vexed about the question of vulnerability’. This view resonated with me,
given some of the situations I found myself in during my research.
On a visit to Hanoi in 2017, I was at a social event where I met a highly ranked
officer who had a major role in the Police Academy branch of the Women’s Union.
We conversed for some time in Vietnamese (as she did not speak English) and
on saying goodbye she invited me to her house. She told me to bring my personal
belongings, so I could stay the night. I accepted the invitation but thought I must
have misheard because we had only just met and I resolved that it was simply a
dinner invitation. Several days later I arrived at her home and met her husband
and son. She asked where my overnight bag was and when I said I did not bring
it she was disappointed and showed me to the spare room where she had made
a bed for me to spend the night. I apologised and, after explaining that I had
misunderstood, we had dinner and I took a taxi home.
17
Notwithstanding, sometimes a dinner invitation resembled more of a gesture than an
intention.
71
family and social networks involved in the research process also goes some way
to supporting the importance of relationships in police practice as described by
officers themselves in the following chapters.
72
Scholarship and advocacy
Gender is a major theme of the present study, and how police officers perceive
the role and status of women in policing was of specific interest. My research
proposal approved by the MPS explicitly stated the study aimed to investigate
barriers to the expansion of women in policing. Personal communication with
Police Academy staff indicated this was an area that warranted attention in a
changing Vietnamese society (notwithstanding, it was also a palatable research
topic in a politically sensitive environment), and it is commendable that the police
approved my research knowing that I was an advocate for changing the official
policy on women’s recruitment.
Social science scholars debate the role of advocacy in research; some warn
against it while others argue it may be unavoidable or even desirable (Becker,
1967). In her book, An Unquiet Mind, professor and psychiatrist Kay Redfield
Jamison writes: ‘It is an awful prospect, giving up one’s cloak of academic
objectivity. But, of course, my work has been tremendously colored by my
emotions and experiences’ (Jamison, 1996, p. 203). Jamison was referring to her
own struggles with mental illness whilst working as a professional in the field. I
felt curious but emotionally detached during interviews and discussions with
police on topics such as policing structures and training approaches. However,
when it came to issues of gender I became more engaged and found myself
challenging views more vehemently where issues of gender discrimination arose.
I often found it confronting when women stated they had little interest in having
equal opportunities to men, opportunities which I believed could empower women
and help them reach higher ranks associated with higher income, status,
decision-making powers and influence. While overall there was a range of views
concerning gender (see Chapter 8), I felt torn between my views on gender
equality and imposing these views onto women in a different cultural context.
As a former police officer – and foreigner – I was often the subject of curiosity
and seen as a source of information about policing in another country.
Interviewees asked about the type of police work I undertook and, given the
divergent roles men and women usually undertake in Vietnam, my explanation of
women’s involvement in operational policing was often met with surprise. I
73
explained that, in Victoria, Australia, all police academy graduates had to
complete two years of general duties which included going on patrol in a vehicle
or on foot, attending and doing initial investigation at crime scenes, responding
to violent incidents such as armed robberies and domestic violence, investigating
drug and alcohol issues, dealing with traffic incidents and collisions, and
responding to mental health concerns in the community. I also explained that I
worked in Criminal Investigation Units or taskforces where I assisted in
investigating more serious crimes including murder, rape, gang violence and drug
trafficking (including purchasing drugs as an undercover police officer).
1. What are the historical, political, economic, social and cultural influences
which shape policing and police culture in Vietnam?
2. How do structural and cultural influences affect the nature of women's
inclusion in policing in Vietnam?
3. What are the theoretical and policy implications of the findings?
In his study of police socialisation, Van Maanen (1973, p. 5) argued that in order
to ‘gain insight into the police environment, researchers must penetrate the official
smokescreen and observe directly the social action in social situations which, in
the final analysis, represents the reality of police work’. According to Van Maanen
(2011, p. 1), ‘an ethnography is written representation of a culture (or selected
aspects of a culture)’. The process of interpreting, coding and decoding what has
been observed by the researcher is essential in ethnography whereby meaning
is attached to data only when it takes written form. Central to the process of
ethnography is the practice of ‘reflexivity’. As Grbich (2004, p. 28) explains, ‘self-
reflexivity involves a heightened awareness of the self in the process of
knowledge creation, a clarification of how one’s beliefs have been socially
constructed (self-revelation) and how these values are impacting on interaction
and data collection in the research setting’.
The following sections will provide the rationale for the selected study site, a
description of the research methods used which constitute the qualitative
approach for the research, along with considerations regarding data analysis,
ethics approval and study limitations.
The selection of the study site was determined based on my previous experience
and contacts with the People’s Police Force. Although the present study refers to
policing in Vietnam, it is more correct to refer to policing in Hanoi and northern
Vietnam given that fieldwork was based only in the north. Centuries of migration
patterns reveal a relatively stable and Chinese-influenced population in the north,
compared with the south where migratory flows were more prominent and
diverse. Furthermore, the experiences of French colonialism and the American
War in the north and south may have shaped the broad regions differently. It is
important to recognise that conclusions drawn from this data set may not be
applicable to policing in southern (or central) Vietnam.
Document review
77
and Russian were also available for review, reflecting Vietnam’s colonial and fluid
history.
c) Curricula and training documents used to educate police students for their
tertiary (Academy) qualifications.
d) Grey literature and open source material regarding policing and security in
Vietnam.
Access to documents about police and crime statistics was limited. Requests for
information were often met with suspicion. Sometimes the response I received to
requests was ‘they would look into it’, but information was not provided. I would
sometimes interpret this as a passive way to refuse access without actually
saying so, in which case I would stop asking. Sometimes people would tell me
information was ‘secret’, yet when I asked others the information was provided;
this gave an insight into how individuals perceived risk and the status of
information.
78
Ethics approval
The President of the People’s Police Academy gave written approval for the study
following advice from the Deputy Minister for Public Security. The University of
New South Wales (UNSW) provided ethics approval. The People’s Police
Academy does not have a research ethics body and so in-country ethics approval
was obtained from the Internal Review Board of the Institute for Social
Development Studies, a non-governmental, non-profit organisation registered
under the Vietnam Union of Science and Technology Associations.
79
curriculum; and career aspirations. Despite one student being quite shy, the
others responded with a range of views with some expressing frustration at the
limited opportunities available to female students at the academy. As this meeting
took place prior to receiving ethics approval, the content of the discussion is not
included in the analysis in following chapters. I wondered if it was a test as to
whether my questions for the proposed research were acceptable and
appropriate or, rather, not unduly intrusive on sensitive issues. I sensed relief and
a more relaxed attitude among the staff who observed the exchange as they had
made it clear to me that this was the first time the academy was going to allow a
foreigner to undertake research on the organisation and alluded that their
facilitation of the research may have repercussions (presumably for their own
reputations) if the research had undue findings. Whilst the ethical requirements
as set out in the Participant Information Statement and Consent Form stated
unequivocally that participants would not be questioned about criminality, which
could compromise them or others, the self-censorship on the part of participants
was both a source of relief and frustration: relief because it unburdened me of the
task of censorship in the process of writing up, and frustration because of the
gaps it left in my data, especially where I felt my questions were non-threatening
or risky.
Observation
80
as a precaution on the part of the Police Academy as it was the first time a
foreigner had been approved to conduct research of this kind in Vietnam. The
initial supervision became less frequent. I believed they were assessing the
nature of the interviews and, once they were satisfied with my conduct, their
oversight was no longer necessary.
I rented accommodation close to the centre of Hanoi. In the past I usually rented
a motor scooter for a flat monthly fee (about $40), but this time (arguably where
it could have been convenient and cost effective) I decided to take a taxi (car) to
and from the academy. Depending on traffic congestion, this could take 35
minutes to over an hour, and cost between AUD$7-20 each way. This added
significant cost to the research but allowed me to prepare for interviews on the
way and write notes on the way home. Officers were often concerned that I was
wasting money on taxis and would sometimes flag down colleagues at the end of
the day to ask if they would give me a ride home to help me save money. This
18
Cram (2018) explores the positionality of police participants and provides interesting insights
on how different police sub-cultures can render them more hostile or receptive to being involved
in policing research.
81
also provided an opportunity to converse with police otherwise not involved in the
study which helped with informal data gathering and background information
contributing to the context for policing. Although my movements may have been
monitored, there appeared to be an ad hoc approach to who would drive me
home, indicating a departure from the rigid structured supervision I was warned
about at the outset of the study.
The local practice of having a ‘nap’ or break in the middle of the day was helpful
in that I was able to use the time (between noon and 2 p.m.) to write up notes or
spend time between interviews in the academy where informal discussions could
take place. (I wrote fieldnotes both by hand in notebooks and on my laptop
computer. The detail and quality of my fieldnotes varied (depending on my
capacity due to ill health – see below) as sometimes they were made in dot point
to assist recall when I had more time to write in full. I read ‘Writing Ethnographic
Fieldnotes’ (Emerson, Fretz, & Shaw, 2011) in preparation for fieldwork which I
found extremely useful. It helped me prepare for different ways of interpreting
what I observed and what I recorded in my writing, for example, by deliberately
turning my attention to the textures, spaces and moods of particular environments
or interactions as suggested by the authors).
82
According to Salemink (2014), the concept of the ‘field’ can be expanded to
include ‘scholarly and political terrain’ encountered by the researcher even when
not in the ‘field’, that is, not the geographic site under study but rather, for
example, at their research institution in their home country.19 Social media are
increasingly being used as a source of data to study social phenomena. Whilst
social media sources were not used in a systematic way to gather data for this
study, it was useful to observe some aspects of policing given that the state
controls much of the media, and police transgressions are rarely exposed through
formal channels without Party approval. Many people in Vietnam try to get around
internet firewalls to access censored information in the country and to avoid
surveillance. In 2018, large protests broke out after the Government announced
it intended to pass legislation which would require platforms, including Facebook
and Google, to host user data inside Vietnam.
Semi-structured interviews
According to Kvale and Brinkmann (2009, p. 1), ‘the qualitative research interview
attempts to understand the world from the subjects’ point of view, to unfold the
meaning of their experiences, to uncover their lived world prior to scientific
explanation’. One benefit of the semi-structured interview is that it enables a
dialogue between the interviewer and the interviewee which allows probing
questions to elicit rich data or even present new information to challenge a
particular point of view.
19
Or other place, as ethnographies have increasingly explored cultures within domestic borders
or sites familiar to the researcher.
83
Police interviewees Students Officers Total
Female 11 7 18
Male 10 9 19
Total 21 16 37
(i) Police officers (serving and retired) in the Hanoi metropolitan area – the
criteria for inclusion were:
20
The initial proposal sought to interview students from ethnic minorities. A liaison officer said
there were few students from ethnic minorities and that to be interviewed by a foreigner would
be ‘sensitive’ for both the student and the organisation. I did not pursue this.
84
• Knowledge of public security issues in Vietnam, e.g., officials from
international law enforcement agencies, i.e., United Nations Office on
Drugs and Crime; international agencies, i.e., United Nations
Development Program, Human Rights Watch; international visiting
academics or trainers working with the People’s Police Academy; local
Vietnamese academics engaged in police studies; representatives
from local and international non-government organisations and civil
society who engage with police on public security issues.
The People’s Police Academy has a regulation that any staff or student contact
with a foreigner (inside or outside of training hours or facilities) must be reported
to a supervisor. A non-negotiable condition of the research was that the names
of all PPA staff and students interviewed were to be recorded and made available
to the academy to abide by this regulation. While this presents concerns for
participant anonymity and confidentiality, interviewees were aware of this
regulation and the reporting requirement prior to giving consent to an interview
(see section below on data integrity).
At the PPA, the liaison officers were given a list of criteria for selecting interview
participants. The liaison officers then contacted the heads of relevant
departments explaining the purpose of the research and to ask them (or their
delegate) to seek expressions of interest from staff and students who met the
criteria provided to participate in an interview. Snowball sampling was used where
participants nominated someone else who met the selection criteria. On one
occasion, an interpreter asked the student at the conclusion of an interview if he
could recommend someone else to be part of the research. The student said he
thought one of his friends might be interested. The interpreter encouraged him to
telephone his friend immediately whilst in my presence to arrange a time.
Although the friend did not answer the call, the process indicated that potential
participants were not necessarily vetted (by senior officers) prior to being invited
to speak to me. On most occasions a liaison officer or interpreter arranged the
appointments and interview rooms on site at the academy, however, where it was
convenient for the interviewee I would meet them offsite, in a café or private
residence.
85
Only two student interviewees declined to allow their interviews to be audio
recorded. In a sensitive political environment, interviewees may have considered
audio recording would ensure an accurate record of interview thereby putting
them at ease. Where a person was interviewed more than once, subsequent
interviews were not uniformly audio recorded.
Data analysis
Data collected from all sources were analysed by examining the themes from
policing literature in other countries and identifying broad similarities and
differences with the data from Vietnam. Particular attention was given to areas of
difference so that new themes or new relationships between themes were
identified and explored. The data was collated manually according to themes.
Notably, the themes identified regarding gender in policing (Chapter 8) remained
quite stable throughout the process and resembled many issues identified in
Western literature. In contrast, the analysis regarding becoming and working as
a police officer (Chapters 6 and 7) was adapted numerous times as new themes
emerged which diverged from orthodox literature on police culture. The process
included sifting through hand-written and typed field notes, photographs, and
online sources as well as interview transcripts and sorting them progressively
according to emerging themes (Seidel, 1998).
Research costs
On advice from the Vietnamese Consulate in Sydney, to obtain a visa, the PPA
had to lodge an application on my behalf with the Department of Immigration. I
was issued a three-month education visa, which I extended for a further three
months in-country through the PPA’s International Co-ordination Department for
the standard fee of approximately AUD$240 in total.
87
UNSW provided AUD$5000 towards the cost of flights, accommodation,
translation and some equipment (audio recorder and printer). The researcher
contributed personally where there was a shortfall in expenses.
Most interviews were conducted at the participant’s place of work, during work
hours, and so compensation for time or incidental costs were unnecessary.21 Due
to security concerns, the People’s Police Academy provided interpreters who
were either students or staff at no cost (although there were issues around
availability and potential risks for data integrity, as further discussed below).
Where interviews took place outside the academy, in many cases, participants
paid for drinks or meals (usually between AUD$1.50-20), insisting that I was a
guest in their country and that it was polite for them to pay on my behalf. In several
cases, interviewees said they preferred to pay because it was the proper manner
for a man to do so for a woman even though the meeting was at my request. One
added that he would feel embarrassed in front of the waitress to have a woman
pay for his meal (a $2 bowl of soup). At the conclusion of the fieldwork, some key
facilitators for the study were dined at the researcher’s expense to thank them for
their support.
Limitations
This was the first study of its kind on Vietnamese police, and the first to receive
official endorsement at the Ministerial level. Like other law enforcement agencies,
the Vietnamese police were cautious about what information would be accessible
to an external researcher. In spite of its useful and original contribution to the
literature on the global South, there are a number of limitations to the research,
which are discussed below.
21
Ethics approval provided for $10 reimbursement for interviewees although it was not
expended.
88
I had not identified during my discussions with the liaison officers prior to arriving
in Hanoi. I had to seek a modification to approve these new limitations on
confidentiality and anonymity and I am grateful to my supervisors for addressing
these with the ethics committee at UNSW in my absence. A modification request
for the participant information, consent and confidentiality process was approved
after it was emphasised to the ethics committee that, for police in Vietnam,
surveillance of their interactions with foreigners was a routine condition and,
therefore, not exceptional.
22
2016 was the final year for five-year police degrees. I refer to fourth-year students as final
year as most students will graduate under the new regulations. See Chapter 5 for more details.
89
this practice is that removing identifying data relating to participants’ experience
and specialist fields may adversely affect meaning and obscure important
descriptors informing a specific viewpoint, as argued by Salemink (2014) who
weighed the importance of protecting participants with presenting meaningful
insights.
Participant responses may have been influenced by the fact they had been
informed that their responses may be reported to the President of the Police
Academy. For example, some participants’ responses were at odds with
information sourced from other literature or open sources, which could indicate a
concern for the requirement to report to the President. The circumstances of the
police shape the way they express themselves and reflects the theoretical
framework informing this study – that the notion of the ‘field’, as described by
Bourdieu (1990a) and Chan (1997) produces and shapes the habitus
(dispositions) of police. For example, one male student apologised for being
unable to answer some questions by responding, ‘I’m sorry that I can’t be more
open with you’. Another male student was more explicit about the limitations he
experienced:
Police interview responses that accord with the ‘official line’ are reported
elsewhere (Rowe, 2007) and not unique to Vietnam, although broader cultural
parameters may shape the extent to which police officers deviate from what they
perceive as acceptable to senior officers (Belur, 2014). The fact that some
students and officers apologised for not feeling able to provide more detail or
insights demonstrated an unexpected opening in the police culture. That they
were actively reflecting on the constraints and possible consequences of
90
expressing certain perspectives reveals a sense of agency amongst some of the
students and officers. Accounts provided by research participants to
ethnographers are a presentation of their social reality. Van Maanen (2011, p.
28) emphasises that ‘culture is not strictly speaking a scientific object’, it is an
active creation which is interpreted and written into an ethnography for the reader
who may well have their own interpretation of the text and reflect the findings as
I have presented them in the following chapters.
An overall limitation of the study was that the Police Academy would not allow an
external and independent interpreter which would have aided accuracy. The
research was endorsed by the Deputy Minister of Public Security on the condition
that a staff member from the International Co-operation Department (or appointed
liaison officers) accompany the researcher whilst undertaking fieldwork at the
Police Academy (although in practice I was often left unaccompanied). Any
accompanying staff or students were required to sign a confidentiality agreement
regarding their involvement in the research. Participants were informed of the
requirement for International Co-operation Department staff (or their nominee) to
be present during interviews and were informed that they do not have to
participate if this arrangement is of concern to them. However, it must be noted
that in-country fieldwork supervisor, Dr Khuất Thị Hải Oanh, advised me during a
consultation that an accompanying police officer is likely to put participants at
ease rather than inhibit their involvement; this view is supported by Sowerwine
(2004) who thought having an official and approved ‘research assistant’ meant
villagers may have felt more comfortable speaking with her, as well as acting as
a form of protection for her from potential claims of pursuing ‘politically sensitive’
information.
The use of a police officer or student as an interpreter may have had an effect on
the openness of interviewees. Though local advice was that a police officer
employed as interpreter would make participants more comfortable, it is not clear
from this research to what extent this was the case. On one occasion an
interpreter sought to reassure an interviewee by saying: ‘Be more flexible, give
more information. The project is approved by the MPS [Ministry of Public Security]
so don’t worry’. Although interviews were audio recorded, having an interpreter
present may have been a form of insurance against fear of being misquoted or
accused of releasing confidential information. When participating in a recorded
interview, one Police Academy lecturer, who also acted as interpreter for others,
requested another officer interpret the interview. When asked why he wanted his
own interpreter when his English was quite good, he replied that he was worried
his English wasn’t good enough to express his thoughts as clearly as he wanted
(he participated in a two-hour interview and provided detailed responses).
Indeed, the new interpreter had excellent English, and although the interviewee
in this case went on to interpret further interviews for me, it seems he was less
concerned about his accuracy in conveying to me the ideas of others compared
with his own – if that was, indeed, the reason for the presence of a third person.
This apparent anxiety, of either their level of proficiency in English or being alone
with me in an interview, was not apparent with several other students and officers
who would try their best to speak English without others present.
92
Ethnography or espionage
The motivations of police researchers are often regarded with suspicion by those
being studied, in part due to the potential to report misconduct (Chan, 2012; Chan
et al., 2003; Dixon, 2011; Marks, 2005; Westmarland, 2001). One police officer
remarked that he was not sure whether I was a spy. Although he did not seek a
response from me, I wondered what the difference was. I asked: ‘Why would
someone want to spy on the police in Vietnam?’ He responded: ‘I don’t know.
Maybe to go back to report to their government’. That he was concerned less with
the prospect of reporting to immediate line managers or a domestic body than
with how information may potentially be used by a government abroad may
indicate that the scope associated with risk aversion is wide, and inclusive of a
foreign audience, rather than the more proximate possibility of internal (police)
repercussions. However, I was unsure of the depth of his concern about ‘spying’
or whether his uncertainty was genuine.
I was aware of political sensitivities concerning the study of police in Vietnam and
to avoid risks to participants and myself, I engaged in self-censorship when
pursuing certain lines of questioning. My approach was inconsistent to the extent
that it would often depend on how well I knew the interviewee and others present.
93
Self-censorship was frustrating because I would at times omit questions which,
while not specifically related to my research questions, may have helped me
understand the broader, often political, context of a topic under discussion. One
participant, a person I considered a friend, accused me of straying from my
research topic in response to a general – and, to me, relatively benign – question
about Vietnamese society. Xu (2016) refers to self-censorship in researching
police in China as an ’invisible hand’ which subtly shapes the production of
knowledge, especially since scholars have to consider prospects for publication
when pursuing research topics. Petit (2014, p. 156) refers to researchers in post-
socialist countries as ‘experts’ in self-censorship.
Moral responsibility
This study specifically set out to explore perceptions of police officers and police
culture. Though police culture is a product of the relationship between officers
and the community, the views and experiences of the latter were not the focus of
this study. To an extent, the proscription of my observation of police at stations
communicated to me by my liaison officers provided me with some measure of
immunity against a number of the ethical challenges faced by scholars whose
94
research involves community experiences of policing (Jauregui, 2013; Marks,
2005; Norris, 1993; Reiner, 2000; Rowe, 2007; Westmarland, 2001). Becker
(1967) describes how criticism may be levelled at researchers who side with
participants who may be deemed either ‘deviant’ or, conversely, those to people
holding institutional power. However, a ‘one-sided’ view reflects immersive
approaches to research which is justifiable as long as bias and subjectivity are
acknowledged. One concern with taking an empathetic view when studying police
in Vietnam is that, by portraying police as individuals with personal and family
needs (rather than one-dimensional figures symbolic of the state) justifications
for what may be considered as misconduct may risk giving legitimacy to illegal or
unethical behaviour. For example, there may be different interpretations with
respect to giving or receiving appreciation money, informal payments or bribery.
Despite this, people who are persuaded or coerced into paying these ‘fees’ for
police services (for example, processing paperwork) or to avoid even higher costs
associated with violations (for example, traffic violations) likely feel aggrieved
regardless of the police officer’s personal circumstances.
In her study on police in Uttar Pradesh, India, Jauregui (2013) reflects on the role
of ethnographer as she observed officers frequently inflicting violence on
members of the community – as well as being victims of violence (and bribery)
themselves. She calls for an ethical standpoint of ‘strategic complicity’ which
acknowledges that the ‘so-called “powerful” or authoritative agents … [who] often
are not as hyper-empowered as they seem’ (Jauregui, 2013, p. 147). Thus,
Jauregui (2013, p. 147) argues that ethical engagement with police is a singular
pursuit to critically engage with them at the same time they continue ‘to exist and
contribute to the building of knowledge with [their] own voice’. Belur (2014, p.
190) writes that her research in India simultaneously gave ‘voice’ to police officers
while providing an opportunity to ‘learn from good practice and avoid mistakes’.
Whilst there is widespread knowledge of systemic corruption amongst public
officials in Vietnam, there is also risk of exposing police involved in this study who
discussed the topic with me. The findings seek to draw some attention to the oft-
hidden explanations as to why police engage in such conduct.
95
Illness in the field
Conclusion
The police involved in the study and I navigated our way through discussions
about confidentiality, independence of the research, possibilities for censorship,
and, written and unwritten rules. There was also uneven transparency about the
fact the research was being undertaken at all. On some occasions I was on
display as a VIP at a graduation ceremony and at other times informed to keep a
low profile. In time, I hope that concerns are ameliorated as public security
agencies view academic examination as an opportunity to improve the functions
of policing for the benefit of both the community and the officers tasked with
carrying out the work.
97
Chapter 5: Overview of police history, structures and
organisation in Vietnam
Introduction
In 2015, the 70th anniversary of the People’s Police was marked by the re-opening
and refurbishment of the Hanoi Police Museum in Lý Thường Kiệt Street. Among
the illustrations displayed on the white building’s painted translucent windows
were a white dove (the international symbol of peace), the familiar face of Hồ Chí
Minh, and a traffic police officer, dressed in modern attire, guiding an elderly man
to safety. These illustrations hint at the story that unfolds inside: from the historic
role of police in securing independence and peace for a country under siege to
their present-day tasks of helping people to navigate the challenges posed by
rapid economic development and changing urban life. Inside the museum,
mannequins dressed in various iterations of police uniforms stand alongside a
display of epaulettes indicating police ranks. The walls are adorned with maps,
photographs and descriptions of people, places and events. The curation of
artefacts emphasises what is important in the official history of the police: a faded
typed page, dated September 1949, with the codes and ciphers used by secret
agents of the Hanoi Police; the 1949 Hanoi Police ‘Golden Book’ of the actions
of infiltrators; and wooden plates for creating false French papers. The exhibits
pay tribute to the humble beginnings of the now national People’s Police Force
whose founding ‘agents’ were intelligent, meticulous, systematic and innovative
(Fieldnotes, 2016).
The re-opening of the Hanoi Police Museum is one aspect of what Grossheim
(2018, p. 449) argues is a deliberate campaign aimed at ‘heroizing and
romanticizing the history of the People’s Public Security Forces – simultaneously
legitimizing the VCP’s [Vietnamese Communist Party] one-party rule’. In 2017,
the People’s Police Academy unveiled a statue of Felix Dzerzhinsky, founder of
the first socialist security apparatus in Russia (People's Police Academy, 2017d).
The installation emphasises the Soviet-style roots of the security forces, police
and Communist Party. It is an example of the way the Communist Party uses
‘cultural projects’ to shape a national identity which was the subject of debate as
its forces prepared for the final defeat of the French in northern Vietnam in the
98
1940s-50s (G. E. Dutton et al., 2012; Ninh, 2002). The debates concerned the
extent to which the past should be preserved ‘in order to safeguard the future’ or
be destroyed in order to make way for a new future (Ninh, 2002, p. 57). History
shows that both preservation and destruction occurred as well as a deliberate
construction of a ‘new’ Vietnam.
This chapter focuses on the post-1945 period and the emergence of a police force
similar to our Western understanding of police. It is important to note that
Vietnam’s long history, which dates back thousands of years, has been
influenced by a blend of local and foreign ideas. What is ‘Vietnamese’ cannot
easily be disentangled from these influences (see G. E. Dutton et al., 2012;
Goscha, 2016a; Taylor, 2013). I draw on aspects of Vietnam’s history to provide
an overview of the field of policing,23 including a history of the People’s Police
Force, its relationship to the political system and other institutions, formal and
informal mechanisms for crime and social control, the legal and organisational
framework, and an introduction to police recruitment policies and education.
The Hanoi Police Museum (2017) honours police ‘who were engaged in the fight
against the traitors and the collaborators of the French and the Japanese in order
to protect the Party and the revolutionary movements and participate in the
insurrection of 1945’. Specifically, the museum pays tribute to police units
including: ‘Red Militia’, ‘Labour-peasants Militia’, ‘Honor Groups for the
Repression of the Traitors’, and ‘Reconnaissance Groups’, some of which
operated in the decade or so leading up to the August 1945 overthrow of the
colonial French forces in Hanoi under the leadership of Hồ Chí Minh. The actions
of Vietnamese spies and use of force by organised groups fighting the French
(and Japanese) on the basis of patriotism and nationalism, were the illegal
beginnings of what would later become the Vietnamese People’s Police Force
(Tởng Cục Cảnh Sát Nhân Dân, 1995a, p. 11). As discussed in Chapter 2, the
23
The principal focus of fieldwork for this study was in Hanoi, thus, the brief history provided
here describes the development of police in northern Vietnam. For the development of a police
force in the south see, among others, Rosenau (2005), Elkind (2016), and Hoyt (1956).
99
victory was short-lived and the French military won out again the following year,
extending their rule for almost a decade (Thayer, 2010, 425). The date of the
August Revolution, August 19, 1945, 24 is now a national holiday to celebrate
police stipulated by law (National Assembly, 2014, Article 6). The remit of police
in this period blended foreign and domestic security concerns. The official history
of public security forces in the 1930-40s refers to their role in ‘maintain[ing] order
and security in the villages and communes’ under the control of communist forces
(Cổng thông tin điện tử Bộ Công an, 2018). However, it is noteworthy that the
Hanoi Police Museum emphasises the ‘revolutionary’ activities of early police, as
per the following summary, on display at the museum:
The first police unit took its name from its colonial designation, the Tonkin
Security Police, established in 1945 in northern Vietnam. 25 The first formal
proclamation of police authority came with Edict 23 (Sắc lệnh 23, 1946) which
established the ‘Việt Nam Công an Vụ’ (Vietnam Public Security
Service/Department). The edict gave jurisdiction for police to: detect information
and documents relating to both internal and external national security threats;
devise and implement strategies to prevent political disturbances from both
Vietnamese and foreign persons; and to investigate and pursue suspects for
prosecution in court (Sắc lệnh 23, 1946). Official documents describe the role of
Vietnamese police and security services as being involved in educating the
people about political ideology and Communist Party policies (Tởng Cục Cảnh
24
One of the first signs inside the Hanoi Police Museum states under the heading ‘1945-1946,
The Protection of the Revolutionary Government, On August 19th, 1945 the victorious
revolution in Hanoi results in independence and liberty. This date is called: “Day of the Police”
from the “Soviet Movement” in Nghệ-Tĩnh in 1930-31’.
25
Also in August 1945 the Reconnaissance Service was established in central Vietnam and the
National Self Defense in southern Vietnam (Hanoi Police Museum, 2015)
100
Sát Nhân Dân, 1995a). In 1946, a Decision was passed stipulating the
organisational structure according to national, regional and provincial jurisdictions
(Nghị định 121-NV/NĐ, 1946).
In 1953, Hồ Chí Minh signed Edict 141/SL (Sắc lệnh 141/SL, 1953) which
upgraded the status of security apparatus to a sub-Ministry of Public Security
(renamed the Ministry of Interior). The sub-Ministry comprised seven
departments, among them the predecessor to the People’s Police Force and a
Department of Political Protection. Their tasks included fighting ‘spies and
reactionaries’, protecting the national economy, counter and international
espionage, eliminating ‘social evils’ and keeping public order and safety as well
as managing prisons and ‘educating prisoners’ (Sắc lệnh 141/SL, 1953, Article
2).
In July 1956, Decision 982/TT (1956) established the People’s Police which was
tasked with building the force ‘professionally, politically, militarily and culturally’
(Tởng Cục Cảnh Sát Nhân Dân, 1995b). Further development of the structure
and organisation were stipulated eight years later with Decree 34/LCT (1962). In
1981, Decision 250/CP established the General Police Department and set out
different levels of administration for the national police force under the Ministry of
Interior (later reverted to the Ministry of Public Security) (Tởng Cục Cảnh Sát
Nhân Dân, 1995c, pp. 136-139). The police continue to develop to meet modern
demands although the political roots of police are still celebrated. In 2015, the
Government awarded the People’s Police Force a Gold Star (for the fourth time)
and paid tribute to the ‘revolutionary heroes’ and ‘martyrs’ who fought for national
independence 70 years ago (Nhân Dân, 2015).
The Police and the country’s ruling Communist Party have been inextricably
linked from the time of the August Revolution in 1945. In addition to policing crime
and political opponents, they were also tasked with mobilising popular support for
the Communist Party in the lead up to their 1954 defeat of French military forces
in Điện Biên Phủ and of the American forces in 1975 (Tởng Cục Cảnh Sát Nhân
Dân, 1995a). Under the Constitution, the police are considered as a ‘well-trained
101
regular army’ (2013, Article 67) and must be loyal to the political and government
institutions. Reference to the police as an ‘army’ highlights the naissance of
Vietnamese policing through the struggle against foreign occupation. Indeed, the
Law on People’s Public Security Forces (National Assembly, 2014) jointly
outlines the organisation, operations, functions, tasks and powers of police, the
army and intelligence agencies in one proclamation. The Constitution outlines the
centrality of loyalty to the Party:
The relationship between the police and Party is made further explicit under the
Law on People’s Public Security Forces (National Assembly, 2014) which states:
Opposition to the Party is a crime (National Assembly, 2015a, Article 109). The
revised Criminal Code prohibits activities which oppose the Government and
Party, or disseminates distorted or fabricated information about the state (Article
117). 26 The implications for policing are that the policing of anti-Government
26
These powers were used against pro-democracy activists, notably ‘Bloc 8406’ where, in
2006, activists were arrested and eventually sentenced to imprisonment for their campaign (C.
A. Thayer, 2009b, 2014). Since 2006, anti-Government sentiment has expanded from a narrow
pro-democracy focus to target other aspects of discontent among the population, particularly
102
sentiment requires surveillance and intervention for ‘making, storing, spreading
information, materials, items for the purpose of opposing’ the state (Article 117).
The relationship between the police and government is such that anti-police
sentiment equates to anti-government sentiment which means that people critical
of police may be committing a crime.
Codes of ethics or conduct are sources of authority to guide the ethical decisions
and actions of police. In Vietnam, there are three main guides which have evolved
over time. Hồ Chí Minh first set out standards for conduct in 1948 with ‘Uncle Hồ's
6 Teachings to the Public Security Forces’.
environmental degradation, corruption and handling of the relationship with China – especially
disputed sovereignty in the South China Sea (East Sea) (Thayer, 2014).
27
A slightly revised version was later published in the History of the Vietnamese People’s Police
by the Ministry of Interior (Tởng Cục Cảnh Sát Nhân Dân, 1995a, pp. 174-175).
103
In 2008, the Minister of Public Security issued Decision 09/2008/QĐ-BCA (Bộ
trưởng Bộ Công an, 2008) to update the ‘5 Oaths’ and ’10 Disciplines’, last
revised in 1997. The 5 Oaths of the Vietnamese People’s Police Force are similar
to the first five (of six) ‘obligations and responsibilities’ found in Article 30 of the
Law on People’s Public Security Forces (National Assembly, 2014). All six are
detailed in Table 2.
1. To be absolutely loyal to the Fatherland, the People, the Party and the
State.
2. To strictly abide by the line of the Party, policies and laws of the State,
regulations of the People’s Public Security Forces, and directives and
orders of their superiors.
3. To be honest, brave, vigilant and ready to fight and fulfil all assigned
tasks.
6. To be answerable before law and their superiors for their own orders, the
execution of their superiors’ orders and the performance by their
subordinates. Upon receipt of commanders’ orders, if having grounds to
believe that such orders are unlawful, to immediately report them to the
persons who have issued the orders; if still having to obey the orders, to
promptly report them to the immediate superiors of the order issuers and
to bear no responsibility for the consequences of the execution of such
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orders.
Article 1.
Public Security officers and soldiers must not have any word or act which can affect
the prestige and honour of the Motherland and the Vietnam Communist Party, or
harm the stability and strength of the State of the Social Republic of Vietnam, or
bring discredit to the People’s Public Security Forces’ honour and tradition.
Article 2.
Public Security officers and soldiers must absolutely comply with and fully implement
the People’s Public Security Forces’ regulations, always be ready to receive and
successfully fulfil their assigned tasks.
Article 3.
Public Security officers and soldiers must strictly observe the law, regulations and
instructions regarding secrecy and confidentiality of the Party, the State and the
People’s Public Security Forces.
Article 4.
Public Security officers and soldiers must always be upright, honest, and protect the
rightness or challenge and take action against misconduct and violations; and must
not hide or report untruth to the Party, the State and the People’s Public Security
Forces.
Article 5.
Public Security officers and soldiers will always uphold the spirit of unconditional
service to the people. They must always have a warm, polite attitude and retain
proportionate behaviour when contact with people, and respect older persons, love
105
children; must ensure the principle of non-bias treatment to women, help and support
disabled people.
Public Security officers and soldiers must always make sure that their behaviour or
word will not be deemed by the public impolite, rude, authoritarian, troublesome, or
unreasonably slandering others and the people.
Article 6.
Public Security officers and soldiers will constantly study and develop themselves,
strictly implement fundamental ethical values: Thrift, Integrity, Just, Impartiality. They
will not misuse or abuse their powers, positions, duties or work reputation to gain
benefits for themselves or other persons. They must be determined not to engage in
any act of corruption, not to embezzle, waste; not to give, to ask for or accept any
form of bribery in any circumstance and condition. They must also strive towards
exemplary implementation of the cultural lifestyle.
Article 7.
Public Security officers and soldiers must resolutely struggle to defeat all
conspiracies, activities that harm the Motherland’s security and order; cause damage
to the State property; constitute a risk to the health and safety of the people as well
as their legitimate rights and interests. They must not harm decent people, not shield
evildoers; not leave out criminals, and not unjustly punish innocent people.
Article 8.
Public Security officers and soldiers will constantly study to raise and improve their
awareness of politics, professional competence, law, as well as their working
capacities; in order to make a contribution to build a regular, skilled and step-by-step
modern Revolutionary Public Security Forces.
Article 9.
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Article 10.
Public Security officers and soldiers must strictly implement the Party's policies,
guidelines, and development lines; the laws of the State and the regulations of the
local authorities of the place of residence.
In sum, the three main codes of conduct for police are: ‘Uncle Ho's 6 Teachings
to the Public Security Forces’, the ‘5 Oaths of the Vietnamese People’s Police
Force’, and, the ‘10 Disciplines of the Vietnamese Public Security Forces’.28 The
codes of ethics are consistent in their requirement for loyalty to the Party and
Government, to act in service of the community, to cultivate one’s own attributes
and correct behaviour, and to be committed to executing their duties. It is notable
that ethical guidelines began to include references to police being answerable to
the law, which were not present in the earlier teachings. This may reflect the
emerging narrative of adherence to the ‘rule of law’ which, as Nicholson (2010)
suggests, may be more rhetoric that reality. Notwithstanding, Vietnam’s
integration into the global economy has demanded convergence with Western
legal models in some ways, although legal scholars argue that inconsistencies
remain, and a linear adoption of Western legal reforms should not be assumed
(Gillespie, 2010; Nicholson, 2010).
28
6 điều Bác dạy, 5 lời thề, 10 điều kỷ luật công an nhân dân cần nhớ. In 2016, the General
Police Department was working with the United Nations Office on Drugs and Crime on a new
and comprehensive ‘Code of Conduct’ with involvement from local and foreign consultants. It
was yet to be finalised at the time of writing.
107
Party People’s Committees sit above the Police Chief at each administrative level
and disputes between Party policy and law are typically resolved in favour of the
former (Sidel, 2008). The Law on People’s Public Security Forces (National
Assembly, 2014, Article 1) sets out ‘principles of organization and operation;
functions, tasks and powers of, and regimes and policies’ for the People’s Police
Force (PPF) (and People's Security Force (PSF)). The General Police
Department (GPD) oversees functional departments which change depending on
local and international crime trends and official responses, including Department
of Drug Investigation and Control, Environment Police Department, Economic
Police Department, Department of Anti-Smuggling, Department of Hi-Tech Crime
Investigation and the Department of National Population Data Management.
Current legal frameworks guiding police activities and jurisdiction are found
among a hierarchy of laws, regulations, decisions and circulars which may be
issued at various levels of Party and Government. Official policies can be vague,
leaving room for local interpretation at lower levels resulting in uneven
implementation nationally. The Criminal Code (National Assembly, 2015a, Article
4.1) authorises the police (and prosecutors and courts) to ‘provide guidance and
assistance for other state agencies, organizations and individuals in prevention
and fight against crimes, supervision and education of criminals in the
community’. The Criminal Code sets out what may be considered mitigating and
aggravating factors for some crimes and sentencing guidelines, although in many
cases more specific details on the nature of crimes, their investigation, and
jurisdiction for investigation are found in other legislation. Some major pieces of
legislation relevant to police include: the Criminal Procedure Code (National
Assembly, 2015b), the Law on Organisation of Criminal Investigation Bodies
(National Assembly, 2015c), the Law on Handling Administrative Violations
(National Assembly, 2012), and the Circular on the Criminal Investigation Mission
in the People’s Public Security (Bộ Công an, 2014).
The police with whom the community comes into most contact is at the lowest
administrative level – the ward or commune. Police at this level have a wide remit
regarding crime control and administrative services. They are described as ‘a
part-time armed force in the organizational system of the People's Police, acting
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as the core in the movement [to mobilise] "all people [to] protect national security
and maintain social order and safety"’ (National Assembly, 2008b, Article 3.1).
Though the Chief and senior members of a ward police station usually require a
degree qualification, many subordinates have a Police College qualification
requiring two years of study which has a lower entrance exam requirement.
However, this does not preclude them from continuing education at the PPA at a
later date. In fact, if they are already in the employment of the MPS they receive
bonus points in the eligibility scoring process. In some cases, at the lowest levels,
volunteers and retirees can work in supporting roles at police stations in plain
clothes. Others lacking formal police education can don a uniform and perform
basic traffic or public order tasks without being on the official payroll as
remuneration is received through local arrangements (especially in rural areas).
One example of neighbourhood patrols is explored further in Chapter 7. The
Ordinance on Commune Police (National Assembly, 2008b) outlines their tasks,
which include, inter alia:
• apply measures to prevent and combat crimes and other law violations
related to security, social order and safety (Article 3.2);
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• sanction administrative violations; make dossiers proposing the
application of other administrative sanctions against violators ... (Article
9.8); and,
As per Article 9.6 above, it is the responsibility of police to manage the household
registration system which was modelled on a similar system in China. The system
involved issuing a booklet to each household to record the details of all residents
(Vietnam's Household Registration System, 2016). People could not relocate
without the approval of authorities, the intention being to control rural-to-urban
migration and to monitor any potential political opposition. Though there is greater
flexibility for migration nowadays, the system is important for accessing education
and social services. Since 1964, the system has been managed by the MPS and
so the process of updating or amending household registers has been a key
reason for police-community interaction. Home visits by police for the purpose of
checking household registers have been linked to informal payments to police
(McKernan & McWhirter, 2009). In 2017, the system was upgraded to allow
residents to update their status online, which may change the nature of police
interaction with the community.
Given the broad functions of police in Vietnam, and the fact that precise police
numbers are kept confidential, it can be difficult to estimate their number,
although the figure of approximately 1.2 million has been reported (Gray, 2000;
Thayer, 2008). In 2016, the Politburo ordered the MPS to streamline its
bureaucracy, cut unnecessary departments and reduce recruitment in order to
decrease budget spending (Do, 2018).29
29
Although the cuts were announced in 2016, fieldwork was undertaken before they had effect
which limited exploration of their potential impact.
110
verification by local authorities where one lives, followed by becoming a Party
member through official training, or a member of the Hồ Chí Minh Youth Union.
The Circular on Regulations on Admission to the People’s Police (Bộ Công An,
2016) outlines criteria for entry including age limits: 20 years old for students or
30 years old for officials, police and soldiers already on the MPS payroll (6.2.b).
Student entrants must be unmarried and have no children to meet ‘moral
standards’ (6.2). Men must be 1.64 cm and 48 kg or above; women must be 1.58
cm and 45 kg or above.30 Applicants whose parents are serving or retired police
or public security officers can receive bonus ‘points’ on top of their competitive
examination score to be considered for entry to the PPA. Female applicants must
not exceed 15 per cent of the total allocation of police recruits. In sum, these
criteria mean men, under 20 years old, who have family or relatives in the security
forces are preferred candidates.
The rank structure in Vietnam reflects a military approach. An officer must serve
a set number of years at each rank,31 unless authorised for earlier promotion by
exemption.32 In order to be considered for promotion, an officer ‘must fully meet
the set criteria on political quality and professional qualifications’ (National
Assembly, 2014, Article 2) which may include in-service political ideology courses
and Masters level or above degrees. Table 4 outlines the rank structure and
salary range for the category. The table also highlights the different ages at which
men and women are expected to retire and can access their social security
30
There are some variations on entry requirements for ethnic minorities to assist applicants
although overall numbers recruited are still subject to a quota.
31
Law on the People’s Public Security Forces (National Assembly, 2014, Article 21.3(a))
Durations for rank promotion consideration:
Operation non-commissioned officers and officers:
Corporal to sergeant: 1 year; Sergeant to sergeant major: 1 year; Sergeant major to second
lieutenant: 2 years; Second lieutenant to lieutenant: 2 years; Lieutenant to senior lieutenant: 3
years; Senior lieutenant to captain: 3 years; Captain to major: 4 years; Major to lieutenant
colonel: 4 years; Lieutenant colonel to senior lieutenant colonel: 4 years; Senior lieutenant
colonel to colonel: 4 years; Colonel to major general: 4 years; The minimum time limit for
general rank promotion is 4 years.
32
Law on People’s Public Security Forces (National Assembly, 2014, Article 2(c)) ‘People's
Public Security officers, non-commissioned officers and soldiers, who record particularly
outstanding achievements in crime prevention and fighting and professional activities, may be
considered for a skip in ranks; if they record particularly outstanding achievements in work,
scientific research or study, they may be considered for ahead-of-time rank promotion.’
111
benefits. Officers can apply for an extension if they want to work beyond the set
retirement age.
Table 4. Rank, retirement age and salaries of the People’s Police Force
Professional officers and non- Retirement age Salary
commissioned officers rangea
Male Femaleb
Generals - Colonel 60 55 11,180,000–
(4 ranks) - Senior lieutenant 13,520,000
colonel
- Lieutenant colonel
- Major
Field officers - Colonel 60 55 10,400,000
(4 ranks) - Senior lieutenant 58 55 9,490,000
colonel
- Lieutenant colonel 55 53 8,580,000
- Major 7,800,000
Company - Captain 53 53 5,460,000–
officers (4 ranks) - Senior lieutenant 7,020,000
- Lieutenant
- Second lieutenant
Non- - Corporal 4,160,000–
commissioned - Sergeant 4,940,000
officers - Warrant officer
(3 ranks)
a. Salary (in Vietnamese đồng for period 1/7/2017–31/12/2017. Base salary rate does not
include seniority allowance and executive compensation but has a deduction for social
insurance expenses.
b. Lower age limits for women’s retirement hinders women’s opportunities for promotion,
especially given they have often taken time out of the workforce for family and child rearing
reasons (ISDS 2015). Source: Law on People's Public Security Forces (National Assembly,
2014) Articles 21 & 28. Salary ranges provided to author by PPA.
Police accountability
The People’s Police Force (PPF) is audited and supervised by government and
Party bodies (National Assembly, 2014, Article 11.1). The police (and all
Government bodies) function under supervision of the Communist Party at each
administrative level. For example, the Chief of Police (at ward, district and
provincial levels) must obey instructions from the People’s Council and People’s
Committee at the corresponding level. Each Police Chief confronts the difficulty
of being subordinate to superiors in both the police and the political hierarchies.
Despite having some drawbacks, this may allow for selective enforcement in
operational decisions (Koh, 2001, 2006). For example, Koh (2001, pp. 290-291)
describes how ward police could avoid following instructions from Party officials
112
with respect to prosecuting illegal karaoke bars by ‘play[ing] one chain of
command against another when they receive orders that they do not like to carry
out’. The MPS also has specific inspection powers outlined in the Circular on the
Criminal Investigation Mission in the People’s Public Security (Bộ Công an, 2014)
which audits police performance.
The Criminal Procedure Code (National Assembly, 2015b) outlines avenues for
citizen complaints against police as well as compliance oversight by state
prosecutors, but there are no independent bodies where complainants can seek
recourse. Responsibilities for oversight are also given to the Vietnam Fatherland
Front (VFF), the body encompassing mass member organisations of the Party
and a form of citizen supervision. The Law states their role is in both supporting
and supervising the activities of the police:
33
During a prosecution, officers ‘must not wear the public security signs, rank insignias and
badges when being prosecuted, held in custody or detention’ and if sentenced to imprisonment
‘they shall naturally be deprived of the public security signs, rank insignias and badges when
court judgments come into force’ (National Assembly, 2014, Article 41.3).
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strata to participate in the All People Protect the National
Security movement, coordinate and collaborate with and
assist the People’s Public Security Forces in performing
their tasks and building the People’s Public Security Forces,
and supervising the implementation of the law on the
People’s Public Security. (National Assembly, 2014, Article
11.2)
Though this article attributes responsibilities for oversight, the VFF and its
subsidiaries do not have formal mechanisms for holding police to account.
In Vietnam, media reportage is controlled by the state. The 2018 World Press
Freedom Index ranked Vietnam 175th out of 180 countries (Reporters Without
Borders, 2018). The Ministry of Culture and Information controls the publication
of information, however, growing internet and social media usage has made
regulation of information by the state more difficult. Despite repression efforts,
poor police practices can be exposed online, which sometimes results in formal
disciplinary actions against officers or public apologies. The Government has
issued a raft of legislation instituting firewalls and has blocked services providers
and websites snot in accord with official policy or sentiment (Thayer, 2014).
Although certain freedoms are protected by law, they are undermined and
overruled by other legislation. For example, the Criminal Code (National
Assembly, 2015a, Article 167) stipulates it is a crime to infringe ‘upon freedom of
speech, freedom of the press, the right of access to information, and the right to
protest of citizens’ but these are limited by prohibitions on use of the internet as
detailed in a Government Decree on internet usage (2008, Article 6.1 (a)-(c)):
In 2015, two young men were sentenced to six months jail for using Facebook to
spread ‘defamatory content and tarnishing the image of police’ in Hải Phòng, a
major city in Vietnam’s north (Voice of America, 2015). The post in question
advised people to avoid a police checkpoint, and was determined to have
contained the imputation that police were collecting bribes. In 2013, a news article
reported that police had drafted a regulation which sought to ban people,
journalists in particular, from photographing or filming on-duty police, especially
traffic police. It was reported that an agency within the Ministry of Justice had
reviewed the document and found it contained provisions contrary to existing law
(Tran, 2013). More recent reports, however, suggest that this type of legislation
is being reconsidered (Hoa, 2017). Such regulation would act to limit the ways in
which police in Vietnam might be held to account as well as, more broadly, place
constraints on necessary press freedoms essential for a scrutiny of power that is
open and transparent.
In January 2015, Vietnam joined the United Nations Human Rights Council for a
two-year term, and was urged to make improvements in a number of key areas
including: freedom of expression, association, assembly and movement,
eradication of the death penalty, treatment of prisoners, arbitrary detention and
the use of torture and violence by authorities. The revised Constitution (2013)
shifted provisions concerning human rights from Chapter 5 to Chapter 2 which
may be an indication the Government is taking human rights issues more
seriously. Though some human rights observers see the revised Constitution as
an improvement, it is criticised for being rhetorical and having limited impact in
practice (Human Rights Watch, 2014b) as many provisions granting specific
rights are subject to legislative constraints.
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Academia and police education
Vietnam follows the Confucian ethic of valuing education in that a degree should
be a requirement for people holding government positions. In 1484, the Emperor
Lê Thánh Tông paid tribute to the country’s early scholars by building the Temple
of Literature in central Hanoi where 116 steles of carved blue stone turtles were
erected bearing elaborate motifs to honour talent and encourage study. In 2012,
14 kilometres away from the original, a miniature Temple of Literature was built
at the PPA as a means to encourage a culture of learning and scientific education
– the first replica to be constructed on the grounds of a university (People's Police
Academy, 2017f). Vietnam inherited the Confucian examination system which
focused on a curriculum including ‘philosophy, literature, history and government’
(Taylor, 2013, p. 208). In order to sit civil service exams in the 15th century,
candidates had to undergo preliminary tests which included ‘an investigation into
one’s family history’ and ‘an evaluation of one’s moral character’ (Taylor, 2013,
p. 207). Despite the flux in Vietnam’s political history, an emphasis on the moral
character of not only individuals but also their family continues under the
Communist system. A family member’s criminal record can be justification for
refusing a person’s entry to the police occupation.
34
The People’s Police University (PPU) (Đại học Cảnh sát Nhân dân) is in Hồ Chí Minh City,
catering to the southern provinces. The PPA ranks higher that the PPU in terms of political and
regulatory status. The PPU was not the subject of study for this research. Graduates generally
work in the north if graduating from the PPA, or south if graduating from the PPU. Sometimes
police must undertake secondments away from their home for several years.
35
National education requirements demand the PPA must offer some compulsory subjects even
though they may not relate directly to police work.
117
aspirations and aptitudes suitable to public security work’ (National Assembly,
2014, Article 6.1). The PPA is increasingly trying to situate itself as one of the
country’s top ranked universities. Entry into police and public security universities
has become more difficult than for medical and economics degrees, requiring a
higher examination score. This is partly attributed to the fact police and public
security degrees are free and provide food and accommodation (Vu, 2017; also
see Chapter 6), and graduates are guaranteed a job in an environment where
many of their tertiary-qualified peers remain unemployed.
Students at the PPA study one of 14 major courses over four years 36 and
graduate with a bachelor’s degree (see Chapter 6). The tertiary model and
curriculum design mean police are both specialists and professionals, which has
implications for the way officers are allocated duties and promotional prospects
(as discussed in more detail in Chapter 7). In contrast to the PPA, ward or
commune police are usually vocationally trained at smaller decentralised police
colleges over two years.37 As bachelor’s, master’s and doctoral qualifications are
a prerequisite for promotion to some positions, education is an important
consideration for police seeking to move up the ranks (National Assembly, 2014,
Article 22.1).
36
Reduced from five years in 2016 following a restructure.
37
This study did not examine police colleges.
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Table 4 outlines the PPA’s major units, departments and functions, and indicates
the manner in which the university is structured according to political and union
committees, academic faculties, and logistics and administration.38
Table 5. Major units, departments and functions of the People’s Police Academy
2 Boards
- Board of Education
- Board of Science
- Complimentary and Disciplinary Board
- Promotion Board
- Cultural & Sport Board
- Party Committee
- Youth Union
- Women Union
- Labour Union
- Political Theories
- Criminal Psychology
- Laws
- Foreign languages
- Martial Art & Military Training
- Basic Professional Studies
- Administrative Management on Social Order Safety
- Crime Scene Investigation
- Criminal Investigation for Hot Traces
- Anti-Economy Related Crime Investigation
- Anti-Drug Related Crime Investigation
- Criminal Investigation for Proceedings
- Traffic Police
- Prisoner Education & Rehabilitation
- Post-Graduate Training
- Training Management
- Student Management
- Scientific Research Management
- Personnel Management
- Organization Movement Management
38
Table 4 details the PPA structure in 2013. There have since been changes including
additional academic streams and the establishment of in-service training centres. The response
to my request for an updated version was that further changes underway and made available
once finalised.
119
- Administration Management
- Food Supply
- Material Supply
- Centre for Information, Library and Material Resources
- Centre for Vocational Trainings (Drivers & Guards)
- Review of Social Order Science and Education
As a university, staff at the PPA are engaged in research activities, and the
publishing of books and journal articles. Criminological research in Vietnam has
been shaped by the country’s unique history and carried out under the control of
the MPS. In 2017, the PPA celebrated the 10th anniversary of founding the Centre
for Criminology and Criminal Investigation Research referring to it as ‘one of the
leading scientific research units in the field’ in the country (People's Police
Academy, 2018a). Accessibility to research is often guarded due to ‘national
security’ and critical exploration of state responses to crime is limited to outsiders
(Cox, 2012). The research agenda of the PPA follows directions laid out by the
Central Police Party Committee (Decision N0.04 of Central Police Party
Committee, Programme No.306, Instruction No. 02 of the Minister of the Public
Security) (People's Police Academy, 2009). In 2017, Lieutenant-General Nguyễn
Xuân Yêm, Director of the PPA, published Protection of national security and
social order in the new context, a book which, as described in an official review,
‘applies the basic principles of Marxist-Leninism, Ho Chi Minh’s [t]hought and the
basic views of [the] Party and Government to analyze the practice of national
innovation and protection of national security and social order recently’ (People's
Police Academy, 2017a). The requirement for police to be Party members
necessarily means policing scholarship is a product of the political establishment.
Conclusion
121
through state-controlled media, and anyone seeking to publish or convey
viewpoints contrary to its official history can be punished. Though social media
provides many new avenues for disrupting media control, it also presents
opportunities for the Government to define new crimes to which police can
respond.
Police education and training in the UK have been criticised for being too short
and too legalistic, leaving recruits ill-prepared for the complexities of policing
(HMIC, 2002). By contrast, the bachelor’s degree for Vietnamese police,
combined with recruitment policies, means the Academy is a site for young
people’s foray into four years of university life. Efforts to improve the nature and
status of police education have led to revisions in the tertiary qualifications
awarded by the PPA. The Academy now delivers master’s and doctoral degrees
for police staff, lecturers and others seeking promotion at district, provincial and
national levels, providing police tertiary education with elements of both cultural
and economic forms of capital. The shorter, two-year period of college education
that lower-level police in Vietnam receive has been criticised for being
inadequate, especially given their frontline role (Human Rights Watch, 2014a) –
albeit, without effective oversight, more training may not produce the required
results.
The policing field in the global North has been impacted by the move towards
workplace diversity (for example, gender, ethnicity, age) as a means of increasing
accountability to and legitimacy with the communities they serve. This diverges
from the experience in Vietnam. In Vietnam, application to the police is largely
through post-high school national examinations as well as meeting criteria
regarding ‘correct’ political ethics, and, age, height and marital status. The quota
for female applicants acts as a ceiling due to the high number of applicants, thus,
limits gender diversity.39 This may be due to lack of cultural or legal recourse to
pursue litigation against discrimination, as well as a cultural emphasis placed on
harmony, which means the parameters for disputing official policies or being
39
This study did not set out to explore the recruitment or policing of ethnic minorities although
occasionally participants made brief references the issue, suggesting a sensitivity about the
topic.
122
confrontational are limited. The topic of gender in policing is discussed in more
detail in Chapter 8.
The field of policing in Vietnam has some distinct characteristics.40 The police
emerged amid political and military upheavals resulting in an overlap of bodies
responsible for national security. This is in stark contrast to, for example, the
London Metropolitan Police Force, whose founder Robert Peel deliberately
sought to distinguish from the army through distinct uniforms and (lack of visible)
weapons. The police continue to function under the dual subordination of the
MPS (police hierarchy) and the Party. Enduring insecurity has been described as
creating a sensibility among Vietnamese to the threat of foreign invasion (Gillen,
2011). The positioning of the police (and security forces more broadly) is,
therefore, an important source of capital for the legitimacy of the one-party state,
and is promoted to develop a ‘strong corporate identity’ (Grossheim, 2018, p.
439). The narrative of the police as depicted in the Hanoi Police Museum
emphasises their initial role as a political force, but the imagery then transforms
them to be more reflective of the public police seen elsewhere. Police identity is
underscored by a cultural appreciation for tertiary education in which the Police
Academy situates itself and competes with the country’s top universities. The
following chapter will explore some of the individual experiences police have with
becoming and working as a police officer.
40
It should be noted it has a long history of international influences from China and other parts
of Asia, the Soviet Union, France, and, in more recent times, Western countries.
123
Chapter 6: Learning to be a police officer
Introduction
The tall yellow painted buildings, set among an expansive and neatly paved
parade ground at Vietnam’s premier police training institution, appear suddenly
from behind the roofs of shopfronts lining the road. Through widely spaced bars
of a black metal gate,41 a statue of Hồ Chí Minh is clearly visible on the far side
of the parade ground. The golden coloured full-body statue of Vietnam’s first
President stands high upon a reddish pillar. Affectionately known as Uncle Hồ,
he is poised, his left arm by his side and his right raised in front of him, fingers
curled except the index finger which is pointed gently as if trying to convey an
important lesson to his audience. Indeed, his life and lessons are honoured in the
Academy’s Hồ Chí Minh Chamber, purported to hold over 600 documents
pertaining to ‘the great leader, hero of national liberation, [and] cultural celebrity
and about the leaders of the Party and State through the ages’ (People's Police
Academy, 2017f). Behind Hồ Chí Minh are similarly brassy busts of the unified
Vietnam’s four Ministers of Public Security. Not only are the statues a statement
on the direct link between the Vietnam Communist Party and the People’s Police
Force, they also serve as a reminder of the role of police in territorial integrity,
evidenced by the large banner inscribed with the words ‘Vì an ninh tổ quốc’ (‘For
national security’) draped behind the statues.
In this chapter, the Vietnamese police training and work environment which
construct one aspect of the ‘field’ are examined (Bourdieu, 1990a). The objective
field, which includes, for example, the distribution of resources and constraints
(capital) in the Academy and workplace, the training curriculum and the history of
the country and the police force, frames the social world for officers. The chapter
draws on interviews with police students and officers to explore the nature of
policing in Vietnam and the experiences of police at work or in training which
shapes their individual dispositions, or habitus (Chan, 1997; Chan et al., 2003).
The following sections detail that there are diverse views and experiences among
the police in Vietnam. This highlights that the relational dynamic – between the
41
The front gate to the People’s Police Academy was upgraded in 2017.
124
environment and an individual – can produce different experiences of the
socialisation processes in learning to be a police officer.
The status of and value placed on education in Vietnam is a journey from temple
to tertiary institution. Its influences are located in both Vietnamese history and
culture and a history of foreign influence. Adjacent to Lenin’s quotation is another
recently erected sign, this one in English: ‘Innovation in police education and
training for a safer and more secure Vietnam’. Taken together, the Russian and
English signage is unapologetic about deriving its inspiration from foreign
sources. Even though they require translation for many of the students, the signs
indicate a symbolic link to socialism and a pragmatic relationship to English
language, most likely due to its current global dominance. The signs indicate a
deeper current central to Vietnamese culture: the importance of a tertiary
42
Lenin’s quote is often translated as ‘learn’ rather than ‘study’. “Về chuyện học, Chủ tịch Hồ
Chí Minh có câu nói rất hay: "Học ở trường, học ở sách vở, học lẫn nhau và học ở nhân dân",
có thể dịch là "Learn in school, learn from the books, learn from each other and learn from the
people".”
http://vnexpress.net/tin-tuc/giao-duc/hoc-tieng-anh/phan-biet-learn-va-study-3586904.html
125
education. This belief is instilled in young people and across social class for
pragmatic reasons. As one male police student put it: ‘My mother told me to study
hard to get into university otherwise I would end up poor and, on the street, selling
lemons’.
By design of the police regulations, new recruits in Vietnam are young, unmarried
and usually recent male high school graduates. It is expected they enter this
phase of adult life with optimism towards their chosen career. In interviews for
this thesis, a string of police students repeated the common refrain: that they
joined the police because it was their ‘dream’ since childhood. This was not a
surprise finding. In some cases, the interviewees reported their dream was
spurred by memories of their parents donning the green police uniform. In others,
they were inspired to sign up by having watched locally produced television
dramas that represented police as crime-fighters protecting social order and
national security. Reinforcing these ideals, new recruits are treated to a stage
spectacle by current students about the “Ước mơ màu xanh” (green dream) of
joining the security forces (People's Police Academy, 2017h). The heroic and
noble characteristics associated with being a police officer were also reflected in
the colloquial referent siêu nhân xanh (green superman):
126
Some students and officers were more explicit in describing the role of police in
Vietnam’s independence and attributed high status to policing as a result of this
legacy. In addition, policing was described as essential for enabling Vietnam’s
prosperity by enforcing laws against economic crimes post đổi mới (economic
renovation) to facilitate business growth and to protect environmental
degradation through unauthorised development.
Responses of this kind reflect the general sense from interviewees about what
the police could and should do in theory. They indicate a naiveté and a belief in
127
an idealised policing and are not reflective of the challenges police confront in
practice.
One student admitted he applied for the People’s Police Academy (PPA) because
it is the only ‘university’ where tuition is free, and a small stipend is paid. By
attending the PPA he could relieve the financial burden of his tertiary education
from his family. Given that most police students are accepted to the Academy
based on their high school exam score, their pathway to recruitment requires
diligence and planning due to the competitive entry. This diverges from
recruitment processes in some jurisdictions, for example, in South Africa some
officers described their police career as ‘accidental and unplanned’ (Faull, 2017,
p. 333). Students also mentioned parental preference for them to join the police
on the basis the Academy would provide a disciplined environment for learning,
which would hold them in good stead for the challenges of adulthood. Women
were more represented in administrative academic streams. This was frequently
self-identified as personal choice with interviewees often expressly anticipating
the necessity for flexible hours afforded by office work for their future reproductive
and family obligations. It was clear however that gender constraints were also in
128
play, as women identified being deliberately allocated into administrative streams
against their personal preferences. Only one female interviewee talked about
joining the Academy in opposition to her father’s stated belief that becoming a
police officer was an unsuitable job for women.
One student said some people described policing as their ‘dream’ job because it
was the response expected by the Academy. This was confirmed by a senior
officer. It is clear there were a myriad of, often more pragmatic, reasons for joining
the police. My attempts to explore these reasons more deeply was largely
unsuccessful. For example, a student said her family, who had a business
background, wanted her to join the police because ‘they don’t have a police officer
in the family so maybe they thought they need one’ (Police student, female).
When asked in what way having a police officer in the family would ‘help their
business’, the student declined to answer, possibly anticipating my inquiry
regarding a conflict of interest. A male student said he was attracted to the
‘exploration, the danger and thrill’ of police work, although when prompted to
elaborate, he chose not to explain, as if it was a taboo subject. This attitude is
quite different from those of police in other countries, where ‘action’ and
‘hedonism’ have been well documented as an attractive part of policing (Reiner,
2010).
Policing in Vietnam covers a broad range of administrative and other roles often
undertaken by civilians in other jurisdictions. This meant some students joined
with no intention to work operationally. One student said he was ‘really good at
maths and wanted to do a job in [forensic] science’ (Police student, male).
Another student was concerned about the extent of pollution in Vietnam and so
joined the police with a specific intention to study the environmental crimes
investigations major, so he could make a contribution to improving the state of
the environment.43 This type of specialisation at the outset of training is not a
universally common feature of police education under the Anglo-American model.
43
He noted that environmental crimes could include: violations of food security, smuggling and
trafficking of rare animals, deforestation and illegal chemical usage.
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Despite some obfuscation (mainly by students) this study found that another
reason for joining the police in Vietnam was its status as a ‘hot’ occupation.
According to several senior officers, getting into the force was in high demand
because police are among the highest paid workers in the government sector.44
Policing was seen as ‘hot’ also because of its longevity and stability. Despite the
private sector showing strong growth and increasing opportunity, working in
business was viewed by some as unstable. Perceptions of job instability and of
having to work harder than in the public service contributed to the idea of policing
as a sensible choice. An officer put it this way: ‘Policing is “hot” because with it
you get power, privilege, benefits, stable job and good money’ (Police officer,
male). Another officer described a lack of commitment among junior officers in
the following way:
44
In terms of official salary and access to other incomes.
45
Specifically, the Academy website referred to: ‘Credit-based training system is an advanced
training mode that has been deployed and applied in many countries all over the world, such as:
United States of America, United Kingdom of Great Britain, France, Germany, Thailand,
Philippines and so on.’
130
produce a minor thesis. Elementary English and computer skills are compulsory
alongside physical education, swimming, firearms, driving, drill and martial arts.
Students must pass the general education subjects, including political
education46 and soft skills,47 to graduate (People's Police Academy, 2017b). The
following sections will examine more closely the general and professional
curriculum.
Many of the offices I visited at the PPA were adorned with statements printed in
yellow lettering against a red background in gold-coloured frames. The ‘5 Oaths
of the Vietnamese People’s Police Force’ are displayed prominently around the
Academy as guidance for expected behaviour of the ‘cadres’. The principal tenet
of the 5 Oaths is that of loyalty: loyalty to the country, the people, the Party, the
State, and to the ‘struggle and sacrifice’ in the pursuit of these ends. Loyalty to
the police and to the Party, and following instructions, were described by students
and staff as crucial to being a ‘good’ police officer.
46
According to the PPA website, students must have ‘a stable political background, clear ethics,
strictly implementing the regulations of People's Police and law of the State. After graduating,
students are members of the Communist Party of Vietnam or have been granted certificates of
training in the Party's knowledge and certificates equivalent to intermediate level of political
theory.’
47
See Appendix 1 for the standards for soft skills.
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characteristic of people in a Socialist Republic and of a soldier in particular’
(Police student, female).48
Morality was described as something that could be taught and learned through
knowledge and discipline, and through the creation of ‘habits’ over years of
training (Police student, female). The study of Hồ Chí Minh and Party policies is
designed to cultivate in police a higher level of morality than that of the general
community:
48
Police and soldiers are both regarded as public security officers. The use of the term ‘soldier’
in this context may reflect the nature of policing in Vietnam as being more closely aligned with
the military than in other jurisdictions.
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are optional or even detrimental if followed. Therefore, what is deemed ‘moral’
according to the principles of the general curriculum (including ethical codes)
provides a framework for the use of discretion.
Though guidelines for conduct and ethical behaviour for police are common, the
Vietnamese version of moral order reflects Wong’s (2012, p. 61) description
whereby culture refers to both a ‘high culture’ associated with Confucian
principles and as a way of doing things is invoked with respect to police culture,
as something that can be cultivated and developed though continuous learning
and reflection. The process of developing or aspiring towards a version of high
culture may be a form of socialisation. Thus ‘oaths’ and ‘disciplines’ can be
sources of inspiration for correct morality rather than prescriptions in order to
shape individual behaviours and dispositions. Nonetheless, a code of conduct,
where conduct typically refers to actions, may indicate a Western analytical
framing in so far as conduct of the kind familiar to a Western understanding refers
to actions, whereas policing in a post-Confucian society may be regulated more
by feelings and cultural processes as per Wong’s (2012) suggestion in the
Chinese context. In other words, police morality in Vietnam may be more akin to
a feeling and a process than to a Western way of thinking and judgement as
described in the Western police literature (Crank, 1998). (This is further discussed
below in the section ‘Constructing a police culture’.)
Once applicants have been assessed, met the entrance criteria, and selected to
study at the Academy, they are asked to nominate a preferred study major (up to
three preferences). The Academy, however, will ultimately determine the stream
to which a student is allocated depending on gaps and workforce needs. The
Academy provides a degree in policing based on a curriculum, unavailable at
other universities, which is designed to equip students with specialist skills and
knowledge and to meet the specific requirements of the policing profession.49 To
pass, students must score a minimum of 2.7 out of 4 in at least two thirds of their
49
The PPA recently commenced a degree course for people to work more closely in criminal
justice administration and the procuracy. Students must pay a fee for their degree (unlike other
police students) and are not guaranteed employment after graduation.
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specialist subjects (People's Police Academy, 2017b). The evolving policing
environment means that new majors are added as needed, for example, high-
tech crime investigation is a recent addition given changing crime trends. Below
is a list of the major streams which were available in 2017.
Major specialisations
1.1 State Management on Social Order and Safety
1.2 Criminal Police
1.3 Investigative Police
50
See Appendix 2 for more details on each specialisation.
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loyalty and obeying instructions. For one female Police student, professional
meant:
Being loyal to the Communist Party, [and] the people; being all
ready to do anything when the Communist Party calls you to do
it and the Ministry of Public Security asks you to do it…. [I’m]
really happy and proud to work under their way and instructions.
Along with the specialised syllabus, compulsory drill marching and martial arts,
the Police Academy curriculum includes general programs to improve ‘soft skills’
designed to build confidence, public speaking ability and public relations aptitude
among the newly enrolled. One such program, undertaken in Year 1 of training,
is a one-month homestay with a family to help students develop skills for
cultivating close relationships with the community. The students report back on
their experience to their class, reflecting on how they built trust with their hosts
by familiarising themselves with their needs and preferences. A student
recounted his homestay experience in a north central coast region:
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year. When I finished my internship, they hugged me, and
they cried. (Police student, male)
The positive reaction described above is likely a reflection that homestay hosts
are already sympathetic towards the police. Investment in the residential program
is evidence that forming close relationships with the community is regarded as a
key police capability. An explicit benefit of cultivating this familiarity was its
contribution to police reliance on the community for information – a concept not
unique to Vietnam, although the ways to achieving better police-community
relations are varied. For example, a week-long homestay is not a feature of
Anglo-American training methods despite efforts to improve community
engagement.
One student noted that, during the homestay, he changed his usual sleeping and
eating routines to fit in with the family’s schedule because it was important to
adapt to please his hosts. Whilst these adjustments could be chalked up to simple
politeness, the ability to modify behaviour to ensure a harmonious relationship
with others, in this case unfamiliar hosts, is a characteristic nurtured through the
police curriculum and expected to be transferrable after graduation. It also relates
back to the collectivist cultural beliefs which impact on the ways policing in
Vietnam is understood.
The students are required to undertake two further internships at police stations
for their bachelor’s degree. These occur in Year 3 (three months) and Year 4 (four
months) and are an opportunity for students to apply their class-based knowledge
in practice. These internships provided useful points of discussion for exploring
students’ operational experience, as presented in the next chapter.
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graduates bringing the total number of graduates since 1992 to more than 4000
(People's Police Academy, 2018b).51
Socialisation
Socialisation is the process by which a newcomer learns to fit in with their new
environment (Chan et al., 2003; Van Maanen, 1973). Police are socialised
through the way they are trained, their experiences doing police work, and their
interactions with others (Reith, 1956). The environment includes the objective
‘field’, for example, the surroundings in which they study or work, and, the
51
Figure includes police officers from Cambodia and Laos who are engaged in exchange
programs.
137
interactions students and officers have both with their environment and each
other.
At the Academy, the statue of Hồ Chí Minh is symbolic of the direct relationship
between the Communist victory and the police. Adjacent to the statue is a space
dedicated to Vietnam’s current territorial claims in the East Sea, particularly the
Spratly and Paracel islands. The islands are the centre of a dispute with other
nations in the region but primarily China who has claimed the territory and their
rich oil and gas deposits as their own. The dedication sends the message that
Vietnam’s long-time territorial disputes with China continue. The space has a map
of Vietnam positioned slightly above ground level with the concrete to the right
side painted blue to mark out the East Sea. Corresponding miniature islands have
small glass boxes attached containing sand, rock and coral from those sites to
bring them into the grounds of the PPA to remind students of their ‘role in national
defense’ (People's Police Academy, 2017f). Whilst police draw on the legacy of
winning independence, the deliberate (and recent, 2011) construction of the East
Sea map on Academy grounds indicates that contemporary national security,
indeed territorial, concerns are positioned at the forefront of police identity and
contribute to fostering a sense of enduring insecurity, as noted by Gillen (2011).
138
Police are also socialised into the organisational culture through specific activities
and by encouraging particular sentiments at the Police Academy. One method is
the use of contests. The Academy regularly holds, or participates in, intra- and
inter-university contests. For example, in 2018, a team of police students
competed (and won) a contest involving other public security institutions. The
competition comprised four parts relating to: ‘Pride of the police officer, the
knowledgeable police officer, the quick-witted police officer, and the talented
police officer’ (People's Police Academy, 2018c). The Academy website reported
the ‘competition was an important political activity to raise awareness and make
positive changes in the actions of police officers in studying and implementing Six
things taught by Uncle Ho’ (People's Police Academy, 2018c). The emphasis on
contests and group activities serves several purposes. As a senior police officer
explained, they help to develop ‘soft skills’ and build confidence so that officers
are better equipped to communicate with others and be role models in the
community.
The way the field and habitus for police articulate with each other to socialise
police officers can be demonstrated through a reference several officers used
52
Wong (2012, p. 61) refers to ‘obstacles in understanding Chinese policing’ and that Western
intellectual preference towards rationality (how to reason) can limit understanding sentimentality
(what one feels) more aligned with oriental thinkers, including Confucius.
139
regarding the ‘small society’ of the People’s Police Academy. First impressions
of the Academy in Hanoi might lead one to think it is a rigid paramilitary
organisation where rules and orders are strictly enforced, robustly followed and
consequences enacted. The parade ground is paved in a sandy coloured stone
criss-crossed with thick lines of deep red, similar to the pillar upholding Hồ Chí
Minh’s statue. Despite the area being vacant, it is easy to conjure images of it
filled with police officers marching in formation with discipline and precision.
Perhaps only people who have tried to coordinate such complex and precise
movements can truly appreciate the difficulty involved. In addition to physical
conformity new police need to fit into their new environment through being
accepted by peers and superiors. Officers referred to the Police Academy as a
‘small society’ where people should be vigilant and avoid conflict in order to
maintain good relations with other police. Police students referred to becoming
more ‘mature’, ‘responsible’, learning to ‘avoid conflicts’ in social relationships,
and having a deeper understanding of society and politics as a result of their
training. Indeed, the Academy is a dynamic place of learning where adjustments
are made to one’s behaviour through exposure to the environment and peers.
One student described how to self-monitor in order to fit in:
With respect to what thoughts should not be made public, a student said the
following: ‘The first thing you are taught when you arrive at the Academy is to
never say anything bad about the Party or the Police’ (Police student, male).
Another student explained the consequences of saying something ‘bad’, citing an
example from a few years prior where a student who criticised the quality of
training was subsequently expelled. Life in the Academy as a kind of microcosm
of society was also a theme raised by some participants:
One student indicated that the length of exposure to police culture affects the way
they act:
141
Though students in this study were not critical of their training, some indicated
there were subjects that were ‘boring’. It’s worth noting this is not atypical for
university students across the globe and it is difficult to quantify the importance
of new students finding some subjects dull. What is significant is that this may
indicate the limits on what is considered appropriate feedback to avoid the
possibility of unfavourable consequences.
Fitting into the Academy or the police organisation more broadly could be
facilitated by having relatives in the occupation who could provide advice and
guidance to meet training requirements as well as connections to advance
through the ranks. A female student said her father helped her practice martial
arts because she found it difficult. A male officer said he applied for a position
and justified his suitability to the interviewers due to having a relative in a nearby
department. He was unsuccessful, but his story is indicative of the perceived
potential benefits associated with significant relatives, networks and patronage.
Family influences were a strong consideration for people joining the police. The
move from living with family into the Police Academy traded one living
environment for another – the small society of the Academy, with its close living
quarters and dorm-style living. Obligations to family, and the potential
consequences of not fulfilling them (namely, exclusion), mean police in Vietnam
are possibly less isolated than their Western counterparts. Rituals for ancestor
worship are traditionally conducted by the male head of a household which
explains why a preference for sons remain strong as they are seen as important
in linking generations past and present.
142
In Europe or other countries, there is less connection with
the family, for example, in Singapore, elderly parents live in
a home for elderly people. In Vietnam, parents want to live
with their children. Or sometimes, the parents want to live
separately but the children won’t have it. They live in the
same house. (Police officer, female)
The Police Academy hosts monuments and ‘cultural spaces’ to create a physical
environment shaping police identity. In some cases, projects are sponsored by
alumni from a specific graduate cohort, 53 for example, the replica Temple of
Literature, Ethnic Costume Showroom, and Hồ Chí Minh Chamber were
supported with funds from courses D2 (1976–1981), D3 (1977–1982) and Lao
Cai Provincial Police, and D4 (1978–1983) respectively (People's Police
Academy, 2017f). Gift-giving practices and reciprocity can manifest in different
cultures in different ways. I made the following observations during fieldwork
which describes some of the ways gift giving is practiced among police in
Vietnam.
A red carpet welcomed the delegation of Ministry of Public Security officials to the
graduation of class D37 in May 2016. After five years of academic study, 54
marching practice and martial arts, almost 700 students were receiving their
certificate for a Bachelor of Policing. The ceremony began with a performance on
stage by students dancing, or perhaps marching, to the song ‘We are Vietnamese
Police’:55
53
Sometimes jointly with other police units. For details refer to the Facilities webpage of the
PPA (People's Police Academy, 2017f).
54
The last cohort before the implementation of the four-year curriculum commenced the
following academic year.
55
Chúng tôi là người chiến sĩ công an Việt Nam
Giữ thanh bình yên vui cuộc sống.
Chúng tôi là người chiến sĩ công an Việt Nam
Là con em của Tổ quốc yêu thương.
Đường tôi đi qua bao xóm, bao làng
Đường tôi đi qua bao núi, bao rừng
Đường tôi đi vượt bao gian khó.
Tổ quốc yêu mến ơi, một niềm tin với chúng tôi
Có chúng tôi giữ yên cuộc sống, có chúng tôi giữ yên đất trời.
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We are Vietnamese police
The performance was followed by speeches from officials, a student and a parent.
The speech by the father of one newly-minted police officers was accompanied
by the presentation of a novelty oversized cheque, the type used in presentations
to make visible the process of a financial transaction that otherwise takes place
with a few strokes on a computer keyboard. The cheque was made out for
VND60,000.00 (approximately US$3000) and presented to the Deputy Director
of the PPA. The gesture piqued my interest as I am accustomed to the practice
of money transferring from institutions to students through scholarships or
bursaries in recognition of hard work. A police officer explained to me the
donation was raised from students and their families to thank the Academy for
educating and looking after the students over the training period (students must
live on campus and are generally only allowed to leave every second weekend
to visit family). Furthermore, it was described as an example of ‘socialisation’ (xã
hội hóa) – a deliberate government strategy to encourage citizens, in this case
police, to contribute to the financial well-being of public institutions. 56 To that
extent, donations from police officers were seen to be acts of ‘appreciation’
towards the Academy for educating them and preparing them for police work.
56
Salemink (2013, p. 182) also referred to ‘socialisation’ (xã hội hóa) and attributed its practice
to changes in the national economy and the withdrawal of state funding from some services,
‘meaning that people themselves have to pay for the services they need’.
144
The officer explained also that the recent opening of the café – called Café Sách
(Book Coffee) – in the library building was partially funded by way of a call-out to
police officers (former students) for donations. Interestingly, he explained that ‘the
more successful a police officer has become, the more they were expected to
donate’ to the Academy in ‘appreciation’. Though the Academy might fundraise
in this way for specific projects, such as the cafe, seeking donations from past
students was a method regularly employed to bolster its finances. The Academy
regards money raised by fundraising as a donation. Implied in the concept of
donation is that the donor gives by choice, uncoerced, and of their own free will.
‘Donations’ at the PPA are recorded and, therefore, not anonymous. One officer
said that, although it was not compulsory to donate to the Academy, the fact that
it is known who has donated is an incentive to give – especially if the officer has
to attend in-service training in future or pursue post-graduate qualifications. ‘A
person might feel uncomfortable returning to the Academy for training if they
haven’t donated to the Academy’, said one officer.
Then there is the question of how much money should be gifted or donated.
Several police staff said there is no fixed amount but there is frequently a
correlation between position and amount: the higher the position of the gift
recipient, the higher the amount; or the higher the income of the giver, the greater
the amount. One police officer said people were obliged to participate in the giving
and receiving of ‘appreciation’ money because it was expected within
Vietnamese culture.
The fact the police are trained as specialists rather than generalists has several
implications. In a practical sense, some students expressed concern that, firstly,
they may not be accepted into their preferred major, thus having to study for four
years in an area that holds less interest for them; and, secondly, there is no
guarantee that after graduating they will be allocated a job in the specific function
they were trained in. For example, a person who studies Traffic Policing may be
allocated a role in Administration. Though they may later transfer to the traffic
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police, their immediate post may not be in the area they had hoped. Graduates
may also have a preferred location for where they want to work as well as their
role. Some students hoped to be transferred back to their home province to be
close to family, whereas others wanted to stay in Hanoi because it afforded more
career opportunities and the urban lifestyle suited them better. Thus, although
graduates were guaranteed employment, their preferred position and location of
work were less predictable.
57
Police College graduates also have a specialised curriculum, though not as in-depth as the
Academy.
146
when I was at the Police College we only have a number of
credits according to each subject but at that time no
emphasis on self-study or self-research and not taught from
the officers. So, our knowledge is kind of limited. Only two
years spent at Police College. When at the Police College,
students only graduate from high school. After graduation
we do three years out working so it is easier for me now to
learn to be more professional at the Academy. (Police
student, female)
The ‘professional’ curriculum, therefore, has implications for the way police work
is structured and the impact this has on police culture or, indeed, sub-cultures.
Upon entering the Academy, police students know they will study a different
curriculum to those with a different major. They also know upon graduation that
their position could be quite different to those of their peers. This differs from the
established models in the global North where recruits study the same generalist
modules and are assigned the role of general duties constable as their first
exposure to police work, albeit differences in locations, community demographics
and workplace cultures may present individuals with different experiences. 58
Some features which may foster different police cultures include the
administrative level at which officers work, the nature of their role and contact
with the community, and status attributed to tactics, characteristics, official
position and social hierarchies. These are addressed in more detail below.
Police who graduate from the Academy in the same major can have different
operational experiences depending on whether they are assigned to work at the
ward or district level. The ward police have more direct interaction with the public
and a lower jurisdiction for decision-making. For example, the role of ward police
was described as:
58
In line with other studies, there are likely differences between policing urban and rural areas.
Participants in this study mostly had operational experience in urban areas so a useful
distinction cannot be made. However, Chapter 7 does include some commentary regarding
policing remote communities.
147
The main work of ward police is dealing with receiving
information about cases and emergencies first-hand. And
reporting to the higher level, particularly the head of the
District level to be told what to do with this case. Second,
going on patrol and protecting social order and people
where they work. Thirdly, co-operating with the district
police in cases of arresting criminals or (people) involved in
peace-breaching acts. (Police student, female)
An officer who recently graduated from the PPA and was deployed to a ward
police station (where most officers are trained in a Police College) said: ‘I didn’t
realise how much we had to work together and depend on each other’ (Police
officer, male). Thus, the bifurcated (Academy–College) education system must
prepare officers to work alongside others with different training backgrounds.
59
Police frequently used the term ‘propaganda’ to describe an aspect of their work, although
one interpreter explained to me this referred to spreading information and educating people and
that he was aware an English translation may have negative connotations.
148
Although the ward police work at the lowest administrative level and many officers
are less qualified (thus unable to be promoted without further study), they can be
important mediators between the community and other police departments and
Party officials. Subsequently, ward police are important gatekeepers and
decision-makers who can determine which community concerns are elevated to
higher levels and can correspond to forms of cultural and economic capital.60
Though police who graduate from the Academy can work at either the ward or
district level, their specific role will shape the nature of their interaction with the
community. For example, police can work at the ward level as Criminal Police or
Social Order Police (among others, e.g. Economic Police). Police with operational
experience in both specialisations were interviewed in this study. One officer
described the different policing approaches associated with these functions:
60
See Koh (2001) ‘Negotiating the Socialist State in Vietnam through Local Administrators: The
Case of Karaoke Shops’ for more detail on ward police as gatekeepers who can facilitate
evasion of prosecution for illegal activities.
149
I asked the officer to explain what he meant about the role of the undercover
police in crime prevention. He responded:
When I asked the officer how police determine who might become criminals in
future in order to target with undercover tactics, his response was: ‘Sorry. That is
a matter of national security’. The types of behaviours or attitudes exhibited by
these officers likely have implications for how they are perceived and the nature
of their relationship with the community.
During interviews with police students and officers, it became clear that there was
a hierarchy among the major subjects which attributed some with a higher status
than others. Whilst some justifications for higher status accord with what is often
regarded as ‘real’ police work, for example, the crime fighting and crime detection
aspects of policing, there were also some variations. Some police said Economic
Police and Traffic Police pathways were highly desirable. Economic policing was
described as attractive because police were able to liaise with businesses and
external agencies which made the work interesting. In both cases, possibilities
for extra remuneration through increased exposure to the public in circumstances
which may result in economic benefits (informal payments, bribery) were
mentioned as possibilities for their desirability. One officer said the two most
popular specialisations were the Criminal Police and the administration police
(State Management and Social Order Police). The latter may seem anomalous.
The Criminal Police is associated with crime-fighting and almost entirely male-
150
dominated, whereas the administration police are viewed as more suitable for
women (though given the gender quota women are still a minority). So, why is
Social Order considered a highly attractive role? One possibility is that
administration police is responsible for the management of the household
registration system which can provide economic opportunities through informal
payments for processing residents’ documentation necessary for accessing
social services.
The specialised curriculum reflects the way police work is structured. For
example, the following quote describes how the delineation between catching
and interrogating a suspect works in practice:
Gender
Age
Because Criminal Police were seen as prestigious because they were involved
in crime-fighting and arresting criminals, i.e., ‘real’ police work, the physical nature
of this work appeared to make it more desirable for younger officers. Investigation
Police, who are responsible for interrogation of suspects, were more likely to be
older and were more difficult for me to access for this study. Although police
students can study to be Criminal or Investigation police, the process by which a
suspect is caught by the Criminal Police and handed to the Investigation Police
meant the latter were more likely to be more experienced and mentors to the
former. A male police student said it was often desirable for graduates of Criminal
Police, after gaining some experience, to transfer to the Investigation Police.
Although there are distinct differences, this process resembles the progression
from patrol officer to detective described in policing scholarship in the UK and
US. The differential status associated with Investigation and Criminal police
officers was described in the following way:
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reinforces a general cultural deference to elders. Respect for elders, and the high
regard and status given to educators and teachers in Vietnam, also manifested
in certain classroom dynamics between officers and students in the Academy:
A female police officer said that to be a teacher and a police officer was something
to be proud of as both held special status in Vietnam.
153
These comments reflect a culture where knowledge is conveyed from teacher to
student, from older to younger people, and where hierarchy is valued and
authority unquestioned.
In light of the police hierarchy, and the cultural deference to elders, a premium is
placed on an individual’s ability to maintain or promote harmony in relation to the
community, one’s peers and supervisors, and as a leader. Consequences for
transgressing social norms perceived as being critical or disrespectful to a senior
could affect one’s reputation and chances for promotion, and subsequently affect
higher pay and status. According to a police officer among the eldest in this study,
possibilities for injecting new ideas into policing remain limited due to what are
deemed age-appropriate actions and responses.
Deciding not to directly question or confront somebody with a concern could also
be a sign of respect and not wanting to diminish a person’s perception of their
own capabilities or status. A police officer said:
154
Our culture is very indirect. We try to be polite. We don’t
want anyone to feel bad. But it can be unproductive. It
means that sometimes something needs to be done but we
don’t want to upset anyone, so we don’t say things, or we
say to them indirectly and conversations go around and
around, and it takes a long time for some things to get done.
If there is a problem, we don’t want to blame one person. It
is about saving face of the other person. We want to be
respectful to them and not make them feel bad. (Police
officer, male)
One interviewee said that it was difficult to question a supervisor even if the
supervisor was clearly wrong. He said if people didn’t like their boss, they would
not usually tell them or confront them directly, though neither would they go out
of their way to help them, and might passively withhold support, so the boss’s
underperformance would be noticed and get them moved or rotated elsewhere.
This somewhat passive form of resistance has been identified by others as a
general cultural characteristic (Kerkvliet, 2005) which appears to be found also in
the police force. Some police indicated they would speak up if a colleague or
supervisor was not doing what they thought was right, for example:
Police must obey their superiors, but if in doing so they break the law, they
contravene Article 30 of the Law on People’s Public Security Forces (2014) which
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prohibits them from acting against or not abiding by State laws and statutes. This
places officers in a precarious position.
There were those who felt comfortable to talk about challenging others
behaviours and though dissent was unusual, there were cultural supports for
those who chose to speak up. A different male student said he had seen a senior
colleague detain a suspect using too much force, so he confronted the officer
later and ‘suggested some other methods to arrest or deal with the suspect which
were much more softly’. He said he did not report the matter to anyone else and
when asked if he was concerned about confronting his colleague about the
matter, he responded: ‘No. We think we are brothers, so it doesn’t make me
nervous’. The student described his intervention as making a ‘suggestion’, which
could be a strategy for mitigating potential fallout from a more strenuous critique.
A senior officer explained that police do not have to worry about raising a concern
about the conduct of another officer if they were doing so from a position of
righteousness. He referred to the idiom, ‘Cây ngay không sợ chết đứng’ (‘The
tree is not afraid to die standing’), explaining to me that in this context it meant an
officer who reports a colleague’s bad behaviour or misconduct has nothing to fear
156
because they are doing the right thing. In sum, though there was a range of
strategies to deal with a peer’s wrongdoing, the most common response among
police was to speak in private to the officer concerned to give them an opportunity
to justify their actions.
The concepts of diversity and inclusion as a way for the police to be reflective of
the community are documented in studies on policing in Western countries (A.
McLeod & Herrington, 2017; Prenzler, Fleming, & King, 2010). Though relations
between ethnic minorities and the government have been complex, the police
recognise the importance of having ethnic minority officers policing their own
communities and recruitment policies reflected some differential criteria to
facilitate their employment.61 There were no such strategies to recruit people from
sexual and gender minorities (lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender and intersex,
LGBTI). Although the Constitution (2013) has provisions against discrimination,
Vietnam lacks specific legal protections for LGBTI communities.62 In an interview
with a female student, I explained the concept of diversity in police employment
in Western countries and asked whether it was an appropriate strategy for the
police legitimacy in Vietnam. She responded:
61
Ethnic minority applicants can be 2 cm shorter and weigh 2 kg less than the standard criteria
(Bộ Công An, 2016, Article 6.2(d))
62
Article 5.2. All ethnicities are equal, unified and respect and assist one another for mutual
development; all acts of national discrimination and division are strictly forbidden.
Article 16.2. No one shall be discriminated against based on his or her political, civic, economic,
cultural or social life.
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good inside. The police need good behaviour and polite
behaviour. (Police student, female)
Promotions
Policing in Vietnam is generally a lifetime career. One male student said: ‘Most
police will never know any other job – unless they do something like a serious
violation and they will be charged and sent to court’. However, with proposed
major budget cuts, including the PPA student intake being almost halved to 370
for 2017-2018 and associated reductions in staffing (People's Police Academy,
2017c), occupational stability may be challenged in future. Policing was
previously a domain for the poor to access tertiary education, although it was
indicated to me by a police officer that increasing competitiveness may mean the
selection of new recruits would be weighted towards those who have networks
and can contribute and reciprocate benefits to insiders.
Police can be considered for promotion after serving sufficient time at each rank,
but there is scope for early promotion for high performers. For example, the Law
on People’s Public Security Forces (National Assembly, 2014) Article 2c states:
Even though police are trained in a specialised manner, they can transfer laterally
and learn another field on the job and through in-service training. It was not clear
in this research how easy this process is to navigate although the appreciation
for specialists (and associated capital) over generalists appeared to have limited
scope for mobility across functions. One officer said policy on job security (a
person may hold one position for 30 years) limited staff turnover and rotation, and
may be hindering fresh ideas from coming into the workplace. I asked the officer
about whether the police had policies regarding forced rotation – an oft-used anti-
corruption measure in some international jurisdictions to prevent or disrupt
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unhealthy collegial relationships in high-risk units. He said, although people can
be transferred or demoted due to poor performance, there were no policies that
required a fixed period of service to facilitate change. Indeed, he said that this
would be inappropriate for the Vietnamese system and that policing approaches
overseas cannot necessarily be transferred to Vietnam. Specifically, he
proposed: ‘In my opinion, only about 40 per cent of foreign knowledge can apply
here’ (Police officer, male).
Some police expressed concern about people being promoted based not on their
ability but on their relationships with influential people, although one officer was
quick to qualify his statement as not necessarily pertaining to Vietnam:
63
‘Active’ can mean ‘năng động’, as in being energetic or invigorated. Or it can also be used
pejoratively, ‘chạy chọt’, relating to using a ‘backdoor’ or receiving benefits through connections.
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others for dinner and build relationships which will help him
get promoted. A policeman who is poorer can’t do that and
so even though he is smarter than the rich guy, he will not
get promoted because he can’t build the relationships. This
is very sad about the police. It means we are not promoting
the best people. I worry about the future of the police
because it may be that, more and more, only the rich police
with connections get promoted rather than people with
more ability. (Paraphrased from fieldnotes, 2016)
A survey of public officials found that 17–19 per cent reported that having
powerful connections helped secure a job or promotion, while 13–16 per cent
said family/friends connections were helpful (World Bank, 2012, p. 73). In this
study, an officer commented on the importance of family connections in a
workplace:
The reference to it being ‘common sense’ for family and relatives to work together
(particularly in a large organisation) also reflects the weight applied to the
perceived benefits of group cohesiveness and stability in social relations, rather
than selecting people who might be more qualified but present an uncertain
cultural fit.
Performance management
One police supervisor from an administrative unit in the Academy was frustrated
that some of his colleagues and staff were unproductive, leaving him to take up
the slack. I asked how he, as a supervisor, addressed this lack of productivity as
well as what mechanisms were in place for periodic performance review. He said
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there was no structured approach to give feedback to subordinates in the form of
an annual review, for example. The only way to address the work output was to
speak to the person privately on an as-needed basis, though this was generally
avoided as much as possible. One concern was that the supervisor was not
involved in staff selection processes and that, because it was a sought-after office
to work in, people may have been appointed based on their social networks rather
than on merit. As a result, the supervisor was reluctant to have discussions
regarding performance management with any of his staff because if somebody
felt aggrieved, regardless of how appropriate or constructive the feedback, they
may complain to their ‘contact’ who could block any promotional aspirations of
the supervisor in future. In contrast, having connections within the organisation
or work unit may have beneficial effects on work performance:
After five years study in the university they have their own
lifestyle and go to work in the police station and have many
experiences. In Vietnam, they have no experience except
from high school. When they make a simple mistake, their
manager will tell them how to do it, they will get a warning.
After two or three warnings they will have to report to the
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manager. They will only be reported for serious mistakes.
(Police officer, female)
An experienced officer said that when students come to do their internship at the
station they are considered like a ‘brother’ and that it seemed colleagues also felt
good about the arrival of junior officers (Police officer, female). A junior officer
talked about her experience at a police station as being positive:
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I explained to a male student that a tendency in Australian policing was for junior
officers to ‘keep their mouth shut’ and not ask too many questions of senior
officers so as not to annoy them, and asked him whether it was similar in Vietnam.
He seemed surprised at this notion and responded that it was normal to ask
experienced officers questions and that he had not felt uncomfortable in doing so
during his internship. Though this may indicate a difference in the way new
officers are included in the workplace in Vietnam, the broader cultural tendency
to respect elders and defer to authority may mean junior officers are careful to
ask questions in a way that is not perceived as disrespectful or a challenge to
authority. Rather, it shows agency and being active in building relationships.
Party membership
There may appear to be a contradiction between the fact lecturers can go to the
United States to study at the University of Maryland and the Party’s concern with
outside interference. There are many examples where Vietnam is trying to
balance or strategically use ‘foreign’ ideas or technology where they are politically
useful. Some of these are explored in more depth in the next chapter.
Conclusion
This chapter has described aspects that shape both the field and habitus for
police in Vietnam. It reveals that, despite some similarities, there are distinct
differences in the policing field compared with the dominant discourse of policing
in the global North. Notable differences include the connection between policing
and politics, and the status of tertiary education among police. Additionally, the
structure and content of police education (and post-education deployment)
facilitates hierarchies and sub-cultures pertaining to different police functions.
The fact that students commence their training knowing that they will study a
specific major, may also mean that sub-cultures are initiated and entrenched
earlier than in police organisations where generalised training is undertaken by
all recruits. These differences mean that the capital associated with certain
aspects of policing and police culture differs for symbolic, social and economic
reasons. The component of training which included a month-long homestay also
marks a difference from police training in the global North. The broader societal
appreciation of tertiary study means it is accepted or indeed expected that police
should have a degree qualification. This contrasts to some Western countries
where the question about whether police should be degree qualified is debated
(as is the question of who pays for it).
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There are also differences in how the concept of ‘culture’ is constructed which is
relevant to our understanding of police culture. Academy activities for the
purposes of socialising students into the organisation, such as contests, provide
an opportunity for students (and staff) to practice and express loyalty and
solidarity. These activities, along with formal instruction on ideology, are designed
to cultivate in police a notion of higher moral purpose as well as to afford a means
to assess their external characteristics and expressions. That police should aim
to develop a higher level of morality than that of the general community has been
reported in the Chinese context (Jiao, 2001). This attribution can be sourced to
an ideology that ‘emphasizes the interpersonal integrity of cultivated individuals’,
as suggested by Martin (2014, p. 475) in his description of a ‘policing by virtue’
model in Taiwan (and East Asia more broadly). The emphasis on cultivating
morality as something to be learned and experienced, rather than an application
of ‘logic’ (Wong, 2012, p. 61), may explain the tendency towards the requirements
for tertiary civil service (and police) education which differentiates some East and
Southeast Asian approaches from Anglo-American.
Western police might also view themselves as inhabiting a higher moral ground.
This position is routinely conceptualised as a justification for certain behaviours
and as delineation between good and evil. Claims to higher standards of morality
are reflected in comments in this study where police are described as having
higher standards of morality than the general public and where distinctions are
made between us and them. Participants in the study were, however, consistently
able to hold multiple ideas around morality, acknowledging that there are good
and bad people in the police and in the community. Though global North and
Vietnamese police forces may each claim moral superiority, the paradox remains
that, where Vietnam might be considered a collective society, morality is an
internalised pursuit. In contrast, Western police ‘high-mindedness’ was a
judgement about one’s moral position in relation to others (Crank, 1998).
The research shows there are hierarchies between, for example, police functions
(e.g. Criminal and Investigation Police) or roles (e.g. lecturers and students),
which were subsequently accorded different characteristics or status. This
resembled research from other countries regarding the existence of police sub-
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cultures because there are different positions in policing which shape the field
and habitus for officers differently, for example, management cop versus street
cop (Reuss-Ianni & Ianni, 1983) or detective work (Ericson, 1981; Hobbs, 1988;
Young, 1991). In spite of different political systems, there are also parallels with
new recruits in other countries and how they try to fit in with their new environment
in different studies.
However, in analysing the data regarding how officers described specific roles,
especially roles they were not doing themselves, there were notable differences
from the international studies. Police officers were rarely, even when pressed,
critical of other officers or the organisation. This was a marked difference
especially in regard to the study by Reuss-Ianni and Ianni (1983) where officers
openly expressed an antagonistic relationship between patrol officers and
supervisors. Granted, there may be methodological explanations and concerns
regarding confidentiality and possible consequences to such openness, and
there were instances of critique; however, there is an overriding cultural tendency
in Vietnam (Kerkvliet, 2005; Lucius, 2009), and in policing as a subset of society,
that values harmony over being critical of others which is different to individualist
cultures. Stability in professional relationships was valued over disruption which
was also reflected in justifications for patronage. These examples highlight the
importance of understanding the wider political and social context in which police
operate and the determinants of value in police culture.
Crafting an organisational identity for police has roots in a historical sense and is
constituted in the present by those who are given entrée to the occupational
domain. Recruitment and selection practices are important because they speak
to what attributes and characteristics are valued by an organisation. Learning to
become a police officer at the Academy is influenced by both history and current
politics. We see socialist links, as exemplified in Lenin’s quote about striving to
learn, while at the same time a greater engagement with developed countries,
including former foes such as the United States. Foreign engagement has
positive and negative capital. There is a tension in engaging with (some)
foreigners due to attendant limitations. For example, as stated, police cannot
travel overseas without Party approval (for work or leisure) and cannot marry a
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foreigner or a Christian for fear of infiltration or weakening loyalty to the country
vis-à-vis the Party. The attractiveness of policing as a career depends on a trade-
off with other factors, including remuneration, compared with alternative, less
dangerous occupations in the given economic environment and perceived status
of police.
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Chapter 7: Bamboo, boundaries and benevolence: police
culture, norms and practices in transition
Introduction
Around the streets of Hanoi, police presence is marked by the numerous ward
police stations (công an phường), painted the colour of pale daffodils, dotted
amongst narrow shopfronts. Stations are branded with large red and yellow
signage, a red lightbox with the police logo, even a letterbox bolted to the façade
for receiving anonymous complaints. Some police stations have an enclosed
front workroom where the officer on desk duties benefits from air-conditioning
amidst steamy weather, but many do not. Street-facing front offices are typically
rooms with wide-open frontage giving the impression of public accessibility to the
nation’s police force, if only to their lowest rung. These open spaces are a visual
marker, the lax security indicative of what is to be understood by outsiders as a
low risk of serious confrontation. The other notable feature is the large, dark
timber desk. It sits mid-office, clear of any technology or hardware, allowing full
view of the occupant perched behind it in sartorial green and red epaulettes with
gold trim. Around midday, as the day hits full heat, it is not uncommon to see
people sleeping; they lie slung across a row of chairs at the entrance. Sometimes
those napping are wearing police uniforms.
The informality and simplicity of ward police stations provide a particular picture
of Vietnamese policing. It would, however, be unwise to draw from this picture
more extensive conclusions about the inner workings of the nation’s police force.
Understanding the complexity of Vietnamese police means looking deeper into
what it means to be a police officer in a force often accused of abusing its power
and criticised for lacking accountability.
169
this balance requires considerable finesse but it is a critical strategy used across
Vietnam to ensure minimal disruption to organisational and social harmony, and
political stability. Why is the role of police so important to maintaining harmony
and stability? When the police function includes navigating political systems that
punish dissent, the way police operate at the lower levels is an important arena
for state-society relations.
Though the formation of a public police force in Vietnam is relatively recent, the
functions of policing in terms of regulating social order have existed since pre-
modern times. Sovereign power was exercised by monarchs who oversaw land-
holdings, markets, education, tax collection and the acquisition of soldiers
(Taylor, 2013). Overseeing social order was largely decentralised at local levels,
giving rise to a common (and still current) idiom, Phép Vua thua lệ làng (the King’s
influence stops at the village gate). As one of the research participants said:
‘Imagine long ago, villages were surrounded by bamboo making it difficult for
outsiders to get in. They were like independent communities’. The dynamics of
village life were maintained by low population mobility, homogeneity and a
communal ethic to ensure social order. Whilst the collective created a form of
equality among villagers, it existed within an underlying rationale (lý do/reason)
for a hierarchical social structure to sustain the natural order – that there was a
proper form of all relationships (Jamieson, 1993). The social structure was a
patriarchal system in which filial piety (hiếu thảo) emphasised the primacy of male
blood ties and, consequently, the subjugation of women. In Vietnamese culture,
village-level independence meant local customs and conventions (hương ước)
took precedence and centrally-made laws and policies might not be treated as
significant or binding (H. Q. Nguyen, 2010). This enabled local village elders to
‘dispense contextually relevant forms of justice’ (H. Q. Nguyen, 2010, p. 362).
Despite increased urbanisation and population migration, localised relationships
remain an important factor in modern Vietnam. Indeed, a police officer reinforced
the contemporary importance of connections by saying: ‘In Vietnam, if you have
no relationships you can’t get anything done’.
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In urban areas, interaction with the ward (modern day village) police is one arena
where police-community relationships are shaped.64 The local policing model and
the broad functions police undertake (e.g., fight fires, protect the environment,
approve travel papers [National Assembly, Ordinance on Commune Police, 2008,
Article 9]) result in a certain level of familiarity and frequency of contact with the
public. 65 These relationships do not always reflect vertical hierarchies but,
instead, mirror complex social ecologies.
One student described how she felt after seeing people she had arrested:
The sentiment expressed by the student shows she was sympathetic to the
economic deprivation experienced by people she arrested for what she
considered to be minor offences. Familiarity between police and local
constituents has been reported as a mediating factor for police to be lenient, and
documented especially in respect of the policing of illegal street vendors (Koh,
2004b, 2006; Turner & Schoenberger, 2012). This has a number of
consequences: communities may ‘get way with’ minor infractions while police
may gain access to information and even offenders. For example, although the
64
In rural areas, wards are referred to as communes and are less likely to have police educated
at the Police Academy in senior roles, or indeed, at all. Whilst the need for commune police to
be better trained has been acknowledged, progress has been slow (People's Police Academy,
2013a).
65
Ward police stations are a mixture of Academy and College trained staff. Only Academy staff
are qualified to hold the position of Ward Police Chief and are more likely than their College
trained subordinates to hold portfolio positions responsible for specific issues, which may also
include overseeing a small crew. While the hierarchy can shape the nature of duties undertaken
by officers both Academy and College staff work closely with communities.
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household registration system has become more relaxed and its enforcement
may vary, residents are required to report to police to register any overnight
visitors, including relatives or friends. The hộ khẩu system facilitates a specific
police-community interaction; when they visit residents under the guise of a hộ
khẩu, check police are able to elicit information about a neighbourhood.66 A male
police officer said the population of his police zone (ward) was approximately
10,000 residents. He was responsible for managing the hộ khẩu of 1000 of them.
Another, different police officer joked that the informal nature of their networks
meant they didn’t have to go on patrol; the police just waited in the station for the
community to report transgressions or suspicions to them (Police officer, male).
The police in Vietnam described types of patrol that included riding a motorbike,
driving in a ‘small truck’, and foot patrol. There were different ways ‘frontline’ or
‘street’ policing was undertaken.67 Though there may be variations in how police
stations execute their duties, one officer explained that ‘patrol’ meant doing a
street sweep in a small truck two or three times a day – in the morning, afternoon
and evening. During these sweeps, police could look out for visible signs of crime,
stop and talk to people in the street, and also act as a deterrent to would-be
criminals who see them – similar to Western practice. With respect to foot patrol,
he explained how it involved going inside people’s private residences:
66
The hộ khẩu system went partially online after completion of fieldwork for this study which
may reshape police-community interactions to an extent.
67
Even referring to ‘frontline’ or ‘street’ police is not a neat translation to the Vietnamese
context.
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example, when police visit a family, apart from asking if
something is not right, that police officer may check if there
is any person paying a visit to that family. Normally, the act
of informing police of someone visit your home may [now]
be done online, but police officers must be very careful,
online informing [only] is not enough. Officers would want
to see [for] themselves who this guest is.
Consequently, community expectations of what the police do, and if, when and
how they might encounter police can vary. The fact that police frequently have
reason to enter the private homes of residents may change the conception of
public and private space compared with contexts where police do not perform this
function. This social and administrative role has been associated with corruption
and intimidation of residents (McKernan & McWhirter, 2009) and can mean if
residents upset the local authorities, police may withhold their services in
oversight of the household registers, affecting access to other social services,
such as education.
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Police expectations of residents include ‘obligations’ to participate in community
safety, described by another officer as: ‘Each civilian is a security officer of the
community, so they have a responsibility to provide information [to police] and
this is why Vietnamese police can deal with problems very fast and very
effectively’ (Police student, male). This responsibility is enshrined in Article 46 of
the Constitution (2013) which states that citizens have a ‘duty to obey’ and to ‘join
in the safeguarding of national security, social order and safety’.
A senior male officer said that, in the past, police made decisions about whether
to prosecute a crime, by referring specifically to three factors: professional police
skills, political implications, and the law.69 The officer went on to say that this
approach to policing was no longer relevant for modern Vietnam and that the law
should be the only consideration behind police action. Nonetheless, Fe (2010, p.
201) has noted that China and Vietnam have similar practices which limit the
separation of ‘public governance and private human relations’, in part ‘due to the
68
Cox (2010) has discussed the concepts of non-enforcement and moral education in the
context of juvenile crime.
69
This reflects the sentiment regarding ‘contextual decision-making’ reported in China (M. R.
Dutton, 1992).
175
common practice of allowing special considerations on differentiated human
relations to play a role in public decision-making processes’.
Despite the rhetoric of the rule of law is being promulgated in Vietnam (Nicholson,
2010; Sidel, 2008), police officers and students in this study maintain that the use
of discretion, typically phrased as linh hoạt (being flexible), was essential to their
decision-making. It is useful to note that discretion and the rule of law are not
inherently opposed (Herman Goldstein, 1963). Ideally, discretion should be about
police making choices within those that law makes available. Nevertheless, the
breadth of scope for interpretation can sometimes create ambiguity about what
constitutes strict legality, and community expectations of what the police (and
authorities) should do (where community expectations are contrary to the law)
can, in turn, influence how they respond or resolve concerns (Salomon & Vu,
2010).
Questions about discretion were met with responses describing it as natural that
decisions were tempered based on empathy, compassion and benevolence.70
This may include nhận, or the inclination to go beyond rules to do good or
kindness, and tình, whereby rules are exercised subjectively and unpredictably
(Jamieson, 1993). Being flexible meant avoiding formal sanction altogether or
going beyond rules to reduce a punishment: for example, writing out a fine for an
offence other than the most accurate reflection of the transgression – but with a
lesser financial penalty – so as not to impose a severe levy.
Good relationships with the community were described as paramount for policing
which reflects a shared view from Western policing despite the very different
70
Although half the interview sample comprised students, most had experience working in the
community for at least short periods through internships at local police stations.
176
political systems. For example: ‘If the community trust us, the job will be easy and
effective’ (Police student, female). And: ‘It is tradition in Vietnam to work together
so the work of the police is for security and safety and that is why we should keep
good relationships with locals’ (Police student, male).
Vietnam’s rapid development and evolving legislation have been cited as reasons
why people might not be up to date with current laws or deliberately flout them
given their susceptibility to change (Koh, 2004a). Reflecting on a visit to
Singapore, a senior male police officer noted the lack of flexibility there with the
remark, ‘I learned that rules are rules. You can’t change’. He said in Vietnam
there were exceptions to rules where political issues were concerned, but that it
was only a matter of time for the country to upgrade and improve legislation and
the public’s knowledge of it.
Knowledge of the law was not only central to the police role in enforcement but,
in the words of one police student, also important so police ‘can explain what
people are confused about to better solve civilians’ problems’ (Police student,
female). In interviews, police officers and students emphasised their role in
educating people on the law, for example, if people were not aware of the law it
was important to give them a ‘second chance’, especially for minor offences. A
male police officer drew attention to what he saw as a difference in legal
knowledge and community expectations of police in Vietnam compared with
those of Western countries:
71
Education and information.
177
Development must go along with the knowledge of the
residents. It means that if you bring Western police to
Vietnam, they have no ability to do the work in Vietnam. The
knowledge of the residents is different. It is different
knowledge and different culture. (Police officer, male)
Police in Vietnam spoke of their country’s unique context and the specific
challenges they face. A difference to Western policing approaches was also
evidenced by police perceptions of their role as educational or rehabilitative, even
when a person was not charged with a crime, let alone found guilty and convicted:
‘If we lack evidence to charge a suspect, we still make them write a regret letter,
then we help them to find a job’ (Police officer, male). In overseeing the process
of suspects writing ‘regret letters’, police positioned themselves as having a
higher morality than the community. Knowledge of the law was important to police
not only in performing their ‘propaganda’ functions, but also as a way to navigate
how to do things:
Police officers’ knowledge of the law gave them a form of cultural capital. This
was not always used for the benefit of the public or to improve police practices,
but it did create a sense of the police as morally significant. On the one hand,
being more informed than the public provided them with a greater sense of
morality. Their job entailed sharing their legal knowledge and educating others
about correct behaviour and this gave police a position of literal and ethical
power. On the other hand, intentionally withholding legal information about police
tactics and refraining from promoting legislation in order to keep the public
uninformed meant that police were ethically compromised. Legal knowledge and
control over how it would be disseminated, if at all, provided police with cultural
capital that built their reputation and reinforced their strength. An example of this
might be as simple as a failure to explain the law to an offender but to punish
them anyway (e.g., a traffic violation). This was seen as reprehensible because,
as one female student remarked, it might result in police getting a bad reputation.
The act itself was less problematic than the potential loss of the moral high
ground. Claiming the high moral ground could be a source of symbolic capital as
72
This phrase was often used by research participants as a catch-all for investigative tactics.
When asked for further explanation as a general rule it was rarely forthcoming.
179
per Bourdieu’s (1990a) conceptualisation where individuals struggle for power
(including status) in the social order.
In Vietnam police retain a monopoly on coercive force. Maintaining their (and the
Party’s) position of power is a constant process of ‘control’ and ‘mediation’ (Koh,
2006) and requires money, time, networks, political jockeying and of course finely
tuned knowledge of social and political situations. The role of police in mediating
people’s experience with the law can also be used to garner support for (or
repress resistance to) the police’s monopoly on coercive force (Skolnick & Fyfe,
1993). Decisions about whether to follow the law or not can depend on how one
justifies a particular course of action (Bittner, 1970, 1974). The concept of
‘protected values’ provides a rationale for understanding decision-making
processes (Lucius, 2009). According to Jamieson (1993), a broad cultural
characteristic among Vietnamese people propels certain actions within normative
social structures based on a sense of duty, justice, righteousness and calm
rationality (nghĩa). It includes the pursuit of strategic social roles regardless of
individual preferences. As one police officer (male) says below, maintaining
‘harmony’ is valued over potential for conflict:
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There is the principle of non-intervention in Vietnamese
culture. To keep harmony among the people is to not blame
anyone and say one person is at fault, but to negotiate and
keep everyone happy. (Police officer, male)
In practical terms, harmony was not the only reason for non-intervention. Police
referred to justifications for non-intervention for a number of other reasons,
including public safety. One officer explained: ‘If there is a village with a big family,
if the police prosecute one person there without the agreement of the head of the
village, there would be anger in this village; it is about security’. The security of
the community as a whole may, under certain conditions, be a deterrent to
enforcing the law. The situation cited above is a typical example of communal
needs dictating appropriate responses to crimes. In these circumstances police
tend to prioritise the community’s needs over the rule of law highlighting how the
law itself is only one source of justification for police intervention.
The term ‘non-intervention’ may refer not to a passive process but an active
process, for example deciding to pursue an outcome which conforms to a higher
protected value. One male student put it this way: police ‘must have flexibility. We
have to choose what is the best solution to get. We must be active and decisive
to be professional’. The pursuit of the ‘best solution’ or harmony is not, however,
always straightforward. Interpretations about what constitutes harmony, or
pleasing everyone, may mean different things to different people. For example,
cultural characteristics associated with a strong sense of loyalty (trung) to family,
extrapolated to authority and hierarchy, reaffirm conformity and status quo as
indicators of harmony (Jamieson, 1993). Other indicators of harmony can be seen
in a range of cultural values; their interpretation is influenced by personal agency
and collective interpretations.
Hiếu thảo (filial piety) determines who merits certain types of behaviour or
attitudes, usually understood as obeying, respecting and honouring one’s parents
and acting with virtue and humility to elders. Social contracts require younger
‘brothers’ to respect, obey and support older brothers and, in turn, older brothers
teach, nurture and protect their younger brothers. A senior officer said police
should ‘never’ arrest a person (usually a male) for domestic violence for a first
181
offence, which reflects the typical police response described by Perkins, Cotrel-
Gibbons and Nguyen (2017) . The officer said they should always get a warning
first, regarding such a matter as more of a conflict than a crime. A common
response to reports of domestic violence was for a husband and wife to be invited
to the police station to discuss their problems with police and to be told to stop
fighting (Police officer, male). A female officer said police would involve the local
Neighbourhood Head or civil security officials to speak to the family to find out
more about the conflict, but indicated this would not necessarily be with a view to
progressing the incident to a criminal investigation, which would depend on its
seriousness and whether it was recurrent.
For example, if there are six vendors, [the police] let four or
five go but stop one and give a fine … Other vendors may
not follow. Also, if the police follow the rule 100 per cent it
will be fine, but they don’t want to because they will not get
advantages, for example, small money. (Police officer,
male)
Police officers emphasised the importance of crime prevention over detection and
investigation. One officer said: ‘The main job is not to catch [arrest] people but to
prevent crime’ (Police student, male). Statistics on crime are not readily available
in Vietnam, and several officers indicated that fewer recorded crimes may be
construed as a measure of good performance. It may also be the case that
consultation with supervisors about whether to make an arrest could contribute
to a reluctance towards formal intervention. Given the police’s dual subordination
to their direct supervisors as well as Party officials, consultation about intervention
may be complex. A senior police officer said one of the most difficult parts of
police work was having to negotiate the occasional competing expectations of
police superiors and the demands of the People’s Council and People’s
Committee, especially where the latter tasked police with jobs outside the official
police remit. One example of this was the unexpected police role in Hanoi’s urban
expansion, an important project for the Party, which brings economic and social
development to the capital. The officer imparted that, although the development
was welcome, it also brought more drugs and crime to deal with, précised as
‘More people, more problems’. Consequently, the police had to respond to the
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crime-related problems and tasks for local Party officials which increased their
overall workload.
This section has focused on ways that police mediate responses to social order
concerns and criminality, particularly ways in which flexibility is used to avoid law
enforcement. It has also highlighted that police tolerance for transgressions may
be applied differentially depending on circumstances. One female student told
me that community expectations of police were changing and that improvements
were necessary: ‘The police deal with problems related to the [policing] of citizens
so they have to be more transparent and follow the law and respect human rights’.
One area where transparency was particularly difficult to enforce was crimes
relating to political dissent. Political crimes can be prosecuted and punished
harshly. Although this topic was not within the scope of this research, on one
occasion I asked about the role of police in investigating people who might be
critical of the government and was informed the topic was ‘confidential and
classified and so I don’t want to comment’ (Police student, male).73Similarly, the
scope for exploring police investigations and interrogations in this research study
was limited.
Vietnam has a gift-giving culture where gratuities are given and received as social
custom. Sometimes gifts are in the form of cash (often in small envelopes) for Tet
(Lunar New Year), anniversaries or special occasions. Offerings are also referred
to as ‘appreciation money’ which can be given as a sign of respect or gratitude.
Vietnam’s history includes mutual support groups or collectives where money
may be pooled and given to members on an understanding that the benefit will
be returned later if in need. Cash may also be given with an expectation of favour
or benefit that would otherwise not be forthcoming, or it might be extracted
coercively.
73
Media reports demonstrate dissenters can be prosecuted and sentenced (Reuters, 2018) but
studies show that, even within this sensitive area, there is also room for flexibility, negotiation
and tolerance (Kerkvliet, 2014a).
184
Though the police were ranked as the country’s most corrupt institution
(Transparency International, 2013), other sectors are not immune. In 2008, 85
per cent of citizens perceived ‘serious corruption’ in central health services, and
65 per cent perceived ‘corruption’ in health services at the local level (General
Statistics Office Of Vietnam, 2013). The education sector was also viewed as
most corrupt (second only to the police) by respondents surveyed in 2010
(Transparency International Vietnam Programme, 2011). In this context, it may
be argued that police behaviour conformed to normal societal standards. But their
reputation as corrupt and the prevalence of payments from citizens to police
concerned some members of the force because the police are the institution
charged with a statutory obligation to deal with corruption and they also claim to
operate to a higher moral standard.
Several officers felt helpless to improve practices around informal payments. One
officer captured the relationship between one’s environment and perceived
obligations within it and the inclination to follow the ‘rules of the game’ through
the expression: ‘You can’t be a stranger in your own society’. The following
response also highlights the interdependence of income and expenses across
sectors:
I might not agree with the way people work in Vietnam, but
I have to adapt … It is not our culture [to give and receive
money]. It is a practice that has developed. It is necessary
to survive. My wife and I are middle-income [earners] but
we have so many expenses … I understand that it is not
right to pay or get payment for some things in our work, but
it is about balance. I have to pay teachers and doctors. I
can’t do that on a police salary. (Police officer, male)
In Vietnam, low salaries for public servants have been given as one reason for
the existence of an informal economy (Gregory, 2016; UNDP, 2009). In 2016, the
Government indicated ‘public employees, teachers and doctors’ may get a pay
rise, in part because low incomes could increase corruption (H. Nguyen, 2016).
This was confirmed by an officer who described inadequate salaries among those
working in the public service as a source of empathy from the broader community,
185
eliciting tolerance for informal payments for those in public office (Police officer,
male). Another police officer said, as his police salary was inadequate, he had to
work a second job to make ends meet. He lamented this extra work made him
tired and that if he was paid more he could focus more on his official duties.
Another police officer resolved the dilemma of informal payments in the following
way:
One police officer conceded he received informal payments but also explained
that he and his wife gave financial support to a local single mother in their
neighbourhood, so she could send her young daughter to school. In this way, the
informal economy circulated money, which could benefit the disadvantaged.
186
businesses as a regular or annual ‘fee’. Such requests are not necessarily explicit
although they can become a taken-for-granted procedure, which some people
participate in willingly in order to ‘speed up’ a slow bureaucracy, or to keep good
relations with the police in anticipation of prompt future service. Often these
payments are made reluctantly but with an acceptance that making them is part
of the broader system. This is exemplified by on-the-spot payments in lieu of
paying formal fines. A female officer noted that Traffic Police might have a bad
reputation because they give out infringements to traffic violators. She noted that
‘often people want to pay immediately to the police officer’, instead of going to
the revenue office. It is a practice sometimes referred to as giving the police
‘coffee money’ whereby a smaller amount is paid on the spot – unofficially – and
instead of lodging formal payment in person and where the convenience of online
payments was not yet available.
The young guard outside the police station looked in our direction as
our car approached the driveway. The small carpark was not quite full.
A sign said it was reserved for official use only. The driver told me to
wind down my window. He yelled out to the guard: ‘Can I park here?’,
pointing to the street directly outside the large, city police station. The
guard looked at us blankly. Again, ‘Can I park here?’. The guard
nodded – sort of. At the time, I would have said he nodded, but in
hindsight it was perhaps a nervous response to seeing a foreigner
visiting the offices of a national-level police department. After I finished
my meeting it was a surprise to myself and my driver to see police in
green uniforms about to attach a paper notice to the car windscreen –
a fine for parking in that area during a prohibited time. Why did the
guard say we could park there? We were only there an hour. These
questions went unanswered as the guard in question was at lunch.
187
The driver’s polite protestations to police about the guard indicating
the parking arrangement was OK upon arrival did nothing to have the
fine revoked. The police officer handed over the paper notice saying,
‘It’s too late. It is already written’. The police officer pointed to a sign
clearly stating there was no parking at that time – which both the driver
and I had clearly missed on arrival and a currently absent guard’s nod
was no endorsement for our parking request. I can’t be sure at which
point the group of police saw me – a foreigner – accompanying the
driver. It seemed the officer with the fine responded with ‘It’s too late’
before he turned to see me, but it is possible a colleague mentioned it
without me hearing or understanding in the dialogue that was taking
place. It may even be an irrelevant point, but, after being told the fine
would stand the driver took out a đ500,000 note (a substantial fine.
Approx. AUD$25) and held it down low whilst reaching over to the
officer, smiling, in request to withdraw the fine. The officer closed his
folder and turned and began to walk away. The driver politely asked
him to reconsider, pointing out we had been at a meeting with an
officer ranked among the most senior in the country and that the guard
told us we could park there. Still, he did not change his mind.
188
The interaction between the ‘finers’ and ‘finee’ had been a friendly
affair; a kindly protest by the driver claiming an innocent mistake due
to relying on the apparent approval of the guard instead of checking
the signage ourselves; the officers were not posturing or intimidating
– physically or verbally – and in my view engaged with the driver
suitably enough to acknowledge his pleas but moved on to indicate a
change of mind was not forthcoming. What is instructive, though, is the
normalcy apparent in the attempt to circumvent the official penalty of
what I later found out was đ800,000 by offering the reduced amount of
đ500,000 on the spot. Not only was the driver seeking a discount, but
he expressed his annoyance at the inconvenience of having to go to
the revenue office to complete the payment (which we did
immediately) that added insult to whole affair. Moreover, the visible
attempt to bribe the police occurred outside a major police station, by
someone with a close police connection, in front of a foreigner (also
with a policing background), in the course of research about police.
(Reconstructed from fieldnotes, 2016)
189
religions such as Islam, for example, I should not follow bad
things like drinking, corruption or hurting people. (Police
officer, male)
Progress for the PPF requires balancing the tension between a national identity
rooted in its resistance to prolonged foreign invasion and occupation and a desire
to learn from international experience and technological advances. It is a question
of how to be open and closed at the same time:
Overall, there was an eagerness to learn from foreign countries which stemmed
from a recognition that Vietnam was less economically developed, for example:
Vietnam’s relatively recent integration into global markets and state control over
the nature of that integration meant police also needed skill development to cope
with the changing environment. In particular, foreign language capability was
raised as a skill gap. The importance of foreign languages was linked to the need
to respond to transnational crimes and ‘learn more about treaties and agreements
191
Vietnam has signed internationally’ (Police officer, male). Two officers specifically
mentioned the Trans-Pacific Partnership trade deal.
During interviews with staff and students at the Academy, I routinely asked the
question: ‘In 10 or 20 years, what changes do you think will be made in the police
force?’ Most students replied that they didn’t have a view on what the police might
be like in the future, whereas several staff members indicated the police would
have improved technology. It was brought to my attention by an officer at the PPA
that there was concern this line of questioning may be seen as an invitation to
elicit comments on changes to the political system more broadly. Given that
police, by law, report directly to the Communist Party, and are required to be
Party members, to ask about changes in policing implied changes to the one-
party state system and, by extension, a pro-democracy narrative. Another male
officer explained the implications of my question in the following terms:
Thus, any discussion about change in Vietnam must be sensitive to the broad
political agenda. Another officer spoke about how he wanted to inspire and
encourage younger generations of police to ‘embrace change’:
Reluctance to pursue change might also reflect a reluctance to disrupt the natural
order of things imposed by lý do (rationale) in Vietnamese culture (Jamieson,
1993) and reinforced through the militaristic rank structure. In several interviews
I asked students about their career aspirations; responses included: ‘It is not
really important to focus on promotion. I must focus on my study and
professionalism and I don’t think about getting promoted yet’ (Police student,
male); and, to achieve ‘a rank below captain. [But] I don’t think about what can
happen so far ahead’ (Police student, female).
193
explained that good leaders were those who were open to suggestions, who have
a long-term vision, and, importantly, did not create divisions within the community.
To enhance police capability, officers suggested more openness could help. For
example: ‘Good policing has to be discussed and analysed so police are aware
of the issues and fulfil their duty and feel comfortable’ (Police officer, male). This
officer added that proposals for change seen as oppositional or rebellious could
be headed off with criticisms of ‘Westernised thinking’, which could dent the
authority of an idea.74 Whilst the ‘West’ was seen as an important source of ideas
it was also seen through the lenses of history, culture and ideology, many of
which retain strong negative connotations.
74
Despite this, one senior male officer pointed out that Hồ Chí Minh was a great leader because
he spent more than 30 years abroad studying ‘leadership’ in other countries. Also, the
Declaration of Independence by Hồ Chí Minh on September 2, 1945, was modelled on that of
the United States, highlighting that a charge of ‘Westernised thinking’ may be dependent on
circumstances.
194
There were also reflections on what was suitable for Vietnam with reference to
other Asian countries. For example, one student who went on a study tour to the
Royal Thai Police Cadet Academy said he was surprised that the Thai students
did little or no study in the evenings. Instead, Thai police students were expected
to focus on exercise, and preparing their uniforms and polishing their boots for
the next day. The student thought there was an overemphasis on fitness and
appearance compared with expanding knowledge. He joked that Vietnamese
police students were ‘smarter’ than their Thai counterparts. Other examples
where Thai police students were highly disciplined included the way they have to
eat during their first year of training. They have to keep their elbow at a right-
angle at all times during a meal which makes it difficult to eat quickly. Due to the
rigid movements required to eat, students sometimes are unable to finish their
lunch in the allocated 30 minutes, or if they spill some food or relax their posture
they are required to do push-ups as punishment. The student described this type
of discipline as unnecessary and felt relieved that the PPA did not have the same
requirements. The observation also highlights variations between police in the
Asia region.
Police perceptions varied in relation to their occupation and its status. Several
students and officers said they were proud of their career choice and said they
thought they were ‘admired’ and ‘loved’ by the community. There were also
descriptions of policing as being a ‘noble’ and ‘respected’ career.
Students expressed an appreciation for learning and respect for the teaching
staff: ‘The theoretical knowledge at the PPA was written by people who have high
professional skills, including the books, to teach students’ (Police student, male).
However, when students reflected on their internship experiences they often felt
that what was learned in the Academy required some adjusting in practice. In
other words, theoretical underpinnings provided some structure for daily work but
did not always reflect lived experience in the field.
197
learned at the Academy. We never expect it or encountered
it, so after practical lessons we can apply the theory after.
(Police student, male)
Once students graduated they found themselves navigating between theory and
practice, and trying to make sense of situations that required flexibility, discretion
and the use of “professional measures”. Each time police make a judgement call
on the job they do so in the space between academia and professionalism. Even
before they leave the Academy students learn how to enforce the law as it is
written and as it understood in reality.
One senior officer indicated that students were taught to follow the law as correct
behaviour:
The officer acknowledged that, in practice, police were often flexible in applying
the law and claimed that Vietnam was transitioning to a rule-of-law system. But
whilst the Academy teaches the law, it can be disrupted by what happens in
practice. As described earlier, students and police reported a difference in theory
and practice, and that taking shortcuts was sometimes necessary and modelled
by more experienced officers. Therefore, one’s peers become important for
determining whether someone is doing a good job. This was further supported by
the following response to the question, ‘Who defines what being “good” at your
job means?’
198
Firstly, the boss, the leader will proclaim if a person is good
or not depending on if they are good at what they are told
to do. Second, they have to love their job. Third, all the jobs
the boss tells them to do, they have to complete it. Also, the
people who decide if a person is good at their job are their
mates. (Police officer, male).
In contrast, it was noted that, ‘a bad police officer is someone who can’t gain the
trust of the community’ (Police student, male). The reputation of police could be
marred by the poor actions of a minority:
Criticisms of police were usually not mentioned until interviewees were prompted
and asked to specify reasons why some people might complain about the police.
The most common response was that people complained because police
investigations took too long, although one female student said sometimes people
are unhappy because the police ‘cheat’ them, specifically mentioning Traffic
Police. A male student said, ‘sometimes police use brute force and civilians think
that police are bullies’. A different male student summed up some of the avenues
the community could use to complain about police and described some possible
consequences:
Some say that the Vietnamese police are the best in the
world. For example, in the US, the police shoot people. In
Paris, why can’t the police stop terrorism? In Vietnam, there
are no such cases. Only bombing incidents happen from
workplace accidents. Some people make a joke that
‘Vietnam has no terrorism because if a terrorist has a bomb
they will sell it before using it’. [laughs] (Police officer, male)
200
A core characteristic of police culture in the literature relates to solidarity and the
‘code of silence’ in which officers close ranks and refuse to share information on
their colleague’s transgressions. The consequences of doing so could result in a
person’s exclusion from the group or a withdrawal of support (Skolnick & Fyfe,
1993). Exposing the wrongdoing of one officer can be seen to reflect badly on the
many. Participants who said the police were held in high regard may truly believe
this is the case. It could also be that the consequences can be severe for negative
commentary about others or the organisation (and Party). One male officer,
remarking on the public security services, said they ‘talk about how good they are
but in the eyes of the public their image is fading. They know in their hearts that
their reputation is not good, but they will not admit it’. (Police officer, male)
The nature of police work everywhere means police may not have a good
reputation among some sections of the community. In Vietnam, the reputation of
the police is built on community relationships, shared favour and interactions with
the public, both positive and negative. How participants reflected on their ideas
about reputation was indicative of the tensions under which they work every day,
and the dissonance between personally-held beliefs and the limitations on
speaking freely.
Conclusion
The current study focused on the uniformed public police, largely those who were
studying or working at the PPA or who had done so previously. It revealed police
in Vietnam work within a conceptualisation of public and private space which
differs from Western understandings. The interactions across the formal and
informal networks that enforce law and order are understood and enacted in both
superficial and highly complex ways. One example is the extent to which
neighbourhood patrols, such as those undertaken by Street Knights, are directed
by the police, and how they can be held accountable with respect to misconduct.
Consequently, local police stations function as an important intersection between
where the state ends, and the people begin and thus are a site for further
exploration between the population and the law.
202
Vietnamese culture. This means that power relations, including gender
hierarchies, are sustained and are difficult to dislodge in a broader system where
litigation against discrimination has been uncommon. The Communist Party
structure is instrumental in maintaining the Confucian social structure which, in
turn, reinforces a rigid, though often unwritten, hierarchy of control and power.
This means communal policing efforts based on local needs can be disrupted by
top-down influence. Furthermore, whether police decide to be flexible may be
subjective or politically motivated and lack fairness, meaning the rights of the less
powerful are not structurally protected and may be under-enforced and
dependent on the ‘flexibility’ of individual police. The lack of accountability
structures and power imbalances may also result in limited checks on whether
interpretations of community policing benefit vested interests. Furthermore, the
Vietnamese populace do not have recourse to an independent media who are in
a politically powerful enough position to expose poor police conduct. Whilst the
expansion of social media has filled this gap to an extent, complaining about
police via the digital realm can have consequences. This thesis does not examine
the role of social media in challenging police behaviour but over the past decade
there has been an example reported where complaining about police on
Facebook has led to the complainant being jailed (Voice of America, 2015). The
upshot of this enforcement of strict censorship when it comes to public
denunciations of police behaviour is that there is little recourse for those who feel
they have been mistreated or not taken seriously.
75
Albeit often alongside petty bribery.
204
include: symbolic capital related to legitimacy, integrity and morality that came
with being associated with the Party who were responsible for reunifying the
country and implementing policies for economic growth; social capital associated
with flexibility and showing benevolence to people who may have committed an
offence to build good relationships; and economic capital associated with informal
payments or bribes for non-enforcement. As we have seen these three,
overlapping and often-competing, forms of capital, provide the baseline for police
motivations, behaviours and operations. The acquisition of all three requires
considerable finesse and in that process, police find themselves positioned
between the Party and the people. They are responsible for how official policy is
implemented and, to the extent to which implementation of a centralised political
agenda reflects its intent, can be mediated at the street and lower levels (Lipsky,
1980).
Police in the global North were initially deemed monolithic and bureaucratic.
However, this may have been due to presentational strategies of police
organisations or just poor research rather than a reflection of reality. The ways
Vietnamese policing is represented may also focus too heavily on a limited
reading whereby the presentational strategy is reflected in images of police in
Vietnam, and discourse emphasising authoritarian aspects of the political and
205
public security regime (Thayer, 2014). However, there are also studies of
Vietnamese society which highlight space for dialogue and negotiation between
the State and its people (Kerkvliet, 2003, 2014a). Vietnamese police interviewed
in this study placed a value on non-intervention (referring to formal legal
intervention) over action-oriented and enforcement approaches. This
represented a different way of approaching policing than that previously
presented as core to the policing identity in Western studies. Analysing policing
under an authoritarian regime, where the potential for heavy sanctions can apply,
can lead to assumptions that law enforcement is strict and unforgiving; however,
police staff and students expressed the importance of flexibility, crime prevention
and educating the public on points of law as key aspects of their role.
206
Chapter 8: Matriarchy, mobilisation and modern women in
Vietnamese policing76
Introduction
In the 3rd Century, Triệu Thị Trinh (225-248AD) defied the plight of her peers and
seized her place as a military leader in Vietnam. Near the beginning of her
homeland’s protracted campaign to wrest sovereignty from Chinese invaders,
she famously declared, ‘I will not resign myself to the lot of women who bow their
heads and become concubines’. As a young warrior of 19 years, she was
persistently depicted in battle wearing feminine headdress, brandishing a sword
and commanding her army (of mostly men) into combat. She did so from atop an
elephant signifying her mastery over an animal many times her size and strength.
Her bravery was further revealed by her pronouncement, ‘I wish to ride the
tempest, tame the waves, kill the sharks. I have no desire to take abuse’. Later
designated Bà Triệu (Lady Trieu), she fought over 30 battles by the age of 23.
When facing defeat, she chose to commit suicide rather than have her life
snatched by rivals who had her surrounded.77
The story of Bà Triệu provides us with a model of the iconic Vietnamese woman.
She is capable in leadership and unencumbered by fear. She is unconstrained
by physical limitations in warfare and exploits the weaponry at her disposal. In
the case of Bà Triệu this meant a sword and an elephant; in contemporary
Vietnam, security equipment and tactics have shifted. The history of Vietnamese
women features not only strong female roles, but also matriarchal practices
around lineage and land rights (Yu, 1999). However, this robust indigenous
history has been significantly impacted by colonisation and patriarchal Confucian
ethics (Duong, 2001) which influenced Vietnamese culture, including social
76
This chapter formed the basis of the following peer-reviewed article: Jardine, M. (2018a)
Gender equality and the role of women in policing in Vietnam. People’s Police Magazine.
Ministry of Public Security. Hanoi
77
Tales of Bà Triệu include that she was 9 feet tall, had a bellowing voice and breasts three feet
long the latter characteristic described as an affront to invading Chinese at a time where women
wrapped their chests to flatten their bust.
207
norms which deter women from pursuing higher education rather than current or
prospective male partners (ISDS, 2015).78
78
Importantly, this social norm is not confined to societies with a Confucian past and occurs in
the West.
79
Read more at http://vietnamnews.vn/sunday/features/344733/crashing-through-the-bamboo-
ceiling.html#rYyqBTTKYYFUlCrt.99
208
led campaign are on display at the Women’s Museum in Hanoi.80 81 and these
further illustrate the crucial role women have had in Vietnam’s security and in
fighting against waves of invaders.
80
Nguyễn Thị Minh Khai was one of the first female members of the VCP, traveling to Hong Kong
and the USSR to represent the Party between 1930 and 1935. ‘In 1940 as a member of the VCP
Committee in Cochinchina and secretary of the Saigon – Cholon section, she was arrested during
a planning meeting for the Cochinchina uprising. She received the death penalty and was shot in
Hoc Mon in 1941 at the age of 31’ (Women’s Museum). Hà Thị Quế (born 1921) was a military
leader in Bắc Giang province and member of the provincial VCP who led the political take over in
Yên Thế as part of the August Revolution in 1945 (Women’s Museum). Nguyen Thi Chien, a
‘guerrilla war chief’ known as ‘Woman who captures the enemy unarmed’ is recognised for
capturing four French soldiers, including an officer, whilst unarmed at the age of 21. ‘In 1952 she
was the first recipient of the title ‘Hero of the People’s Armed Forces’ awarded by the state’
(Women’s Museum). Kan Lich, from the Pako ethnic minority group in Thua Thien Hue, was the
Assistant Chief of the Armed Forces in A Luoi directing female guerrilla force at 18 years old. ‘In
1968 she was honoured for having participated in 49 battles, killing 150 soldiers and bringing
down an American Dakota plane’ (Women’s Museum).
81
General Tran Van Tra (1988) wrote of the contribution of the ‘long haired army’ (female cadres)
to the military success (cited in G. E. Dutton et al., 2012, p. 472).
82
It should be noted that in the post-1954 period, North Vietnam characterised war as against a
foreign enemy, largely, the Americans, whereas in South Vietnam it was portrayed as a civil
war. See Tài (2001)
209
recovery by 2017 to 69 (World Economic Forum, 2017). This disparity in
opportunities is mirrored in the public security arena.
Whilst this sector attracts the highest base salary of Government positions,
women’s access to this field is limited by the official policy of the Ministry of Public
Security which was last revised in 2016. The policy embedded a 10 per cent and
15 per cent cap on female entrants to public security tertiary institutions (Bộ Công
An, 2016, Article 3).83 These small percentages serve to institutionally enforce the
sector’s status as a masculine arena. Vietnam’s Labour Code (2012) and
associated regulations (Thông tư, 2013) prohibit employing women in some
occupations or undertaking specific tasks ‘to suit the health of female workers’
(Article 3.2.). Whilst some of the provisions aim to protect women during
pregnancy from strain or exposure to chemicals, which may cause them and their
unborn child harm, in practice the code entrenches gender stereotypes and limits
women’s access to work. But just as the landscape of policing is not static,
change is also imminent around employment. The Labour Code is currently under
revision with proposals to remove sections, which limit female participation in the
workforce, for example, the earlier retirement age which is between two to five
years earlier for women than men as outlined in Table 4 in Chapter 5.
This chapter explores historical events, folklore, policies and practices which
have influenced the position of women in Vietnam today. I highlight how women
are situated in the broader culture and through observation and interviews
explore the experiences and presentation of female police. I conclude by
summing up differences and similarities in the field of policing for women in
Vietnam compared to what has been documented in the global North.
83
Article 3 specifies a 10% limit on women in professional police and 15% limit for women in
political branches, engineering, logistics and foreign languages. Here, ‘professional police’ can
be understood to mean types of police (or security) work that are operational or considered
specialist. This thesis refers to 15% as the quota limit although it should be recognised that this
is an upper limit for women on entry and that different roles and functions may have more or
less than this in practice.
210
Geography, gender and a touch of grace
Vietnamese folklore is critical to the creation of the complex feminine ideal in both
the north and south of the country. Within this construction, geography is a central
metaphor. The tale of the ‘Founding Parents’ of ancient Vietnam, the Fairy Bird
Âu Cơ (mother) and Dragon King Lạc Long Quân (father) is one that illustrates
the history of Vietnamese constructions of gender roles. The story describes the
84
Although mentioning them can be politically sensitive because it detracts from the unified
vision authorities prefer to project
85
A similar study in Hồ Chí Minh City may reap different results and have an altered focus.
However, many of the documented prominent early women leaders were from the north given
that is where battles with Chinese invaders took place. Furthermore, in line with the view that
history is written from the perspective of the victors, anti-Communist women fighters may be
overlooked in the official history.
211
separation of the founding parents and equal division of their 100 children. The
separation, referred to as a ‘reconciled conflict of a divorce’ (Duong, 2001, p.
209), of the Fairy Bird and Dragon King has various interpretations in its re-telling.
Some versions reflect a matriarchal and feminist viewpoint of a mother – a
pioneer – taking charge of her offspring’s destiny, while others emphasise the
patriarchal and decision-making role of the Dragon King’s initiation of the divorce.
Other accounts tell how the Fairy Bird (reflecting the ocean) and the Dragon King
(reflecting the mountains) separated and took up residence in their opposite’s
realms. The story becomes an evocation of the creation of an equal, mutually
beneficial, but clearly delineated relationship between land and sea. Vietnamese
mythology features the country’s mountainous landscape and extensive
coastline. Through the association of motherhood with the ocean and fatherhood
with mountains, the feminine and masculine are represented as inherently distinct
and eternally inter-dependent. The masculine mountains resemble a static and
stable presence while the ocean’s ebb and flow is emblematic of the nature of
women’s equality in Vietnam. A sea that flows forward in times of national need
and foreign aggression (into the frontiers of battle) and recedes from the front as
danger wanes and women take up their role in the home which has the colloquial
designation, Nội Tướng, or General of the Interior (Tài, 2001, p. 174). This
undulation need not be characterised as a binary choice but rather the slow
movement of the tide and a recognition of multiple possibilities. Possibilities which
can be read as constituting the natural state of woman ranging from protector of
national security to primary nurturer of family and home.
Confucian influence
The Article’s reference to the ‘corrupt ancient custom’ implies contempt for the
indigenous practice. In more recent centuries, it has been more common for the
213
daughter-in-law to move in with her husband’s family as the likely result of
patrilineal and patrilocal requirements. The Book of Good Government of the
Hồng Đức Era, 1471, also stated:
Vietnam’s visual history is laden with images of female warriors and martyrs who
fought alongside men for the collective security of the nation. Amidst recurrent
foreign and civil wars, a confrontation that has not yet taken place in Vietnam is
a battle between the sexes (Duong, 2001). Duong (2001) argues that equality for
women has been only acceptable in terms of their contribution to nationalism or
the collective good. This theory has been demonstrated above; but there are
examples in the early years of the 20th Century where gender equality was part
86
In addition to Bà Triệu’s legacy, other women are recognised for their military prowess who
managed to be effective in battle notwithstanding gendered limitations including, the Trưng
Sisters (Hai Bà Trưng) who, in 40AD, fought against the Han Chinese with the elder sister
Trưng Trắc becoming Queen. In 1789, Bui Thi Xuan, the female General Commander-in-Chief
for King Quang Trưng, fought in a victory against 290,000 Qing Chinese invaders as head of
the elephant mounted troops. In more recent times, women have been heralded for their
leadership in the Communist-led campaigns against French, Japanese and American incursions
in museums in Hanoi and Hồ Chí Minh City (Tài 2001).
214
of the national project as determined via socialist objectives. The Vietnamese
Communist Party, established in 1930, founded the Women’s Emancipation
Association, later Hội Phụ nữ Việt Nam (Viet Nam Women’s Union). The
Women’s Union is a major branch of the Vietnam Fatherland Front whose charter
is as follows:
During the campaign to unify Vietnam through military action in the south, the
Women’s Union mobilisation platform between 1955-1975 included ‘Three
responsibilities’ of its membership, ‘1. To take charge of industrial and agricultural
production, 2. To manage all family affairs; 3. To take up arms when necessary’
(Vietnam Women's Union, 2018).
The socialist work ethic championed by Hồ Chí Minh after the August Revolution
in 1945 expanded women’s participation in employment and public space (ISDS,
2015, p. 19), and saw a rejection of individuality associated with colonial French
bourgeoise. The pervasive inequality experienced by women around this time is
made explicit in the following statement by Hồ Chí Minh, ‘What equality really
means is a thorough-going and difficult revolution because contempt for women
dates back thousands of years…If this large-scale revolution is to be successful,
progress will have to be made in every field: political, economic, cultural and legal’
(Mai & Le, 1978 cited in Oxfam in Vietnam, 2016, p. 10). However, even though
women joined the labour force, they were still expected to fulfil their domestic
roles according to Confucian values (ISDS, 2015). A line of critique follows that
women were mobilised by Hồ Chí Minh and male strategists to help with the war
effort but the Party’s commitment to gender equality diminished after driving out
215
colonialists leading to criticism that women were exploited in times of national
need – a trend seen in other post-war and post-colonial societies (Duong, 2001).
Notwithstanding the overlap of wartime in the founding and early years of the
formal police organisation in Vietnam, some draw a distinction between modern
policing and military action. The interviews with police in this study highlighted
many of the competing dimensions of women’s roles, including roles ascribed to
them by men. One policeman said women’s roles in war and policing could not
be considered the same because the former demanded their involvement due to
the proximate sovereign threat whereas policing in peacetime does not warrant
the same response, adding that the ‘psychology and mindset’ is different (Police
officer, male). This argument seeks to explain differences between the sexes in
that the exceptional circumstances of wartime saw women embody an unnatural
role also reflected in the interpretation of the idiom Giặc đến nhà đàn bà cũng
đánh (When the enemy is at the gate, the woman goes out fighting) as not to be
confused with feminist empowerment (Tài, 2001, p. 174).
216
According to Swartz, ‘Individuals and groups draw upon a variety of cultural,
social, and symbolic resources in order to maintain and enhance their positions
in the social order’ (1997, p. 73). Thus, the legacy of Vietnam’s military victories
and women’s role in them are actions from which women can petition merit
alongside men. Some analyses of Women’s Union activities claim they have
fought for status (Chiricosta, 2010, p. 124) but not power, consequently
entrenching male authority through misplaced emphasis on women’s domestic
roles (Waibel & Gluk, 2013).
The Women’s Union sits under the umbrella of the Fatherland Front, which in turn
serves the Party. In theory the union’s branches, which make up a mass
organisation of many millions of women stretch down to the commune level and
their input feeds into executive resolutions. In reality, the political positioning of
the union, placed as it is within an unassailable hierarchy, primarily serves the
needs of the Party, signing off on decisions made at the top. The framework lends
itself towards a top-down approach to policy making. The national committee of
the Women’s Union takes charge of setting the agenda and ‘norms’ at the lower
levels – an approach criticised for dictating terms bereft of nuance essential for
meeting local needs (Waibel & Gluk, 2013).
The Women’s Union branch at the PPA celebrated International Women’s Day in
2017 with a campaign to promote the role of women in the Public Security Forces
as embracing, ‘discipline, creativity for national security, building happy families’
(People's Police Academy, 2017e). This is a continuation of the dual roles that
have marked public engagement for women serving both country and home.
Policewomen experience another duality. As compulsory members of the
Women’s Union they are subject to the dual subordination of the Government,
under the Ministry of Public Security, and the Communist Party, under the
Women’s Union. This means if they take an alternative view to the Party of issues
facing, and opportunities available, to women it may invite undesirable
repercussions. One officer while not speaking directly to the issue of gender said
a good leader must work towards change without creating disunity (Police officer,
male). This approach is likely to support the highly gendered status quo and
embed power dynamics in favour of men. In a culture which tries to avoid division
217
and appease the sensibility of others for the sake of harmony (as described in
Chapter 6), some instruments typically used to progress social change and draw
attention to unfairness may not be available. For example, industrial action or
some forms of awareness raising such as the ‘fledgling’ #MeToo movement (L.
Le, 2018) can be unsuitable or difficult to create social change in Vietnam. In this
climate it becomes socially or politically risky to pursue restructuring of gender
relations. Even a strategy of withdrawing unpaid labour at home to participate in
more paid work while potentially effective on an individual domestic level might
invoke broader social repercussions if women did not fulfil their gender role as
described below:
Here, women are attributed status not only through the ‘social accomplishment’
of fulfilling their gender role (Miller, 2002) of a ‘good’ wife, mother, daughter-in-
law etc, but also through their compliance and endorsement of Ministerial and
Women’s Union expectancies. Feminism’s ‘double bind’ (Carland, 2017) in the
Vietnamese context may be the trade-off between projecting a unified voice in a
one-party political system and giving voice to ‘not just intersecting but competing
forms of discrimination’ for individual women (Carland, 2017, p. 108).
Furthermore, in Vietnam’s pursuit of liberation from colonialism, Duong refers to
the conflation of nationalism, socialism and gender equality as the ‘fallacy of the
trio’ because it renders one form of oppression (colonialism) as warranting more
218
attention than another (localised patriarchy) (Duong, 2001, p. 283). Duong goes
on to say ‘Gender equality must mean more than equality in self-sacrifice for the
name of the country’ (2001, p. 284). As such, ‘The challenge of the Vietnamese
woman in the 21st century, therefore, is to combine international feminist
objectives with the authenticity of her diversity in advocacy for the goal of gender
equality in Vietnam’ (Duong, 2001, p. 326).
Whilst the Women’s Union has been criticised for emphasising women’s duties
in the home (Oxfam in Vietnam, 2016), some men interviewed in this study
asserted what they thought looking after the family was what was good for
women or what women wanted. The following quote delivers the burden of family
wellbeing squarely on the shoulders of women:
From this perspective, the kitchen can represent a domain where women
exercise control, inhabiting a subject position from which they derive a sense of
authority eluding them in other decision-making spheres.87 Furthermore, while
Women’s Union’s campaigns claiming that home-making is the realm of women
have been described as unhelpful (Oxfam in Vietnam, 2016), it remains a
significant realm of influence. If it is the sole sphere where women exert tangible
influence, challenging this ideal carries with it the danger of losing already limited
status.
Whilst women continue to take on more responsibilities outside the home, they
might benefit from de-emphasising domestic tasks as ‘women’s work’. Gender
specialist, Dr Khuất Thu Hồng argues for a way forward, ‘I think it’s time to change
and to influence men. Policies, actions, programmes and interventions should
target men, forcing them to change their awareness, thoughts and behaviours.
Here, I would like to emphasise that support should continue to be given to
women, but men should also be “rescued”’ (Việt Nam News, 2016). This notion
of raising men’s awareness is used consistently in Western behaviour change
87
Whilst the burden of domestic roles is often associated with women’s subordination to a male
partner, Connell (1995) indicates women’s monopoly in this sphere can disrupt this power
structure, particularly in relation to child care.
220
programs – for example domestic violence prevention campaigns which focus on
male responsibility – but the idea of rescuing men is an interesting approach to a
contested space.
To say food preparation is the sole domain of women in Vietnam is also not
entirely true. It is possible for men to choose to inhabit the kitchen if it is something
they enjoy. In one case where I joined a meal with the relatives of a police officer:
the cook in charge of preparing the entire meal for a large group was a man in
his 30s. I watched him working quickly in the kitchen, smiling cheerfully,
explaining how he cooked for his family every day. Not only did he attest he was
a good cook, a claim endorsed by family onlookers, he was radiant whilst saying
he enjoyed his self-appointed post. Family members chuckled at the novelty of a
male being the family cook but at the same time appeared to thoroughly
appreciate his voluntary uptake of this responsibility. The novelty associated with
the male cook is an example of an exception proving the rule – that cooking is
usually women’s work.
Vietnamese women’s national dress, the áo dài, features prominently in official
and formal ceremonies (and informal settings), including at functions under the
MPS. Made of silk and in two parts, it comprises a long flowing dress with splits
to the waist up each side combined with long pants worn underneath. The pants
swirl voluminously at the ankles and are often in a contrasting colour for visual
effect. The long splits permit the front and back sections to flow independently
around the legs evoking a graceful and willowy feeling. A tightly fitted upper
section which clings to the ribs, chest, neck and shoulders reveals the feminine
frame. At police academy events including graduations, talent contests and other
performances, the áo dài is commonly worn by women who may also change into
and out of, the green police uniform. Female police students (and staff) draped in
colours dance with silk scarves and large feathered fans as well as marching or
mingling wearing the official ‘superman green’ (see more regarding this
description below) livery alongside their male counterparts.
221
On closer inspection, the male and female uniforms provide some clues about
the differences in the nature of police work for policemen and policewomen.
Students of both sexes must attain a basic standard of martial arts in order to
pass their training. 88 Women are at a marked disadvantage in this and other
physical tests due to the regulation one-inch heel on their shoes. Their male
counterpart’s shoes have a flat sole, better for running, maintaining balance, or
indeed, standing or walking for long periods; all activities routinely associated with
police duties, particularly those in the field. Whilst the regulation shoes are not
the reason for the differences between male and female police roles, they indicate
attitudes to women’s policing as a more sedentary occupation than men’s
policing. It is hardly surprising, in this context, that most policewomen undertake
far more administrative, desk-based functions rather than operational or
emergency responses. But, of course, the feminisation of police women is more
complicated than their standardised kit. Only two interview participants, both
women, said they wanted to become police so they could wear the uniform –
possibly because it gave them higher status in the community than women might
otherwise have; perhaps because it was associated with authority.
Issues of uniform are also complicated by the ways policewomen engage with
the way it is worn. In some instances, female police have a role in reinforcing
traditional ideas of femininity. During my time at the PPA, I trod many buildings,
hallways, stairwells, walkways, offices and dining areas taking photos where
possible of signage, slogans and images around the academy.89 I was particularly
struck by a framed series of photos in a stairwell stipulating the Ministry of Public
Security guidelines for male and female hair styles whilst in uniform. The
photographs showed the universal and characterless front, back and sides cut
for men, whilst women had the option of restraining their long hair in a bun pulled
back from the face or neatly trimmed sitting above the epaulettes on the
shoulders. The photographs and regulation hairstyles were not themselves
88
I observed students wear casual styled clothing rather than their uniform while doing martial
arts classes at the academy.
89
I did ask whether it was permissible to take photos and was encouraged to do so in regard to
official signage although other times it was discouraged.
222
noteworthy, but it was the non-compliance by women at the academy that I found
notable.
Women wore the regulation, though impractical, heeled police-issue footwear but
chose to flout the practical hairstyle rules and instead wore their hair long and
lithe, meandering down their backs, or with a fringe like a curtain lingering above
their eyes. This is entirely consistent with an endeavour to embrace femininity at
the same time as performing a non-traditional role. It is a containment strategy;
an attempt to maintain the status quo, to be police women but still women; to fit
into the male dominated police community without disruption, without
undermining society. It also represents an expression of individuality often
discouraged among military and para-military forces, not to mention a deliberate
act of rule-breaking by a minority risking punishment. Women, in their collective
though perhaps not conscious power, have weighed the risk and performed a
calculated action. In the broader context, this shared rebuff of official rules reflects
one of Kerkvliet’s three possibilities for state-society relations (2003). If the
academy is viewed as a ‘small society’, the women’s conduct represents a
bottom-up approach to policy making. A male student observed, ‘If someone
breaks a rule and doesn’t get punished for it, then more people will follow.
Eventually so many people are breaking a rule that it is impossible to enforce’
(Police student, male). When I pointed out my observation of women’s non-
conformance to another male student he posited an additional view:
…the proper hair style for women is so ugly. Who would want to
look like that? I went to the Royal [Thai] Police Cadet Academy
and the women there had their hair tied back so tightly it made
their faces ugly. I’m glad the women at the Academy don’t do
that.
A female student said women felt more comfortable when they could wear their
hair in a way that suited their face shape which meant a non-regulation style was
appropriate if so demanded by their physical criteria (Police student, female). The
emphasis on appearance is notable given the average age for women to get
married in Vietnam is 22 (25 for men) (ISDS, 2015, p. 63), thus, time spent living
223
on campus provides a prime opportunity for relationships to flourish. 90 The
academy is a crucial marriage market-place. 91
Marriage is a social
accomplishment in Vietnam with 90 per cent of people surveyed by ISDS having
been married at least once (ISDS, 2015, p. 63). Most marriages are initiated
based on love (80%), but importantly, 12 per cent of marriages occurred due to
people having reached an age at which it is deemed socially requisite to have
started a family (ISDS, 2015, p. 64). This is usually mid to late 20s and by this
age there is very strong pressure from family, society and even workplaces for
people to find a mate. This pressure coincides with a perception of female
students’ lack of focus on career aspirations due to the desire to find a husband.
A young male student put it this way:
Indeed, criteria for entry to the PPA includes being ‘no more than 20’ years old,
unmarried and without children which narrow the demographics of applicants and
their life stage (Bộ Công An, 2016, Article 6.2). A male officer suggested the
reason there were so few females pursuing police functions that requires hands
on investigation, arrest and interrogation was: ‘Where women become Criminal
Police, they may take on masculine traits. No man would want to marry a woman
like that’ (Police officer, male). This perception partially explains why the academy
turns a blind eye to hair infractions and why female police continue the pursuit of
this version of femininity despite the risk of punishment. For many young police
women, being worthy of the social accomplishment of a husband and family is
simply more important than breaking the institution’s rules.
Although most women’s tasks as police officers are administrative, the fact they
pursue employment within the security sector highlights women’s pragmatic
90
Despite regulations against such behaviour though reportedly usually overlooked.
91
The Circular on Regulations on Admission to the People’s Police (Bộ Công An, 2016, Article
6.2) stipulates students are not allowed to be married or have children.
224
pursuit of the tangible benefits of being in the police force. Police (and other
security functions) are the highest paid of all government departments in Vietnam.
Their salary and social security payments are dependable and good value
compared to many other jobs. For example, women working in family farms or
businesses are less likely to have comparable entitlements or may have to pay
them out of their own pockets (ISDS, 2015, p. 149). One officer described
women’s reasons for joining, or staying in, the police in this way: ‘Women do not
try to be the same as men, they don’t necessarily want to do the same work as
men, but they do want more equality in terms of higher salary’ (Police officer,
male). Concerns shaping women’s career paths are reflected below in response
to the question, ‘Would you like to do the same police work as men?’:
Women were aware of the expectations of them at home and saw their limited
role in policing as an advantage in managing their overall workload. They did
however recognise that they had similar capabilities as men if given the
opportunity:
Female police are different from the male police at the PPA.
The females receive encouragement from the security
industry, for example, we receive a small amount of money
for buying bras or towels, small benefits. Vietnam has many
special days for women, but not men. Females also get a
gift from the department on their birthday, but not men.92
(Police officer, Female)
Following a lecture I delivered at the Police Academy in July 2017 on the topic of
this chapter, a female student approached me and said, ‘I joined the police
because I want a stable job, so I can get married and have a family. I don’t want
to do police work outside the office. It is not the reason why I became a police
officer’. The student considered work as an integrated part of her life. Work should
be carefully pursued based on how it related to and fitted in with other life choices.
In other words the job was important for its contribution to her whole life and not
as an end in itself. Given the age limits on police applicants (no older than 20),
92
Vietnam celebrates International Women’s Day (March) and Vietnam Women’s Day on 20
October – the date the predecessor of what is now the Women’s Union was founded in 1930.
226
women in particular appeared to be considering the impact of employment
conditions on their future family responsibilities whilst still in high school. Whilst
this may seem early to the western reader, it is only really since the 1960’s that
marriage in the West has routinely happened over 30. And while the importance
of marriage relates of course to the couple who are marrying, young or old,
marriage in Vietnam, is also significant to a broader, ever-present network
comprising family, community, work and society. These multiple arenas mean
that young people have to meet a continuum of needs, not only their own, and
this is a significant pressure amid the many other pressures of becoming a police
officer.
There are however some outlets at the PPA for the young people to let off steam.
At the academy, men show off their talents through singing, dancing and playing
in a band. Competitions for women place greater weight on appearance and
comportment, with women gaining recognition or status from talent and beauty
contests often held in the confines of the university. One example is the ‘Excellent
Local Women Cadre’ contest (Hội thi Cán bộ Phụ nữ cơ sở giỏi) (People's Police
Academy, 2015a) which aims to improve communication skills and confidence,
opportunities for development.93 This activity was organised by the Academy’s
branch of the Women’s Union and described as a ‘political activity’ with ‘practical
experience’. The contenders were judged over four rounds in the following
categories: 1) Graceful Women - Self-Introduction; 2) Self-confident Women –
Learning knowledge; 3) Talented Women – Talent; and, 4) Shining Women –
Eloquence.94 In 2016, another beauty contest titled, ‘Charming of Criminal Justice
2016’, judged female contestants on their áo dài performance, (Western style)
evening gown parade, talent and eloquence. This event was reported as a tribute
to the PPA on its 48th anniversary and ‘to honor the beauty, elegance, confidence,
bravery [and] knowledge of female students of [the] Criminal Justice system of
the PPA’ (People's Police Academy, 2016). But not all stage performances by
93
Contests are held for different activities and can include staff and/or students.
94
1) Graceful Women - Self-Introduction (Phụ nữ duyên dáng - Tự giới thiệu); 2) Self-confident
Women - Learning knowledge (Phụ nữ tự tin - Tìm hiểu kiến thức); 3) Talented Women – Talent
(Phụ nữ tài năng - Năng khiếu); and, 4) Shining Women – Eloquence (Phụ nữ tỏa sáng - Hùng
biện).
227
women involved the demure áo dài, refined evening gown, or, sanctioned
uniform.
Prior to their big day, 2016 PPA graduates showcased their talents to families
and friends whom had travelled from across Vietnam’s northern provinces to the
capital. The opening included a video on the history of the police, and a
production including in-uniform patriotic performances, as well as solo and group
musical and dance compositions. About midway through the evening, a troop of
young women emerged on stage dancing hip-hop style to the 2014 song ‘Bang
Bang’, a music chart topper by a female trio comprised of American pop artists,
Ariana Grande and Nicki Minaj, and Britain’s Jessie J., all renowned for their
skimpy outfits and evocative swagger. Two of the three female police students
on stage sported short black hotpants, trendy white sneakers and a combination
on top of black T-shirts and flannel shirts, the latter having churned through the
20 years or so fashion cycle to be in vogue again. Although falling short of the
sexualised performances of the song’s original vocalists, the students’ dancing
was redolent of the suggestive style imported from ‘Western’ influences. Whilst
senior PPA officers were at the ceremony, it did not have the formality of the
following day when the VIP and Ministerial guests were present. The event was
an opportunity for students to demonstrate their skills, and maybe even sense of
humour, as well as their loyalty and professionalism.
As we have seen, the Academy is a place of multiple uses and desires. It serves
as site of paramilitary discipline, and as host to a large community of youngsters
who engage in recreational activities to while away their five years living on
campus. The night before graduation ceremonies are an outlet for some of this
energy and enthusiasm. The informal mood was set by a senior officer who
opened proceedings, as apparently he usually does annually, with his own
rendition of a Vietnamese song. This was greeted with much applause and
encouragement from the students. The more relaxed air of the night-before
graduation granted flexibility for a range of student performances, including the
semi-seductive one just described. It is not surprising that female students might
explore diverse forms of expression – within certain parameters – as do students
of other universities exposed to worldwide trends seen online or on television.
228
Whilst performing ‘Bang Bang’ may be read as contemporary female expression,
or even revolutionary in the context of the PPA, when considered in a framework
of standard female roles it is entirely in line with the normative ideas of femininity
reinforced by the ‘Excellent Local Women Cadre’ and the possibilities enabled for
female policing in Vietnam.
It was a hot day when I was sipping iced tea and interviewing Quynh.95 We had
two fans to keep us cool, one fixed above us on the wall, and the other on the
floor beside our chairs. Quynh had worked at a busy police station in Hanoi and
I was excited at her enthusiasm to help me understand more about policing in
Vietnam. Equally, she saw me as a useful resource; the first thing she asked me
was why do foreign tourists make false reports to police about having their
belongings stolen? She was grinning, but with her eyes fixed on me for a
response and her brow furrowed, I felt the question was underlined by a strong
sense of annoyance. She went on to explain that in many cases, tourists would
report their mobile phone or other items stolen, but when the police checked the
CCTV cameras they saw the story could not have taken place as described and
was, thus, a fabrication. At the thought of being lumped in with these tourists
solely on the basis that I, too, was a foreigner, I felt my cheeks flush in
embarrassment. There was an unspoken accusation I could be a criminal
sympathiser due to my shared ‘foreigner’ status with these liars. In that moment,
the impact of generalised microaggressions of real discriminations towards
minorities at home in Australia was not lost on me. Still, I offered up the first thing
that came to my mind. Perhaps the true targets of the deceit were insurance
companies who often compensated travellers for items only if they were stolen,
and only if accompanied by a police report. So it was quite likely that the tourist
had lost their phone, iPad, camera or valuable whatever just not necessarily in
the way they were reporting. I queried whether her concern was due to the impact
this fraudulent behaviour had on crime rates? Quynh confirmed it was her
concern explaining that it made the police look like they were not able to
95
A pseudonym
229
adequately control crime. The conversation highlighted the importance of
statistics as a common global measure of police performance.
During my meeting with Quynh, she regularly returned to the theme that she was
worried about her six-year-old daughter: that her health was not good, that she
could do better in school, that she was very shy. I wondered whether Quynh was
overly worried about her daughter’s shyness because her own personality
seemed quite the opposite. Quynh was confident, engaging and spoke
authoritatively about her police work. Her anxiety and apprehension over her
daughter’s wellbeing demonstrated a frailty and it felt important that she could be
vulnerable with me and significant that vulnerability related to her mothering and
not her police work. Other than to reassure her that she was a good mother, I
did not know what else to say and we continued to discuss policing, sipping our
iced tea, comparing ideas between my policing experience in Melbourne and hers
in Hanoi. We inevitably arrived at the subject of illicit drugs. Quynh presented it
as one of the biggest problems facing local communities. She was concerned
about both trafficking and ‘drug addiction’. She saw that drug traffickers were
trying to prop up their trade by preying on vulnerable children who were perceived
as willing to partake in risky behaviour. She understood those already addicted
to be thieves, murderers and perpetrators of family violence. When Quynh said
she thought Vietnam should legislate the death penalty to execute people for all
drug offences I was taken aback. So much so, I had to ask her to repeat herself
and explain it to me again to ensure I had accurately understood her. She said
that drugs caused so many problems for families and the community. She was
disappointed the prescribed quantities for drug possession were so high before it
was possible to institute a charge that might carry a death sentence. Despite her
disappointment, she was matter of fact. She explained it to me in geo-political
terms: more and more amphetamines and synthetic substances were being
trafficked into Vietnam from China, drug addiction in Vietnam was fuelling crime
but due to political commitments to human rights treaties and the influence of
America, Vietnam was no longer able to execute people without intense
international scrutiny. Vietnam’s status as a ‘small country’ rendered it easily
subject to pressure by the Americans to follow their version of human rights. She
lamented that China was a bigger country and was able to function independently
230
without submission to United States demands and could, therefore, execute more
drug criminals. This was another example of how I found police in Vietnam ready
to view themselves in relation to others, as an occupation, organisation or state.
The uniform of the Vietnamese police is green because the colour is associated
with justice and peace. Colloquially, the police are referred in the singular as siêu
nhân xanh (green superman), a descriptor invoking imagery of a superhero,
usually male, with a hulking frame and muscles. Police worldwide have used
physical attributes, typically height, weight and strength, as criteria for selecting
suitable candidates for the task of policing; in some cases, they have been
revised in recognition they can be exclusionary of good candidates. Despite this,
the belief that physical strength is a prerequisite for policing in Vietnam
underpinned arguments from officers in this study (both men and women) as to
why women’s participation should be limited to 15 per cent. The emphasis on
physicality also dissuaded some young men from pursuing certain policing roles,
231
for example, one student said, ‘I’m very thin and my strength is not good. It would
pose difficulties for me if I worked with criminals outside [the police station]’
(Police student, male). Whilst compulsory martial arts training obliged minimum
standards for strength and agility through participation, height and weight
requirements are stipulated in a Circular from the MPS which necessitates
policemen be 1.64cm tall or above and weigh 48kg or more, and policewomen
must be 1.58cm tall or above and weigh 45kg or more (Bộ Công An, 2016).96 A
female student described her struggle at having to gain 3kg to meet the minimum
weight requiring her to eat a lot more than she would otherwise, and, in spite of
the fact she faced a career demanding a level of physical exertion associated
with clerical work.
96
Students from ethnic minorities in each gender can be 02 cm shorter in height and 02 kg less
in weight than the standard
232
to the potential for danger, in Vietnam, women are also capable in undertaking
physically demanding tasks. In addition to their wartime contributions, in everyday
life in Vietnam, women do a lot of outdoor physical labour, especially in
agriculture (ISDS, 2015) rendering the physical requirements associated with
masculine identity as essential to protect national security more myth than
necessity.
A consistent theme among interviewees both male and female was the
recognition that men and women are different. The term ‘limitations’ was used in
almost every interview to describe women’s capacity, it was never used to refer
to men. This language makes explicit the perception that the domain of policing
is a masculine enterprise: whilst women can play a role, their role is one of deficit
compared to men. Limitations were described as both physical and
psychological. Given the entrance exam grade was a key determinant of entry,97
98
if women and men perform equally well in these exams, women admitted to the
police would have to have achieved higher grades to fit into the smaller allocation
of positions for their sex category (at the time of fieldwork in 2016 this was
reported to be a score over 28.5/30 compared to males 27/30). Consequently,
limitations in terms of intellect were never mentioned. In fact, it was widely
acknowledged that women who gained entry to the PPA were academically
superior. Instead, emphasis for women’s unsuitability was located in their lack of
physical strength, and whilst psychological limitations were noted, it was often in
reference to women being distracted by their family obligations rather than an
incapacity to carry out the work. Some participants mentioned women were more
emotionally fragile than men, which meant they were not mentally equipped to
cope with the danger or trauma of policing (Police student, male). In summary,
the ‘ideal’ police officer was someone who embodied strength over smarts.
Although office work was regarded as of lower status than ‘outside’ police work,
it did have its advantages for women, and indeed, those men who did not want
to engage in the more public facing police roles, for example:
97
After being screened for moral, political and physical suitability. See Chapter 5.
98
Although it was not discussed specifically in terms of gender or the examination, several male
interviewees indicated that the recruitment and selection process could be undermined through
granting of favours. As an outsider it was difficult to probe this in detail and self-censorship for
reasons outlined in Chapter 4 was of concern here.
233
For administrative work, it can be hard to get a job because
they have high standards, but it’s in the office and so many
people apply for that career because it is an easier job for
the same pay. (Police student, male)99 100
One student reflected on what she saw as male perceptions of women in her
class of Traffic Police. She said some men thought women should not choose
Traffic Police as their major because there were other ‘more suitable’ police jobs
for women such as Administration, Social Order policing and the English
language major. On the other hand, some men appreciated learning from women
and their support towards their academic studies. The student said she thought
women’s (generally) superior academic ability meant it encouraged men to do
better in order to compete with them and get better grades overall, effectively
pulling men upwards to a higher standard (Police student, female). Sometimes
being the only female in a class had advantages. One student was pleased her
male counterparts didn’t expect her to clean or take responsibility for unlocking
the door to the classroom. She described how her classmates recognised her
notetaking skills and sought her help after classes to exchange information to
help their study. Another female student said, ‘Females are rarer than males in
the police and therefore, are more respected by men and cherished’. Whilst both
male and female police referred to physical strength as an important capability in
policing, there were perceptions of differences between female and male
attributes, for example:
Females are softer than males and they can fulfil a task.
Maybe the male needs to be stronger, but females can
solve problems that require communication and emotional
intelligence….I feel that women are more sensitive than
men and they can resolve a psychological problem faster
than men. In some cases, maybe a female can reach the,
approach the issue and can be gentler, then a female can
99
Other police mentioned ‘outside’ work gave more opportunities for informal income through
more interaction with the public
100
Some administrative roles where men are more represented include overseeing the
household registration system which involves interaction with the public and possibilities for
informal income through payments to ‘speed up’ processing of documents.
234
connect better than men and can get and give sympathy to
people... Women play an important role in crime
prevention… Women’s skills in communication can prevent
a situation from getting worse. A female officer has
influence in domestic violence they get information faster
than men. (Police student, female)
Whilst some other interviewees were supportive of women in policing, there were
still some perceived limitations which were both practical and cultural as follows:
One female student claimed males and females were equally capable, ‘If a man
can do it, a woman can do it’. In contrast, a male interviewee indicated going to
crime scenes may be psychologically difficult for women and so is not suitable for
women. One policewoman said more women in traffic police was ‘to create a
good image with foreigners and local people’ although said if a ‘man came with
bad behaviour’ towards a female traffic officer then her male colleagues ‘must
have an immediate reaction [to protect her] otherwise the male officer will feel
shame in his mind because he couldn’t react immediately’. This meant that
protecting the male ego became as important for the female policewoman as
doing her actual job. The gendered communication and people management
skills highlighted earlier in this section were seen as inherent to female policing
and a core skill for their success.
235
Promotions, paperwork and progression through the ranks
Women’s limited opportunity to engage in real police work also limits their
prospects for promotion. If women are largely represented in office-based work,
it reduces their visibility and potential for relationship building necessary for
career advancement. Also, if women were not working in public-facing positions
101
Article 11.b) Priority Score: Along with the implementation as stipulated by Ministry of
Education and Training, the Ministry of Public Security object plus point priority admission into
the following points:
- Plus 2.0 (two) points to the offspring of the police officers on the payroll (working, retired);
employee labour contract does not specify the duration of the People's Police and Public
Security officers have early retirement, transfer industry, demobilized or died but continuous
working time in the police for 15 years above.
- Plus 1.0 (a) points to the offspring of the head and deputy head of the Commune Police are
working, school, deputy commune police chief retired, died, transferred but joint working time
police keep communal forces from 15 years or more. Heads, director of police units and local
responsible for the accuracy of this object.
236
it may limit their capacity to earn additional income crucial for securing support
for sought after positions. The association of higher status to roles that involved
interaction with ‘criminals’ with greater risk of encountering danger and potential
use of force or coercion also inhibited women’s access to promotion. Police
engaged in crime-fighting found it easier to demonstrate competencies to be
considered for promotion. A female student said it was difficult to be promoted
because some methods of police work were ‘more suitable for men’, for example,
surveillance roles of male suspects often involved covertly pursuing them into
male dominated domains such as some restaurants or bia hơi (small bars or beer
halls with cheap draft beer) where women would be easily exposed. In addition,
if the surveillance activity turned into an opportunity for arrest requiring physical
strength or coercive force, a female would be at a disadvantage. However,
women police could work covertly when investigating ‘prostitution crime’ because
they could be more easily disguised (Police student, female). She also said that
more women entering into traffic policing outdoors would give female police the
chance to prove their abilities compared to men (Police student, female).
Even where women took on male-dominated police tasks, they accepted they did
not do the same work as similarly trained males. Whilst this was described
positively with respect to the short-term benefits, the lack of engagement and
visibility may limit career advancement over the long term. For example, one of
the seven females out of 64 people studying Criminal Policing, said during her
internship at a police station the senior staff were ‘caring’ towards the interns,
‘especially the females’ (Police student, female). This preferential treatment was
explained as being due to ‘limitations’ of women which meant they spent more
time doing paperwork and were given ‘priority’ to only work official hours and
could go home on time. whereas the male students would have to ‘guard and
patrol at night’ (Police student, female). She went on to say traffic policing ‘needs
more men because it has outdoor work and that women in traffic policing only
serve as document writers’ and work in the office. Whilst she looked forward to
the diversity of the role of Traffic Police, she said she didn’t want to work on the
street for long and eventually would prefer office work.
237
As police are promoted, the requirement for physicality on the job diminishes
because management tends to be more desk-based than field-based. Within a
framework that emphasises women’s strengths in administration it is possible that
moving into management might present a real opportunity for female police. The
playing field could conceivably level in management and women might find
themselves equally suitable for promotion. However, as women are promoted to
higher ranks they face a different type of masculinity which Silvestri (2007) has
referred to as ‘smart macho’. Silvestri (2017) notes that in Western developed
countries increased focus on management and productivity can disadvantage
women where in a competitive environment, women’s commitment to work may
be questioned. This is because they may be unable to devote similar hours
alongside men to be seen as ‘present and ever-available’, and thus, not an ‘ideal’
worker (Silvestri, 2017, p. 297). In 2017, a mere 5 per cent of students
specialising in High-tech crime at the PPA were women despite perceived
physical limitations being irrelevant for this skill set. Even in managerial roles,
women may experience disadvantage as exemplified by this quote:
238
overlooked for promotion due to them being perceived as stepping outside the
feminine realm (Police officer, male). This results in barriers for women’s
promotion even in the Police Academy. Despite this potential for discrimination
the Academy remains a site where women are perceived to be more likely to be
promoted than outside it.
Interviewees were aware they would be asked about the role of women in the
police and may have primed their views and prospective responses prior to
interview. Anticipation of questions regarding official policy, specifically, whether
the Circular on Regulations for recruitment for the People's Public Securities (Bộ
Công An, 2016) limiting women’s participation in policing could affect the
openness of dialogue given criticism of government policy may elicit rebuke. The
fact that enforcement of laws or policies regarding commentary on Government
in Vietnam is uneven means responses can be determined by an individual’s
analysis of risk and perceptions of agency. There were differences of opinion
regarding women’s participation in policing among female students, for example,
‘No, there are enough female police. It would not serve any better to have more
women’, and, ‘Yes, we should encourage more women to join the police’. A
female student was asked if she thought the 15 per cent quota for women should
be increased. She responded, ‘No. There is enough quantity. It is the regulation’.
But, when asked if the policy may change to include more women in the future
she responded, ‘Yes, I think it will expand.’ This draws attention to methodological
issues where a one to two-hour interview with police staff or students in Vietnam
may not provide the best circumstances in which to elicit possible disagreement
or even critical engagement regarding official policy with any nuance. However,
there were a range of topics where expressing discontent with the status quo was
possible. When asked whether the regulation limiting women cadets to 15 per
cent should be changed, a female student exclaimed:
240
Of course! [Do you know if many others agree with you?]
From my point of view, I would love to have more women to
join the PPA but there are not many who agree with me.
Many leaders of the PPA think the PPA needs less women.
(Police student, female)
241
not clear what impact this had on female interviewees openness. In cases where
women did object to the quota, the interpreters were male and so it is unclear if
male interpreter’s presence influenced responses. Interviewees’ endorsement of
the 15 per cent quota for women seemed to stem from a view that women do not
have the physical strength or time (due to family obligations) to be police.
Restructuring how police organisations worked to better accommodate women
was not generally seen as an option despite a female officer saying, ‘Everyone
wants a higher position in society. Many are active, open, and, have ambition to
get a higher position’.
Conclusion
The field of policing in Vietnam has many differences from the major studies in
the global North where policing emerged as a male dominated occupation under
stable governance. Vietnam’s protracted history of colonisation has given rise to
mythologies and examples of women leaders engaged in violent battle as well as
more recent roles demanding physical strength, endurance and mettle
demonstrated in the American War. Vietnam has documented role models who
demonstrate that women are physically capable of the physical demands of
protecting society. The changing field from war to peace has seen a change in
attitude to women warriors. During peacetime the attitude is that women in
Vietnam should not be burdened with domestic policing as national security is no
longer in peril. Conversely, in the West, it was during peacetime that women
fought for inclusion among the ranks of police. Whilst the struggle for inclusion
alongside men was imperfect, it was assisted because western women had
recourse to the law to litigate against discrimination (J. Brown, 1997). Connell
and Pearse (2015) note the extent to which a localised social institution allows
for gender expression may be variable. Thus, the avenues available for women
in Anglo-American policing may not be used by policewomen in Vietnam. Local
approaches are adapted to local needs and Vietnamese women may manoeuvre
to positions of power in a manner that does not cause conflict or disharmony to
the gender hierarchy. For example, to rail against men’s domination within certain
police functions could be counter-productive where a woman could be seen to
take on masculine traits rendering her unmarriageable.
242
The field for policing in Vietnam, including official policies for women’s recruitment
also differ from the global North. The 15 per cent quota acts as a ceiling which
makes it more competitive for women applicants is a departure from trends in the
West where some forces are pursuing targets of 50 per cent female recruitment.
In many cases, these targets are difficult to meet. In contrast to the cap on women
in Vietnam, the nature of specialised police work may mean more women are
attracted to policing because the reasons for joining do not rely on one’s
acceptance that operational work involving shift work and street patrol are not
likely to be confronted.
Susan Martin (S. E. Martin, 1980) drew a distinction between POLICEwomen and
policeWOMEN: the former reflects how women try to fit in by adopting
occupational role norms in line with the male dominated sub-culture, whereas the
latter term accentuates ‘WOMEN’ through capitalisation to emphasise the
contours (or limitations) of orthodox female possibilities (Rabe-Hemp, 2009). In
this study, most female interviewees expressed that they did not want to be
treated the same as male officers or do the same work as men. Consequently,
women did not have to compete with men and did not see themselves in a manner
which accords with Martin’s description of POLICEwomen – the adoption of
masculine characteristics to facilitate fitting in. Martin’s second category,
policeWOMEN, reflects the emphasis the female police placed on accountability
to their gender stereotype by prioritising current or future family commitments.
Rabe-Hemp (2009) referred to the possibilities of alternating between
POLICEwomen and policeWOMEN depending on stage of career, role, personal
circumstances. However, the extent to which the training structure and
operational opportunities are limited to women in Vietnam, they have limited room
to occupy the full range of police functions. Given such broad functions within
policing, it supports the manner in which police culture has been conceptualised
as having multiple possibilities.
Modern Vietnamese women join the police for similar reasons as men: family
tradition, status, stable employment and a good salary, yet they are limited in the
breadth and depth of tasks available to them. In a graduation ceremony I
observed, in one awards category there were seven female recipients out of a
243
total of 16. Women, therefore, accounted for 44 per cent of award recipients
despite the annual intake being capped at 15 per cent. The lack of gender
diversity in cybercrime is a case in point: Why are 95 per cent of students male
despite this crime-fighting discipline lacking the usual justifications (e.g. physical
limitations) to explain why women are unsuitable? This example is further
evidence of contradictory attitudes to women’s policing; on one hand they are
recognised as academically superior to male students, yet their predominant role
in doing necessary paperwork, was still seen through the lens of inadequacy. This
is especially galling given the high representation of women receiving awards for
academic merit. Whilst women have good maternity leave entitlements the roles
they undertake are typically on the periphery and in roles not readily valued for
promotion to senior ranks.
Women in policing in Vietnam have retained their status as women first and
foremost, then as police. Experiences from other jurisdictions may not apply, for
example, an Australian police officer said, ‘You’re not employed as a female
police officer, you’re employed as a police officer so you should have the same
rules and same regulations, the same accountability’ (Chan et al., 2010, p. 432).
Within a masculinised police culture, being female was sometimes associated
with a negative social capital (Chan et al., 2003).
244
carve a pathway to equality through preservation of gender difference. The extent
to which this is an effective and politically useful strategy remains a vexed issue
(Waibel & Gluk, 2013).
This study was undertaken among police in Hanoi who may not represent
women’s views in broader society. The extent to which women in the police want
to navigate into roles dominated by men may vary across occupations, locations,
ages, marital and parental status, education and class. Women police in Hanoi
may represent a particular northern conservative view. One that is satisfied with
the status quo or at least a context which does not threaten official policy but may
allow for some changes. It is possible women employed in the private sphere or
in business may have other views about how women can pursue gender equality.
Police women are also bound by their compulsory membership of the Women’s
Union. The Union aims to represent women’s collective views and membership
may mean that, individual action is discouraged. Within this top-down paradigm
the needs of policewomen may not be best represented because they are may
be unable to determine their own strategy for advancement.
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Chapter 9: Conclusion
Introduction
This chapter summarises the findings and elaborates on some of the themes
developed in the previous chapters. Traditional scholarship has privileged
assumptions about the central characteristics of policing and police culture from
the global North, especially Anglo-American perspectives, as the norm from
which other variations are regarded as deviations. The study found that
assumptions in scholarship on policing and police culture in the global North do
not always apply to circumstances elsewhere and argues that the field of policing,
if broadened to include the global South, can be read as a potential site for a
diversity of institutional forms, priorities and cultures. It is often assumed that
progress runs from north to south. However, this thesis contends that indigenous
forms of social control (notwithstanding they are often a blend of influences)
outside the global North may provide important lessons for Anglo-American
policing.
4. What are the historical, political, economic, social and cultural influences
which shape policing and police culture in Vietnam?
5. How do structural and cultural influences affect the nature of women's
inclusion in policing in Vietnam?
6. What are the theoretical and policy implications of the findings?
Chan’s framework was useful in the current study for analysing policing in
Vietnam. A crucial element of what Chan (1997; Chan et al., 2003), drawing on
Bourdieu (1990a), calls the ‘field of policing’ encompasses state-society relations
which have been examined by Kerkvliet (2001). Police are key actors in this field.
In this context, actors’ positions are overlapping as they are simultaneously
citizens, police and Party members. Police operate in a field where political
affiliation is assumed. Professional education includes political ideology (a
continuation from primary and secondary curricula). What distinguishes public
and private space is blurred. This study has shown that concepts drawn from
Anglo-American policing scholarship cannot adequately explain policing in other
contexts with differing political systems, histories and economic trajectories. A
Southern Policing perspective draws attention to possibilities for new forms of
analysis in the policing field, which can broaden our understanding of policing
and police cultures elsewhere. Policing and its cultures and core characteristics
may be understood differently if considered using an inductive logic framed in the
global South.
The following sections will look at issues that arise from the methodological
approach of this study set within the field of policing more generally. It will be
suggested that we can learn from shared experiences and differing perspectives
in the tasks of understanding and improving policing. The focus will be on: this
study’s contribution to police ethnography; policing in a changing field; features
stabilising the field of policing; state-society relations; women in policing; and
theoretical contributions of a Southern policing perspective
247
Contribution to police ethnography
248
influence their outlook and reduce their ability to question
and explore what is taken for granted – the unspoken
values.
In his study of police in Australia, Dixon (2011, p. 232) suggested his English
background meant he could feign ignorance on some issues or ask ‘naïve
questions about local politics and current events’ to garner insights.
Consequently, there are possibilities for expanding Brown’s (1996) categories,
for example, ‘occupational insider/cultural outsider’ or ‘occupational
outsider/cultural insider’ etc. But, these too can be simplistic given the variation
within occupational and national cultures themselves. What is crucial is that
researchers reflect openly on how who and what they are affects their work.
Ethnographers also need to be reflexive about their position in academia given
they have been socialised into this field too (Chan, 2013).
Appreciative inquiry
249
In some ways, this approach resembles ‘appreciative inquiry’ (AI) which seeks to
understand a community or system in its own terms and to harness the energy of
its positive aspects in order to change it (Elliott, 1999; Liebling, Elliot, & Price,
1999; Liebling, Elliott, & Arnold, 2001). Furthermore, Liebling et al. (2001, p. 161)
argue that AI is a ‘fair and inclusive research approach’ which engages
participants in a meaningful process. Indeed, there are policing approaches
identified in this study from which we can learn, and which might stimulate
possibilities for policy transfer from global South to North. It also has the potential
to avoid the pitfalls of exploitation through data extraction which Connell (2007)
describes as comprising much Northern/Southern research by emphasising the
exchange of learning.
Using an appreciative inquiry approach can be useful for researchers who occupy
the position of cultural outsider, particularly where international experts from the
global North are employed to review policing approaches in the global South. As
250
Rothman (1980/2002, p. 11) suggests, ‘… to appreciate the dynamic is to be able
to recognize the opportunity to affect it’.
Conceptualisations of ‘culture’
A contribution to police ethnography from this study is the recognition that ‘culture’
– even among police – is not necessarily a concept that warrants concern, but
one which police themselves actively used as a tool to reflect on and draw upon
to explain their own perceptions and behaviours. The approach to constructing
culture was evident in current police practices, for example, building ‘cultural
spaces’ and hosting ‘cultural performances’ at the Police Academy. In this study,
there were many dynamics at play: for example, I believe approaches to
constructing culture in Vietnam coupled with my being a foreign researcher meant
to talk of ‘culture’ provided an accessible reference point for police to provide an
account of a topic which relates to both police culture and Vietnamese identity.
251
This enabled a form of what Giddens (1979, p. 5) described as ‘discursive
penetration’ referring to the degree that people can understand and articulate the
social systems in which they participate. Whilst I am suggesting that some police
in this study had a high degree of discursive consciousness (Giddens, 1979), this
also requires some qualification. Given Vietnam’s ongoing project to identify
cultural products, it may be that engaging in a ‘verbal act’ or giving a ‘verbal
account’ (Mathieu, 2009, p. 180) about culture has become part of taken-for-
granted aspects of culture that it more closely resembles a practical
consciousness, rather than a discursive one.
Whilst symbolism and rituals are part of other police forces, it was the frequent
use of the term ‘culture’ which makes explicit that it is understood as both a
product and the invisible, taken-for-granted mechanisms to cope with police work.
This means that attempts to reform the police in Vietnam can invoke the concept
of culture as a tool for change and to harness positive aspects of culture without
necessarily having negative connotations.
Change
The title of this thesis is ‘Policing in a changing Vietnam’; but which aspects of
policing and Vietnam are changing? In Chan’s (1997) critique of theoretical
frameworks to explore police culture, she argued that the field of policing had
been underestimated in its impact on shaping police culture. Importantly, the
policing field is only one field of power which interacts and overlaps with others
in a struggle for power (Swartz, 1997). Thus, the field is amenable to change.
In Chapter 7, I noted how police tended to talk about possibilities for change in
terms of technological change or changes in crime patterns (e.g. transnational
crimes). This may indicate that changes to police culture and practice are more
likely to come from global changes, rather than internally. For example, Vietnam
had to make major changes to its legal institutions to be accepted into the World
Trade Organization in 2006 so it could benefit from international trade (World
Trade Organization, 2006). A nation’s economy is one aspect shaping the field of
policing that scholars must consider when researching police. Vietnam has been
identified as one of Asia’s strongest growing economies. In the coming decades,
this increased prosperity will change the field for policing with both opportunities
and challenges.
253
98 per cent of vehicles were motorbikes. Although car ownership is increasing it
remains unavailable to most of the population due to cost. Whilst police have
access to small trucks and cars they are usually the property of District level
police stations, rather than allocated to local ward stations. Incomes in Vietnam
are not high, and it is one country among many countries in the global South
whose local economy (society and culture) have been disrupted by colonialism.
The extent of economic development and the availability of resources are not
necessarily an indicator of the nature of policing in a particular place. Police
priorities intersect and interact with politics and broader cultural values which
affect how policing is organised and carried out. Increased access to technology
does not mean jurisdictions will apply it in the same way, for example, to the
policed or to themselves. Chan et al. (2003, p. 664) described how technology
can alter the field of policing through its use as either ‘resource’ or ‘constraint’.
Where access to advanced technology is used as a resource, it can have
extremely negative consequences if the resources are deployed in ways that
unfairly target individuals or marginalised groups. For example, increasing the
capability of police in the USA by providing excess military equipment such as
weapons and vehicles was later overturned due to backlash about their
deployment on black Americans (Delehanty, Mewhirter, Welch, & Wilks, 2017).
Delehanty et al. (2017, p. 1) found a ‘positive and statistically significant
relationship between [military equipment] transfers and fatalities from officer-
involved shootings’. Conversely, limited resources may be beneficial where they
restrain the potential for repressive or aggressive policing practices as was the
argument for restricting military equipment to police in the USA (Delehanty et al.,
2017). Modernisation and economic development are not pre-conditions to a
linear progression to better policing. Technology can be used for both ‘democratic
or nondemocratic purposes’ (Bayley, 1995, p. 89), and may in fact contribute to
repressing minorities, the disadvantaged or political opponents.
In Chen’s (2016, p. 30) study on frontline police officers in China, he says ‘it is
evident that the development of Chinese policing is following the trend of Western
policing, from being politically-driven to independent, from non-professional
toward professional, from crime-control-oriented toward service oriented, and
254
from traditional toward modernisation’. However, these dichotomies are too
simplistic to characterise the variations in policing, not least because the crime-
control to service-oriented trend has been reversed to an extent. It may be that
China’s expanding middle class are demanding better services and more
accountability from police in major urban centres, but simultaneously Muslim
minorities in western China are being interned by police and local authorities and
‘re-educated’ as they are deemed a threat to political stability and Communist
Party rule (Rauhala, 2018). Furthermore, technology as resource is being
deployed against ethnic Uighurs whose DNA is being collected and stored by
police as well as requiring their identification in the form of a QR code (similar to
a barcode) imprinted on knives they purchase (Millward, 2018) in order to control
dissent. Consequently, technology as resource in a changing field does not
deliver a universally beneficial dividend to all communities.
Access to advanced technology can also change the field of policing in terms of
acting as a ‘constraint’ (Chan, 2003). Studies on Anglo-American policing have
emphasised that patrol police officers work under the least supervision and have
the most discretion (Banton, 1964; Cain, 1973; Van Maanen, 1983). However,
changes in technology have put street police under greater surveillance (Ericson
& Haggerty, 1997), and increasingly so with mounted cameras in vehicles and on
officers bodies. Ganapathy and Cheong (2016, pp. 332-333) reported that the
introduction of Mobile Data Terminals and Global Positioning Systems in
Singapore (among other changes) meant frontline police no longer operated in
what Goldstein (1960) called a ‘low visibility’ environment. Technological
changes, coupled with an organisational commitment to community policing and
accountability revealed the possibility for changes to police sub-cultures
(becoming more risk-averse) as a result of changes in the policing field
(Ganapathy & Cheong, 2016). The specific nature of sub-cultural changes were
described as a ‘peculiar blend’ of Singapore’s ‘authoritarianism’ and ‘democratic’
adaptations (emphasis in original) (Ganapathy & Cheong, 2016, p. 337).
Importantly, the study challenged the notion of a stable and ‘recalcitrant’ police
subculture, but highlighted the significance of changing the field in order to reform
the occupational habitus (Ganapathy & Cheong, 2016).
255
In 2017, after I completed fieldwork for this study, the Ministry of Public Security
announced budget cuts and a project for restructuring. I am advised the changes
are still underway and the precise nature of these changes and their effects are
not available to be included here. Notwithstanding, any changes arising from the
budget cuts and restructuring appear to have come as a result of national fiscal
policy rather than being initiated within the People’s Police Force. Consequently,
major changes in policing in Vietnam appear more likely to be driven by factors
external to the police organisation rather than internal factors.
Stability
Whilst global changes and technological advances might create pressures for
police to adapt, there are domestic factors in play that contribute to stability in
policing and police culture. The explicit political affiliation of police in Vietnam is
not found in policing in the global North, where a veneer of political neutrality is
central to understandings of policing, especially in the Anglo-American tradition
(Reiner, 2010, p. 32). Dror (2016, p. 3) addresses the ‘cult of Hồ Chí Minh' (in the
police and elsewhere) and the way that he was venerated after his death (against
his wishes) in a way that was to provide a focal point for political legitimacy of the
Communist Party. Political association is important in Vietnam, not just due to its
symbolic purpose, but because it is a key criterion for employment as a police
officer. Political loyalty is considered, and suitability assessed by the Party, at the
initial stages of applying to join the police.
The political system and relationship between the police and the state have been
highlighted as important domains for examining variation in policing (Banton,
1964; Bayley, 1976; de Maillard & Roché, 2018; Manning, 2005; W. R. Miller,
1999; Reiner, 2010; Van Dijk et al., 2015). Reiner’s (2010) classic text The
Politics of the Police addresses both the relationship between police and politics
in the institutional sense (governments, legislatures, courts), but also the manner
in which police are imbricated in English society and the power (im)balance
inherent in these relationships. With respect to Vietnam, Chapter 5 outlined the
current arrangement in which being a police officer requires loyalty to the ruling
Communist Party, including membership of the Party. Hồ Chí Minh’s ‘6
Teachings’, first espoused in 1948, include being ‘absolutely loyal to the
256
government’ (for cadres including police and public security officers) (Hồ Chí
Minh, 2000). The 6 Teachings remain a core tool for edifying police about morality
and ethical conduct today (Lời Bác dạy giúp hoàn thiện phẩm chất người chiến
sĩ công an, 2018).
Stability in policing in Vietnam is also shaped by the nature of the police hierarchy
and current accountability mechanisms. Although frontline officers in Vietnam do
not use the technology described above in Singapore, it does not mean they
avoid scrutiny. For example, police intelligence networks were described as
reflecting a ‘thousand eyes system’. Presumably, these same eyes can report
back to senior officers if they have concerns about police action, although the
potential for repercussions for officers may vary. Officers consistently expressed
the importance of consulting with supervisors prior to making an arrest (unless in
an emergency). Indeed talking with one’s superiors was considered
commonplace in decision-making. Police discretion took place within a context of
inspection and accountability that differs from Anglo-American studies. The
Vietnamese scenario shares a similarity with police supervision in Japan where
detectives had to seek approval to make an arrest ‘even when they have a
warrant in hand’ and that supervisors would rush to a scene to take control
(Miyazawa, 1992, p. 233). However, strong accountability mechanisms in Japan
may lead to greater anxiety about the possible consequences of a wrong decision
(Bayley, 1976). Western police reform advocates who are interested in
interrogating the ways police determine how, when and why to enforce the law
may find it instructive to pay attention to the dynamics of supervision in Vietnam.
The fundamental concept of constabulary independence, as it is understood in
the global North, is not applicable in the Vietnamese context. Whilst police may
be trained in legal or tactical knowledge, it may be that navigating the
expectations of their managers, Party overseers and the community is more
important in determining how they do their job. These intersecting forms of
oversight may also contribute to stability among policing because they create a
version of order.
The structure of police education in Vietnam differs vastly from the Anglo-
American model. Assumptions that police typically eschew tertiary education are
257
based on studies in the global North or Western countries (Bradley & Nixon, 2009;
Lee & Punch, 2004; MacDonald, 1987). In Southeast and East Asia, a history of
university qualifications to enter civil service has also shaped the nature of police
training (Cao et al., 2015). In general, education and scholarship receive high
praise and status in Vietnam. This is partly due to the Confucian ethic but also
because education is seen as a way out of poverty. Police education institutions
in Vietnam have consequently evolved with a strong focus on education with the
People’s Police Academy functioning as a university under the Ministry of
Education and Training. Tertiary education of police in Vietnam is both a norm,
and an aspiration for those wishing to have successful policing careers. Even
lower ranked officers graduating from Police Colleges undertake two years of
study, which is longer than the class-based component of many Anglo-American
courses. The training means students go through a period of two to four years of
socialisation which may contribute to stability of police culture.
An Australian study by Chan et al. (2003, p. 142) found recruits complained about
the ‘warm and fuzzy’ aspects of their training especially topics aimed at increasing
their social awareness about issues such as cultural sensitivity towards
Indigenous populations which was regarded as peripheral to ‘real’ police work.
Police students in Vietnam did not complain about their training in this way
despite describing it as demanding and requiring a lot of study. The lack of
258
criticism could be due to the fear of potential consequences (including expulsion)
for criticising the training, as reported in Chapter 6. Another explanation for this
could also be a difference in expectation of new entrants to police in Vietnam and
Australia. Tertiary education in Vietnam includes compulsory subjects on
Marxism-Leninism and Hồ Chí Minh Ideology along with a specialised curriculum.
Police students, therefore, can reasonably anticipate the theoretical, political and
social aspects of their training. It could also be that curriculum regarding the
policing of ethnic minorities differs from Australia. Nonetheless, cultural sensitivity
towards ethnic minorities by police was not specifically explored in this study.
259
improved training and recruitment (Reiner, 1978). More recently, Stone and
Travis (2011) described professional policing as encompassing accountability,
legitimacy and innovation. Notwithstanding, professional police are typically
expected to be relatively independent from politics (Bayley, 2006; Vollmer, 1971).
On this measure, Vietnam’s police would be immediately excluded. But should a
conceptualisation of professional policing derived in the West be applicable to
non-Western countries when assessing professionalism? In answer, it is
important to note that in 2008, Neyroud (2008) argued that professional policing
in the UK remained an aspiration. He pointed out that police did not have a code
of ethics (at the time), nor was it a graduate profession with ‘a well-established
culture of life-long learning and reaccreditation’ (Neyroud, 2008, p. 586). By these
standards, Vietnamese police (at least those graduating from the PPA given the
two-tier system of the Academy and College) could meet aspects of the definition
of a professional ahead of counterparts in more developed economies where
professional training does not require a four-year degree. Vietnamese police
have codes of ethics/conduct which include a commitment to life-long learning
(see Chapter 5) and they are tertiary graduates who undertake degrees acquiring
specialist knowledge (see Chapter 6).
260
Attempts to improve police organisational performance and accountability to
citizens has been sought through increasing gender diversity among police
workforces to better reflect the characteristics of the populations they serve
(Corsianos, 2011). This view of accountability typically reflects multi-cultural
societies including a range of sub-cultures, minorities and marginalised
communities. To date Vietnam has not embraced gender diversity in the policing
profession. Furthermore, there are limits on recruiting diverse populations
including people with diverse ethnicities, sexualities, marital and parental status,
and, age. One reason may be purely practical. It is conceivable that dorm living
arrangements of up to 16 people in bunks in a room, for four years may be more
acceptable to cohorts of predominately high school graduates and may even be
a disincentive to older or marginalised communities. The structure of police
training in Vietnam may also contribute to lack of diversity. Police graduate from
the Academy as specialists. Depth of knowledge is prioritised through focusing
on a Major subject. This means police are more likely to work their entire career
within a narrow specialist field which creates stability and predictability. At the
same time, it may reduce opportunities for staff turnover at work units while
limiting police ability to adapt to new challenges.
261
These research results suggest that strategies for police reform, include the
theories, mechanisms or campaigns, for policy change in police practice, are not
automatically transferrable across contexts. This is particularly significant
between contexts where criticism is allowed or enabled, and others where
criticism, or perception of it, can be punished. This research highlights the
importance of understanding the social dynamics within a specific occupation,
organisation as well as wider society because sometimes to suggest change
(from inside or outside the organisation) can be seen as a criticism of the existing
system. Furthermore, what is considered an acceptable proposition for change
can depend on the subject matter (Lucius, 2009).
This section considered some aspects of change and stability in the policing field,
however, what may be considered a stable feature at present may change over
time and vice versa. The features are not static because the field of policing
functions in relation to other fields which struggle for power (Swartz, 1997).
State-society relations
Unitary views of police culture were based on the simple idea that police…
‘respond to similar audiences everywhere’ (Crank, 1998, p. 26). If police culture
is a product of the relationship police have with their ‘audience’ it follows that
police cultures reflect their audience’s general moral and social stances. Taking
a broad view, social control in Asia tends towards a general pursuit of harmony
as compared to the Western system, which emphasises an adversarial approach
(Jiao, 2001; J. Liu, 2017; Wong, 2010). That is not to say that harmony between
police and the community is not a goal in cultures outside of Asia, but rather that
it can take on different forms and meanings.
When police enter private homes but with a view to fulfilling a public duty, the
lines between public and private become blurred. In Vietnam we see this through
the checking of household registers and in the UK in the easing behaviour of rural
officers in Cain’s (1973) research. Whilst these examples occurred in very
different parts of the world, they share the duplicitous purpose of an opportunity
to gather intelligence while having a legitimate purpose to visit people in their
homes. Anthropologist Chuck Sturtevant wrote, ‘Police all over the world take
things from people. Whether legal or illegal, the practice often depends on
keeping up a double meaning that provides cover’ (Sturtevant, 2018). In the
aforementioned cases, ‘cover’ refers to the information police take under the
guise of a different purpose. But, similarly as Sturtevant (2018) describes the
263
payment of a bribe to a police officer in Bolivia, people pretend not to notice but
everyone knows what is going on. What constitutes ‘cover’ could be an action,
coded words or even legislation which allows the people or the state to act in
certain ways that have different meanings (Sturtevant, 2018). A macro example
of ‘cover’ can be found in post-war Guatemala, where Nelson (2009, p. 212)
argues the State simultaneously claims ‘to be the law but cannot (or does not)
uphold it’. Indeed, she says, that in some cases police actions place people at
more risk than the initial problem they confronted (Nelson, 2009).
Despite police in Vietnam having far greater entrée into private homes and affairs
than police in the UK, USA and Australia, this has not resulted in increased
prosecution of domestic violence crimes. Police in this study emphasised an
informal talk to a couple was a preferred response to domestic violence; these
findings reflect findings by other scholars (T. Q. Le, 2017; Perkins et al., 2017).
264
Vietnamese society, including official policy, 102 emphasises maintaining family
harmony. Consequently, police responses favour reconciliation rather than formal
intervention (Perkins et al., 2017). Advocates for direct implementation of anti-
domestic violence interventions from the global North to South have been
forewarned that models for legal intervention developed in cultures with different
characteristics of social relations may be ineffective and unethical if implemented
despite being well-intentioned (DeKeseredy & Hall-Sanchez, 2018; Walklate &
Fitz-Gibbon, 2018). This does not mean important lessons cannot be garnered
from elsewhere, but that strategies to prevent or reduce domestic violence should
be informed by empirical studies in the context in which they will be applied.
This section described some ways that state-society relations are an important
variable for analysis because police culture is the result of a relational dynamic,
including the relationship they have with the community. Community expectations
of police can vary across and within cultures.
Women in policing
Although women in Vietnam have status and protection for their maternal role,
their gender can be a source of discrimination. In policing, this is most visibly
represented by the 15 per cent quota which limits the annual intake of women to
commence police training. Legal limitations, including earlier retirement age for
women public servants and prohibition from some occupations, have been
justified as a protection of women (UNODC, 2013) and a paternalist precaution,
rather than a refutation of their ability. One outcome of the quota is that women
will never exceed 15 per cent of the force. Taking into consideration some attrition
the overall proportion of female officers is possibly much lower, especially given
that some areas have a 10 per cent limit.
102
‘The State and society shall provide a favourable environment for the growth of the
Vietnamese family which is prosperous, progressive, and happy; create Vietnamese people
who are healthy, cultured, profoundly patriotic, unified, independent and responsible.’
(Constitution of the Socialist Republic of Vietnam (Amended), 2013, Article 60.3)
265
allocated to cover maternity leave entitlements and other workforce implications
arising from a mother’s absence. The trade-off for maternity leave and flexible
work hours in Vietnam may be that women are more likely to be in office-based
roles, rather than operational positions. In Australia, women performing
operational duties alongside men did not have their roles backfilled while on
maternity and reported feeling stigmatised and discriminated against by
colleagues for taking time out of the workforce (VEOHRC, 2017). A lack of flexible
work options contributed to attrition of women officers. Subsequently, a policy of
‘all roles flex’ (available for both men and women) was adopted (VEOHRC, 2017).
The example of maternity leave entitlements highlights the importance of
empirical research to draw out the experience of policewomen in Vietnam, which
has distinct cultural, organisational and legal differences. This is important for
police reform advocates seeking to better understand the context for change.
There are examples of positive change for female police in East Asia that have
been the result of culturally sensitive approaches. Expanding women’s
integration in policing in Taiwan was at the direction of the newly elected
President in 2000 (Cao et al., 2014). President Chen Shuibian enacted national
266
policies to increase the number of women police as well as increase the range of
roles for which they were deployed. It was part of a broader campaign to promote
women’s ‘right-to-work’ and prohibit employment discrimination against women
(Ministry of Labor (Amended), 2014). Despite the high profile and formal policy
approach towards gender equality in Taiwan, Cao et al. (2014) argue that the
Confucian patriarchal influence remains a strong factor in shaping space for
women to pursue careers in policing. Moreover, Cao et al. (2014) suggest internal
momentum for the ‘gender agenda’ waned, thus, limiting its effectiveness. Whilst
the national push doubled the number of women officers over a 12 year period, it
was still only 7.72 per cent (Cao et al., 2014; Gingerich & Chu, 2013). The
government retain a policy for a 1:9 female to male ratio for police working at the
neighbourhood level and a maximum quota of 18 per cent (which they still have
not met) (Cao et al., 2014). The positive result of this change is that the numbers
of women officers have increased, along with (qualified) acceptance of women in
operational roles (Gingerich & Chu, 2013). But the expansion of women’s roles
also saw unintended negative consequences. An administrative department
previously only staffed by women was opened to both genders. Where women
were previously promoted up the ranks in this department, men came into the
unit and took up more positions previously held by women; effectively limiting a
former pathway to promotion.
In 300 AD, Bà Triệu sat atop an elephant, sword in hand, and went in to combat
to protect her homeland. In the 21st Century, women can harness the opportunity
to be on the frontline of national security, using contemporary tools. Increasingly,
contemporary policing involves digitisation, analysis and creativity. Policewomen,
who have proven themselves to be studious and of high intellect are well-suited
to the frontiers of office-based scrutiny of cybercrimes. Furthermore, with
advances in technology, women (and men) could work remotely and with flexible
hours to juggle family and work demands.
Understanding this broad North/South divide fits neatly into Chan’s (1997; Chan
et al., 2003) model of police culture which drew on Bourdieu’s (1990a) concept
268
of the ‘field’ to facilitate analysis of the external factors which shape practice, and
in Chan’s research, specifically police practice. The necessary link or subjective
relationships between researchers and the researched is further elucidated by
Bourdieu (1973) who examined the field of work for academics. A relevant
framework here draws on Chan and Bourdieu to analyse and account for change
in the field and habitus of police, Connell (2007) extends analysis to include
histories of colonialism and conflict which feed into Chan’s concepts of field.
Bourdieu’s (1973; Naidoo, 2004) reflections on power dynamics involved in the
execution of academic work all combine to produce varied and subjective
accounts of social and cultural phenomena – a divergence from the objective
pursuit of scientific knowledge previously presented.
The study raises many possibilities for future research to explore policing with
respect to Vietnam and globally. An obvious domestic comparison would be
between the north and south, but also urban and rural differences within these
areas and border policing whether it be inland or maritime. Certainly, central
Vietnam is a geographical region with its own history worthy of examination.
Comparative analysis among post-Confucian and East and Southeast Asian
countries with varied political histories and economic status, for example, China,
Taiwan and Singapore (among others) could provide interesting perspectives on
a range of dynamics to identify points of convergence or divergence.
269
The provision of Northern policing advisors and consultants, and, rule of law
programs to the global South have been attempts to influence law enforcement
approaches. The effectiveness of these have been questioned because outsiders
do not necessarily understand the historical, political and cultural contexts of the
place they seek to influence through developing policies or conducting police
training. This means that trying to graft Northern approaches onto police practices
in a different cultural context may not be sustainable or appropriate (Watson &
Kerrigan, 2018). Research into the dynamics about why some attempts at policy
transfer are successful and not others can provide important insights about the
key ingredients for cross-cultural collaborations and processes of change for
police reforms.
270
Chapter 6 highlighted how the specialised curriculum and subsequent breadth of
tasks undertaken across the organisation has further implications for
understanding police cultures and the potential possibilities for reform. This is
because police working in forensic science [e.g. ballistics, fingerprints, fraudulent
documents] have different occupational influences than those working in prisons
or in criminal investigations who interact with offenders, suspects, victims and
witnesses. Although this study included students and officers across a range of
specialty areas, their limited experience working in the field means their
responses may differ from veteran operational officers.103
Police studies in the global North have a general interpretation of what is meant
by police ‘patrol’. This term does not neatly transfer to the structure of policework
in Vietnam and it warrants further exploration. The multiple layers of policing and
social control mechanisms were not explored in this thesis in-depth. However,
the relatively recent emphasis on prevention and partnerships in the global North
have been embedded in the social structures of some Asian societies for much
longer.
Conclusion
The asymmetry of available literature on policing in the global North and South is
the product of a range of historical power relations. With respect to Vietnam,
London (2014, p. 3) noted the absence of ‘social and economic conditions and
processes’ analyses in policy-driven social research due to politics being ‘off-
limits’ despite such processes and conditions being inherently political. In
Vietnam, politics invariably includes the police. My hope is that the Vietnamese
police find value in opening themselves to external academic scholarship with a
103
Police lecturers are required to undertake two-year operational appointments at intervals in
order to stay up to date with practice in the field.
271
view to enhancing services to the community as well as the training and
opportunities available to students and staff. There are many trade-offs and
compromises when conducting research in sensitive political environments which
evoke personal, political and professional complexities. Issues confronted
included confidentiality, independence of the research, possibilities for
censorship, written and unwritten rules, and, uneven transparency about the fact
the research was being undertaken at all. Despite a raft of challenges, the study
hopes to provide useful insights on and an original contribution to scholarship on
Vietnamese policing and a framework to inspire thinking about policing in the
global North and South in different ways.
272
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Appendices
307
Appendix 1: The standards for soft skills at the People’s Police
Academy
308
Appendix 2: Major specialisations at the People’s Police
Academy
Major specialisations
1.1 State Management on Social Order and Safety
- State management in urban and rural areas; Public Relations; Criminal
justice.
1.2 Criminal Police
- The pursuit of the offender and the search for material evidence related to
foreign elements;
- Specialized dog used by police in the fight against crime of social order.
1.3 Investigative Police
- Activities of People's Court, People's Procuracy in Criminal Procedures;
- The role and activities of the lawyer during the investigative phase of the
criminal case;
- Use professional technical means in reconnaissance.
1.4 Economic Police
- Accounting and auditing; Business management, finance, banking; Business
administration and contract.
1.5 Forensic Science
- Activities of assessors at People's Court;
- New issues of criminal chemistry, criminal biology, drug and medical
examinations – fire; sound inspection, DNA screening.
1.6 Traffic Police on Roads and Rails
- Communication and behavioural skills of Traffic Police on Roads and Rails;
- Solving a number of specific situations in the work of Traffic Police on Roads
and Rails;
- Criminal Justice.
1.7 Police on Criminal Sentence Enforcement and Judicial Assistance
- Criminal Justice; Retrieving offenders from prison; The work of investigation
of the Police on Criminal Sentence Enforcement and Judicial Assistance.
1.8 Police on Narcotic Crime Prevention and Suppression
- Using specialized technique and dogs in Narcotic Crime Prevention;
- International law and international cooperation on drug prevention.
1.9 Armed Police
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- Methods, tactics to suppress terrorists;
- Dismissing tactics of disturbing public order, unlawful demonstrations and
riots under the function of the armed police force;
- Skills on commanding and advising for company, battalion and regiment.
1.10 Student of English for Police
- “State Management on Social Order and Safety” profession; Reconnaissance
in People’s Police force; Theoretical issues of criminal investigation; English
Interpreting Skills.
1.11 Environmental Police
- Detecting, receiving, inspecting and handling information of environmental
law violation by the Environmental Police Force;
- Basic knowledge about environmental impact assessment serving the work
of Environmental Police;
- The handling of administrative violations by the Environmental Police.
1.12 Police on Hi – tech Crime Prevention and Suppression
- Standardized skills using advanced information technology (3 modules:
Advanced word processing, Image editing, Information security and
confidentiality);
- Criminal Justice.
1.13 Police on Criminal Procedures Code
- Reconnaissance in People’s Police force; Knowledge of “State Management
on Social Order and Safety”; Specialized records of police.
1.14 Police on Water Ways
- Reconnaissance in Water Ways Police force.
1.15 Students of Chinese for Police
- “State Management on Social Order and Safety” profession; Reconnaissance
in People’s Police force; Theoretical issues of criminal investigation; Chinese
Interpreting Skills.
1.16 Police Advisory and Commander
- Skill of drafting some popular documents in advisory work; Skills of Police
Commanders.
Source: People’s Police Academy (2017b).
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Appendix 3: Sample of Participant Information Statement and
Consent Form
To participate in this project you need to meet the following inclusion criteria:
• Be a police officer, police student or professionally engaged, or have knowledge
of public security and crime-related issues in Vietnam
The research study is aiming to be a resource to inform decisions about how to best
equip Vietnamese police with necessary knowledge and skills to adapt to contemporary
public security challenges. The research hopes to produce some recommendations for
refining professionalisation efforts of police in Vietnam.
311
Do I have to take part in this research study?
This Participant Information Statement and Consent Form tells you about the research
study. It explains the research tasks involved. Knowing what is involved will help you
decide if you want to take part in the research.
Please read this information carefully. Ask questions about anything that you don’t
understand or want to know more about. Before deciding whether or not to take part,
you might want to talk about it with a relative or friend.
If you decide you want to take part in the research study, you will be asked to:
• Sign the consent form ;
• Keep a copy of this Participant Information Statement;
Participation in this research study is voluntary. If you don’t wish to take part, you don’t
have to. Your decision will not affect your relationship with The University of New South
Wales;
What does participation in this research require, and are there any risks
involved?
This research project is not concerned with information that may be private, classified,
or relation to specific criminal offences. You are requested not to disclose such
information during the interview. If you feel that taking part in the study may put you at
risk personally or professionally, you are free to withdraw from the study at any time.
Although the researcher cannot guarantee that you will definitely not be treated
differently by colleagues or supervisors as a result of taking part in the study, every
precaution will be taken to make sure that your interview responses are not identifiable
in any way.
If you decide to take part in the research study, you will be asked to participate in an
interview with the researcher which may take approximately 1-2 hours. During the
interview the researcher will ask you questions about police practices and training in
Vietnam. She will digitially record the interview using an audio recorder with your
consent. The interview/s can take place at a location of your choosing which may be
your place of work, café or at a local research institute accessible to the researcher.
The interview does not involve any physical risk to you. You can withdraw any time.
312
after publication of the findings. We will store information about you at The University of
New South Wales. Your information will only be used for the purpose of this research
study and it will only be disclosed with your permission.
It is anticipated that the results of this research study will be published and/or
presented in a variety of forums. In any publication and/or presentation, information will
be provided in such a way that you will not be identified in these publications unless
you agree to this by providing written consent to the researcher.
You have the right to request access to the information about you that is collected and
stored by the researcher. You also have the right to request that any information with
which you disagree be corrected. You can do this by contacting the researcher.
The audio digital recordings are for the purposes of the research study. After the
interview(s) we will transcribe your digital recordings. We will keep your digital
recordings in the form of transcription for seven years after publication. We will store
information about you at The University of New South Wales. Your confidentiality will
be ensured by protecting your anonymity and securely storing any records of your
participation.
If you are a police officer or student at a police training institution, such as the
People’s Police Academy or a Police College, the International Co-operation
Department will record your name as having taken part in the research. Some
information from any interview you participate in may also be included in the
report. This information may be made available to the Rector of the People’s
Police Academy if requested. The International Co-operation Department will
retain these records for as long as they deem necessary. If you are concerned
about this requirement, you can decline to participate in the interview.
How and when will I find out what the results of the research study are?
You have a right to receive feedback about the overall results of this study. You can tell
us that you wish to receive feedback by indicating in writing on the consent form or
emailing the researcher. This feedback will be in the form of an executive summary of
the research and/or an oral presentation to disseminate the findings in Hanoi. You will
receive this feedback after the study is finished.
If you decide to leave the research study, the researchers will not collect additional
information from you. You are free to stop the interview at any time. Unless you say
that you want us to keep them, any recordings will be erased and the information you
have provided will not be included in the study results. You may also refuse to answer
any questions that you do not wish to answer during the interview.
Email [email protected]
What should I do if I have concerns about the risks involved in the research
study?
Should you require any assistance to address any harm, discomfort or inconvenience
arising from this research please contact the researcher or the following people who
will make representations on your behalf to resolve any concerns:
Email [email protected]
Telephone +84.4.37820058
Email [email protected]
Local supervisor
Position Local fieldwork supervisor, Ms Khuat Thi Hai Oanh
Email [email protected]
Email [email protected]
HC Reference HC15195
Number
I understand the purposes, study tasks and risks of the research described in
the project;
I have had an opportunity to ask questions and I am satisfied with the answers I
have received;
Participant Signature
Name of Participant
(please print)
Signature of Research
Participant
Date
Declaration by Researcher*
I have given a verbal explanation of the research study, its study activities and risks
and I believe that the participant has understood that explanation.
Researcher Signature*
Name of Participant
(please print)
315
Signature of Research
Participant
Date
+
An appropriately qualified member of the research team must provide the explanation of,
and information concerning the research study.
Note: All parties signing the consent section must date their own signature.
Participant Signature
Name of Participant
(please print)
Signature of Research
Participant
Date
HC Number: HC15195
Version dated: 21 June 2016
316
THÔNG TIN VỀ NGHIÊN CỨU VÀ ĐƠN CHẤP NHẬN THAM GIA
Công việc cảnh sát trong một Việt Nam đang chuyển mình
Giáo sư Janet Chan
Nghiên cứu được tiến hành bởi những học giả sau:
Vị trí Họ và tên Cơ quan/tổ chức
Trưởng nhóm Giáo sư Janet Chan Trường Đại học New
South Wales - Úc
Đồng nghiên cứu Giáo sư David Dixon Trường Đại học New
South Wales - Úc
Bà Khuất Thị Hải Oanh SCDI Việt Nam
Nghiên cứu sinh Melissa Jardine tiến hành Trường Đại học New
nghiên cứu này làm nền tảng South Wales - Úc
cho luận văn tiến sĩ tại trường
Đại học New South Wales.
Nghiên cứu được triển khai
dưới sự hướng dẫn của giáo
sư David Dixon, trưởng Khoa
Luật thuộc Đại học New South
Wales và giáo sự Janet Chan,
Đại học New South Wales
Nhà tài trợ Nghiên cứu này được cấp vốn bởi trường Đại học New
South Wales - Úc
Để tham gia vào dự án này, bạn cần phải đáp ứng yêu cầu sau đây:
• Là một sỹ quan cảnh sát, hoc viên trường cảnh sát hoặc người làm nghề
chuyên nghiệp có liên quan hoặc có kiên thức về an toàn xã hội và các chính
sác liên quan đến tội phạm ở Việt Nam
Nghiên cứu sẽ là cơ sở đề xuất các giải pháp nhằm trang bị một cách tốt nhất các kiến
thức và kĩ năng cần thiết cho cảnh sát Việt Nam để thích ứng với những thách thức
trật tự trị an trong thời đại mới. Nghiên cứu này hy vọng sẽ đưa ra một số khuyến nghị
cho nỗ lực chuyên nghiệp hóa lực lượng cảnh sát Việt Nam.
Tôi có bắt buộc phải tham gia vào nghiên cứu này không?
Tài liệu này giải thích cho bạn về nghiên cứu và những nhiệm vụ nghiên cứu có liên
quan. Hiểu rõ về những gì có liên quan sẽ giúp bạn quyết định nếu bạn muốn tham
gia.
317
Xin vui lòng đọc kĩ các thông tin. Đặt câu hỏi về bất cứ điều gì mà bạn không hiểu hoặc
muốn biết thêm. Trước khi quyết định có hay không tham gia, bạn có thể tham khảo ý
kiến của người thân hoặc bạn bè.
Việc tham gia vào nghiên cứu này là tự nguyện. Bạn không bị bắt buộc nếu không
muốn tham gia. Quyết định của bạn sẽ không ảnh hưởng đến mối quan hệ giữa bạn
và trường Đại học New South Wales.
Việc tham gia vào nghiên cứu này đòi hỏi điều gì, và liệu sẽ có rủi ro nào liên
quan?
Dự án nghiên cứu này không quan tâm đến các thông tin cá nhân, mật, hoặc liên quan
đến các hành vi phạm tội hình sự cụ thể. Bạn được yêu cầu không tiết lộ các thông tin
như vậy trong cuộc phỏng vấn. Nếu bạn cảm thấy rằng tham gia vào nghiên cứu này
có thể đặt bạn vào các rủi ro cá nhân hay rủi ro nghề nghiệp, bạn có quyền tự do rút
khỏi nghiên cứu bất cứ lúc nào.
Bạn có thể cảm thấy khó chịu hay bất tiện, bao gồm:
• Lo lắng gây ra bởi việc được phỏng vấn; và,
• Bỏ thời gian để tham gia vào nghiên cứu
Mặc dù các học giả không thể đảm bảo rằng bạn sẽ chắc chắn không bị phân biệt đối
xử bởi đồng nghiệp hay cấp trên do tham gia vào dự án này, mọi biện pháp phòng
ngừa sẽ được thực hiện để đảm bảo rằng câu trả lời phỏng vấn của bạn sẽ không thể
bị tìm ra dù với bất kì cách nào.
Nếu bạn quyết định tham gia vào nghiên cứu này, bạn sẽ được yêu cầu tham gia một
cuộc phỏng vấn kéo dài khoảng 1-2 giờ với các nhà nghiên cứu. Trong cuộc phỏng
vấn, các học giả sẽ hỏi bạn những câu hỏi về thực tiễn công việc và đào tạo của cảnh
sát tại Việt Nam. Nhà nghiên cứu sẽ thu âm cuộc phỏng vấn bằng cách sử dụng một
máy ghi âm nếu có sự đồng ý của bạn. Cuộc phỏng vấn có thể diễn ra tại địa điểm mà
bạn lựa chọn, ví dụ nơi làm việc, quán cà phê hoặc tại một viện nghiên cứu tại địa
phương mà các học giả có thể tiếp cận được. Cuộc phỏng vấn không tồn tại bất kỳ rủi
ro thể chất nào cho bạn. Bạn có thể rút lui bấ cứ lúc nào.
Những lợi ích có thể nhận được khi tham gia là gì?
Chúng tôi hy vọng thông tin mà chúng tôi nhận được từ nghiên cứu sẽ là cơ sở đưa ra
khuyến nghị nhằm trang bị tốt nhất cho lực lượng công an Việt Nam các kiến thức và
kĩ năng cần thiết để thích ứng với những thách thức trật tự trị an trong thời đại mới.
318
Có khả năng các kết quả của nghiên cứu này sẽ được công bố và/hoặc trình bày tại
các diễn đàn. Trong bất kỳ ấn phẩm và/hoặc trình bày nào, thông tin sẽ được cung cấp
theo cách mà bạn không thể bị nhận ra, trừ khi các nhà nghiên cứu có sự đồng ý bằng
văn bản của bạn.
Bạn có quyền yêu cầu truy cập các thông tin về bạn được thu thập và lưu trữ bởi các
nhà nghiên cứu. Bạn cũng có quyền yêu cầu rằng bất kỳ thông tin nào mà bạn không
đồng ý được sửa chữa cho đúng. Bạn có thể làm điều này bằng cách liên hệ với các
học giả.
Những bản thu âm kỹ thuật số là dành cho mục đích nghiên cứu. Sau cuộc phỏng vấn,
chúng tôi sẽ chép lại dưới dạng văn bản các bản thu âm này. Chúng tôi sẽ lưu trữ các
bản thu âm dưới hình thức văn bản trong vòng bảy năm sau khi công bố. Chúng tôi sẽ
lưu trữ thông tin về bạn tại Đại học New South Wales. Việc bảo mật thông tin của bạn
sẽ được tiến hành bằng việc bảo vệ danh tính của bạn và lưu trữ an toàn tất cả các hồ
sơ về việc tham gia của bạn.
Nếu bạn là sỹ quan Cảnh sát hay sinh viên tại các cơ sở đào tạo Cảnh sát như là Học
viện Cảnh sát nhân dân hay một trường đào tạo Cảnh sát, phòng Hợp tác quốc tế -
Học viện Cảnh sát nhân dân sẽ ghi nhận sự hợp tác của bạn vì đã tham gia vào quá
trình nghiên cứu. Một số thông tin từ bất kỳ cuộc phỏng vấn nào mà bạn tham gia sẽ
có thể được Phòng Hợp tác quốc tế lưu trữ. Những thông tin này có thể được báo cáo
với Giám đốc Học viện Cảnh sát nhân dân nếu như được yêu cầu. Phòng Hợp tác
quốc tế sẽ lưu giữ các bản lưu này lâu nhất có thể nếu thấy cần thiết. Nếu bạn lo lắng
về các yêu cầu này, ban có thể từ chối tham gia vào việc phỏng vấn.
Làm thế nào và khi nào tôi có thể biết được kết quả của nghiên cứu là gì?
Bạn có quyền nhận được thông tin phản hồi về kết quả tổng thể của nghiên cứu này.
Bạn có thể cho chúng tôi biết rằng bạn muốn nhận thông tin phản hồi bằng cách chỉ rõ
trong Đơn chấp nhận hoặc gửi email cho các nhà nghiên cứu. Thông tin phản hồi này
sẽ được trình bày dưới dạng một bản tóm tắt kết quả của nghiên cứu và/hoặc một bài
thuyết trình để phổ biến các kết quả nghiên cứu tại Hà Nội. Bạn sẽ nhận được thông
tin phản hồi này sau khi nghiên cứu kết thúc.
Nếu bạn quyết định rút lui khỏi công trình nghiên cứu, các nhà nghiên cứu sẽ không
thu thập thêm thông tin từ bạn. Bạn có quyền dừng cuộc phỏng vấn bất cứ lúc nào. Tất
cả các bản thu âm sẽ bị xóa và những thông tin bạn đã cung cấp sẽ không được sử
dụng cho các kết quả nghiên cứu, trừ khi bạn nói rằng bạn muốn chúng tôi giữ chúng.
Bạn cũng có thể từ chối trả lời bất kỳ câu hỏi nào mà bạn không muốn trong cuộc
phỏng vấn.
Tôi nên làm gì nếu tôi có thêm câu hỏi về sự tham gia của tôi trong nghiên cứu?
Người mà bạn cần liên hệ sẽ phụ thuộc vào bản chất yêu cầu của bạn. Nếu bạn muốn
biết thêm thông tin liên quan đến dự án này hoặc nếu bạn có bất kỳ vấn đề nào có thể
liên quan đến sự tham gia của bạn trong dự án, bạn có thể liên hệ với các nhà nghiên
cứu:
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Họ và tên Melissa Jardine
Chức vụ Nghiên cứu sinh tiến sĩ
Điện thoại +61 417 374 070; +841227302734
Email [email protected]
Tôi nên làm gì nếu tôi có quan ngại về những rủi ro liên quan đến nghiên cứu
này?
Nếu bạn cần bất kỳ sự trợ giúp nào để giải quyết những tác hại, khó chịu hay bất tiện
phát sinh từ nghiên cứu này xin vui lòng liên hệ với các nhà nghiên cứu hoặc những
người sau đây. Họ sẽ thay mặt bạn để giải quyết bất kỳ quan ngại nào:
Ban kiểm duyệt địa phương về đạo đức của nghiên cứu
Chức vụ Trưởng ban kiểm duyệt, tiến sĩ Khuất Thu Hồng
Địa chỉ Viện Nghiên cứu phát triển xã hội (ISDS), Phòng 1804, tầng
PH, tòa nhà The Garden, đường Mễ Trì, Từ Liêm, Hà Nội,
Việt Nam
Điện thoại +84.4.37820058
Email [email protected]
Nếu tôi có khiếu nại hoặc bất kỳ quan ngại nào về nghiên cứu này?
Nếu bạn có khiếu nại về bất kỳ khía cạnh nào của dự án, cách nó đang được tiến
hành, bạn có thể liên hệ:
Chức vụ Điều phối viên về Đạo đức của Nghiên cứu con người
Điện thoại + 61 2 9385 6222
Email [email protected]
Số HC tham HC15195
chiếu
Tôi đã đọc Bản thông tin về nghiên cứu hoặc ai đó đã đọc cho tôi với ngôn ngữ
mà tôi hiểu được;
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Tôi hiểu được mục đích, nhiệm vụ và rủi ro của nghiên cứu được mô tả trong
dự án;
Tôi đã có một cơ hội để đặt câu hỏi và tôi hài lòng với câu trả lời tôi đã nhận;
Tôi tự nguyện đồng ý tham gia nghiên cứu này như mô tả và hiểu rằng tôi có
quyền rút lui bất cứ lúc nào trong suốt dự án và việc rút lui sẽ không ảnh hưởng
đến mối quan hệ của tôi với bất kỳ tổ chức nào có tên trong Bản thông tin
và/hoặc thành viên nhóm nghiên cứu;
Tôi hiểu rằng tôi sẽ nhận được một bản sao có chữ ký của tài liệu này để giữ;
Ngày
Ngày
+ Một thành viên có trình độ thích hợp thuộc nhóm nghiên cứu phải cung cấp những lời
giải thích và thông tin liên quan đến nghiên cứu.
Lưu ý: Tất cả các bên ký kết phải ghi rõ ngày tháng mình ký.
Tôi muốn RÚT LẠI sự đồng ý tham gia của mình vào dự án nghiên cứu được mô tả ở
trên và hiểu rằng sự rút lui SẼ KHÔNG ảnh hưởng đến mối quan hệ của tôi với Đại
học New South Wales hoặc các chuyên gia khác.
Ngày
Nội dung rút lui khỏi nghiên cứu cần được chuyển tới:
Trưởng nhóm nghiên cứu: Giáo sư Janet Chan
Email: [email protected]
Điện thoại: +61 2 9385 2753
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Địa chỉ bưu điện: Tòa nhà Khoa Luật
Trường Đại học New South Wales - Úc
Nhà F8, phố Union
Cơ sở Kensington của trường Đại học New South
Wales
UNSW Sydney NSW 2052
Nước Úc
Số HC: HC15195
Ngày: 14/09/2015
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Appendix 4: Sample interview guides
6. What makes a ‘good’ police officer? What makes a ‘bad’ police officer?
7. What do you hope to achieve after you graduate from the Academy?
8. What do you think will be the most challenging aspects of your police work after
you graduate?
9. How would you define a professional police officer? What makes a police officer
professional?
10. What do you think are the biggest challenges facing police?
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Semi-structured interview guide: officers
3. What are the key skills and characteristics you hope students develop during
the course of their training at the PPA?
4. What are the biggest challenges you face in preparing junior officers for
operational work?
7. What differences are there, if any, in the field training of police work compared
with what is taught in the academy?
8. What makes a ‘good’ police officer? What makes a ‘bad’ police officer?
9. How would you define a professional police officer? What makes a police officer
professional?
10. What do you think are the biggest challenges facing police?
324
Appendix 5: Letter of Approval from the People’s Police
Academy
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