Tập Viết

I was born in 1993, grew up in Hanoi, and have watched the city quietly evolve over the past three decades. Some things have changed so quickly that I can no longer remember what they originally looked like. Others have shifted more slowly – like the light drizzle of March – subtle, but gradually soaking into everyday life. I feel like I’ve lived through waves of transformation: the first stirrings of technology, globalization, urbanization, personal freedom, and individual dreams. Each change has left its mark, though I haven’t always been aware of what was silently reshaping the way a whole generation lives. Sometimes, it takes years of looking back to realize we’ve been swept into a new current. And within that current, there’s been one quiet but persistent undercurrent that I’ve only recently begun to fully recognize: individualism.

Lately, something has caught my attention – so much so that I can’t stop thinking about it. Maybe it’s because it hits so close to home, touching the everyday lives of myself and many people around me. That something is the rise of individualism as an unspoken yet increasingly prominent theme in modern life in Vietnam. It shows up everywhere – from how people choose to live, work, and love, to how they express themselves on social media. I won’t claim to be the first to notice this; I’m sure others have observed it long before me. But since it’s a personal observation, I wanted to write it down – as a way to organize my own thoughts.

I grew up in a society where collective values were once the bedrock: family, community, tradition. But over the past twenty years or so, I’ve seen more and more people – especially the younger generation – begin to ask: “Who am I? What kind of life do I want – not the life others expect of me, but what I truly desire? Do I really want what society or my family has already chosen for me?” These questions, which once sounded “Western,” now feel familiar. I know people who’ve left stable government jobs to pursue their side passions. Others have chosen not to marry, wanting to focus on personal growth. Some head off to study abroad at 35 – not for prestige, but because they genuinely want to learn.

I think part of this shift comes from changes in our economic and social structures. Since the Đổi Mới reforms, the market economy has allowed individuals more freedom to seek opportunities, build careers, and shape their lives on their own terms. But that also means more personal responsibility – both a burden and a chance. I have friends who run art studios from home, take on freelance projects, and live without relying on organizations. Some have started small businesses with just two people, slowly building them up. They’re not chasing grand success – just the satisfaction of living true to their choices.

Technology and social media have also played a big role in fueling this sense of self. These days, with just a smartphone, you can tell your story, share your views, even build a “personal brand.” I’ve seen my friends post book reviews on Instagram, film cooking vlogs, make podcasts about love, careers, and mental health – things once considered too “private.” Now, sharing feels less like showing off and more like affirming one’s values, connecting with others who resonate. Jobs that once seemed unstable or even unnamable in Vietnamese – like streamer, influencer, KOL, KOC, TikToker, YouTuber – are now commonplace among the youth. And yet we still struggle to explain these jobs to our parents or grandparents. It feels like young and old in Vietnam are living in two different eras, each with their own values.

I’ve also noticed that young people talk less about getting married by a certain age or owning a house and having kids according to some timeline. Many opt to stay single, live simply, freelance, or follow paths society once deemed “unstable.” I know a woman nearing 40 who lives alone with her cat and works remotely in content creation for a foreign company – she says she’s never felt “left behind.” On the contrary, she feels free and in control. A couple I know, both born in 1993 like me, decided against buying a house. Instead, they spent 30 million VND converting a small truck into a mobile home and now travel the country doing volunteer work. Their story wasn’t criticized – it made the news.

I still remember the first time I heard the term “individualism.” It was from a quote by Uncle Ho in a book I read as a child. I didn’t understand much back then, just vaguely recalled him calling it “an internal enemy.” I think I understand his perspective now, though I don’t necessarily share it. It made sense in the specific context when he said it. In a different context, individualism deserves to be viewed through a different lens.

During the revolutionary era and the building of socialism, individualism was seen as a negative – putting personal or family interests above the collective or the nation. According to Uncle Ho, it went against revolutionary ethics and, if unchecked, could overshadow them. I think that view made sense for its time. When national unity was vital, any focus on self-interest could threaten shared goals – leading to corruption or personal gain at the expense of others. But in 2025, in a vastly different context – within a market economy, a rapidly urbanizing society, and a generation shaped by technology and globalization – I see individualism as a natural social phenomenon. Not inherently good or bad, just a logical result of evolving circumstances.

To be clear: I’m not here to criticize or defend individualism. I’m simply observing – on a quiet afternoon after many days of this idea running in the background of my mind. I also realize that I, myself, live a more individualistic life than my parents ever did. So I’m not standing on the outside looking in; I’m part of it – both a witness and a participant.

And no, I don’t believe Vietnamese society has fully shifted from collectivism to individualism. I still see many people torn between wanting freedom and worrying about “disappointing their parents,” “going against the family,” or “saving face.” One of my friends, a freelance graphic designer in Saigon, lives a very personal life – distinct routines, bold fashion, staying up late, sleeping in – but every time he visits his hometown, he wakes early, wears a crisp white shirt, eats on schedule, and politely says “yes, ma’am” and “yes, sir” to keep up appearances as the good child.

It feels like we’re in a transition period, where the old and new values are still interwoven. On social media, every time someone mentions “not getting married” or “not having kids,” the word “selfish” seems to pop up in the comments. Likewise, when someone talks about “healing,” it’s often accompanied by the phrase “living for yourself.”

Choices like marriage, having children, and living for others once seemed obvious to my parents’ generation. They did those things without much thought. But for me – at the same age my parents were when they had me – I’m still figuring out where I stand among a new set of values, very different from theirs.

What I’m trying to say is: for me, these choices no longer feel inevitable. They’re not default settings anymore.

One last thing, and I’ll say it three times if I have to: I’m not writing this to start a political debate, to show off what I know, or to advocate for any particular lifestyle. I’m also not claiming to fully understand individualism or to have the authority to judge it. I’m simply observing – and today, for some reason, the word “individualism” suddenly feels especially weighty to me. It seems to tie together so many things I’ve seen in recent years.

This essay is long, but probably not very profound. As I said, these are scattered thoughts – probably nothing new. Others have likely said it all before. But putting them into words today gives me some relief. I’m a chronic overthinker, not particularly knowledgeable or clever, and most of my thoughts probably don’t carry much weight. I write mainly for myself. If I ever post this publicly, it’s not to preach – it’s just to clear my mind so I can get back to the ordinary things in the life of a single, modest schoolteacher: rice, firewood, oil, salt, and a few ungraded papers. If you do decide to comment, I hope you’ll keep that in mind. Thank you.

Đà Nẵng, Monday, March 24, 2025
Nguyễn Tiến Đạt (sutucon)