A 1975 article in the U.S. newspaper The Forum once described Vietnamese refugees protesting to urge the United Nations to let them return home. It concluded: “Therefore, with the character of the Vietnamese people, they resorted to one of their traditional solutions: protest. Hoping to accelerate the process.”
Honestly, I was somewhat surprised to read that. A foreign publication calling protest a “traditional solution” for the Vietnamese?
In all my decades living in Việt Nam, I had only ever heard the school-taught phrase, “Our nation has a passionate patriotic tradition.” I had never heard anyone associate the national character with the word “protest.”
The prevailing sentiment is quite the opposite. When protests erupt elsewhere, the common refrain is a sigh of relief: “Lucky we are in Việt Nam, no protests, no violence,” usually followed by profuse thanks to the government.
Domestic media have long equated protest with “disturbance,” “riot,” or “being incited.” In the public imagination, protest is linked to images of destruction. Above all, in a society where taking to the streets can lead to arrest, people have gradually accepted the belief that “no protests” equals safety.
But looking more broadly, perhaps this begs the question: is a country without protest necessarily a good society?
What Protest Is and What It Is For
In reality, protest is a very ordinary thing. It is not a riot, nor is it a mere thrill of disruption. It is simply many people collectively telling the authorities: “We do not agree.”
A petition letter can be ignored. A “Citizens Ask–Ministers Answer” program can be overlooked. But thousands of people taking to the streets at once cannot be so easily unheard.
In their book “Contentious Politics,” Charles Tilly and Sidney Tarrow offer a long definition of protest, which I will summarize with one image: it is society’s pressure-release valve. Every society has conflicts—injustice, inequality, flawed policies. If there is no outlet for these tensions, they accumulate, and when they accumulate for too long, they explode.
Furthermore, in the study “The Dynamic Relationship Between Protest and Repression,” political scientist Sabine Carey points out that countries allowing peaceful protest often have a lower risk of severe violence. This is understandable: when people have a legal channel to express themselves, they are less likely to resort to more extreme measures.
In short, protest is a social self-regulation mechanism. It compels authorities to listen. And if they are wise, they’ll see it as a signal to correct mistakes.
Real Stability vs. False Stability
A society without protests is often called “stable,” but this label can be misleading.
There is a stability born of contentment, as seen in Northern Europe. People there rarely protest because good welfare, high living standards, and transparent policies leave little to complain about. Content citizens see no reason to march.
Then there is a stability born of fear. In China, for example, protests are also infrequent. It is unclear if this is due to genuine satisfaction or the knowledge that taking to the streets can lead to arrest. The 2022 White Paper Movement is telling. After a deadly apartment fire in Xinjiang, blamed by many on strict COVID lockdowns, nationwide protests erupted. Citizens held blank paper to symbolize their censored voices and oppose harsh state policies.
The government’s immediate suppression of the movement highlights that an outward calm does not mean internal consent. This phenomenon is what researcher Timur Kuran calls “preference falsification”—citizens hide their true dissatisfaction and feign agreement for safety. This false consensus is fragile and can be unleashed violently by a sudden trigger, as evidenced by the 1989 Eastern European revolutions.
In short, “no protests” can describe two opposite conditions: a society calm from trust, or one silent from fear.
Protest as a “Fever” In a Healthy Society
Above all, protest signals that a society retains resilience. It means people still want to speak, believing their voices can make a difference.
International reports, such as “Freedom in the World” by Freedom House, indicate that countries rated as “Free” must guarantee the right to peaceful assembly and protest as a mandatory criterion.
In France, protests occur year-round, forcing authorities to listen and adjust policies. In South Korea, protests in 2016 led to the removal of a corrupt president. Such demonstrations do not collapse society; they help society recognize and correct errors.
If society is a body, then protest is its fever. It is unpleasant, but it is a vital sign that the body is still reacting to what ails it.
Returning to The Forum’s observation, a look at history shows it was not incorrect.
During French colonial rule, the Vietnamese held mass protests against taxes and Nguyen dynasty policies (1908), and marched for Phan Châu Trinh’s funeral (1926). The Communist Party grew from the Xô Viết Nghệ Tĩnh movements, and the August Revolution was secured by protests in Hà Nội, Huế, and Sài Gòn.
After the colonizers withdrew, protests continued. Following the Geneva Accords, residents in Quỳnh Lưu, Nghệ An, staged protests in 1956, demanding the right to migrate South. After its suppression, this was likely the last large-scale protest in the North for that era.
In the South, before 1975, society maintained a civil society despite the war: students protested conscription, and newspapers protested censorship. Southern Vietnamese, indeed, treated protest as a solution to compel the Republic of Việt Nam authorities to listen.
Later, though rare, people continued to take to the streets: opposing China’s Hai Duong 981 oil rig (2014), opposing Formosa’s environmental damage (2016), and protesting the Special Economic Zone bill (2018).
But the government and media response is notable. Instead of “protests,” state media use terms like “gathering in large numbers,” “disturbance,” or “incited by evil forces.” Participants can be arrested, beaten, or imprisoned. Political demonstrations are reframed as security-order events.
The result is that in the collective memory, “protest” is no longer understood as a right, but as a crime. People fear it, believing “no protest is fortunate.” Yet this “silent stability” is an illusion, while injustice quietly accumulates.
Meanwhile, the 2013 Constitution clearly recognizes citizens’ right to protest. But more than a decade later, the Law on Protest has yet to be enacted. Ironically, in Việt Nam, a constitutionally guaranteed right is suspended—existent on paper but unenforceable in practice. Perhaps The Forum’s observation was true for past generations, but in today’s society, it no longer holds.
Thúc Kháng wrote this article in Vietnamese and published it in Luật Khoa Magazine on Sept. 3, 2025. Đàm Vĩnh Hằng translated it into English for The Vietnamese Magazine.