Saigon's Publishing Perils

Saigon's Puvlishing Perils Each afternoon in Saigon, as South Viet Nam's 57 dailies start their press runs, the first copies are rushed to the office of the national press director. A battery of readers in Vietnamese, Chinese, French and English gives them a fast run-through, and officials decide which papers are to be seized that day for running articles they consider unacceptable. Word is flashed to police with walkie-talkies stationed outside the printing plants of habitual offenders. While the cops carry stacks of banned papers out the front door, staffers often spirit out the back as many copies as they can for clandestine circulation in anti-regime activist ranks.

The seriocomic seizure game was stepped up during President Nguyen Van Thieu's one-man run for reelection. Before the campaign started in late August, newspaper seizures for the year totaled 291. Since then, up to the time the polls closed last week, there were nearly 200 more, and virtually all victims were anti-Thieu papers. The wonder is that the regime bothers. Because of government corruption and inefficiency, the seizures seldom suppress a paper entirely, and because the Vietnamese press has a longstanding reputation for venality, relatively few people pay much attention to its attacks on Thieu in the first place.

Resort to Radio. A new press law passed last year proclaims that "censorship is prohibited," but it also provides that "the exercise of press freedom shall not be harmful to personal honor, national security or traditional morality." That large loophole leaves Thieu free to crack down on his critics. Chief sufferer has been Tin Sang (Morning News), a reputable opposition daily owned by a tough Catholic politician. Ngo Cong Duc (TIME, Sept. 6). The paper has been seized 166 times so far this year, and Duc's home, office and printing plant have been vandalized or fire-bombed five times. Once the best-selling serious paper in Viet Nam, Tin Sang's circulation has fallen by half, to 50,000. "Why does the government try to muzzle the opposition papers?" Duc asks. "This is dangerous. If the people cannot read papers they want to read, they will listen to the Viet Cong radio. This will be damaging to the national interest."

Except for Tin Sang and a couple of other papers. Vietnamese who care about what is really happening usually resort to foreign radio stations anyway. Many read their papers more for titillation than truth, and serialized romantic novels outweigh political polemics as circulation builders. Reporters routinely moonlight for as many as six papers of opposing political persuasions and cheerfully quote an old adage, which rhymes in Vietnamese: "A journalist is a man who tells lies to make money." Newspapers have existed in Viet Nam for more than a century, but Journalism Professor Nguyen Ngoc Phach characterizes their history as "one of constant struggle, few glories, small achievements and dubious causes."

Dragon's Lair. Only about ten of South Viet Nam's dailies make a true operating profit. Others survive on subsidies from politicians or officials with an ax to grind, or by peddling for profit their tax-free newsprint ration to competitors on a thriving black market. Some papers print only a few copies to convince officials of their continued existence, fudging circulation figures to qualify for lucrative newsprint ration renewals. Distribution difficulties in the provinces are due not only to the war but also to the need to pay off an occasional official for the right to circulate freely.

Opposition papers print purposely in several locations, some of them secret, to escape total seizure. Moreover, publishers can often buy back seized papers from bribe-prone police. The cops confiscate only the papers and not the printing plates, so some printers simply wait until the police leave and then crank up the presses once again. Editors get around direct criticism of Thieu with an informal code that fools nobody but satisfies the censor. They refer to him as "the old man" or "the chief" or "Cham King," a reference to his native region. The presidential palace is often called the "Dragon's Lair."

Praise for Thieu's political opponents has never been prohibited, although prudent editors also include the government side of any controversy. When he declared himself the only candidate in last Sunday's presidential election, Thieu said he would welcome constructive criticism by the press--and many papers did devote whole front pages to anti-Thieu material. But Thieu, as the once and future president, is likely to reimpose his indirect censorship on the press, and antiregime editors and publishers will continue to compose their nightly editorials with a wary eye on the Cham King in the Dragon's Lair.

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