A COUPLE of years ago this reporter was in a large nightclub in Hanoi and wondered why the playboys were mixing their Hennessey with Orangina. Typically unkind thoughts followed until someone pointed out the blindingly obvious: it was fake grog and near undrinkable without a mixer.
Only a few weeks ago a Ho Chi Minh City couple were arrested for distilling moonshine and selling it as Hennessey and Johnny Walker (no word on whether these were ginned up separately or in a single batch). It was hardly a unique example of the counterfeiting and other intellectual-property (IP) violations characteristic of consumer life in Vietnam.
Many of the fakes and artefacts of disputed provenance (such as this scooter made by the troubled shipbuilding state-owned enterprise Vinashin) sold here originate in Vietnam—but most come from its big neighbour to the north. Not only does Vietnam have a large and legitimate trade deficit with China, it also has a large black-market deficit. Illegal imports of counterfeit goods, smuggled over the long and permeable borders to the north and west, far exceed whatever illegal exports cross the same lines.
According to the local press, a recent government report (published in Vietnamese only) says that Vietnam has become something of a hub for counterfeit goods. Many of the dodgy products that begin their journey in China use this country's warehouses as a great big transit lounge before boarding ships and flights to other destinations. Some stay within Vietnam of course; fake designer handbags are popular. (These days sales of knock-off Nikes and other foreign-branded, mass-produced goods seem to be displacing the traditional marketplace for the intricate, labour-intensive traditional costumes made by the northern provinces' ethnic minority groups. This saddens some NGOs of course; we have not, however, polled any of the women who used to weave those garments in the dim hours after a hard day's work in the rice paddy.)
"Vietnamese officials are incapable of staunching the rapid growth of the counterfeit trade," reads the newspaper's translation of the report. There are plenty of legal loopholes for the bootleggers to exploit, restricting which goods can be seized and how long they may be held. A lax attitude towards enforcement and the lack of customs officers and resources have not helped. The atmosphere of "hazy regulation" tends to protect Chinese counterfeits from seizure while they make their passage through Vietnam.
In the days when it was fighting to win entry to the WTO Vietnam committed itself to bringing stronger IP laws onto the books. Since 2007 much of the relevant code has been broadened or strengthened to bring it into line with international standards. But enforcement remains low and few cases make it to the courts.
This is not unusual. In Vietnam many laws read well, but are rarely read. Smoking is banned in public spaces and restaurants—but common everywhere. By law slaughtered pigs may no longer be driven about on motor scooters, but they can still be seen riding bikes all over town.
The counterfeiting industry can have wider implications for trade than the rest of these infractions. Copied DVDs and CDs are available all over the cities. Some local bands have identified this as the main reason for their commercial disappointments; no one gets a record contract when no one buys the records.
Software piracy is common too; Hanoi's Ly Nam De street is a kind of cyber-extension of the Old Quarter's 36 streets and their once-specific goods. According to an analyst who spoke with reporters in May, the vast majority of Microsoft's software in China is pirated, which leaves the company with little interest in investing there. Vietnam has at least made token efforts at combating this by fining companies that are caught using pirated software and punishing them by way of name-and-shame campaigns of self-criticism. Vietnam's bootleggers are a determined lot however, fortified by high profit margins as well as cheap grog: no match for the small beer of tut-tutting.
(Photo credit: Jos Dielis)