Executive Summary
This chapter critically examines the intersection of politics and historical linguistics in the study of Chinese-Vietnamese language relations. It highlights how nationalist sentiment, colonial legacies, and ideological biases have shaped Vietnamese academic discourse, often distorting objective linguistic analysis. The author argues that misinformation, frequently sourced from non-specialist contributions to popular platforms like Wikipedia and Britannica, has been widely circulated and accepted within Vietnamese scholarly circles, particularly those influenced by Chinese-centric narratives.
The chapter contrasts Western linguistic methodologies with traditional Sino-Tibetan approaches, emphasizing the depth and precision of classical phonological reconstruction tools used by Chinese scholars. It explores examples such as the Vietnamese word cộ (carriage), tracing its etymology through ancient Chinese texts and phonetic models. The work of Bernhard Karlgren is cited as foundational in reconstructing Old Chinese sounds and identifying cognates between Vietnamese and Sinitic languages.
Ultimately, the chapter calls for a more impartial and globally informed approach to Vietnamese historical linguistics, one that transcends nationalist constraints and embraces rigorous, comparative analysis rooted in both Western and Eastern traditions.
Readers are advised in advance that this chapter engages directly with the political dimensions of Sino-Vietnamese relations. Those who find such topics uncomfortable or contentious may wish to proceed with caution or skip this section altogether.
In December 1922, the Fourth World Congress of the Communist International (Comintern) convened in the Soviet Union and resolved to expand its ideological reach into French-controlled Cochin-China. To execute this strategy, Comintern operatives in China cultivated a revolutionary figure, Ho Chi Minh, who secured financial backing from Chinese allies. Under Comintern directives, Ho Chi Minh funneled support to Vietnamese communist cells known as the Viet Minh (Việtnam Đồngminh Hội), operating under the Indochinese Communist Party, founded in 1932 to serve the Comintern’s broader goals.
The Vietminh carried out clandestine operations inside Vietnam, including political manipulation, sowing divisions among nationalist factions, and orchestrating targeted assassinations. Under Ho Chi Minh’s leadership, the communists consolidated power through tactics such as bribery to gain cabinet positions in the provisional government, initially formed by a coalition of nationalists, only to later marginalize those allies through internal purges.
Following Japan’s defeat in World War II, the Vietminh seized power in August 1945. France, under Charles de Gaulle, made a critical misstep by deploying troops to Vietnam under the pretext of disarming Japanese forces. This move provided the Vietminh with justification to mobilize national resources and consolidate control. As France attempted to reassert colonial authority, its actions inadvertently unified Vietnamese factions under the communist-led front, which received military support from Maoist China following its victory over the Kuomintang in 1949.
China’s triumph opened the door for Mao’s vision of exporting proletarian revolution. Vietnam became a strategic priority, and the communists worked to bring all political factions under their influence. After years of resistance, the First Indochina War ended in 1954 with the Geneva Accords, which divided Vietnam at the 17th parallel. The communists claimed the North, while the South was supported by the United States, which stepped in to fill the void left by France.
During the Cold War, Vietnam became a flashpoint between the communist bloc and the West. The U.S. sought to contain communism by supporting South Vietnam, while the North, backed by China and the Soviet Union, escalated its military campaign. The Vietnam War intensified in 1965, with over two million American troops rotating through the conflict. China provided substantial aid to North Vietnam, including anti-aircraft units and logistical support with participation of its own personnel. The prolonged war eroded American morale, resulting in over 53,000 U.S. casualties. The Paris Peace Accords of 1973 marked the beginning of U.S. withdrawal, orchestrated by President Richard Nixon and Secretary of State Henry Kissinger. In April 1975, North Vietnamese forces captured Saigon, ending the war and leaving behind a death toll of approximately two million Vietnamese, both civilian and military. (U)
The combined support from China and the Soviet Union enabled the Vietnamese Communist Party to expand its influence across the Indochinese peninsula. This assistance, however, came at a cost—what some view as a geopolitical debt trap. Conspiracy theories have circulated, alleging that top Vietnamese leaders were compromised by Chinese interests, with claims of bribery and manipulation. Despite these allegations, anti-China factions within the Politburo, figures such as Lê Duẩn, Đỗ Mười, and Lê Đức Anh, pushed back against Chinese influence.
In 1979, Vietnam invaded Cambodia to dismantle the genocidal Khmer Rouge regime, which had been backed by China. This intervention disrupted China’s strategic foothold in the region and triggered the Sino-Vietnamese border war, which lasted six months and was followed by intermittent clashes until 1989.
In summary, the modern Sino-Vietnamese relationship remains fraught with tension. Vietnam became a Cold War battleground, and the ideological struggle between communism and Western democracy cost millions of Vietnamese lives. While China continues to assert its influence, Vietnam’s historical resilience suggests that it will not easily become a subordinate province. The legacy of resistance, rooted in centuries of conflict, continues to shape Vietnam’s posture toward its northern neighbor.
The inclusion of political discussion is necessary, as the linguistic issues under examination are deeply entangled with historical and ideological contexts. This chapter does not limit itself to the structure of Vietnam's unitary political system but also addresses broader geopolitical antagonisms toward China—an area that many Chinese scholars find difficult to confront. Readers are encouraged to approach the material with openness to foundational premises that help explain how political tensions have shaped, and at times distorted, linguistic scholarship. These tensions exist for a reason. Etymologically, the subjectivity observed in this research stems from the polarized perspectives found in Sino-centric academic traditions, particularly among local scholars. The author aims to illuminate the historical roots of Vietnamese antagonism, shaped by centuries of Chinese dominance and aggression.
When discussing the historical affiliation between Vietnamese and Chinese civilizations, political themes inevitably surface. In Vietnam, political ideology, often masked as nationalism, continues to influence academic discourse. Although such topics are generally avoided in scholarly writing, their pervasive presence in mainstream thought makes it impossible to separate linguistic inquiry from political context. Vietnam's history, nationalism, and politics are so tightly interwoven that any serious examination of one inevitably implicates the others.
Politics, by its nature, undermines scholarly objectivity. In the Sinoxenic world, political interference has long distorted academic narratives. Japan's postwar historiography, Korea's unresolved trauma over wartime atrocities, and China's enduring memory of the Nanking massacre all reflect how national wounds shape historical interpretation. China's long record of aggression toward Vietnam is similarly extensive. In communist regimes, history is often written to serve the ruling party. Western scholarship, by contrast, tends to maintain a clearer separation between academic inquiry and political interest, and is thus perceived as more neutral. In Vietnam and China, however, scholars are often trained to serve state narratives, making the concept of unbiased historical analysis more theoretical than real. In such contexts, objectivity becomes a borrowed ideal, an imported notion rather than a practiced principle.
The political implications of these dynamics are far-reaching. They have already compromised the impartiality of linguistic research. Rather than avoiding these issues, this chapter confronts them directly. The author contends that only by grounding etymological inquiry in historical fact can we achieve greater clarity and rigor. Understanding the historical context is essential for tracing the origins of linguistic forms. For example, the evolution of the term 潮州 Cháozhōu (Teochow), and its derivatives 潮 cháo (SV trào), VS Triều, VS Tiều, and eventually VS Tàu—a later pejorative term for Chinese—illustrates how political and cultural shifts influence language.
It is academically accepted that the Vietnamese language has evolved in tandem with the nation's historical development. The challenge lies in how Vietnamese scholars reconcile the fact that Vietnam was under Chinese imperial rule for a full millennium prior to the 10th century. During the final occupation by the Ming Dynasty (1406–1427), historical records were systematically destroyed. As a result, much of Vietnam's early history has been reconstructed from Chinese sources, including Sima Qian's Shiji (Records of the Grand Historian) and Sima Guang's Zizhi Tongjian (Comprehensive Mirror to Aid in Government). These texts remain indispensable for understanding Vietnam's premodern past.
Notably, Annam is never referred to as an independent state in Sima Guang's work after 939. This raises the question of how Vietnam's history can be written without reference to Chinese historiography. Historically, whenever China has grown militarily powerful, it has posed a threat to Vietnam's sovereignty. This recurring pattern has fostered deep-rooted nationalist sentiment in Vietnam, which continues to shape academic interpretation. Domestic scholars often struggle to maintain objectivity when addressing historical subjects, especially those involving China.
Vietnamese history has been revised repeatedly, often with each new ruler. This political practice has led to the rewriting of historical narratives to align with the prevailing ideology—be it Confucianism, Buddhism, or Socialism. Events from 2,000 years ago are frequently reinterpreted, especially in light of post-1979 hostilities between Vietnam and China. These revisions extend to theories about the origins of the Vietnamese people and language.
In contrast, Chinese historians have found it comparatively easier to maintain continuity in their historical narratives up to 1911. Dynastic transitions and foreign influences were integrated into a unified historical framework, treating the Yuan and Qing dynasties as part of the Middle Kingdom. This continuity offers valuable insights into Vietnam's past and its linguistic development.
Prior to the 10th century, Vietnam's history was effectively compiled from Chinese records. No indigenous Vietnamese historiography written in the Annamese language existed before independence in 939 A.D. During the Han Dynasty, the region was known as Jiaozhi 交阯 (or 交趾), and later as Jiaozhou 交州. Under the Tang, it became Annam Đôhộphủ 安南督護府 (Protectorate General to the Pacified South). Linguistically, this prolonged period of Chinese rule resulted in the widespread adoption of Chinese loanwords in Vietnamese—a natural consequence of a millennium of cultural and administrative integration.
This chapter underscores that the linguistic and cultural ties between Vietnam and China are inseparable from their political history. Understanding this entanglement is essential for any meaningful analysis of Sinitic-Vietnamese etymology and the broader evolution of Vietnamese identity.
Historical records lend support to the author's postulation regarding the Sinitic-Vietnamese etyma. From the history of the ancient Chu State (楚國), it is understood that its population likely consisted predominantly of Taic-Yue aboriginal groups (see Binh Nguyen Loc, 1972). This aligns with the broader theory that, over 3,000 years ago, the Yue precursors were indigenous inhabitants of the region now known as southern China, or 華南 Huanan (see De Lacouperie, [1887] 1963).
One may speculate on how the course of Chinese history might have shifted had the Chu State prevailed in its struggle against Liu Bang 劉邦 and his generals—many of whom were originally subjects of Chu—who ultimately founded the Han Empire 漢朝 following the collapse of the Qin Dynasty (秦朝, 221–207 B.C.). Similarly, had the Nam Viet Kingdom (南越王國 NánYuè Wángguó) succeeded in resisting Han expansion in 111 B.C., the cultural and political landscape of East Asia might have taken a markedly different shape.
The essential issue lies not in nomenclature but in substance. To ask "What makes Chinese so Vietnamese?" rather than the reverse, is to acknowledge that the ancient Taic-Yue elements—ancestors of the Yue peoples of southern China—formed the foundational population of pre-Qin and pre-Han China. These were the native inhabitants before the rise of the Han Chinese. The later Vietnamese, as descendants of the Southern Yue, established what is now Vietnam in the southern reaches of this cultural sphere.
Beyond textual history, archaeological evidence further reinforces this connection. The bronze drums associated with the Yue people, renowned for their advanced copper metallurgy, have been unearthed across a wide geographic range—from southern China to the Indonesian archipelagos. These artifacts suggest a cultural diffusion that began with the Yue and later gave rise to Sinitic civilizations. In this view, the Yue represent the pollens from which the Sinitic cultural flower eventually bloomed. (日) Historical traces of the Yue lineage have woven a vast cultural and linguistic fabric, with their ancient habitats occupying more than half of what is now considered the territory of the Middle Kingdom.
In the context of the Vietnamese language, however, the inverse question—what makes Vietnamese so Chinese—is equally valid. This phenomenon is rooted in the fact that long before the emergence of a unified Chinese identity, the heartland of the Middle Kingdom was inhabited by proto-Yue populations of Taic origin. Over time, strong Chinese cultural influence—particularly through successive waves of migration and administrative control—imposed a dominant linguistic presence on Vietnam. After a millennium of Chinese rule, the Vietnamese lexicon absorbed a significant number of Sinitic elements, often replacing or overshadowing native terms. For example, 車 chē (carriage) became "xe" instead of the older "cộ", and 房 fáng (room) became "phòng" rather than "buồng". Meanwhile, some aboriginal words persisted, such as "mới" (new), which may relate to 萌 méng (compare Lepcha ᰖᰮ (mlam, "shoots that sprout from stump of tree" - Schuessler, 2007) or even Proto-Sino-Tibetan */m/s/g-ljak/ with "lưỡi" (tongue), possibly linked to 脷 lì and "liếm" ('lick', From Proto-Sino-Tibetan *s-ljam 'tongue; flame' the Cantonese vernacular reading, Guangzhou lim2 or lem2; Taishan liam2, preserves the Old Chinese lateral initial *l̥-.) both of which are late Chinese cognates.
Importantly, Yue elements left indelible marks not only on Vietnamese but also on Chinese itself. One compelling example is the zodiac system. The Vietnamese names for the twelve zodiac animals may reflect a full cultural cycle—from Yue origins to Chinese adaptation and back to Vietnamese preservation. Prior to the Han, Qin, Chu, Yue, and Wu states, the Yue zodiac likely featured original animal names that later evolved into Chinese forms. These include: 'chuột' (子 zǐ, 'rat'), 'trâu' (丑 chǒu, 'ox'), 'cọp' (寅 yǐn, 'tiger'), 'mèo' (卯 mǎo, 'cat'), 'rồng' (辰 shěn, 'dragon'), 'rắn' (巳 sì, 'snake'), 'ngựa' (午 wǔ, 'horse'), 'dê' (未 wèi, 'goat'), 'khỉ' (申 shēn, 'monkey'), 'gà' (酉 yǒu, 'rooster'), 'chó' (戌 xù, 'dog'), 'heo' (亥 hài, 'pig'). These correspond to the Sino-Vietnamese forms: 'tý', 'sửu', 'dần', 'mẹo', 'thìn', 'tỵ', 'ngọ', 'mùi', 'thân', 'dậu', 'tuất', and 'hợi', which in turn reflect Middle Chinese pronunciations from the Tang period: 'tử', 'xú', 'dần', 'mão', 'thần', 'tỵ', 'ngọ', 'vị', 'thân', 'dậu', 'tuất', and 'hợi'.
Some variants, such as 'khỉ' and 'rắn', diverge from expected phonological patterns. For instance, 'thân' may relate to 'khọn', and 巳 sì resembles the shape and sound of 蛇 shé (SV xà), supporting its association with 'rắn'. The term 'cọp' conveys the notion of fierceness, as in the idiom 'dữ như cọp' (as fierce as a tiger), suggesting that 'dần' may derive from 'dằn' (dreadful) from 惡險 (èxiǎn, VS dữdằn, 'vicious'). These semantic and phonetic alignments reinforce the continuity between ancient Yue expressions and modern Vietnamese.
In contemporary usage, Chinese speakers refer to zodiac years as 鼠年 (Year of the Rat), 牛年 (Year of the Ox), 羊年 (Year of the Goat), etc., while traditional terms like 子年 (Year of 'Tý'), 丑年 (Year of 'Sửu'), and 未年 (Year of 'Mùi') persist in classical contexts. Notably, the discrepancy between the Chinese 兔年 (Year of the Hare) and the Vietnamese nămMèo (Year of the Cat) points to a deeper cultural divergence. 卯 mǎo (SV mão), as reconstructed as OC *mruːʔ, which clearly corresponds to "mèo", was likely substituted with 兔 (tù, SV thố, VS thỏ, 'hare') due to ancient Chinese beliefs that cats were sacred animals (靈動物 língdòngwù). Despite this substitution in Chinese, recorded 卯 mǎo in classical texts, of course, remained unchanged in the zodiac cycle, leaving a traceable linguistic artifact.
Further, the southern concept of 未 wèi as 'goat' was later replaced in northern Chinese usage with 羭 yú (ram or sheep), even though 羊 yáng still denotes 'goat' in many dialects (cf. Teochow /yẽw/). This shift may reflect the Altaic-Turkic admixture in northern Chinese populations, who associated 羊 with 羔 gāo (lamb), aligning with the Vietnamese term 'cừu'. (羊) Notably, 羊 occupies a central symbolic role in Chinese script, forming the semantic core of numerous characters such as 美 měi ("beautiful"), 善 shàn ("kindness"), 膳 shàn ("meal"), 糕 gāo ("cake"), 羹 gēng ("broth"), 義 yì ("righteousness"), and 議 yì ("discussion").
In broader cultural terms, what the early pre-Chinese populations absorbed from the Yue was later transmitted to the Han Chinese, who in turn reintroduced these elements to the Southern Yue. This cyclical exchange included numerous etyma for common objects, often with variant names. For example, the Vietnamese "chiếcđũa" corresponds to 箸子 zhúzi (chopsticks), while modern Chinese uses 筷子 kuàizi. Similarly, "chanh" (lemon) aligns with 橙 chéng, though modern Chinese prefers the latecomer 檸檬 níngméng. The Vietnamese "camsành" reflects a compound of 橙 and 柑 gān (orange). These examples illustrate how items and concepts that emerged during the Han Dynasty—now classified as "Sinitic"—may have originated from Yue traditions and later returned to the early Annamese, whose ancestors were themselves a fusion of ancient Taic-Yue that made up of the Chu and ancient Chinese populations.
Such examples underscore the deep cultural and linguistic foundations laid by the Yue, which predate and permeate what is now considered Chinese civilization. Vietnamese, as a linguistic descendant of Yue heritage, retains enduring traces of this legacy, even as it has assimilated and adapted to dominant Chinese linguistic structures over centuries.
The etymological analysis of zodiac terms and other cultural concepts discussed above helps explain why Sinitic etymons are naturally accepted in Vietnamese. Their intrinsic Yue origins resonate with Vietnamese cultural memory, and both have been classified as "Sinitic" in scholarly discourse. This convergence is reflected in Vietnam’s historical designation as "Little China," a term popularized in Brodrick’s 1942 work of the same title.
One illustrative example is the annual festival 端午節, known in Vietnamese as TếtĐoanngọ (the Dragon Boat Racing Festival), held on the fifth day of the fifth lunar month. This celebration commemorates the death of the Chu State martyr 屈原 Qǔ Yuán (Khuất Nguyên), further reinforcing the shared cultural lineage between the Yue, the Chinese, and the Vietnamese. (K). The tradition of racing boats to honor a drowned patriot dates back to a time before the Qin Dynasty and was practiced among the peoples of the six ancient states that ultimately fell to Qin unification. This shared cultural heritage provides a meaningful context for exploring other Vietnamese expressions whose etymological roots plausibly align with Sinitic counterparts.
Given this affiliation, it is not surprising to observe a wide array of Vietnamese terms centered around the concept of "Tết"—the Lunar New Year and related festivals—that exhibit strong cognacy with Chinese expressions derived from 節 (jié), meaning "festival" or "seasonal node." Examples include:
mùaTết = 季節 jìjié (holiday season)
dịpTết = 節期 jiéqī (holiday occasion)
ănTết = 過節 guòjié (to celebrate the New Year)
Tếtnhất = 節日 jiérì (festive day)
bánhtét = 節餅 jiébǐng (festival cake)
bánhmứt = 甜餅 tiánbǐng (sweet pastry)
mứtTết = 甜梅 tiánméi (preserved plum)
trướcTết = 節前 jiéqián (days before the festival)
sauTết = 節後 jiéhòu (days after the festival)
TếtNguyênđán = 元旦節 Yuándànjié (Lunar New Year)
TếtNguyêntiêu = 元宵節 Yuánxiāojié (Lantern Festival)
TếtĐoanngọ = 端午節 Duānwǔjié (Dragon Boat Festival)
TếtTrungnguyên = 中元節 Zhōngyuánjié (Ghost Festival)
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TếtVulan = 蘭盆節 Lánpénjié (Ullambana, Buddhist Mother's Day)
TếtNhidồng = 兒童節 Értóngjié (Children's Festival)
TếtTrungthu = 中秋節 Zhōngqiūjié (Mid-Autumn Festival)
The examples above demonstrate how the Vietnamese cultural calendar is intricately interwoven with Sinitic traditions, particularly through lexical items derived from 節. The recurrence of "Tết" across a wide range of expressions reflects not only linguistic borrowing but also a shared cultural rhythm that has persisted across centuries. These etymological parallels affirm the long-standing exchange of seasonal, ritual, and symbolic vocabulary between Vietnamese and Chinese civilizations, especially in relation to the Lunar New Year and its associated festivities.
The magnitude of Sinicization from the Han through the Tang dynasties was profound, shaping nearly every aspect of Vietnamese society. This process may be likened to the global diffusion of American culture in contemporary times—through fast food, music, and language—where influence spreads far beyond its origin. In becoming a modern nation-state, Vietnam’s developmental trajectory reflects that of other postcolonial nations, even those with shorter historical timelines. Examples include Taiwan and Singapore, where Chinese remains widely spoken, Latin American countries where Spanish dominates, and former Soviet republics where Russian persists t have started the Russo-Ukraine War since 2014 that already suffered more than 1 million casualties already.
After nearly 1,100 years of independence from China, Vietnam has matured into a distinct national identity. The formal adoption of the Romanized script over the past century is one such marker of cultural autonomy. Yet, despite this evolution, Vietnamese culture and language remain deeply Sinicized. The similarities between Vietnamese and Chinese expressions are striking, and in many cases, unmistakable.
Ironically, political relations between the two nations have remained fraught. Unlike the post-revolutionary relationship between the United States and England, Vietnam and China have struggled to coexist peacefully throughout history. The legacy of a millennium under Chinese imperial rule has left enduring scars. China’s persistent posture of dominance and its reluctance to relinquish influence over Vietnam have fueled a deep-seated nationalism among the Vietnamese. This sentiment manifests in widespread public support for anti-China positions, often amplified during periods of heightened tension.
From the Chinese perspective, Vietnam’s assertion of sovereignty is frequently viewed with suspicion and hostility. This adversarial mindset is not necessarily dictated by official policy but may stem from deeply ingrained historical attitudes. For instance, the suppression of anti-China demonstrations in Vietnam over the past decade, despite periods of diplomatic détente, suggests a complex interplay between state control and public sentiment. Such dynamics mirror China’s approach to Taiwan and Hong Kong, where national unity is prioritized over regional autonomy. In contrast, countries like Malaysia, Indonesia, or Singapore, while occasionally critical of Chinese policies—such as maritime claims in the South China Sea or the handling of the Covid-19 pandemic—do not elicit the same visceral response from Beijing.
Figure 2: The sign on the front door of a restaurant name 'Beijing Snacks' near
Prince Gong's Mansion in Beijing — photo by Rose Tang 2013
(Source: http://www.voatiengviet.com/content/quan-an-trung-quoc-khong-tiep-khach-nguoi-viet/1610192.html)
In academic discourse, the deeply rooted resentment many Vietnamese hold toward hegemonic China continues to shape national attitudes. Anything bearing the mark of Chinese influence is often met with resistance, regardless of its cultural or linguistic value. This enduring opposition to Sinitic dominance manifests as a persistent undercurrent in Vietnamese scholarship, particularly in the realm of linguistic identity. The justification for linguistic independence is often entangled with the broader diplomatic climate between the two nations, haunted by historical grievances and contemporary tensions.
To understand this antagonism, one must examine the evolving relationship between Vietnam and China, especially in light of rising conflicts in Vietnam's East Sea, known as South China Sea. Much like Taiwan, Vietnam is often treated by China as a wayward province, an estranged member of a once unified cultural sphere. Despite their shared status as two of the last remaining communist states, the ideological camaraderie between them is largely superficial. Ironically, Vietnam’s leadership remains dependent on China’s communist model to maintain its own grip on power, while Chinese leaders, fully aware of this reliance, have consistently leveraged it to their advantage. The mutual distrust between the two governments is palpable, marked by strategic maneuvering and thinly veiled contempt.
Historically, Vietnam has endured humiliation and hardship to avoid direct confrontation with its northern neighbor. Under the shadow of a long imperial past, punctuated by repeated invasions dating back to the pre-Han era, Vietnam has exercised remarkable restraint, carefully navigating the precarious balance between war and peace. Yet, when submission proved untenable, the Vietnamese chose resistance. Since gaining independence in 939 A.D., Vietnam has fought at least 24 major wars against China, including the fierce border conflict of 1979, which resulted in thousands of casualties and continued skirmishes into the late 1980s. Periods of détente have occurred, but they have often been superficial, masking underlying hostilities.
It is no secret that whenever China grows strong, its rulers become emboldened, often anticipating victory in future conflicts. While China's military might may suggest inevitable success, history tells a different story. Despite its official narratives, China has suffered defeats in nearly every major war against foreign powers, including the Mongols, Manchurians, Japanese, and notably, Vietnam. On average, a large-scale war erupts between the two nations every 90 years, with Vietnam consistently defending its sovereignty and emerging victorious in each war of independence. (Q)
This historical pattern has yet to yield meaningful lessons for Chinese leadership. Tensions continue to escalate, and the prospect of renewed conflict looms. In 2014, anti-China protests in Vietnam turned violent, targeting Chinese workers and factories. Should another war erupt, triggered by public outrage or maritime clashes, Vietnam’s leadership may find itself compelled to align with the will of its people.
Vietnam’s sovereignty, in historical terms, was firmly established in the year 939 A.D., marking the end of nearly a millennium under Chinese imperial rule. However, in China’s official historiography (中國正史), Annam is conspicuously absent as an independent entity. Events leading to Vietnamese autonomy are typically portrayed as mere uprisings by a rebellious prefecture, not even acknowledged as a tributary state within the Chinese imperial framework (Bo Yang, 1993, Vols. 69–71) (Y).
In the worldview of successive Chinese rulers—including those of the modern era—the notion of a territory like Vietnam achieving and maintaining independence has long been regarded as a historical anomaly. The idea that a former vassal could permanently exist outside China’s sphere of influence is seen as politically intolerable and ideologically disruptive. This mindset echoes China’s approach to other contested regions such as Inner Mongolia, Tibet, and Xinjiang, where sovereignty remains a deeply sensitive and unresolved issue.
Vietnam’s successful breakaway, secured only after a millennium of subjugation, stands in stark contrast to the ongoing unrest in Hong Kong prior to the imposition of national security laws during the COVID-19 lockdowns, and to the enduring de facto independence of Taiwan. Both cases had challenged the legacy of great-power chauvinism that shaped Chinese statecraft for centuries, revealing the tension between historical ambition and modern geopolitical realities.
Despite the global shift toward transparency and diplomacy, China’s expansionist ambitions remain embedded in its strategic posture, often masked by rhetoric of sovereignty and national pride. These ambitions have surfaced repeatedly in military operations, particularly when China perceives itself as strong enough to act without restraint. As the world advances deeper into the 21st century, modern China relentlessly continues to operate under the shadow of its imperial past, threatening to invade Taiwan by force.
Xi's goal in life is he himself loves to write in Chinese history he is the emperor who eventually unifies China by taking over Taiwan. And he will. A notable example occurred in 1979, when Deng Xiaoping launched a border war against Vietnam under the pretext of "teaching Vietnam a lesson" as he mentioned it to U.S. President Carter in 1979. The campaign was in reality part of a broader strategic vision to assert influence over the Indochinese peninsula, beginning with covert support for the Khmer Rouge regime in Cambodia, a regime responsible for the deaths of hundreds of thousands of its own citizens. However, the 1979's Sino-Vietnamese War proved costly for China. Its troops, equipped with outdated weaponry, suffered heavy losses and were forced to abandon their broader hegemonic objectives. Despite this setback, China maintained its grip on contested borderlands, such as the Namquan Pass, now located nearly two kilometers inside Chinese territory. This episode is emblematic of the deep-seated animosity many Vietnamese harbor toward their northern neighbor.
Historically, until the late 9th century, vast portions of western China, including present-day Tibet and Yunnan, were autonomous regions governed by the Tubo and Nanzhao kingdoms. Alongside Xinjiang, these territories resisted Tang imperial control, even reaching the capital at Chang’an and contributing to the fragmentation of the empire. Today, China’s military apparatus stands ready to suppress any movement that hints at independence, as seen in its harsh treatment of resistance in both Tibet and Xinjiang.
Vietnam, too, has long been a target of China’s efforts to reassert dominance. Whenever China grows stronger, its attention inevitably turns southward, seeking to reabsorb Vietnam into its sphere of influence. This pattern mirrors other contemporary examples of territorial aggression, such as Russia’s actions in Chechnya, Georgia, and Ukraine since 2014. Following the strategic principles of Sun Zi’s The Art of War, China has historically favored preemptive strikes to secure its objectives.
Entering the 21st century, China resumed its assertive posture after decades of military modernization. In 1999, it pressured Vietnam into accepting a border delimitation treaty on terms favorable to Beijing. At sea, China tested Vietnam’s resolve by deploying massive oil rigs into Vietnam’s internationally recognized economic zone in the East Sea, sparking widespread domestic protests. Beijing ignored the July 2016 ruling by the Permanent Court of Arbitration in The Hague, which rejected China’s sweeping claims over the South China Sea and its so-called "nine-dash line." Instead, China escalated its activities—constructing artificial islands in the Spratlys, installing military radars, deploying naval forces, and flying bombers over self-declared airspace. These actions culminated in April 2020, during the global outbreak of COVID-19, when a Chinese frigate sank a small Vietnamese fishing boat operating within Vietnam’s economic zone.
China’s continued militarization of disputed waters, including the deployment of hundreds of militia flotillas and warships, underscores its intent to dominate the South China Sea. Its refusal to acknowledge international legal rulings and its unilateral claims over busy maritime routes reflect a broader disregard for global norms.
Domestically, tensions have been exacerbated by political scandals within Vietnam’s leadership. Leaked information from anti-China factions within the Politburo has fueled conspiracy theories suggesting that China no longer needs to wage war; it has already compromised Vietnam’s leadership. Allegations circulate that key figures have been bribed, installed, or manipulated to serve Chinese interests, with claims of payments reaching 6.8 billion yuan per official. These theories point to a long-term strategy, allegedly initiated by Mao Zedong in 1949, to annex Vietnam by 2050.
This narrative traces its roots to China’s early support for Vietnamese communists during the wars against France and the United States. In the 2010s, China publicized a 1958 letter signed by then-Premier Phạm Văn Đồng, acknowledging Chinese sovereignty over the Paracel and Spratly Islands. This document has since been used to justify China’s militarization of key maritime routes, contributing to rising tensions between China and the United States in the region.
History has repeatedly shown that China’s pursuit of hegemony in Southeast Asia comes at a steep cost. In every major conflict with Vietnam, China has paid dearly—militarily, diplomatically, and reputationally. These confrontations have left a lasting imprint on the region’s geopolitical landscape. Given the parallels in historical experience, Vietnam’s long struggle for sovereignty offers a compelling lens through which to view Taiwan’s contemporary journey toward independence.
Like Vietnam before its formal breakaway in 939 A.D., Taiwan has endured a turbulent path since 1949. Though it functions as a de facto independent nation, it remains one step short of formally declaring itself as the "Republic of Taiwan". Taiwan’s efforts to assert its sovereignty have been hampered by diplomatic setbacks, most notably the loss of official recognition from the United States in 1973, a consequence of President Richard Nixon’s rapprochement with China, orchestrated with his late adviser Henry Kissinger. China seized the opportunity to intensify its claims over Taiwan, insisting it remains an inseparable part of the Chinese nation. This pressure, rooted in a long-standing policy of territorial reclamation, mirrors the historical treatment of Vietnam prior to its independence.
The brief thaw in cross-strait relations under President Ma Ying-jeou and his Kuomintang administration has since faded. Under former President Tsai Ing-wen and the Democratic Progressive Party, Taiwan has maintained its political autonomy, even as Beijing continues to assert its claims. If Taiwan can preserve its status beyond the threshold of the 21st century, whether as the Republic of China or a newly declared Republic of Taiwan, it may evolve into a sovereign state with cultural and linguistic characteristics akin to modern Vietnam. In this sense, Tsai Ing-wen stands in a symbolic lineage with Vietnam’s King Ngô Quyền, who led his people to independence at the close of the 10th century.
Vietnam endured a millennium of Chinese rule before achieving sovereignty. Taiwan’s trajectory may follow a similar arc, albeit over a shorter span, shaped by the forces of globalization and regional diplomacy. In time, Taiwan may resemble a state like Singapore—functionally independent, globally integrated, and culturally distinct—regardless of whether it formally declares independence.
China’s historical treatment of the Annam prefecture offers a blueprint for its approach to Taiwan. Unlike autonomous regions such as Inner Mongolia, Tibet, Xinjiang, and Guangxi, Taiwan is viewed not as a peripheral minority region but as a lost province even though Peiping or Beijing has never ruled the island a single day. Even the nominal autonomy granted to regions like Guangxi may be fleeting. It is conceivable that Guangxi's Zhuang Autonomous Region could be reclassified as a standard province under centralized rule, much like Guangdong. Since Xi Jinping’s rise to power in 2012, Guangdong has mandated the use of Putonghua (Mandarin) in all television broadcasts, a stark shift from the region’s once-proud Cantonese linguistic identity.
Historically, China consolidated control over Guangdong by Sinicizing the descendants of the native Yue populations, largely through state-sponsored migration from the north. A similar pattern is unfolding in Hainan Province, where land is being acquired by wealthy northern settlers. Unlike the Zhuang and Daic minorities of Guangxi, the Hainanese are predominantly "Han Chinese", many tracing their roots to Fujian Province. Migration into the Lingnan region, encompassing modern Guangdong and Guangxi, began centuries before the Tang Dynasty, challenging the myth that all Cantonese speakers are descendants of Tang-era migrants ("Tong4jan4").
This long migratory history shaped the demographic and cultural landscape of southern China, with spillover populations influencing neighboring regions, including ancient Annam. The legacy of these movements continues to inform contemporary debates on identity, autonomy, and sovereignty—not only in Vietnam and Taiwan, but across the broader Sinosphere. (T)
This southern migratory phenomenon persisted well beyond the year 939. By that time, the territorial extent of the Tang Empire encompassed roughly half the size of modern-day China. The same expansionist pattern repeated under successive dynasties, each pursuing imperial ambitions that gradually extended China's borders. Through incremental encroachment and consolidation, China absorbed neighboring regions and transformed them into integral provinces, such as Sichuan, Yunnan, Xizang (Tibet), Xinjiang, Qinghai, and Inner Mongolia, thereby doubling its territorial footprint over time.
In the case of Vietnam, it remains an open secret that China has long viewed her as a missing piece of its geopolitical puzzle. Even as the world advances deep into the 21st century, China continues to employ a range of tactics, both overt and covert, to pressure and intimidate its southern neighbor. The specter of invasion, whether through military posturing or diplomatic coercion, still looms as part of Beijing’s enduring strategy to reassert influence over a region it once ruled for a thousand years. (平).
It is the blueprint of a new empire in motion—one that continues to exert pressure and expand beyond its southern borders, with Vietnam increasingly in its crosshairs. In 2009, China submitted a map to the Commission on the Limits of the Continental Shelf, outlining an expansive U-shaped claim that encompassed nearly the entire South China Sea. This sweeping assertion included overlapping economic zones, vital international shipping lanes, and the airspace above contested islands.
Following this submission, China categorically dismissed and ignored all international rulings and resolutions that challenged its unilateral claims, signaling a defiant posture against global norms and reinforcing its ambitions for regional dominance
China’s foreign partnerships—both historical and contemporary—have frequently aligned with regimes known for authoritarianism and geopolitical aggression, including the Khmer Rouge, Russia, Venezuela, Iran, North Korea, and Cuba. Though Vietnam and China have at times maintained a cautious coexistence as neighbors, China’s persistent drive for regional dominance has long cast it as Vietnam’s principal adversary.
For generations, the Vietnamese have endured the weight of Chinese pressure, responding with resilience and strategic defiance. Yet as China expands its influence through a modernized communist framework—often referred to as the "Sino-sphere"—Vietnam’s patience wears thin. When that pressure intensifies, even cultural symbols linked to China can ignite strong resistance, revealing the deep historical tensions that continue to shape the relationship between the two nations.
The prospect of future conflict looms large, potentially more devastating than previous wars. Speculation surrounding the origins of COVID-19, which Western scientists believed it must have leaked from a Wuhan Bioviral-Laboratory in late 2019, has fueled concerns about the use of viral agents as weapons. By the end of 2020, the pandemic had claimed hundreds of thousands of lives globally, underscoring the potential consequences of unchecked technological and biological escalation.
For over 1,300 years, Vietnamese men have borne the burden of defending their homeland, generation after generation, often against Chinese interference. This relentless cycle of warfare has left little room for post-conflict reconstruction, a responsibility that has largely fallen to Vietnamese women. The most recent chapter in this struggle concluded in 1989, following a decade-long campaign against the China-backed Khmer Rouge in Cambodia, a conflict that was, in essence, a continuation of the 1979 Sino-Vietnamese border war.
Remarkably, Vietnam has consistently prevailed in its defense against Chinese invasions. Since gaining independence in 939 A.D., it has preserved its sovereignty through resilience and strategic acumen. One of the most notable episodes occurred in the 13th century, when Vietnam repelled three separate invasions by the Mongol-led Yuan Dynasty, at a time when much of Eurasia was being overrun by Genghis Khan’s cavalry.
Today, the diplomatic relationship between China and Vietnam remains strained, sustained only by their shared status as communist states. This alliance is less about ideological solidarity and more about mutual survival, preserving the privileges of ruling elites on both sides. If China has learned anything from history, it may think twice before provoking another war with Vietnam in the 21st century. Past humiliations serve as cautionary tales.
Vietnam’s endurance is exceptional. Few nations have withstood a millennium of foreign rule while retaining their cultural and linguistic identity. In contrast, countries like France have long abandoned their ancestral tongues—Gaulish, in this case—in favor of Latin-derived languages. This historical comparison should prompt Vietnamese scholars to reevaluate the origins of their national identity. Vietnam’s cultural formation is not solely the product of Sinicization imposed by imperial China, but also the result of a complex fusion of indigenous Yue and Sinitic elements.
Furthermore, historians must reconsider the role of the ancestral Yue in shaping the Han Chinese population. Linguistic and cultural traces of Yue heritage persist among speakers of Wu, Fukienese, and Cantonese. It’s worth recalling that the Qin State, originally confined to what is now Shaanxi Province, represented only a fraction of the Han Empire’s eventual population. The Han Dynasty itself was founded by Liu Bang (劉邦), a native of Chu, whose generals and subjects were largely of Taic-Yue descent. This foundational mixture underscores the intertwined histories of China and Vietnam, and the enduring legacy of the Yue people in shaping East Asian civilization.
The central point for readers to grasp is that following the Chinese conquest of the entire southern region of China (華南), the northern part of present-day Vietnam became a refuge for the last waves of the later Viets (交), descendants of the Yue aboriginals. Their ancestral homeland is documented not only in oral traditions but also in Chinese historical records dating back over 2,200 years. Vietnamese history formally begins with the Yue-unified NamViệt Kingdom (南越王國), established around 200 B.C. in what is now the Panyu District of Guangzhou (廣州番禺). Though nominally under the authority of Qin General Zhao Tuo (趙佗), who later declared himself king after the Qin collapse, the kingdom’s population was overwhelmingly composed of Yue indigenes—descendants of pro-Taic peoples who had earlier formed the Chu State (楚國).
The Chu State was ultimately defeated by Liu Bang, a native of Chu, in the decisive Han-Chu struggle for control of the fallen Qin Empire. After founding the Han Dynasty, Liu Bang’s regime annexed the NamViệt Kingdom in 111 B.C., transforming Annam into a prefecture of the Chinese empire, a status it retained until the fall of the Tang Dynasty in 907 A.D. The former NamViệt territory then reemerged as the NamHan State, paving the way for Vietnam’s independence in 939 A.D.
The Yue people were not a monolithic group but a constellation of tribal branches—LạcViệt, ÂuViệt, TâyViệt, ĐôngViệt, among others—who spread across China South and evolved into various ethnic minorities such as the Zhuang, Nùng, and Daic. Their descendants remain widely present in both southern China and northern Vietnam today. Just as the Yue were foundational to Vietnam’s formation, they were also ancestral to the Daic-speaking peoples who later migrated southward and established Thailand. These groups eventually annexed parts of the ancient Khmer Kingdom, whose population was predominantly Khmer.
This migratory history helps explain the emergence of the Austroasiatic theory, which traces cultural and linguistic roots to the Yangtze River Basin. From this northern origin, waves of migration including the Li of Hainan Island, spread southward, contributing to the formation of other ethnic groups such as the Cham of central Vietnam, and various Austronesian peoples across Southeast Asia, including Indonesians ass Bình Nguyên Lộc (1972) postulated. Archaeological evidence increasingly supports his view that human movement in this region likely began from the north of the Indochinese peninsula.
Readers now have a foundational understanding of the historical and cultural affiliations between China and Vietnam, beginning with the Yue and Han, and later between the Han and the Annamese. However, a full appreciation of Vietnamese linguistic identity requires engagement with anthropology and archaeology.
Historically, the Yue-Daic composition of the Chu polity played a formative role in shaping the genetic and cultural foundation of the Han population. Prior to the southward advance of Tartaric and Altaic groups from southern Siberia, the Yue peoples had already contributed significantly to the demographic makeup of early Han society. As Han migrants later joined military campaigns moving southward, many became integrated into the Viet lineage, further blending northern and southern ancestries.
Meanwhile, the Viets themselves likely descended from various Yue branches, possibly of ancient Taic origin, whose ancestors had migrated into the southern hemisphere and gradually evolved into the Austroasiatic and Austronesian peoples. This migratory legacy is supported by archaeological evidence: in August 2020, researchers confirmed that stone tools such as axes and flakes discovered in Guizhou were locally crafted approximately 17,000 years ago, underscoring the deep antiquity of human habitation in the region.
Anthropologically, Vietnam’s population is a complex admixture of indigenous groups and Chinese immigrants, shaped by centuries of colonial rule. This layered heritage continues to inform Vietnam’s cultural and linguistic identity, even as the country asserts its independence from Chinese influence.
For students of Chinese and Vietnamese historical linguistics, whether or not they accept the Austroasiatic hypothesis, its analytical framework remains valuable. Western theorists have proposed bold models of ancient Viet anthropology, often based on genetic lineage, whether paternal or maternal. Like the Taiwanese, the ancestral Vietic people should be viewed as a racial admixture of Yue-Qin and Yue-Han migrants from southern China, intermarried with local Yue-descended women in ancient Annam. This model applies not only to modern Vietnamese but also to many ethnic groups within China’s borders, particularly those in the south who inhabit regions stretching from the Yangtze River to the borderlands of ancient Champa such as Chânlạp and Lâmấp.
Today, the populations of southern China are undeniably of mixed heritage, shaped by centuries of Sinicization. In other words whether "Qin-ized" (as in Shaanxi 陜西), "Tang-ized" (as in Cantonese 唐人 in Guangdong and Guangxi), or "Han-ized" in broader terms, these identities reflect layers of cultural assimilation. While references to the Qin people (秦人, SV Tầnnhân) distinguish these groups from other ethnic affiliations such as the Han or Dai, possible terms like ngườiTàu in Vietnamese probably derived from ngườiTiều of Teochow origin, all now referring to the Chinese people.
In contrast to the southern anthropological groups, the northern Chinese population speaks a range of dialects that fall under the broader umbrella of northern Chinese speech, spanning both northeastern and southwestern regions of mainland China. Mandarin, while often treated as a unified standard, is in fact a collection of sub-dialects that vary significantly from one another and diverge sharply from the southeastern dialects, say, dialects of Shaanxi, Shandong and Shanxi versus dialects of Sichuan and Guangxi.
In comparison, Fukienese and Cantonese developed from Old Chinese linguistic layers superimposed upon indigenous Yue substrates, particularly during the reign of King Triệu Đà of NamViệt Kingdom. These southern dialect families evolved in parallel with Mandarin, which itself can be traced back to Ancient and Middle Chinese. However, Mandarin ultimately reflects the speech habits of populations in Huabei (華北), or China North, a region historically distinct from China South.
Ethnically, the northern Chinese have long included Altaic, Turkic, and Mongolic elements. Many were Sinicized over time and became part of the broader Chinese national identity. This population also includes Manchurian and Korean groups, whose ancestors inhabited lands north of the Huanghe (Yellow River), stretching from the Mongolian steppes to the Siberian taiga. These groups—known in Chinese history as the Xiongnu, Yuan, Jin, and Manchurians—contributed to the complex biological and cultural makeup of northern China. As noted by Peter A. Boodburst in Turk, Aryan and Chinese in Ancient China (1942), and compiled by Alvin P. Cohen (1979), this northern demographic was shaped by centuries of migration, conquest, and assimilation.
In short, northern Chinese populations are a biologically mixed race of Altaic-origin Turco-Mongolic peoples, layered with Sinicized Taic-Yue ancestry from the Han Dynasty onward.
Similar to common terms such as 'American', 'European', 'Hispanic', or 'Latinx', we can say that the concept of 'Chinese'—or 'Han', for that matter—is used to designate China’s nationals living within the borders of its geopolitical map, with many ethnic groups colloquially lumped into one "salad bowl." To filter out other ancestral elements, commercial DNA tests can identify them—something that upset many early overseas Chinese (for example, those who emigrated before 6/4/1989, prior to larger numbers of northern Chinese resettling in the U.S. and EU) as more discovered they were not exclusively 'Chinese'.
Altogether, the Han people do not constitute a race called 'Chinese' equivalent to the term 'Asian race'. In other words, there is no designated racial class for the Han ethnicity (漢族); it is a nationality, in contrast with labels such as 'Negro', 'Mongoloid', 'African', 'Asian', 'Austronesian', or 'Caucasian'.
To be specific, to the naked eye one can discern clear differences in both countenance and physical traits between northern and southern Chinese; their builds and features reflect different genetic backgrounds, even though, unlike Americans, people of Han nationality are already highly mixed. Northerners have tended to remain in the harsh climate of northern China, as evidenced by the choice of Beijing—considered a northern stronghold—as the capital since the Ming Dynasty in the 15th century. Having ruled China along with annexed territories such as Tibet, Xinjiang (Uyghur), and Yunnan for centuries, they were not tempted to move to Yunnan’s "eternal spring" climate, where the Nanzhao and Dali states once stood in the Tang Empire’s southwestern region.
In a strict sense of racial classification, the formation of the Han nationality (漢族), commonly referred to as "Chinese," has been the result of a long process of hybridization among various ethnic groups originating from native habitats stretching west to east and north to south—across China’s two longest rivers. Today, China officially recognizes 56 ethnic minority groups that have inhabited the mainland since ancient times. When compared to broader identity constructs such as "European" or "Indo-European," the term "Chinese" (or "Sinitic") reflects a similar conceptual framework. Notably, the "Yue entity" predates the Qin Dynasty—the very regime that gave China its name and inspired terms like "Sino" and "Sinitic."
This racial evolution affected not only the original Qin subjects from Shaanxi but also Sinicized populations such as the Manchurians, Shandongese, Beijingers, Cantonese ("Jyut"), Teochow, and Fukienese. These identities apply broadly to Chinese nationals who claim Han affiliation, including millennia-long Sinicized Cantonese and Hokkienese speakers descended from minority groups still residing in southern China, especially among the 20 million Zhuang people and other ethnic communities.
Ultimately, the term "Chinese" denotes a cultural identity rather than a racial classification. Much like the concept of "Jewish," being Chinese is rooted in shared traditions, historical continuity, and civilizational affiliation. A Chinese national is typically someone whose ancestry—often traced through paternal lineage—originates within the geopolitical boundaries of the People’s Republic of China, historically referred to as the "Middle Kingdom" (中國, Zhōngguó).
In this context, "Chinese" often evokes the legacy of northern Chinese populations who gradually extended their influence southward, consolidating territories region by region. This expansion was not merely geographic—it was cultural and administrative, shaping the identity of what became a unified Chinese civilization.
Prominently, the history of the Chinese people is also marked by emigration. Across centuries, waves of Chinese have sought refuge or opportunity beyond their homeland, driven by political upheaval, economic hardship, or the pursuit of greater freedom. This enduring pattern reflects a collective instinct to seek safer, more promising futures elsewhere—a history of movement, resilience, and reinvention.
In a fascinating parallel, the Vietnamese have begun to chart their own path as regional competitors to China. Their historical trajectory, shaped by resistance, adaptation, and assertion of sovereignty, mirrors many aspects of China’s own journey—yet remains distinctly Vietnamese in its character and ambition.
As in many regions across the globe, ancient China experienced racial transformation through the intermingling of diverse ethnic stocks. This pattern repeated as Han subjects migrated southward, intermarried with indigenous populations, and gradually contributed to the emergence of the Vietnamese people. These resettlers, having escaped the reach of imperial China, established their own civilization further south, modern-day Vietnam. The term "Vietnamese" literally means "Viets of the South," and their earliest ancestors, founders of the Vănlang State (文郎國), are believed to have originated in the Red River Basin. Some scholars suggest the name may derive from "Binglang" or "blau," possibly referencing the betel nut tree (Areca catechu), akin to the etymology of Malaysia’s Penang.
Over time, these early Vietnamese intermarried with Daic migrants from the northwestern region of present-day northern Vietnam and with Yue populations from southern China. As waves of Yue settlers moved into the Red River Basin, cradle of the ancient Annamese homeland, the population became increasingly multiethnic. Today, these groups are classified under Austroasiatic and Austronesian categories, including the Mon, Khmer, Daic, Yao, Hmong, Miao, Li, and Cham peoples. However, this broad classification overlooks the later Annamese arrivals, who should not be considered among the earliest southern aboriginals, as evidenced by the cultural artifacts excavated from their settlements (Phan Hữu Dật, 1998, pp. 455–704).
The ancient Annamese gradually became more racially mixed, especially after the Han Dynasty annexed the NamViệt Kingdom in 111 B.C. It wasn’t until 939 A.D., following the collapse of the NamHán State (南漢 帝國), that the Annamese seized the opportunity to establish national independence. Meanwhile, Yue populations who remained in the mainland, ancestors of the Cantonese and Fukienese, continued to identify with their heritage as descendants of the NamViệt (南越) and MânNam (閩南) peoples.
During the thousand years of Chinese rule, similar to developments in Guangdong and Fujian, Tang-era migrants from southern China settled in large numbers in the Red River Basin. Their descendants—Sinicized Yue rather than purely indigenous—became the forebears of both early and later Vietnamese populations. The first king of the Lê Dynasty, Lê Thái Tổ, may have had Mường roots in Lamsơn's Mường base as chieftain who led the successful resistance war to end the Ming's 21-year occupation of the country. Over time, these lineages further mixed with successive waves of Chinese immigrants, including exiles, expatriates, émigrés, soldiers, and war refugees, many of whom were either indigenous to or already Sinicized in southern China (Phan Hữu Dật, 1998, pp. 483–511).
These Chinese newcomers often brought with them geographic names, e.g., Tỉnh Hàbắc vs. Hebei Province (河北省), Tỉnh Sơntây vs. Shanxi Province (山西省), Tỉnh Hàđông vs. Hedong Province (河東省), etc., as well as linguistic expressions and idioms. Examples include 'sưtửHàđông' vs. '河東獅子' ("tiger wife"), 'thiếu phụ Namxương' vs. '南昌少婦' ("Faithful wife of Nanchang"), and 'Sơnđông mãivõ' vs. '山東賣武' ("street hawker"). These elements enriched the Vietnamese lexicon with Sinicized vocabulary and idiomatic expressions.
Cultural transmission extended to the performing arts, notably Vietnamese "hátbội" (hátbộ) — a traditional opera style featuring red-, white-, and black-face roles that closely mirrors Chinese classical opera forms such as Jingju (京戲), Yueju (粵劇), and Kunqu (崑劇). Many Vietnamese operas are adaptations of Chinese classics, including Lương Sơn Bá Chúc Anh Đài (梁山伯 和 祝英台 Liang Shanbo and Zhu Yingtai), Tâythi Phạm Lãi (范蠡 與 西施 Fan Li yu Xi Shi), Kinh Kha Thíchkhách (荆軻 刺 秦 Jing Ke’s Assassination of Qin), or Tống Tửu Đơn Hùng Tín (送酒 單雄信 Song Jiu Dan Xiongxin). Though the lyrics are sung in Vietnamese, the stories remain rooted in Chinese tradition.
On a personal note, I remember attending hátbội performances with my grandfather as a child. Though I couldn’t understand the lyrics, the visual spectacle and familiar storylines made the experience enjoyable. It’s likely that many in the audience shared this sentiment, drawn not by linguistic clarity, but by the cultural resonance of tales they already knew. (H)
While cultural and linguistic similarities between Vietnam and China are undeniable, they come to a sharp halt at the boundary of national identity—a line the Vietnamese hold with deep pride and unwavering conviction.
For the Vietnamese, national identity is anything but casual; it is deeply sensitive, layered, and complex. Much like how many Caucasian Americans subconsciously embrace their European heritage as a source of spiritual and cultural grounding, Vietnamese identity functions as a defining force for survival. It is perhaps the very reason Vietnam has endured as an independent nation through centuries of upheaval.
This identity is shaped not only by historical memory but by a profound and enduring nationalism, one forged in the long shadow of China, a neighbor often perceived as an existential threat. While many Vietnamese acknowledge ancestral ties to China, their collective experience has instilled a deep-seated caution. History has taught them that proximity does not guarantee trust, and cultural affinity does not erase the scars of domination.
This nationalism, while a source of resilience, has also complicated academic discourse. In Vietnam, patriotic sentiment often interferes with scholarly objectivity, particularly in fields like history, linguistics, and anthropology. This chapter seeks to clarify misconceptions and set the record straight before delving into the core topic of Sinitic-Vietnamese etymology. Vietnamese scholars frequently reject any suggestion of Chinese affiliation—even in academic contexts—regardless of anthropological evidence. For example, the legend of Thầnnông (神農), the "God of Agriculture," is shared across cultures in southern China, yet any association with Chinese heritage is often dismissed.
Nationalism runs deep in the Vietnamese psyche, especially on issues related to sovereignty and China. Diplomacy is often entangled in strategic maneuvering, with both nations playing a high-stakes game of political chess. Foreign policy decisions are tightly controlled by each country’s Politburo, and despite tensions, neither side is eager to sever ties, knowing that both communist parties could suffer in a direct confrontation.
A notably exemplary incident that occurred in 2014, when China’s National Offshore Oil Corporation deployed the Haiyang Shiyou HD-981 oil rig just 180 nautical miles south of Hainan Island, intruding into Vietnam’s exclusive economic zone near the Paracel Islands. The incident, which lasted from May to August, sparked widespread protests and deadly riots targeting Chinese-owned factories across Vietnam. These demonstrations, though unprecedented, were ultimately used as leverage in Vietnam’s diplomatic negotiations with China. After each diplomatic clash, whether staged or spontaneous, Vietnamese leaders often respond with restraint, even after provocations. (V)
Ironically, after the protests subsided, many anti-China activists were arrested. The Vietnamese government, often wary of public dissent, swiftly suppressed the demonstrations. In communist Vietnam, protests, especially those targeting China, are rarely tolerated. Despite public awareness of the situation, the government’s actions reflected a familiar pattern: diplomatic appeasement following public outrage. The relationship between the two nations returned to a fragile détente, but the territorial losses in the East Sea (South China Sea) appeared irreversible. The episode underscored the depth of Vietnamese resentment toward China, and the unfortunate reality that citizens lack the legal right to protest even against foreign aggression.
As the saying goes, even a dying dog will bark with all its might. In the 2014 oil rig incident, few Vietnamese openly acknowledged the cultural inheritance their country has received from China. Institutions like Confucius Institutes and the influx of Chinese-owned factories staffed by migrant laborers are widely perceived as part of a broader expansionist strategy. For ordinary Vietnamese citizens, each diplomatic rupture with China provokes a visceral reaction—an eruption of patriotism and protest. While many members of the Politburo may not publicly adopt an anti-China stance, these emotional outbursts among the public often serve as leverage in diplomatic negotiations. Vietnam’s cautious posture can be interpreted as a form of strategic readiness for potential conflict.
In its long and painful struggle against northern aggression, few nations have endured emotional trauma as Vietnam has. After a millennium under Chinese rule, anti-China demonstrations are often seen as fleeting tempests, boiling over, then cooling down. Internally, Vietnam may be fractured by corruption and factionalism, but when faced with external threats from China, history has shown that the nation will unite. When the time comes, the Vietnamese people will once again rise to defend their homeland, as they always have.
Unfortunately, political entanglements have compromised the ability to assess historical and academic matters objectively. Western observers may struggle to grasp the depth of this dynamic—or perhaps they can. The challenge lies in creating an academic framework that local scholars can accept, one that filters out political noise and focuses on historical linguistics. Common sense dictates that scholarship must remain apolitical. Yet, communist ideologues, masquerading as patriotic nationalists, often reject truth in favor of imagined narratives that align with their ideological preferences. Many Vietnamese, for example, are devoted to oral traditions such as the legend of the 18 heirs to King Hùng, despite exaggerated lifespans that defy historical logic. This reflects a broader issue: nationalism rooted in myth rather than critical thinking, often perpetuated by mentors who fail to instill historical rigor.
It is regrettable that newcomers to Vietnamese historical linguistics often follow the crowd rather than charting an independent course. Many adopt the Austroasiatic Mon-Khmer hypothesis, popularized by Western scholars, viewing Vietnam through the lens of Indochina as the cradle of regional civilization. While this approach is academically safe, it ultimately converges with other theories, such as the idea that Austroasiatic Mon-Khmer is a branch descended from Taic ancestry. Whether aligned with Austroasiatic or Sino-Tibetan frameworks, scholars often rebrand findings to suit national pride—embracing Austronesian cultures like Sahuỳnh and ÓcEo as inherently Vietnamese, even when historical timelines suggest otherwise.
In the face of rising nationalist fervor, it may be wise to adopt a tongue-in-cheek attitude and street-smart pragmatism to preserve intellectual integrity. Rather than succumbing to ideological pressure, scholars should treat Austroasiatic Mon-Khmer as one of many academic lenses, best examined through anthropological, not political, scope.
Therefore, linguistic research must be insulated from political influence. Scholars should not fear dismantling patriotic barricades erected by nationalist academics. Yet this is easier said than done. Unlike art created purely for aesthetic purposes, academic work often becomes entangled with political agendas. In today’s world, despotic regimes continue to wield sophisticated media tools—like China’s CCTV—to control public perception, or to be act, public behavior. The legacy of Soviet-style policing still lingers in countries like Vietnam and China, remnants of Cold War authoritarianism now repurposed by hardline politburos.
What seems politically volatile today may become a source of satire tomorrow. Chinese audiences, for instance, laughed at TV sitcoms from the pre-Xi era that depicted life under Mao. History suggests that even Xi Jinping may eventually face similar ridicule.
Modern communism differs from its imperial predecessors by seating multiple "kings"—Politburo members—on a collective 'long-benched circular throne'. Each rules with individual authority, yet remains wary of the others. Both Chinese and Vietnamese leaders cling to rigid communist ideology because it legitimizes their power in the post-Soviet world. Their survival is interdependent, echoing feudal strategies that once deceived the masses. Under the guise of 'market-oriented socialism', Vietnam and China have crafted a 21st-century version of neo-feudalism, more pragmatic than Cuba or North Korea, but still rooted in authoritarian control. (M)
In 2017, while staying at a convention center hotel in a coastal Chinese city, at first I was able to send English messages via Viber to a cousin traveling in Japan but after composing a message written in the Vietnamese language I was blocked completely! Furthermore, I also encountered restrictions on Youku, China’s version of YouTube, which denied access with the message: "Your phone is not registered." In China, and in Vietnam as well, every SIM card requires ID registration. Those deemed "untrustworthy" are blacklisted and unable to book trains or flights.
Following the COVID-19 outbreak in Wuhan, it was reported that approximately 30 million cell phone numbers vanished from the system. Under such an oppressive regime, few dare to challenge the status quo. Hong Kong offers a sobering example, where nearly 3 million residents are now seeking to leave the territory.
In a state-controlled society, beyond the visible machinery of police and military, a privileged class operates within the ruling hierarchy, reaping benefits by serving the system. Among them are scholars and academics, whose roles are not purely intellectual but also ideological. Often functioning as political cadres, they are tasked with overseeing the regime’s narrative and ensuring ideological conformity. Incentives for maintaining partisan loyalty are governed by a familiar "carrot and stick" approach.
In scholarly fields, especially in politically sensitive areas like Chinese-related linguistics, including Sinitic-Vietnamese studies, political and historical pressures inevitably compromise academic objectivity. This was true in the past, and it remains true today. In both China and Vietnam, political interference in academia has eroded trust in scholarly integrity.
History, as it is officially recorded, tends to reflect the perspective of those in power. In Vietnam, historical narratives have been repeatedly rewritten by successive ruling dynasties, culminating in the present-day communist regime, which functions as a modern monarchy. What is written today becomes the "truth" inherited by future generations.
In the digital age, while the internet offers unprecedented access to information, it also subjects users to surveillance. For ordinary citizens attempting to form independent views on politicized subjects like history, anonymity is no guarantee of safety. Even behind pseudonyms on blogs or social media, they remain under the watchful eye of state authorities.
It comes as no surprise that in authoritarian societies, public trust in figures of authority—be they police, officials, or civil servants—is often eroded. Many of these individuals thrive within the system, benefiting from corruption and cronyism at the expense of the general population. In such regimes, propaganda organs ensure the well-being of scholars, who in turn are expected to praise the government as the nation’s savior, whether they genuinely believe it or simply fear political reprisal. As seen in the writings of Professor Phan Hữu Dật (1928-2019), the ideological conformity demanded of intellectuals can be nauseating. In both Vietnam and China, scholars who cannot speak favorably about the ruling party often choose silence to protect themselves. A single politically incorrect statement can cost not only a career but personal freedom, even one's life.
This climate of repression has led to a wave of arrests targeting journalists, bloggers, musicians, students, and others, not just human rights activists, anybody who participated in protests or voiced opposition to China’s aggressive expansionism. The years 2013 and 2014, in particular, saw widespread demonstrations that drew international attention. The freedoms enjoyed in Western democracies remain a distant luxury for the average citizen in China or Vietnam. Evidence of such political oppression is readily accessible online, but does anyone care?
Occasionally, high-profile defectors from these regimes find refuge in the West and are invited to speak at forums, sharing the motives behind their exile. Their testimonies often shock Western audiences. Cases such as Chinese virologist Li-Meng Yan’s allegations about the intentional release of COVID-19 from the Wuhan bioviral lab, the persecution of Falun Gong practitioners, and the mass detention of over a million Uyghurs in Xinjiang concentration camps highlight the gravity of the situation.
Complicating matters further, nationalist sentiment among domestic scholars
often clouds their judgment, even when they serve the ruling elite as
theorists. Their influence is far from negligible. These scholars have shaped
generations of students' understanding of national identity, past and present,
through the works of renown figures nurtured by the regime like Trần Trọng Kim
(1883-1953) and Đào Duy Anh (1904-1988) to Cao Xuân Hạo
(1930-2007), Nguyễn Tài Cẩn (1926-2011) and Bùi Khánh Thế (1936-2024).
When Western academics collaborate with state-aligned scholars, they are often
presented with narratives that serve the interests of the regime. It is
imperative that Western scholars apply rigorous critical thinking to decipher
the subtext and contradictions embedded in such academic materials.
(See
Nationalists, in their shortsightedness, tend to view cultural diversity as a threat rather than a strength. Their worldview rarely extends beyond national borders, leaving them unable to appreciate how immigration has fueled innovation, economic growth, and cultural vitality.
Countries like Great Britain, France, and the Netherlands have also paid a steep price for their colonial ambitions, now finding themselves transformed by waves of immigration from former colonies in Africa and Asia. Even nations without a colonial legacy, such as the United States and Australia, have embraced large refugee populations, most notably the Vietnamese boat people of the 1980s, who arrived long after the Vietnam War ended in 1975. These migrations have reshaped national identities and enriched host societies in ways that hardcore nationalists often fail to grasp.
The United States, despite its relatively short history, has become a global superpower in part because it has attracted the best and brightest from around the world. Even under restrictive policies since 2017, the country continues to benefit from the contributions of immigrants, including Chinese elites who left behind economic privilege to start anew as ordinary citizens.
The legacy of Vietnamese refugees in the U.S. is particularly illustrative. From introducing the beloved dish phở to pioneering military technologies—such as the smart bomb capable of penetrating underground bunkers, invented by a young Vietnamese-American scientist—their impact has been both cultural and strategic.
Germany’s landmark decision in 2015 to welcome over one million refugees, primarily from war-torn regions of the Islamic Middle East, has had a profound and lasting impact on the country’s demographics, economy, and social fabric. The influx of individuals from diverse backgrounds, including young men, women, and children, ushered in a significant demographic transformation and contributed to the emergence of a more multicultural society.
Yet, this decision was not merely an act of generosity or humanitarian impulse. It also reflected a deeper reckoning with Germany’s historical legacy, an effort, perhaps, to soothe the national conscience still haunted by the crimes against humanity committed under Hitler’s Nazi regime. In this sense, Germany’s openness to refugees can be seen as part of a broader pattern among Western powers confronting the consequences of their imperial pasts.
In sum, nationalism has historical roots that are deeply intertwined with a nation’s struggle for identity, sovereignty, and self-determination. It has often emerged as a response to foreign domination, colonialism, or perceived cultural erosion. In many cases, nationalism has served as a powerful unifying force—mobilizing populations around shared language, heritage, and values.
However, its legacy is double-edged. While nationalism can inspire resilience and pride, it can also foster exclusion, xenophobia, and resistance to multiculturalism. In modern contexts, especially in postcolonial or authoritarian societies, nationalism is frequently shaped by state narratives and used to legitimize political power. It can obscure historical nuance, suppress dissent, and distort academic inquiry—particularly when scholars are pressured to align with ideological agendas.
Ultimately, nationalism remains a potent force in shaping public discourse, policy, and cultural identity. Its historical trajectory reveals both its capacity to empower and its tendency to polarize. The challenge lies in cultivating a form of nationalism that embraces diversity without compromising critical thought or democratic values.
In this light, Western countries' refugee policy is not an isolated case but part of a global narrative in which former colonial powers and modern democracies alike are being reshaped by migration. The challenge lies not in resisting this transformation, but in managing it wisely, recognizing that diversity, when embraced with foresight and compassion, can be a powerful force for national renewal.
As the global order shifts, respect for the United States has waned in many parts of the world—particularly following Donald Trump's two presidential victories in 2016 and 2024. Seizing this geopolitical opening, China’s President Xi Jinping has expanded China’s influence abroad, forging strategic alliances with Russia, India, and North Korea, while showcasing the country’s growing military might through elaborate parades and aggressive posturing.
China’s actions reflect a growing assertiveness that many observers liken to a revival of its imperial legacy—evoking the grandeur of the Han and Tang dynasties. This is arguably the most forceful phase of Chinese expansionism since the fall of the Qing Dynasty in 1911. Increasingly, the Chinese government has turned to military coercion as a primary tool for asserting its regional dominance and countering perceived separatist threats.
Since September 2020, China has escalated its military posture around Taiwan, conducting repeated live-fire drills and deploying dozens of fighter sorties that routinely breach the previously respected mid-line of the Taiwan Strait. These incursions have become part of a broader pattern of intimidation, culminating in the April 2025 "Strait Thunder 2025A" exercises, which involved coordinated operations by the Shandong Carrier Strike Group, precision missile strikes, and simulated blockades2. Beijing’s state media has continued to issue stern warnings to the United States, urging it "not to play with fire" in its support for Taiwan.
However, this momentum has not been sustained across all domains. In academia, for instance, China-funded Confucius Institutes, once rapidly proliferating across the globe, have faced widespread closures amid growing concerns over ideological influence and censorship. Before the world fully grasped the implications of China’s rise, Western universities had rushed to establish Sinology centers, focusing heavily on Chinese culture and language. Yet, this surge in interest often came at the expense of deeper inquiry into historical linguistics and critical scholarship.
In the realm of Vietnamese historical linguistics, scholars have had to navigate a politically charged landscape with caution. While some mystic Chinese-origin theories regarding Vietnam persist, a more discerning approach allows for separating the Chinese people from their authoritarian government and party-aligned extremists. Vietnamese linguists, trained within local institutions, often tread carefully, balancing nationalist sentiment with the need to avoid provoking China. This has led to a strategic denial of Chinese influence in Vietnamese linguistic origins, even as scholars attempt to appease domestic political expectations that still treat Vietnam as a subordinate state in relation to its northern neighbor.
To maintain public support, the Vietnamese government periodically invokes nationalist rhetoric, prompting state-aligned scholars to echo patriotic themes. Under such conditions, genuine breakthroughs in Sinitic linguistic theorization rarely gain traction beyond insular academic circles. Instead, history is repeatedly rewritten to serve the needs of those in power.
Despite China's growing global presence, many Vietnamese scholars continue to shift their focus toward Austroasiatic or Austronesian frameworks, supported by Western theorists. This path is seen as a safer alternative, less politically sensitive and more academically palatable. Yet, these scholars remain wary of Western ideologues who approach Austroasiatic theorization with neo-colonial undertones. In contrast, many Vietnamese academics maintain a principled stance, refusing to accept imposed narratives at face value, even when doing so might offer academic convenience.
For now, aligning with the Austroasiatic camp serves as a symbolic outlet for nationalist sentiment, an intellectual protest against Chinese dominance. Still, many scholars operate under constant surveillance, with online activity exposing them to state scrutiny.
To the next generation of Vietnamese nationalists, there is a call for intellectual openness and academic integrity. Social media commentary often reveals a lack of awareness about the principles of impartiality in scholarship, principles akin to the checks and balances found in democratic political systems. Historical linguistics must be approached with reason and rigor, whether the subject is labeled "Sinitic," "Yue," or "Taic." Regardless of official policy, the collective consciousness of nearly 90 million Vietnamese continues to echo the legacy of their ancestors, those who, across 2,300 years of history, resisted and ultimately triumphed over repeated invasions from the north.
To better understand Vietnam’s trajectory of national development, it is instructive to examine the regional evolution of the Republic of Singapore, located at the southern tip of Malaysia. Since gaining independence in 1965, Singapore has been led by successive heads of state of Chinese descent, reflecting the demographic makeup of its population—over 75% of whom are ethnically Chinese. Despite this Sino-centric cultural foundation, Singapore’s foreign policy has often diverged from Beijing’s interests, occasionally serving as a sobering counterpoint to China’s expansionist ambitions in Southeast Asia.
One cannot overstate the role of Singapore’s founding Prime Minister, Lee Kuan Yew. His leadership, though rooted in Chinese heritage, was firmly committed to building a cohesive, multi-ethnic society. His contributions to Singapore’s transformation into a global economic powerhouse are inseparable from the collective efforts of its diverse population. This example is relevant to Vietnam’s own historical formation, which began in earnest after 939 A.D. under King Ngô Quyền who was of Chinese origin. Like Singapore, Vietnam emerged as a distinct entity shaped by a blend of indigenous and external influences.
A parallel can also be drawn with the Federated Malay States, whose population today includes a significant proportion of Chinese descendants, estimated at nearly one-third. Imagining alternate historical outcomes invites intriguing speculation: What if Vietnam had successfully annexed parts of the Indochinese peninsula, including Malacca, which it invaded in 1471? Or what if the Ming Dynasty had extended its rule over the Malay states in the 15th century? The historical fates of the Champa and Khmer kingdoms offer cautionary examples of how regional powers can be absorbed or displaced.
These "what if" scenarios underscore the fluidity of Southeast Asian history and the complex interplay of ethnicity, sovereignty, and cultural identity. They also highlight Vietnam’s unique position as a nation forged through both resistance and adaptation, much like Singapore, yet shaped by its own distinct path. (S)
As Vietnam emerged from the long shadow of war that defined much of the 20th century and stepped into the new millennium, its leadership has remained cautious in its dealings with China. Neither the government nor the people wish to risk another conflict with their powerful northern neighbor. This desire for peace aligns with their broader goal of preserving national sovereignty, even if it sometimes results in a posture that appears conciliatory or submissive.
Historically, Vietnam has endured a near-continuous cycle of warfare over the past 300 years, culminating in the final major conflict in 1989, when Vietnamese forces ousted the China-backed Khmer Rouge regime in Cambodia. This legacy of conflict has left deep scars and shaped the nation’s strategic mindset.
To understand the weight of nationalism and political sensitivity in shaping Vietnam’s relationship with China, particularly in academic fields like historical linguistics, one must recognize the underlying current of historical enmity. This tension influences not only diplomatic policy but also scholarly discourse. The study of Sinitic-Vietnamese linguistics, for example, is often constrained by the prevailing climate of bilateral relations, which are tightly managed by state institutions. Such dynamics are not new; they have echoed through centuries of Vietnamese history.
Nationalism, in this context, has subtly distorted academic objectivity, especially when topics intersect with Chinese heritage. Today’s Vietnamese nationalists tend to be more defensive and inward-looking than in previous generations, as reflected in historical narratives and public discourse. Certain aspects of Vietnam’s past—particularly those involving Chinese influence—have become taboo, carefully obscured from mainstream view.
This is evident in debates surrounding figures like King Triệu Đà (趙佗 Zhào Tuó, 207-111 B.C.), a former general of the Qin Empire from present-day Hebei Province, who founded the Triệu Dynasty and ruled the Kingdom of NamViệt for 94 years. Despite his foundational role in early Vietnamese statehood, younger generations increasingly reject his legacy, viewing it as an uncomfortable reminder of Chinese entanglement in Vietnam’s origins. (史)
Such reactions underscore the complex interplay between nationalism, historical memory, and academic inquiry in Vietnam today. The challenge lies in navigating these sensitivities while striving for intellectual honesty and historical clarity.
The revolutionary shift from a Chinese character-based writing system to a Latin-based orthography has profoundly reshaped Vietnam’s cultural and historical landscape. As a result, modern Vietnamese readers, most of whom possess only limited familiarity with classical Chinese scripts, have become increasingly disconnected from primary historical sources that once anchored their national memory. In the absence of direct access to these texts, many rely on state-sanctioned versions of history, which have been repeatedly revised to reflect the ideological priorities of successive ruling regimes.
Throughout the histories of both China and Vietnam, a recurring pattern has emerged: with each new dynasty or regime, historical narratives are reshaped to align with the prevailing political mindset. These revised versions of history, tailored to serve contemporary ideologies, are often absorbed unquestioningly by younger generations. What we witness today is not merely the evolution of historical interpretation, but the deliberate rewriting of national memory, where political agendas dictate what is accepted as "truth."
A striking example lies in the shifting status of historically significant sites such as Pác Bó Cave and the Namquan Border Pass (南關). Pác Bó, once firmly within Vietnamese territory, is revered as a sacred site where President Hồ Chí Minh and General Võ Nguyên Giáp launched their revolutionary campaign against French colonial forces, culminating in the victory at Điện Biên Phủ in 1954. Similarly, Namquan Pass, long taught in Vietnamese schools as the symbolic frontier where Vietnamese troops repelled Chinese invasions, has historically marked the boundary between the two nations. Yet today, both locations lie several kilometers inside China’s borders, redefined by recent treaties that have quietly redrawn Vietnam’s territorial lines.
These territorial concessions are not isolated incidents. Vietnam’s modern history is punctuated by a series of confrontations with China: the six-month border war in 1979, naval clashes in 1974 (involving the U.S.-backed South Vietnamese navy), skirmishes in 1984, and maritime standoffs between 2012 and 2014. Each episode reflects a cycle of tension and compromise, shaped by the geopolitical realities of dealing with a powerful neighbor under the banner of communist solidarity.
Such events often vanish from official narratives, omitted from textbooks or reframed to suit diplomatic sensitivities. For nearly five decades since the end of the Vietnam War, Vietnam’s stance toward China has oscillated between cautious engagement and quiet resistance, its tone shaped by internal political factions and the nature of its alignment with Beijing.
This balancing act was especially evident during Vietnam’s brief flirtation with political openness in 2011, 2012, and 2014. During these years, the government experimented with reform, only to respond with harsh crackdowns on anti-China demonstrations that erupted across the country. In a particularly bizarre display of appeasement, state visits by Chinese officials were marked by ceremonial spectacles featuring Chinese flags with six yellow stars, rather than the official five, prompting widespread speculation online. The extra star was interpreted by many as a symbolic gesture suggesting Vietnam’s inclusion as a future province of China.
These incidents underscore the delicate and often contradictory nature of Vietnam’s relationship with China. Beneath the surface of diplomatic formalities lies a complex struggle between preserving national pride and navigating the realities of regional power dynamics. As history continues to be rewritten, the challenge remains: how to honor the past without surrendering it to political expediency.
Fig. 5.3 — Vietnam welcomed China's General Secretary to be Xi Jinping with
TV newscasts of school children waving its national six-starred red flags.
(Source: http://danlambaovn.blogspot.com/2011/12/mon-qua-trieu-cong-danh-cho-thai-tu-tap.html)
It is understandable that many young Vietnamese today struggle to reconcile their strong sense of nationalism with the historical role played by King Triệu Đà in shaping the early foundations of Vietnam. As a former general of the Qin Empire, Triệu Đà established the Kingdom of NamViệt, a unified state encompassing regions that now include northern Vietnam as well as parts of Guangxi, Guangdong, and Fujian in southern China. This kingdom primarily incorporated the ancient peoples of ÂuViệt (甌越) and LạcViệt (雒越), whose cultural roots trace back to the Yue State (越國), also known as MânViệt (閩越), from the Spring and Autumn Period (771-476 B.C.).
Beyond these core groups, the Yue cultural sphere extended to Taic-Yue populations within the State of Chu (楚國, c. 1030–223 B.C.) (楚) and the Wu State (吳國), including northern Yue communities in what is now China's Central Plain. Historically, the vast expanse of southern China was once inhabited by the BaiYue (百越族), a mosaic of indigenous peoples who were gradually conquered by nomadic Tibetan and Altaic tribes arriving from the southwestern and northwestern frontiers of ancient China. These horse-riding invaders, ancestors of the proto-Chinese, eventually intermingled with the native Yue populations, giving rise to what would become the Han Chinese.
This pattern of cultural assimilation and territorial expansion repeated itself further south in Annam, modern-day northern Vietnam. By the late 18th century, the Vietnamese had annexed the Champa Kingdom and parts of the ancient Khmer Empire, consolidating their control over the land that now forms contemporary Vietnam. In doing so, the Việt people emerged as the dominant force in the region, continuing a historical cycle of conquest, integration, and identity formation that mirrors earlier developments in China South.
Figure 4: Map of the State of Chu c. 260 B.C.
(Source: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chu_(state))
To many in the Western world, Vietnam has long been perceived as a "Little China", a cultural and political echo of its northern neighbor. This notion, famously articulated by Alan Houghton in 1942, stems from Vietnam’s historical trajectory: a former Chinese prefecture that emerged as a sovereign state after enduring a millennium of imperial rule. In the modern era, following the withdrawal of French colonial forces, Vietnam has struggled to recover from decades of war. From 1954 to 1989, the country remained cautious in its foreign policy, often mirroring China’s political model, a system that, ideologically, resembles a form of neo-feudalism called "market-oriented socialism".
Vietnam’s leadership has consistently adopted a conciliatory stance toward China, carefully avoiding provocation in the face of ongoing maritime and territorial disputes. These tensions, which threaten to escalate beyond the scale of the 1979 border war, have kept Vietnam in a defensive posture, one that resembles a vassal state deferring to a dominant monarch.
As we reflect on Vietnam’s colonial past, it becomes clear to emerging Vietnamese historical linguists that the relationship between Vietnam and China predates the formal establishment of Annam as a Chinese prefecture in 111 B.C. The ancient Taic-Yue peoples and the subjects of the Chu polity shared common roots, which later contributed to the rise of the Han Empire and its conquest of the NamViệt Kingdom. Recognizing this shared ancestry is essential to understanding the linguistic and cultural affiliations between archaic Chinese and Vietnamese.
While regions like Canton (modern-day Guangdong) have been fully absorbed and Sinicized under northern Chinese rule, Vietnam has fought to preserve its distinct Yue heritage. This effort has been vital to maintaining both national identity and sovereignty. To illustrate this point, consider the hypothetical case of Guangdong, known in modern discourse as "NamJyut". Ask yourself:
— What might Canton have looked like in 111 B.C., before full integration into the Chinese imperial system?
— If, like Annam, it had broken away in 939 A.D. following the collapse of the Southern Han State, what kind of independent trajectory might it have followed?
Such questions invite us to imagine an alternate history in which Canton evolved into a sovereign entity, much like Vietnam. In contrast, provinces like Guangxi and Fujian, once independent states, were eventually subsumed by Chinese expansion. Reversing the lens, had Vietnam not achieved sovereignty, it too would have become just another province in China’s southern expanse.
This historical context helps explain China’s enduring view of Vietnam as a renegade prefecture, an attitude that has persisted for centuries. Whether Vietnam’s current leadership can withstand future pressures from its powerful neighbor remains to be seen. The stakes are high, and the path forward is fraught with geopolitical complexity.
As we approach the concluding sections of this inquiry, it is fitting to return our focus to the linguistic foundations at the heart of Vietnamese historical linguistics. In reexamining the Sino-Tibetan framework, we invite a deeper reflection on the etymological patterns that may illuminate our understanding of Vietnam’s linguistic heritage. While the Austroasiatic theory remains a prominent alternative—particularly in tracing influences absorbed from the Chams and Khmers during Vietnam’s southward expansion—it is increasingly evident that many core Vietnamese lexical items align more closely with Sino-Tibetan roots.
Critics of this perspective may remain unconvinced, but our task is not to persuade all; rather, it is to pursue the evidence with intellectual rigor. From a nationalist standpoint, especially in the context of resisting China’s imperialist hegemony, it is crucial for emerging scholars in the Sinitic-Vietnamese field to grasp the broader implications of these linguistic theories within the framework of sinology. This is particularly important for those educated in Western institutions, where academic inquiry is less encumbered by state ideology.
There is hope that, within our lifetime, Vietnamese nationalists who evolve into scholars will revisit these theories with sincerity, balancing patriotism with a commitment to truth. Such a synthesis would enrich both national identity and scholarly integrity.
Like all languages, Vietnamese has been shaped by contributions from its diverse ethnic communities. To illustrate this, consider the case of Caucasian Americans. Though descended from European immigrants, many lose track of their genealogical roots within a few generations. Yet this disconnection is rarely seen as problematic in Western societies. In fact, it mirrors the broader historical narrative of the United States—a nation founded by British descendants who ultimately fought for independence from their ancestral homeland.
This analogy highlights a fundamental truth: cultural and linguistic evolution is both inevitable and enriching. Just as Americans have developed a distinct identity from their European roots, Vietnamese scholars can confidently embrace the layered complexity of their linguistic heritage without compromising national pride. (美)
Likewise, it should not be controversial for Vietnamese nationals to acknowledge ancestral ties to China South. Over generations, many families have migrated and interwoven across borders, and recognizing such origins, whether recent or distant, can offer valuable anthropological insight. Far from diminishing Vietnamese identity, this awareness deepens the understanding of how cultural and linguistic threads have shaped the nation’s development.
To better understand the linguistic evolution of Vietnamese, particularly in relation to Chinese dialectal variants, it is helpful to draw an analogy with the development of English in California. Much like ancient Annam, which functioned as a Chinese prefecture for centuries, California has undergone its own linguistic transformation shaped by waves of migration and cultural blending. "Californian English," though rooted in standard American English, has developed distinct features due to the state’s diverse population, including descendants of Europeans, Mexicans, Japanese, Filipinos, Chinese, Koreans, and Vietnamese. California’s historical ties to Mexico, and its continued immigration from Latin America, have further enriched its linguistic landscape. The result is a regional accent and vocabulary that residents proudly refer to as "Californian English", distinguishable from other American varieties like Bostonian or Texan English.
This phenomenon mirrors what may have occurred with "Annamese" after 1,000 years under Chinese rule, followed by another millennium of independent development. Just as English evolved differently in India, the Philippines, and South Africa, Vietnamese developed its own linguistic identity, shaped by both external influence and internal innovation.
To extend the analogy further, consider Latin America. After the Spanish conquest of Mexico in 1519, the region underwent over 300 years of colonial rule, during which native Mesoamerican cultures were fused with European traditions. Today, Mexico’s Spanish-speaking, Catholic identity reflects this hybrid legacy. Similarly, Vietnamese culture and language bear the imprint of centuries of interaction with China, yet remain distinctly Vietnamese.
For scholars trained in Western linguistic methodology, comparative analysis offers powerful tools for tracing these developments. Bernhard Karlgren (1889–1978), a pioneer in historical Chinese phonology, laid the groundwork for reconstructing Archaic Chinese. His successors—Li Fang-Kuei, Alex Schuessler, Wang Li, W. South Coblin, among others—refined these methods, providing frameworks that Vietnamese linguists can use to explore genetic affiliations between Vietnamese and other language families.
One notable figure in this field is Nguyễn Tài Cẩn (1926–2011), a renowned professor of historical linguistics who studied in the Soviet Union and contributed significantly to the understanding of Sino-Vietnamese phonological transformation from Middle Chinese. His work exemplifies how Western methodology can be applied to East Asian languages, particularly in analyzing tonal systems as morphemic features that convey semantic distinctions.
Despite these advances, the field remains politically sensitive. When early drafts of Sino-Tibetan research on Sinitic-Vietnamese were published online, some specialists dismissed the work as lacking proper grounding in Western linguistics. Yet such critiques often overlook the historical context and cultural complexity underlying linguistic evolution. For instance, while Western scholars like Haudricourt and Maspero identified cognates such as 墓 (mù) and Vietnamese mộ (tomb), they may have missed related forms like mồ, mả (grave), and mô (mound), all of which reflect nuanced phonetic and semantic relationships.
The distinction between Sino-Vietnamese (formal borrowings) and Sinitic-Vietnamese (organic linguistic convergence) is often blurred, especially by newer scholars unfamiliar with classical Chinese. Overreliance on rigid Western frameworks can obscure irregularities that defy neat categorization. As Sinologist Peter A. Boodberg once noted, "the theory of phonetic evolution does not account for such cases [of irregularities]... it is preferable to note carefully every instance... without committing oneself to upholding a strict phonetic law of evolution."
Early debates on Vietnamese tonality also illustrate this tension. Western linguists initially struggled to classify tonal features, viewing them as exotic pitch registers. Over time, however, tonality came to be understood as a morphemic system, capable of distinguishing meaning across eight tones, independent of Chinese ideographs. Examples such as ma, mà, mả, mã, má, mạ, mác, mạc, or mô, mồ, mổ, mỗ, mố, mộ, mốc, mộc demonstrate the semantic richness encoded in tonal variation.
In contrast, Austroasiatic Mon-Khmer specialists who are likely trained in Western institutions have relied on fieldwork conducted during short summer expeditions, sometimes with limited linguistic support. As a result, their data on Vietnamese lexical correspondences can be inconsistent or incomplete. This is partly due to methodological limitations, such as dependence on local interpreters without formal training, and partly due to a lack of familiarity with Sinitic etymologies. Moreover, as long as debates over monosyllabicity versus dissyllabicity in Vietnamese remain unresolved, that will further complicating the classification of its linguistic roots.
Ultimately, the study of Vietnamese historical linguistics requires a balanced approach, one that honors the analytical precision of Western methodologies while remaining attuned to the cultural and historical complexities of East Asia. Only through such a dual lens can scholars begin to appreciate the intricate web of influences that have shaped the Vietnamese language.
In the broader landscape of academic discourse, misinformation frequently infiltrates mainstream narratives. Well-meaning contributors to widely accessible reference platforms—such as Encyclopædia Britannica, Wikipedia, and even AI-powered chatbots—have at times propagated speculative, inaccurate, or overly simplified claims, particularly regarding the classification of Vietnamese within linguistic families. As has happened in the past, these questionable entries, often compiled by non-specialists, are mistakenly treated as authoritative sources and become the foundation for subsequent academic theses. Platforms like the Vietnamese version of Wikipedia have been flagged for propagating state-curated narratives. The author, for example, was cautioned about quoting material from this source, which is reportedly staffed by government propaganda apparatus.
A telling example of how misinformation permeates academic discourse is Dr. Phan Hữu Dật’s citation of linguistic origins from a Russian encyclopedia, an entry based on speculative assumptions rather than rigorous evidence. In today’s digital landscape, such unfounded claims are easily extracted, reposted, and circulated, particularly within Vietnamese scholarly circles influenced by Chinese-centric narratives. Despite widespread awareness among insiders of these inaccuracies, the cycle of misinformation persists, whether through passive acceptance or deliberate omission.
This phenomenon points to deeper structural issues in Vietnamese historiography, which has historically prioritized dynastic politics and territorial narratives over anthropological and linguistic nuance. The colonial legacy, especially under French rule, left Vietnamese scholars at a crossroads: either adopt Western academic standards or align with nationalist movements resisting foreign domination. Consequently, scholarship became entangled with political ideology, often shaped by entrenched anti-China sentiment. This ideological lens has skewed objective analysis, fostering a climate of skepticism toward both Western and Sinitic sources.
In contrast to modern Western approaches, Chinese historical linguists working within the Sino-Tibetan tradition have long relied on classical methodologies to reconstruct ancient phonological systems. Concepts such as Yin-Rusheng and Yang-Rusheng (蔭, 陽入聲)—which refer to entering tones shaped by voiced and unvoiced initials—are grounded in traditional phonetic theory. These tonal categories correspond to ancient distinctions between "clear" (清) and "muddy" (濁) sounds, a framework that remains largely inaccessible to those unfamiliar with East Asian phonology. Mastery of these principles requires deep familiarity with foundational texts such as Shuowen Jiezi (說文), Guangyun (廣韻), Yuyun (玉韻), and the Kangxi Dictionary (康熙字典).
A compelling example is the Vietnamese word cộ (carriage), whose etymological lineage traces back to variants of Chinese characters like 檋, 輂, 輁, and 梮 (read jù in Mandarin, cục /kuwkp8/ in Sino-Vietnamese). Historical sources such as the Book of the Later Han (後漢書) describe cộ as a shoulder-pulled vehicle, a form still visible in parts of central Vietnam not long ago. The modern compound xecộ (automobile) reflects this evolution, preserving the semantic core while adapting to contemporary usage.
These linguistic developments are supported by the pioneering work of Bernhard Karlgren, who was among the first to systematically identify phonological shifts in ancient Chinese. His classification of sounds under divisions like Chóngnǐu (重紐) laid the groundwork for reconstructing etyma such as 面 (miàn → SV diện), 民 (mín → SV dân), 偏 (piān → thiên), and 三 (sān → SV tam, with Hainanese sā corresponding to ba). Karlgren’s insights continue to inform comparative studies of Sinitic and Vietnamese phonology, offering a robust framework for tracing linguistic convergence across time.
Why delve into these details? Because they serve as a counterbalance to politicized narratives. Lay readers are often misled by official versions crafted by bureaucrats under the guise of reputable institutions or 'people-awarded professors', that is, be it a Social Sciences Institute, a Confucius Institute, or even quotations attributed to revered figures like Dr. Phan Hữu Dật of Uncle Hồ Chí Minh. Take, for example, the proverb "Mười năm trồng cây, trăm năm trồng người," often credited to Hồ Chí Minh but originally from the Chinese classic Guanzi, , e.g., "Mườinăm trồngcây trămnăm trồngngười" (語出《管子·權修》: "十年 之 計, 莫如 樹木; 終 之 計, 莫如 樹人." meaning 'It takes ten years to nurture a tree but a hundred years to rear people.'). Such misattributions reflect a broader pattern of historical distortion.
This phenomenon is not unique to Vietnam. Similar cults of personality and historical revisionism have commonly occurred in Maoist China and North Korea. Newcomers to Vietnamese studies often encounter layers of nationalist reinterpretation that obscure factual history. This helps explain why Vietnam remains a nation fiercely proud and resistant, even in the face of ongoing pressure from its northern neighbor.
Given the politicized backdrop of Vietnamese linguistic development, the author has felt compelled to confront these hidden agendas head-on. This survey, the product of over 30 years of research starting from the early 1990s, seeks to clarify the historical record and highlight the foundational role of Sinitic-Vietnamese etyma, many of which have been mistakenly attributed to Mon-Khmer origins.
In navigating the complexity of Vietnamese etymology, the author ultimately chose to follow the well-worn path of Sino-Tibetan theory. Initially overlooked, this framework now appears indispensable. Metaphorically, Vietnamese can be seen as a grafted branch on the Sinitic linguistic tree, its roots tracing back to the late Sino-Tibetan stage, possibly as far as the Yin Dynasty (殷朝, 1900-1066 B.C.). The enduring presence of Chinese elements in Vietnamese vocabulary suggests a shared origin that politics has long obscured.
To extend the metaphor: imagine a grafted apple tree bearing diverse fruits. The Sinitic-Vietnamese branch, with its Yue core, has grown over 2,200 years since the Qin conquest of China South in 221 B.C., followed by the Han annexation in 111 B.C. after the fall of the Triệu Dynasty. Nourished by Chinese linguistic "nutrients", Vietnamese has developed alongside other dialects like Cantonese and Fukienese. Yet unlike those dialects, which evolved within the Middle Kingdom, Vietnamese branched off after a millennium of sinicization, forming its own distinct identity.
As the author puts it: "Try tossing fresh Chinese ingredients of northern origin into the overbrimming Vietnamese melting pot, not a crisp American salad bowl, and you’ll find they dissolve into a leguminous porridge, leaving no trace of their original form. The reverse is equally true for the Chinese pot."
Fig. 5
— Spring and Autumn Period in 5th century B.C.
(Source: Spring_and_Autumn_Period (en.wikipedia.org)
Conclusion
The study of Vietnamese historical linguistics cannot be disentangled from the political and ideological forces that have shaped its academic landscape. As demonstrated throughout this chapter, nationalist bias, colonial legacies, and entrenched anti-China sentiment have often distorted scholarly inquiry, particularly in the classification and interpretation of Vietnamese etymology. Misinformation, whether sourced from outdated encyclopedias or widely circulated digital platforms, continues to influence Vietnamese academic circles, sometimes knowingly perpetuated by insiders.
This politicization of language studies has led to a climate of suspicion toward both Western and Sinitic methodologies, hindering objective analysis. In contrast, Chinese historical linguists working within the Sino-Tibetan tradition have preserved classical phonological frameworks that offer valuable insights, tools that remain underutilized in Vietnamese scholarship due to ideological resistance.
To move forward, scholars must adopt a more impartial and globally informed approach. This means reconditioning academic mindsets to transcend national boundaries and embracing rigorous comparative methods rooted in both Eastern and Western traditions. Only then can the true complexity of Vietnamese linguistic heritage be understood.
In the chapters that follow, the author will begin isolating core Vietnamese etyma, mapping their semantic range, and juxtaposing them with Sino-Tibetan and Austroasiatic counterparts. This effort aims to clarify linguistic affiliations and challenge long-held assumptions—setting the stage for a more nuanced and evidence-based understanding of Vietnam’s linguistic evolution.
x X x
ENDNOTES
(U)^ In the very words stated by Lê Duẩn in the start of border war in 1979, the then General Secretary of the ruling Vietnamese Communist Party in the 70-80s stated, "The last war that the Vietnamese people fought against the US was one that we were fighting on the behalf of China and the Soviet Union." Every Vietnamese knows this infamous statement by heart ('Chúngta đánh Mỹ là đánh cho Trungquốc và Liênsô.') (Source: Lê Duẩn).
(日)^ The concept becomes easier to grasp if we imagine a scenario in which Japan had won the war and occupied China, renaming the nation something like 'DaiDongA' ('大東亞', or 'Great East Asia'). Even under such a name, the underlying cultural and civilizational substance would likely remain unchanged, the essence of the 'Middle Kingdom' would persist. In that sense, Japan may have been fortunate not to succeed in such a conquest, as it might have eventually been absorbed and transformed into another Manchuria — that exists only in history book — within two centuries.
(A)^ The proto-form is listed in Shorto's (2006) entry 144, that is, *t1mi? for ‘new’ in Proto-Austroasiatic (-5000–-4000) Source: https://wold.livingsources.org/word/7215023854510378
(L)^ The proto-Vietic form is identified in Ferlus ms. Possibly areal with cognates in some Mon-Khmer languages and Cantonese. Proto-Vietic (-1000) (Source: https://wold.livingsources.org/word/7215023784073043 )
(羊)^ It should properly be referred to as the "Year of the Goat"—not "Ram" nor "Sheep"—because the Chinese zodiac sign 未 (wèi) corresponds to 羊 (yáng), which in Vietnamese is 'dê'. This term is consistently pronounced as /je1/ in Vietnamese, /jẽ1/ in Teochew, /jũ1/ in Amoy, and /jew1/ in Hainanese, all of which unmistakably point to 'goat'. More precisely, the animal represented is the 'mountain goat', as reflected in the modern disyllabic term 山羊 (shānyáng).
If one were to ask a Chinese scholar why 羊 should be interpreted as "ram" or "sheep" in the context of the eighth animal in the duodenary cycle, they would struggle to provide a logically consistent explanation. The phonetic and semantic evidence across multiple dialects and languages clearly supports the identification with 'goat', not with ovine variants like 'ram' or 'sheep'.
(K)^ The Duanwu Festival is believed to have originated in ancient Chu State. A number of theories exist about its origins as a number of folk traditions and explanatory myths are connected to its observance. Today the best known of these relates to the suicide in 278 B.C.E of Qu Yuan (屈原), poet and statesman of the Chu State (楚國) during the Warring States period. Qu Yuan descended from a branch of the Chu royal clan and served as an official under King Huai of Chu (reigned 328–289 B.C.E). Qu Yuan was said to have advocated a policy of alliance with the other states of the period against the hegemonic Qin State, which threatened to dominate them all. In 278 B.C.E, learning of the capture of his country's capital, Ying, by General Bai Qi of the state of Qin, Qu Yuan is said to have written the lengthy poem of lamentation called "Lament for Ying" and later committed ritual suicide at Miluo River as the consequence of his despair by the fall of his birthplace and misery of his fellow countrymen. (Source: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Duanwu_Festival and https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Qu_Yuan)
(Q)^ For example, while China was at its peak in 1789, only few thousands of mounted troops led by king-to-be Quang Trung Nguyễn Huệ from hundreds of miles away in Tâysơn Village, Bìnhđịnh Province, Central Vietnam, totally defeated 239,000 soldiers of the Qing Empire stationed in Đốngđa Mount in Hànội. Vietnam just opened a newly built King Quang Trung Temple there for Chinese tourists — to contemplate the Vietnam's history — on Lunar's the Fifth Day of the First Month, Year of the Goat, 2015.
(Y)^ In Bo Yang's edition of the 'Zizhi Tongjian' by Sima Guang, although
Annam gained independence in 939 following Ngô Quyền's (吳權) victory over
the Nam Han (南漢) naval fleet at the Bạch Đằng River in 938, Chinese
historians continued to refer to the region as 'Giaochâu' (交州), a
prefecture of China, as late as 954. After Ngô Quyền’s death, the Nam Han
Kingdom appointed his younger son, Ngô Xương Văn (吳昌文), as
Commander-in-Chief (司令官) of the Jinghai Strategic Zone (靜海戰區),
corresponding to present-day Hanoi, and as Governor (節度使, Tiếtđộsứ) of
the Annam Protectorate Prefecture (安南都護府) (Vol. 71, p. 226).
In other words, despite Annam’s formal declaration of sovereignty, the Nam
Han regime did not acknowledge Vietnam’s independence. This historical
milestone, Vietnam’s emergence as a sovereign state in 939, is conspicuously
absent from Chinese official records. Chinese historiography simply omits
it, much like the way modern Chinese narratives obscure Taiwan’s de facto
independence. The mindset of Chinese rulers toward Vietnam has remained
largely unchanged. Historical lessons, it seems, have not been internalized.
To many Chinese readers, the appearance of Vietnam as a nation in modern
history seems abrupt—an entity that, from their perspective, emerged out of
nowhere. Anyone familiar with Chinese historical texts can attest to this
omission."
(T)^ An interesting fact that specialists of Vietnam might have missed is that, in contrast with the way it sounds odd in Vietnamese with today's common northern Chinese "hard-sounded" names such as Tập Cận-Bình (習近平) or Hồ Cẩm-Đào (胡錦濤), virtually most of the proper names in since the Han to the Tang dynasties as recorded in Chinese history sound "softer" such as Lý Thế-Dân (李世民), Võ Tắc-Thiên (武則天), Dương Ngọc-Hoàn (楊玉環), etc., like any of those familiar Vietnamese names, current and present.
(平)^ During a speech at the National Press Club, rebroadcast by NPR on Saturday, March 2, 2013, former U.S. President Jimmy Carter recalled a pivotal moment from late 1978. At the time, he met with Deng Xiaoping, General Secretary of China’s Politburo, to finalize a peace treaty between the United States and China. In that meeting, Deng disclosed his intention to launch a military campaign against Vietnam, citing what he viewed as Vietnam’s betrayal, less than four years after the end of the Vietnam War on April 30, 1975, during which China had supported North Vietnamese forces against U.S. troops.
Carter urged Deng not to allow Chinese troops to remain in Vietnam for an extended period, warning that such an occupation would undermine the newly signed peace agreement and damage the reputations of both nations on the international stage..
(交)^ Revisiting the XYZ Racial Formulary: To symbolically represent the ethnic composition of the Vietnamese people, we can assign weighted variables to reflect historical demographic shifts. Using the formula {4Y6Z8HCMK}, we approximate the modern Vietnamese racial makeup based on historical records, including Han-era census data. For example, population figures in the three prefectures under Han administration — Jiaozhi (交趾, Giaochỉ), Jiuzhen (九真, Cửuchân), and Rinan (日南, Nhậtnam)— grew from approximately 400,000 to 980,000 between 111 BC and 11 BC. These figures correspond to the Annamese composition {2Y3Z4H}, reflecting a blend of proto-Yue and Han elements.
Historical accounts from the Qin Dynasty also note that between 15,000 and 30,000 unmarried Yue women were forcibly married to Qin foot soldiers (Lu Shih-Peng, 1964, Eng. p. 11; Chin. p. 47). Given China's longstanding tradition of meticulous household registration, these records are likely reliable.
The ethnic makeup of ancient Annam closely mirrored that of Han Chinese. This resulted from the intermingling of early proto-Chinese {X} with proto-Yue aboriginals {YY}, typically in a 2:1 ratio across southern China. These interactions produced the indigenous Yue population {ZZZ}, found in ancient larger states such as Wu, Yue, and Chu. Over time, these groups were absorbed into the Han identity, symbolized as {HHHH}, representing three parts Z and four parts H in the unified Han Dynasty, analogous to the consolidation of the Qin Empire into a centralized Chinese state.
Thus, the racial composition of later Han Chinese can be expressed as {X2Y3Z4H}, a product of the fusion between {X}, {YY}, {ZZZ}, and {HHHH}. Meanwhile, the Vietic lineage emerged from proto-Yue {YY} and later Yue {ZZZ}, forming the proto-Vietic population {YYZZZ}. These became the early Annamese {2Y3Z4H}, who evolved into modern Vietnamese {4Y6Z8H+CMK}, where CMK represents Cham and Mon-Khmer influences.
This formulation reflects a dual-layered structure: the base {2Y3Z4H} enriched by {CK}, mirroring similar demographic transformations seen in southern Chinese populations such as the Fukienese and Cantonese. These groups underwent comparable racial blending during the Han Dynasty, suggesting a parallel trajectory with the Vietic population.
If this model holds, then the symbolic formula for Austroasiatic populations may be represented as {6YCMK}, in contrast to the Vietnamese composition of {4Y6Z8HCMK}, highlighting the deeper Sinitic-Yue integration in Vietnamese ethnogenesis. (See Chapter 2: Rainwash From the Austroasiatic Sky).
(H)^ 'Hátbộ', or 'háttuồng' (also called
'hátbội', or simply 'tuồng') is a form of Vietnamese theater. 'Háttuồng' is
often referred to as classical "Vietnamese opera" which was influenced by
Chinese opera. In Southern dialect this is equivalent with 'hátbội'.
'Tuồng'
is distinct from the older 'hátchèo' genre of Vietnamese theater which
combines dance, song and poetry, and the more modern 'cảilương' folk
musical.
History: It is believed that 'tuồng' was imported from
China around the 13th century when Vietnam was warring against the Mongol Yuan
Dynasty. A famous actor named Lý Nguyên Cát (李元吉) was imprisoned by the
Vietnamese. The imperial court asked him to spread his knowledge of Chinese
theater to the children of the elite, thus explaining how 'tuồng' had first
had its beginnings in Vietnam in the royal court. Later on, it was adapted to
travelling troupes who entertained commoners and peasants. Along with
'hátchèo', 'tuồng' was one of the other highly popular art forms for
commoners.
Storylines and makeup: Stories in the opera tend to be
ostensibly historical and frequently focus on the rules of social decorum, and
can include legends from the history of either China or Vietnam. 'Tuồng-styled
opera' employs the use of stock characters who are recognizable from their
make-up and costumes, which are typically very elaborate and extravagant.
Source: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hát_tuồng
(V)^ Certainly Vietnam is suspicious of China as she has been for centuries, if not millennia. For hundreds of years at a stretch China's emperors ruled over parts of Vietnam; today the names of the country's biggest boulevards commemorate heroes who fought against foreign invaders, including the Chinese. Though hardliners within the Communist Party leadership might prefer to look to China for inspiration before turning to the America, especially when it comes to issues of internal security, post-revolutionary Vietnam is not always happy with its neighbor. Last year, 2011, 12 weeks of essentially government-sanctioned protests against China's actions in the South China Sea were a vivid demonstration of that. (Source: http://www.economist.com/blogs/banyan/2012/06/vietnams-trade-china
(M)^ For instance, China's Mao Zedong's Cultural Revolution (1966-1976), Vietnam's Ho Chi Minh's eradication of political opponents to have included rich peasants and landlords in his Agricultural Land Reform (1954), or Soviet Union's Stalin's The Gulag Archipelago (Read the book of the same title by Alecksandr Solzhenitsyn, 1973). (See http://www.dailymail.co.uk/home/moslive/article-2091670/Hitler-Stalin-The-murderous-regimes-world.html )
(美)^ See dchph's Mộtvài Suynghĩ Về Nguồngốc DânViệt (On the Origin of the Vietnamese People).
(S)^ The brief conflict between Malacca and Lê Dynasty of Annam began shortly after the 1471 Vietnamese invasion of Champa, then already a Muslim kingdom. The Chinese government, without knowing about the event, sent a censor Ch'en Chun to Champa in 1474 to install the Champa King, but he discovered Vietnamese soldiers had taken over Champa and were blocking his entry. He proceeded to Malacca instead and its ruler sent back tribute to China. In 1469, Malaccan envoys on their return from China was attacked by the Vietnamese who castrated the young and enslaved them. In view of Lê Dynasty's position as a protectorate to China, Malacca abstained from any act of retaliation. Instead, Malacca sent envoys to China in 1481 to report on the Vietnamese aggression and their invasion plan against Malacca, as well as to confront the Vietnamese envoys who happened to be present in the Ming court. However, the Chinese informed that since the incident was years old, they could do nothing about it, and the Emperor sent a letter to the Vietnamese ruler reproaching him for the incident. The Chinese Emperor also granted permission for Malacca to retaliate with violent force should the Vietnamese attack, an event that never happened again after that. The Vietnamese with full force battalion were heavily defeated by outnumbered Malacca battalion during an invasion of Lan Sang as reported in a Chinese account. Source: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Malacca_Sultanate/
(史)^ According to Sima Qian, "Anecdotes of the NanYue Kingdom" in Records of the Grand Historian (Shiji) : Zhao Tuo was born in place located in China's today's Zhengding County, Hebei Province. (《史記。南越 列傳》記載，趙佗 是 河北省 正定縣 人. )
(楚)^ The State of Chu (c. 1030–223 B.C.)
(Chinese: 楚國; pinyin: Chǔguó) was an ancient state in present-day central
and southern China during the Zhou Dynasty. Originally Chu's rulers were of
the noble rank of Zi (子), comparable to viscount, but starting from King Wu
of Chu in the early 8th century B.C. the rulers of Chu declared themselves
kings. Its ruling house had the ancestral name Nai (Zhou Chinese: 嬭), and
clan name Yan (酓), later evolved to ancestral name Mi (芈), and clan name
Xiong (熊) [ 'Hùng'?].
Originally known as Jing (荆) and then as
Jingchu (荆楚), at the height of its power the Chu State occupied vast areas
of land, including most of the present-day provinces of Hubei and Hunan, and
parts of Chongqing, Guizhou, Henan, Anhui, Jiangxi, Jiangsu, Zhejiang, and
Shanghai. For more than 400 years the Chu capital Danyang was located at the
junction region of Dan River and Xi River, near present-day Xichuan, Henan
Province, but later moved to Ying. Source: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chu_(state)