Then, late last year, she and her Australian husband Benjamin Swanton were evicted from their Hanoi apartment — by what she believes were agents from Vietnam’s secret police claiming to be employees of the building’s owner — after she held up a sign reading “Piss on You Trump” during the US President’s visit during the APEC summit.
There were real fears on that occasion that she might be arrested, and she thought for a time about leaving the country.
She stayed, however, and now the Vietnamese government has another album to deal with. Its title? Dissent.
She and her band the Dissidents launched it last week at an event attended by US diplomats, interested Western expats, a documentary crew, and the cream of Vietnam’s artistic scene.
“Releasing this album is an historic event,” she says.
“I only know of one other album so politically explicit that has been released in Vietnam since the end of the war. Just the fact that we managed to release it is a political victory in itself.”
During its production, Mai Khoi’s concerts were raided, her producer was fined, her saxophonist was told by his father that the family would disown him if he continued to work with her, and personal friendships ended on political grounds.
Some expected the album launch itself to be raided.
“It wasn’t easy,” Mai Khoi said later, noting that the the presence of the camera crew, as well as that of journalists, had played a role.
“Someone invited the police, but this time they didn’t dare to come.”
She also discussed the launch with her lawyer beforehand. They made sure that their paperwork was in order.
Outside the occasional international talk-fest or big-ticket anniversary — January marked the 50th anniversary of the Tet Offensive, which changed public perceptions of the Vietnam War in the US — Vietnam has largely dropped off people’s radars in the West.
That its government cracks down on freedom of expression, jailing bloggers, for example, as a matter of course, and still fails to hold free and fair elections, are facts that go largely overlooked.
Mai Khoi isn’t the country’s only dissident — hundreds, including Dr Nguyen Quang A, a renowned businessman, scholar and democracy advocate, were prevented from running for office two years ago — but she may be the one whose message has captured most attention abroad.
Unlike Pussy Riot, however, a “band” that is easily more activist than artistic, Mai Khoi insists that one listen to her music as music first and foremost.
“Dissent is just as important musically [as it is politically], because this is a new direction,” she says. “It has traditional and ethnic influences, but it’s not traditional or ethnic music. Also, [the style] isn’t imported from the West or South Korea, like much music in Vietnam.”
The fury behind the album is real, though — several of the songs build to incredible crescendos of what almost amount to pure noise, the saxophone, in particular, raging against all comers — and Mai Khoi admits, “It’s difficult to separate art and politics, because politics are everywhere.”
“I think music and art can play different roles in a society like Vietnam,” she said. “For me, it’s about opening new ways of thinking and acting, making the unthinkable thinkable and the unspeakable speakable.”
She protested against Donald Trump’s November visit because she believes he is racist.
“He came to Vietnam, didn’t recognise civil society, and did nothing to promote human rights. I also wanted to stop talking about freedom of expression and start practising it.”
She found the result of the protest disappointing.
“What surprised me most was the extent to which people in Vietnam have authoritarian ways of thinking,” she says.
Even former supporters of her work were critical of her protest.
“It became clear that the government is not the only authoritarian force in this society. That’s important if we want to change society.”
Art, she believes, can play a role here, breaking people out of their moulds. Mai Khoi hopes that Dissent might prompt a change, drawing attention not to Vietnam’s bloody modern history, but to current issues and local laments. That would be a start.
“We paid a price for this music,” she says.
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March 8, 2018
Vietnam’s answer to Pussy Riot furiously dissents
by Nhan Quyen • Mai Khoi
Hanoi: Mai Khoi Do Nguyen has long been described as Vietnam’s Lady Gaga. In more recent years, as her political activism has come to the fore, her expressions of rude dissent, she has also been compared to Russia’s infamous protest band, Pussy Riot.
Both comparisons hold true, and yet neither do. Mai Khoi is both a serious artist and a serious activist. She insists that the two sides of the coin cannot be so easily isolated from one another.
Mai Khoi Do Nguyen, Vietnam ‘s answer to Pussy Riot. Photo: Supplied
“Western journalists often see Vietnam through a political lens,” Mai Khoi says. “When they report on me, the focus is on acts of dissent and my music gets filtered out.”
However, to a large extent, Mai Khoi has invited this focus.
In 2016, she was one of many independent candidates blocked from running in the country’s National Assembly “elections,” which were predictably dominated by Communist Party functionaries. Later that year, she was among a small group of dissidents invited to meet then US president Barack Obama.
Then, late last year, she and her Australian husband Benjamin Swanton were evicted from their Hanoi apartment — by what she believes were agents from Vietnam’s secret police claiming to be employees of the building’s owner — after she held up a sign reading “Piss on You Trump” during the US President’s visit during the APEC summit.
There were real fears on that occasion that she might be arrested, and she thought for a time about leaving the country.
She stayed, however, and now the Vietnamese government has another album to deal with. Its title? Dissent.
She and her band the Dissidents launched it last week at an event attended by US diplomats, interested Western expats, a documentary crew, and the cream of Vietnam’s artistic scene.
“Releasing this album is an historic event,” she says.
“I only know of one other album so politically explicit that has been released in Vietnam since the end of the war. Just the fact that we managed to release it is a political victory in itself.”
During its production, Mai Khoi’s concerts were raided, her producer was fined, her saxophonist was told by his father that the family would disown him if he continued to work with her, and personal friendships ended on political grounds.
Some expected the album launch itself to be raided.
“It wasn’t easy,” Mai Khoi said later, noting that the the presence of the camera crew, as well as that of journalists, had played a role.
“Someone invited the police, but this time they didn’t dare to come.”
She also discussed the launch with her lawyer beforehand. They made sure that their paperwork was in order.
Outside the occasional international talk-fest or big-ticket anniversary — January marked the 50th anniversary of the Tet Offensive, which changed public perceptions of the Vietnam War in the US — Vietnam has largely dropped off people’s radars in the West.
That its government cracks down on freedom of expression, jailing bloggers, for example, as a matter of course, and still fails to hold free and fair elections, are facts that go largely overlooked.
Mai Khoi isn’t the country’s only dissident — hundreds, including Dr Nguyen Quang A, a renowned businessman, scholar and democracy advocate, were prevented from running for office two years ago — but she may be the one whose message has captured most attention abroad.
Unlike Pussy Riot, however, a “band” that is easily more activist than artistic, Mai Khoi insists that one listen to her music as music first and foremost.
“Dissent is just as important musically [as it is politically], because this is a new direction,” she says. “It has traditional and ethnic influences, but it’s not traditional or ethnic music. Also, [the style] isn’t imported from the West or South Korea, like much music in Vietnam.”
The fury behind the album is real, though — several of the songs build to incredible crescendos of what almost amount to pure noise, the saxophone, in particular, raging against all comers — and Mai Khoi admits, “It’s difficult to separate art and politics, because politics are everywhere.”
“I think music and art can play different roles in a society like Vietnam,” she said. “For me, it’s about opening new ways of thinking and acting, making the unthinkable thinkable and the unspeakable speakable.”
She protested against Donald Trump’s November visit because she believes he is racist.
“He came to Vietnam, didn’t recognise civil society, and did nothing to promote human rights. I also wanted to stop talking about freedom of expression and start practising it.”
She found the result of the protest disappointing.
“What surprised me most was the extent to which people in Vietnam have authoritarian ways of thinking,” she says.
Even former supporters of her work were critical of her protest.
“It became clear that the government is not the only authoritarian force in this society. That’s important if we want to change society.”
Art, she believes, can play a role here, breaking people out of their moulds. Mai Khoi hopes that Dissent might prompt a change, drawing attention not to Vietnam’s bloody modern history, but to current issues and local laments. That would be a start.
“We paid a price for this music,” she says.