In 1954, Harry and Bertha Holt, born again Christians, found their calling when they heard about the orphaned cherubs of Korea. They especially had an affinity for those children fathered by American army and civilian personnel (commonly referred to as Amerasians). In fact, the Holts chose to adopt eight Korean children themselves. Congress even passed a special Act in honor of the Holts, thus legalizing and legitimizing the novel practice of international adoption. Soon thereafter, the Holts inspired countless other Americans to join them in “saving” these “war waifs”.
When the 1970s came along, Americans read about Vietnamese children in the newspaper and saw them on the evening news. These children would also have the honor of being labeled charity cases and seen as more lost souls in need of saving. Churches, chapels and ministries across America galvanized their congregations to collect money and materials to send to orphanages in South Vietnam, patting themselves on the back for their magnanimity at every opportunity. But for many Americans, they didn’t just want to send in their checks and offer well wishes; they wanted to see a return on their investment. To acquire a Vietnamese child was seen as the ultimate act of selflessness and sacrifice, not to mention the books they could sell about their little war babies.
Americans believed they had a moral responsibility to take care of those less fortunate and open their hearts and homes to the children of a war they forgot their country started. However, the implied politicized message was that Americans were more moral than those “godless communists”, aka the Koreans and the Vietnamese, and that only Americans could provide an infinitely better outcome to these castaways.
Working hand in hand with anticommunist fervor, the Christian evangelical movement spread the assumption that the people of Asia were incapable of taking care of their own. Westerners turned their attention to the “neediest of the needy”, those children who were left to experience the aftermath of each bombardment that inevitably separated them from their families. Under the protection of the U.S. military and with the support of countless donations, these missionaries established orphanages that inadvertently took the place of indigenous methods and solutions for child welfare. With so much of the country overwhelmed by the casualties of war, ladies and gentlemen of mercy took up the mantle of healer and savior.
I understand that you feel that the Americans were patronizing and robbed you of your home and heritage. Perhaps no adoptions should have taken place, but I remember those times and I remember the love and the caring of people who wanted to help children who were thought to have no future. It may have been a mistake, but those who adopted had only the purest of motives and to politicize their motives seems to create an inaccurate picture. At least that’s how I see it.
Hi Dr. Rona, and thank you for your comment.
Your assumption about other people’s pure motives at the time may be right. I don’t doubt that many people who chose to adopt those Vietnamese kids during and after the war had nothing but their safety and security in mind and only wanted to let them know that someone in the world loved them unconditionally.
You could also imply that I’m being unfairly judgmental about the situation, especially when I have the benefit of 20/20 hindsight.
But, after using that hindsight and looking at the bigger picture, I just don’t see what you see.
What you seem to be focusing on is the sanitized, let-bygones-be-bygones mentality that has mollified the Western conscience ever since the Vietnam War. What I wanted to do is take off the blinders I grew up with and examine anew what transpired.
I, and my contemporaries, were not born and do not live in a socio-political vacuum. The war had its causes and effects, and we can both acknowledge that it continues to produce aftereffects in our lives. I dare say that one episode in recent history which unites us will continue to have some kind of effect on both us until the day we die.
But, maybe that’s just me being morbid, and I should simply smile, say my “thank yous”, and tell you how glad I am to be an American.
I in no way was trying to be critical of you. Your experience is, of course, authentic. I can understand your feelings of betrayal and loss. My only point was that those who adopted had only the best of intentions. Having visited Vietnam twice in the last year, I have seen a rich heritage- one to be proud of. I hope that for your sake, you are able to reclaim your identity and reconstruct your childhood (yes, that is possible) and come to the point where your perspective allows for the possibility of the validity of the other perspective. All my best wishes