On the morning of September 3, the day following the presentation ceremony, the Provisional Government met for the first time.
The meeting took place at the residence of the former French Résident supérieur for Tonkin, an impressive building with a green-painted iron fence. On this occasion, the gate under the archway stood wide open to welcome the people’s representatives. Two weeks earlier, the people of Hanoi, up in arms, had crowded in front of it; despite the guards’ guns, an old worker had clambered over the fence and onto the roof, pulled down the three-striped puppet flag and hoisted the golden star on a red field of the revolution.
The conference room on the first floor was bare. No flowers on the table. The representatives of the new regime realized that the task they were tackling was by no means easy. Never did Lenin’s teaching seem so meaningful: “It is difficult to seize power, but still more difficult to keep it.”
Eighty years of French domination had ruthlessly ground down our labouring people. During the years of the Second World War, another ferocious imperialism, that of the Japanese, had joined the French in exploiting us and both had vied with each other in bleeding our people white. More than one million peasants had died of starvation amidst their lush green ricefields. Nearly a million more died after the harvest. Then floods had come and we were again faced with the threat of starvation. The peasants, who had found new life through the miraculous power of their reconquered freedom and independence, could not endure indefinitely on an empty stomach.
The legacy left by the colonialists was pitiful: a few empty buildings, but neither rice nor money. Pitiful also was the cultural inheritance: a 90% illiteracy rate, the result of an obscurantist policy more concerned with building prisons than schools.
However, worse was yet to come. Foreign troops were pouring in from all directions. Some came from nearby, others from faraway places. They differed from each other by the colour of their skins and their languages, but they shared a common eagerness to conquer our country and drive us back to slavery.
Punctual as ever, President Ho entered from an adjoining room.
“Good morning, dear elders, dear friends.”
His cordial greetings at once made everyone feel at home.
Uncle Ho wore a pair of indigo-dyed canvas shoes he had brought with him from the highlands. They had been offered him by some Nung people who had sewn them themselves. He was to wear them on many occasions, even when receiving foreign guests. Uncle Ho briskly went to the table and with a wave of his arm, invited the representatives to sit down.
There was no opening speech. Uncle Ho drew from his pocket a slip of paper on which he had put down a few notes. Breaking with formality he went straight to the heart of the matter.
“Dear elders, dear friends,
“After eighty years of oppression, exploitation and obscurantism by the French colonialist, none of us has acquired any administrative skill. But we should not let this worry us. We shall learn while working. Mistakes may happen but we’ll correct them. We will have the courage to do it.
“Thanks to our deep love for the Fatherland and the people, I am sure that we shall succeed.
“What are our most pressing problems at the moment? In my opinion, there are six of them...”
With straight forward simplicity, Uncle Ho laid before the Council of Ministers the most urgent future tasks:
“1. Launch a production drive in order to fight famine. While waiting for the maize and sweet potato crop to be brought in in three or four months’ time, start a food-collecting campaign. Everyone will fast once every ten days and the rice saved will be distributed to the poor;
“2. Launch a fight against illiteracy;
“3. Hold general elections with universal suffrage as soon as possible, so as to enable the people to exercise their democratic liberties;
“4. Start a movement for industry, thrift, integrity and uprightness in order to eradicate the bad habits and practices left by colonialism;
“5. Immediately abolish poll-tax, market tax and ferry tax; strictly forbid opium smoking;
“6. Proclaim freedom of religious beliefs and unity between non-Catholics and Catholics.”
It took the President half an hour to expound all these questions. The difficult and complex problems left by 80 years of French domination, matters of vital importance to the nation, were briefly and clearly dealt with by Uncle Ho, who pointed out the direction to follow and occasionally the practical measures to be put into effect. Those who had had the chance of working with him before at once recognized his familiar style.
After discussing the questions raised by Uncle Ho, all the ministers gave their enthusiastic approval. Many of the ideas put forward by him at the very first meeting of the Provisional Government have remained major Party and State policies to this day.
The meeting went on until the end of the morning. The atmosphere of simplicity and cordiality pervading it deeply impressed all those who were meeting Uncle Ho for the first time.
A few days later Uncle Ho wrote a letter addressed to all our people: “From January to July this year, two million of our people died of starvation in Bac Bo. The floods have further aggravated the population’s misery. When having our meals, we feel sad at heart, thinking of those who are hungry. Therefore I propose that every one of us throughout the country, myself in the first place, fast once every ten days, that is three times a month. The rice saved (one tinful per head per meal) will be distributed to the poor.”
He wrote these lines to the peasants: “Plentiful food means strong armies. Hard work wards off famine. Let not an inch of land lie fallow, and we shall succeed on these two counts. Our present slogan is: ‘Intensify production, immediately and ever more’. This is an effective way of preserving our liberty and independence.”
In early September, the Government promulgated a decree requiring all Vietnamese to learn to read and write the national script within a year. Uncle Ho called on all to fight illiteracy: “Let those who cannot yet read and write learn to do it. Let the wife learn from her husband. Let the younger brother learn from the elder. Let parents learn from their children. Let girls and women study harder.”
In September, when the school year began, Uncle Ho urged the children to “work hard, behave well, obey their teachers and vie with one another in their studies.”
September also saw the Mid-Autumn Festival, our children’s day. On that occasion, the first such festival in independence, Uncle Ho sent the young ones a letter overflowing with happiness: “You are happy to have a full moon, cool breezes, beautiful cakes and blue autumn skies. You are happy, and so is Uncle Ho. Do you know why? Uncle Ho is happy, firstly because he loves you; secondly because, while last autumn our country was still oppressed and you were little slaves, this autumn our country has regained its freedom and you are the young masters of an independent country. (...) Next year we shall have a common festival for young and old. What do you think? I have no present for you this year, only my warmest kisses.”
Naturally, the children did not know that for all the joy Uncle Ho expressed in his letter, he was beset by countless problems connected with State affairs.