The Response to that New Yorker Article
(This post was originally published on Vietnam Weekly.)
The Case of the Nguyen Sisters and Their Image in Vietnam
Last Monday, the The New Yorker published a lengthy feature by D. T. Max called ‘The Public-Shaming Pandemic’ about individuals around the world who have faced criticism and harassment for their perceived role in the COVID-19 pandemic.
At the heart of the piece is Nga Nguyen, the London-based daughter of an extremely wealthy Vietnamese steel tycoon. Her sister, Nhung, gained infamy after returning to Hanoi from London with COVID-19 on March 2 and kicking off Vietnam’s first massive battle against the virus. The sisters had left London for Milan and Paris to attend major fashion shows before returning to the UK. (It seems like such activities are from another century, but this was just before the virus exploded in northern Italy and then throughout Europe.) Nhung, who had some symptoms but not a fever at the time, then flew to Vietnam; Nga stayed in Europe, where she also tested positive for COVID-19 and underwent treatment in Germany.
Nhung’s case was confirmed on March 7, when she became known as ‘Patient 17,’ ending a run of 22 days without any detected community transmission of the coronavirus. It didn’t take long for Nhung’s name to become public knowledge, but I’m not sure how exactly that first happened, while the five-day gap between her arrival in Hanoi and infection confirmation provided ample fodder for social media.
I went back through my MailChimp newsletter archive, and here’s what I wrote on March 9: “The social media reaction to this news was also swift, and absolutely disgusting. I’m not going to share any posts since many are vile, but the young woman is from a very wealthy family, which fed into some of the vitriol, though her gender certainly played a role as well — people doxxed her, called for her to be jailed (or worse), and harassed other women with the same name. The entrenched social media narrative now is of a selfish rich brat jaunting around Europe who lied about where she had been when she returned to Hanoi and went clubbing when she got back even though she knew she was sick — there were also widespread rumors that she attended the Uniqlo grand opening in the city, even though she was already in a hospital for treatment that day. The rumor-mongering got so bad that Vietnam News published an article debunking six of the most common false accusations…”
The coronavirus situation nationally rapidly deteriorated, as 15 people on Nhung’s flight became infected and spread the virus onward once they were in Vietnam, while clusters linked to other international flights emerged as well. Nhung’s personal driver and one of her aunts were also infected. (The aunt ended up in critical condition on a ventilator, though she eventually recovered, as did Nhung.)
Now, back to the New Yorker piece. Max writes that Vietnam’s authorities, “determined to make other Hanoi residents stay home, especially in Nhung’s neighborhood, made a show of locking down her street.” I’m not exactly sure what ‘making a show’ means here, as this was reported normally, and of course officials wanted residents to stay home — that was the entire point, yet there’s an insidious tinge to the article’s tone here.
And, as Peter Cowan noted on Twitter, officials had previously locked down a rural commune north of Hanoi to prevent further infections. This was simply done out of public health concerns, not to “make a show.”
Max goes on: “That wasn’t all: the Vietnamese government, which regularly uses newspaper leaks to persuade or frighten its citizens, invited the press to watch a live stream of a meeting about the young woman’s medical condition.”
If Nhung’s name was leaked by the government, that is certainly a problem, but the government here is hardly alone in using media to make a point, while Quy Bui, from AFP’s Hanoi bureau, noted that the city government was working to maintain calm, not sow fear and panic — people had immediately started stocking up on food and other goods in response to this news, and officials actively tried to dissuade that. The “live stream,” meanwhile, would have been to provide updates on what exactly was going on, not to delve into Nhung’s personal details.
More from Max: “The Vietnamese government, clearly committed to making an example of Nhung, let it be known that when she flew home from London she did not mention her visit to Italy. Not only had Nhung apparently infected her sister; according to officials, she was the probable source of infection of ten other people on the flight, all of whom tested positive shortly afterward, as well as the driver who picked her up from the airport, her housekeeper, and one of her aunts.”
This is where I really start to have problems with the piece. It’s not right to say the government was “clearly committed to making an example of Nhung,” as that is a very subjective statement — her case was hugely important, and officials routinely made travel histories public in order to aid contact tracing and let people who may have interacted with a known patient know that they needed to get tested. This aggressive contact tracing is one of the reasons Vietnam has done so well in handling the pandemic so far.
As noted in the Vietnam News article linked above, Nhung did indeed lie about her travel history, and it is believed she used a second passport upon arrival in Hanoi. And we now know that 15 people on her flight also became infected, as outlined in detailed new research from Vietnamese health experts.
The article then discusses vicious social media harassment of Nga and Nhung, as well as attacks by the British tabloid press aimed at the wealthy, jet-setting duo — none of this can be defended. Here, however, Nga’s defense also gets ugly: “She saw the attacks as examples of class jealousy: ‘In Vietnam, we are too privileged — we travel too much.’ She ascribed the extraordinary attention she and her sister received elsewhere to racism, noting, ‘If this was Paris Hilton, there would not be so much fuss.’”
The Paris Hilton analogy is just odd, and it’s entirely possible that some of the coverage in Europe was race-driven, but the charge of ‘class jealousy’ in Vietnam comes off as out-of-touch.
Less than a week after Nhung’s case was confirmed, another wealthy Vietnamese socialite returned to Hanoi from London with COVID-19, but this time on a private jet chartered by her family. This extreme display of wealth was greeted with applause, as people commended the family’s personal responsibility in avoiding commercial travel. Her identity was also known, but this story quickly faded as the public had no issue with what happened.
To be sure, many of the vile social media comments aimed at Nhung mentioned her wealth (and her gender, an angle that can’t be overlooked), but irresponsibility was at the root of the response. People saw her as putting herself above the good of the general public. Wealth can be excused (and even celebrated), but selfishness cannot, and it ran counter to the country’s generally unified effort against the pandemic.
Max returns to Nga near the end of the feature: “She has been developing an environmentally responsible line of self-care products, and hopes ‘to launch by end of year.’ She told me that her sister had been ‘more traumatized,’ though Nhung’s infamy is also fading.”
The mention of her product line here has really rankled people and, combined with this glowing Straits Times profile that included the same info, gives the impression that the family has organized some sort of concerted PR campaign to improve their image and help Nga launch her business.
In a bit of grim irony, the publication of this New Yorker feature, in particular, has brought seething anger toward the sisters back to social media months after it had completely disappeared — Nhung’s infamy had indeed faded, but no more.
Facebook, Twitter and Reddit are full of awful comments, many of which are once again gendered, and if the sisters expected redemption, they have only dug themselves an even deeper hole, now seen as taking advantage of their experience to make more money. I don’t work in PR, but it seems if they had simply let this topic be, they would’ve been able to carry on without further notoriety.
And, as a journalist, the reaction aimed at The New Yorker and Max are concerning as well — I’ve seen numerous allegations that he took money from the family to write the story, which is certainly not the case, but displays a worrying understanding of how reporting works. I do certainly have questions though about the decision to feature Nga and Nhung, and one can’t help but wonder if The New Yorker’s vaunted fact-checking department was up to their usual snuff here.
Finally, as is the case with so many online things, this piece and the reaction to it have blown up any chance for nuance. While Vietnam’s response to the pandemic has certainly been among the world’s most effective in terms of public health outcomes, there have been real concerns related to privacy, and I’ve also spoken to several people who had deeply unpleasant experiences in quarantine facilities. However, when a prominent publication flubs facts and paints the country in a poor way, many (myself included) can’t help but rush to defend it.
It’s terrible that Nga and Nhung got sick and were subjected to vulgar online attacks, and I’m glad they are both in good health now, but transparently painting themselves as fully innocent victims, with an added dose of free PR, is not going well.
In the end, the sisters and their family will be fine, as will The New Yorker and Max, but how many readers of that piece now have a dimmer view of Vietnam due to it? Perhaps that is the ultimate tragedy of this whole episode.
