We were running a bit late – had a flight to catch – so my wife brought a tiny plastic tub of yogurt into the taxi to feed our youngest. We were approaching the bridge over the Red River when she passed the near-empty tub and plastic spoon to me in the front seat.
I held it for a few seconds and looked for a trash bag. Seeing none, I set it on a spot on the console between me and the driver where it wouldn’t tip over.
Then the driver said something in Vietnamese, which I interpreted as, “Do you want me to take care of that?” And I nodded yes, thinking he had a place to put the trash.
And he did. He rolled down his window and tossed it out.
Why do so many Vietnamese literally and casually trash the country they love? The Vietnamese are a proud and nationalistic people, and the country is beautiful. Yet many Vietnamese uses the Fatherland as a dumping ground.
This is, of course, a common complaint among travelers. Singapore and Tokyo, from what I’ve seen, live up to their reputations as neat freaks. Stiff penalties are part of that, and so is social pressure. Vietnam is a gritty place – especially urban Vietnam – and perhaps that’s hard to avoid in an emerging economy rife with motorcycles, rough roads and constant construction. Hanoi, and even Ho Chi Minh City, have a lot of catching up to do.
But there is really no good reason for Vietnam to be as filthy as it is.
These were precisely the points my wife, whose first language is Vietnamese, made to our taxi driver. As she explained it later, he defended his actions first by saying: “Don’t worry. Somebody else will pick it up.” And later by adding: “Oh, it’s cultural. Everybody does it.”
Cultural! A cultural tradition of trash! Well, then, how about a roadside garbage display at the Museum of Ethnology!?!
Contrary to what the taxi driver said, not everybody does it. But millions do. And not every urban district, of course, is as conspicuously trashed as others, but the problem is far and wide in Vietnam. But the problem compounds itself: the sight of trash begets more trash, and so on, and so on.
Many Vietnamese don’t want to live this way. In addition to the aesthetic damage, there is an economic cost. The nation’s ability to attract tourists and foreign investment suffers from the reality that many first-time visitors to Vietnam aren’t interested in returning a second time – while Thailand, for example, leaves travelers wanting more. The trash isn’t the only turn-off, but it certainly doesn’t help.
Leaders of Vietnamese government, society and business are aware of the problem. But whatever is being done to try to change the social behavior isn’t enough. An effective “Don’t Trash Vietnam” media campaign could be publicized far and wide – and backed up with better enforcement of anti-littering laws. Cabbies could be a special focus because they are plentiful, serve as de facto ambassadors and are easier to identify and fine.
I was a child growing up in California when a “Keep America Beautiful” campaign was rolled out. While America’s military was raining destruction and death on Vietnam, we would see TV commercials that depicted an elderly Native American contemplating a river bank strewn with trash. Then we’d see a close up of Iron Eyes Cody, an actor who appeared in so many Westerns, with a tear running down his cheek.
American cities are nowhere as clean as Singapore or Tokyo – or European cities as well, from my limited travels. But some communities do a better job than others. It’s a constant struggle. Several American cities have now adopted or are considering laws to ban grocery stores from using non-biodegradable plastic bags, which often end up in storm drains and eventually the ocean. Paper is more easily recycled, and the reusable grocery bags are a growing trend.
I’m not as clean and green as some of my friends. But as a child, my mother taught me to stash my trash in a pocket until I could put it in the trash receptacle at home. As an adult the inside of my car was often a mess – but the only thing I’d toss out a window was an apple core or a banana peel.
Cultures change all the time. Vietnam’s is no exception. Shaming the litterbugs is part of the solution.
And once Vietnam starts cleaning up, perhaps this campaign could move on to another issue: Public urination. A slogan might be too obvious to mention.
Scott Harris