The Vietnamese war movie Địa đạo: Mặt trời trong bóng tối (“Tunnel: Sun in the Dark”) follows a Vietnamese revolutionary guerrilla unit engaged in a fierce asymmetric tunnel warfare against the overwhelming might of American bombers, tanks, and elite “Tunnel Rats.” Released ahead of the 50th anniversary of the fall of Saigon and the defeat of the southern Republic of Vietnam, Địa Đạo has become a box-office hit in Vietnam. The film itself is part of an ongoing asymmetric struggle – a war of historical memory in which Vietnamese voices seek to assert their interpretations of the past and imprint them into the global imagination.
This memory war mirrors the lopsided nature of the military struggle portrayed in Địa Đạo. American memories of the war are disseminated globally through the most expensive and visible media – Hollywood films, Western media, and video games – giving them disproportionate influence in shaping international perceptions of the Vietnam wars. In contrast, the memories of smaller countries like Vietnam, Laos, and Cambodia often remain localized or circulate only within their diasporas, largely invisible to global audiences.
In this context, films like Địa Đạo function as weapons in asymmetric memory warfare. Having garnered sweeping critical acclaim, Địa Đạo has been discussed not just as a national cinematic milestone, but as a film with the thematic depth and production scale to become a contender for international awards, perhaps even at the Oscars. This reveals a deep desire to project Vietnam’s version of the war outward, challenging the dominant American representations.
Just as the fighters in Địa Đạo resisted a technologically superior force, today’s Vietnamese “memory warriors” confront far more resourceful and institutionally advantaged actors. Nowhere is this asymmetry starker than in the ongoing struggle over Agent Orange. For decades, the United States refused to take responsibility for the consequences of its herbicidal warfare in Vietnam, even as it provided compensation to American veterans suffering from dioxin-related illnesses. This double standard underscores the asymmetry in memory: while American victims are recognized and redressed, Vietnamese victims are unacknowledged and overlooked. The U.S. has never formally recognized “Vietnamese victims of Agent Orange,” nor has it accepted the causal link between Agent Orange and the high rates of birth defects seen in sprayed areas in Vietnam.
Bilateral cooperation on Agent Orange came relatively late, after earlier collaboration on other war legacy issues – i.e., the POW/MIA issue and unexploded ordnance. Beginning in 2007, the U.S. provided funding for environmental remediation and related health activities in Vietnam under one single appropriation. After 2007, the U.S. approach gradually evolved. Funding for health and disability services and for dioxin decontamination was split into two separate appropriations from 2011 onward. Over time, the beneficiaries of the health and disability programs narrowed to individuals with severe disabilities in heavily sprayed areas.
However, Washington frames this aid as humanitarian aid for people with disabilities, rather than reparations or an admission of responsibility, positioning the U.S. as a benefactor rather than a perpetrator. This approach also allows the U.S. government to retain deliberation over the scope and terms of funding. In the war of historical memory, the struggle is not only over what happened, but also over how consequences of past actions are framed and, in turn, addressed.
The asymmetry has become even more evident in recent months. The Trump administration’s takeover of the U.S. Institute of Peace (USIP) effectively shuttered the Vietnam War Reconciliation Initiative, a program that had for the past few years facilitated dialogue between policymakers and the peoples of the two countries on war legacies, including Agent Orange. USIP projects developed in partnership with Vietnam, including a documentary and a new museum exhibition on the consequences of Agent Orange and UXO, are now in limbo.
At the same time, Trump’s sweeping cuts to foreign aid disrupted war legacy projects in Vietnam, including dioxin decontamination at Bien Hoa Airbase, the largest remaining dioxin hotspot, and health and disability programs in eight heavily sprayed provinces. Although the Bien Hoa project was eventually resumed, its future beyond this September is still uncertain and the most heavily contaminated soils have yet to be treated. Health and disabilities projects are unterminated, but many activities remain stalled because during the unfunded interim, the implementing partners could not afford to pay their project staff and were forced to lay them off.
This asymmetry also extends into courtrooms, spaces meant to uphold equality before the law. In the 2000s, Vietnamese plaintiffs sought accountability from American chemical companies in a U.S. court for the devastating impacts of Agent Orange. The very same court that had enabled a 1984 settlement for American veterans rejected the Vietnamese claims. The same judge who facilitated that settlement dismissed the Vietnamese case.
Nonetheless, the Vietnamese struggle for justice endured. Since 2014, the French-Vietnamese victim Trần Tố Nga has been engaging in an Agent Orange lawsuit at the Évry Criminal Court in Paris. Her tenacity is emblematic of Vietnam’s long tradition of resistance against more powerful adversaries. As Nga said, she hoped to become “a Điện Biên soldier” in her legal battle.
The asymmetry in Nga’s 2021 trial was glaring: a lone plaintiff with two lawyers confronting 14 American chemical corporations represented by a team of 15 attorneys. Inside the courtroom, she faced hostility: her testimony was interrupted, her integrity questioned, and even the presiding judge appeared to undermine the proceedings. Although both the Évry Court and the Paris Court of Appeal dismissed her case, Nga remains undeterred. She is now appealing to France’s highest judicial body, the Court of Cassation.
Even though a legal victory remains elusive for Vietnamese victims, the international community has widely accepted that the U.S. use of Agent Orange is responsible for generations of birth defects in Vietnam. The impacts of Agent Orange in Vietnam led to the invention of “ecocide” as a crime against the environment and humanity and sparked a global movement in the 1970s to recognize such a crime. Today, amid the escalating climate crisis and large-scale environmental destruction by corporations, that movement has a renewed urgency. Nga’s case has become an international symbol of resistance to the renewed push for legal recognition of ecocide
Behind this sustained global awareness lies the quiet but unwavering dedication of Vietnamese scientists. Among them, Dr. Nguyễn Thị Ngọc Phượng, an esteemed obstetrician and gynecologist, has spent decades investigating the transgenerational effects of dioxin exposure. Her work helped establish the causal link between dioxin and congenital anomalies. In 2024, she was awarded the Ramon Magsaysay Award, often dubbed “Asia’s Nobel Prize,” for her groundbreaking scientific contributions and lifelong advocacy for Agent Orange victims. While Vietnam has not yet won a legal ruling, such international recognition suggests it has already won the war of global opinion on Agent Orange.
Like the tunnel fighters in Địa Đạo, Vietnamese figures like Trần Tố Nga and Dr. Nguyễn Thị Ngọc Phượng navigate narrow, perilous passageways – not of earth and stone, but of historical memory. Their struggles illustrate that asymmetric warfare did not end with the reunification of Vietnam in 1975; it continues today, fought not with rifles or bombs but with testimony and evidence.