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University of Technology Sydney Law Research Series |
Last Updated: 12 May 2017
Hidden data, hidden victims:
Trafficking in the
context of globalisation and labour exploitation -
The case of
Vietnam
INTRODUCTION
When discussing labour in the age of globalisation, one of the most central
themes is migration. A related phenomenon is that of trafficking.
A growing body
of authors has begun to question the image of the coerced, uneducated, naive,
poor female victim of trafficking that
has dominated trafficking imagery
nationally and internationally for many years. To the contrary, trafficking is
increasingly recognised
as a case of an initially voluntary departure that is
best understood within a broad spectrum of migratory movement or – what
I
call – “migration gone wrong”.
As such, some degree of
voluntariness and knowledge is present in a majority of trafficking situations
(Vijeyarasa, 2010c). Research
increasingly demonstrates that modern-day
trafficking rarely corresponds to the image of the kidnapped and naive young
woman (Banerjee,
2006: 192-193; Chapkis, 2003: 931-932), but more frequently
involves the economic migrant, who may even know that the tourist visa
on which
he or she travels has been obtained without disclosure of the intention to work
in the destination country (Vijeyarasa,
2010c: 218).
Despite this
voluntariness, given that the movement of victims is often undocumented and in
light of the regulation or criminalisation
of sex work in destination countries,
irregular migrants face the risk of exploitation, with little or no access to
redress. While
the movement may have been initially voluntary, upon arrival in
destination countries, the individual may face conditions vastly
different from
those which he/she expected, including being forced to provide unprotected
sexual services; being forced to work seven
days per week; or the denial of
freedom of movement from their place of work or residence. I have elsewhere
called this phenomenon
that of “unmet expectations” (Vijeyarasa,
2010b). Therefore, while the word “victim” is often associated
with
naivety, lack of voluntariness or agency, I contend that it to use the word
“victim” reflects the violation of rights
and right to redress for
exploited migrants abroad.
Yet, even this approached is plagued by the
challenge of defining the phenomenon of trafficking, its scope and its victims.
As Guri
Tyldum and Anette Brunovskis note, trafficked persons are considered a
“hidden population ... for whom the size and boundaries
are unknown, and
for whom no sampling frame exists” (2005: 18). Elsewhere, trafficked
people are described as “voiceless”,
whether because of fear of
reprisals from traffickers, psychological trauma or potential stigmatisation
(Brennan, 2005: 43). On this
basis, several authors have concluded that
representative samples and credible estimates of the number of trafficked
persons are
impossible to obtain (Andrees and van der Linden, 2005: 60; Cwikel
and Hoban, 2005: 306-307; Tyldum and Brunovskis, 2005: 17). They
rightly contend
that inadequate data collection methods lead to descriptions of trafficked
persons that are unreflective of reality,
with resulting policies to address
such exploitation (or prohibit irregular movement altogether) consequently
ineffective (Tyldum
and Brunovskis, 2005: 17).
Despite the lack of
evidence, numerous assumptions about global victims of trafficking persist. At
the same time, there is far-reaching
interest in the topic stirred by the
apparent magnitude of the phenomenon. It is the vulnerability of women and girls
and poverty-driven
desperation that is assumed to compel movement across borders
that fosters global interest in human trafficking, from policy makers
to the
press. Set against the lack of reliable data, these assumptions about victims
and the causes of trafficking are reproduced
and amplified. Trafficking
discourse, and in turn, policy responses, focus on sexual exploitation and this
“perfect victim”
and further the common “slippage”
between trafficking and prostitution so striking in the popular press (Chuang,
2010).
Consequently, current assumptions about which sub-groups in the
population are deemed vulnerable to human trafficking, often young,
female
ethnic minorities, and what is considered the most pressing problem –
sexual exploitation over other forms of labour
exploitation – are left
unquestioned.
These global challenges in establishing an accurate
understanding of human trafficking as a form of labour injustice are exacerbated
at the national level by a range of factors, as I demonstrate in this case study
of Vietnam. In this chapter, I argue that a sounder
approach is required, in
which the existing data is reassessed in terms of its methodological reliability
and the reasons for which
it was collected. My purpose is to examine some of the
methodological challenges in determining the socio-economic characteristics
of
Vietnam’s presumed trafficked population, as well as the scope of the
problem. The primary objective is to encourage a reconsideration
of
previously-held assumptions while making recommendations for a more nuanced and
accurate approach to data collection that can
improve global understandings of
the exploitation involved in this type of irregular labour “migration gone
wrong”.
My intention in this analysis is to explore trafficking
for both labour and sexual exploitation. The United Nations Protocol to Prevent,
Suppress and Punish Trafficking in Persons [hereafter, UN Protocol] defines
human trafficking as movement (recruitment, transportation,
transfer, harbouring
or receipt of persons), by means of the threat or use of force or other forms of
coercion, of abduction, of
fraud, of deception, of the abuse of power or of a
position of vulnerability or of the giving or receiving of payments or benefits
to achieve the consent of a person having control over another person, for the
purpose of exploitation (United Nations Protocol to
Prevent, Suppress and Punish
Trafficking in Persons especially Women and Children, supplementing the United
Nations Convention Against
Trans-national Organized Crime, Palermo, Italy, 2000,
Article 3(a): United Nations 2000).
As I have argued extensively
elsewhere (Vijeyarasa, 2010a: 91; Vijeyarasa, 2010b: 15; Vijeyarasa, 2010c:
218), the Protocol is far
from flawless. In any case, at the time of print, the
government of Vietnam had not yet ratified the UN Protocol. Moreover, while
this
study aims to explore trafficking of both men and women, until a legal amendment
was introduced in 2010, the Vietnamese penal
code only offered legal protection
for women and child victims: Article 115 of the Criminal Code (1999) addressed
buying and selling
of a woman; Article 119 of the Penal Code (2001) made
“trafficking in women” a crime, and Article 120 criminalised trading
in, fraudulently exchanging, or appropriating children. Only since 1 January
2012, when a new law on trafficking entered into force,
has the trafficking of
men been penalised in Vietnam (Law on Human Trafficking Prevention, No.
66/2011/QH12).
As discussed elsewhere in this chapter, the previous
legal focus on women and children has detrimentally impacted how trafficking
and
its victims are defined and understood in the Vietnamese context. Moreover, in
practice, the notion of the “quintessential
trafficked victim” in
Vietnam continues to be promoted as the coerced, uneducated, naive, poor female
victim in policy responses,
NGO practice and the popular press.
While
reading the following pages it may seem that, again, the analysis tends to
ignore trafficking of men. As stated above, the scope
of this chapter spans
trafficking of both women and men from Vietnam for labour and sexual
exploitation. However, partly due to the
aforementioned factors, much of the
data collected focuses on trafficking of women for sexual exploitation, which
necessarily has
to be the starting point for this analysis. In the following
section, I provide an overview of the methodology used to collect
country-specific
information for this chapter. I subsequently discuss what is
known about trafficking in Vietnam based on current available data.
In the main
part of this chapter, I evaluate the key obstacles to more accurate and
encompassing data collection on trafficking.
I conclude with an analysis of the
policy implications of basing anti-trafficking initiatives on biased and
otherwise unreliable
data, for Vietnam and elsewhere around the globe. My main
finding is that the barriers to victim identification and data collection
in
Vietnam create significant doubts as to the accuracy of the current profile of
victims and in turn hinder policies aimed at reducing
the global injustice of
migrant exploitation.
METHODOLOGY
In this chapter, I explore the challenges of establishing the scope and
nature of the trafficking of men and women for labour and
sexual exploitation in
Vietnam. My analysis is based on fieldwork conducted in Vietnam from December
2008 to October 2009 involving
interviews with 17 key informants. Informants
were contacted via email and provided in advance with a standard set of
questions to
aid a semi-structured
interview.[1]
Face-to-face
interviews were conducted with 14 informants. A further three interviews were
conducted by email, two of which involved
translation of the interview questions
from English into Vietnamese, with responses later translated into English.
Translation from
English to Vietnamese and vice versa was provided by a
Vietnamese translator.[2] While
face-to-face interviews were preferred, the validity of email interviews has
been recognised (Bampton and Cowton, 2002). Advantages
of email interviews
include savings in time and financial resources (Bampton and Cowton, 2002:
25), as well as creating more comfort
for interviewees who are engaging
in an interview in a foreign language than there might be in a face-to-face
interview (Bampton
and Cowton, 2002: 19). Email interviews are also
beneficial when interviewing subjects with closed or limited access (Opdenakker,
2006), in this case, shelter management or staff. While I accepted these email
interviews as a valid reflection of the opinion of
informants, I also recognise
their shortcomings, including lack of spontaneity and the challenge of probing
for further opinions.
Regarding the selection and scope of informants,
interviewees were selected based on their expertise and competence in the field.
Key informants spanned the directors, managers and staff of some of the key
organizations, both inter-governmental and non-governmental,
working on
trafficking in Vietnam. I also explored my research questions with staff from
government, donor organisations and a number
of United Nations
agencies.[3]
Efforts were
taken to ensure a cross-section of expertise given that human trafficking is a
multi-dimensional and multi-causal issue
(see graph 1, in which informants have
been classified based on their primary area of expertise). Informants were
selected from lists
of organizations working on trafficking in Vietnam and
contact was also made with people identified in the literature. I also followed
referrals made by those individuals who had already been interviewed or
contacted for this research, adopting a form of snowballing
technique.
Stakeholders comprised both Vietnamese nationals and non-nationals.
Graph 1: Expertise of key informants
In terms of this selection procedure, it is particularly important to
note the lack of freedom of association in Vietnam, including
freedom of
expression among NGOs in what has been called a “state-led civil
society” (Lux and Straussman, 2004). This
is reflected in the large number
of informants in Vietnam who chose anonymity, with ten informants choosing
complete anonymity and
two choosing partial anonymity.
The existing body
of literature was consulted extensively in the development of the interview
questions, although the primary focus
was on the causes of human trafficking and
the degree to which the scope of the problem and the demographics of its victims
has been
accurately identified in Vietnam. In my interviews, I discussed with
informants the so-called “causes” of trafficking,
as well as the
typical profiles of victims and traffickers. I sought interviewees’
thoughts on the Government of Vietnam’s
approach to the problem of human
trafficking and the challenges faced by victims involved in the process of
reintegrating into their
former or a new community upon return. I also served as
an active participant in five meetings of the Reintegration Network, a monthly
meeting of a coalition of NGOs and international organizations working on
reintegration in Vietnam.
An observation made throughout the interviews
was the tendency for views to be repeated by key informants in a way that raised
doubt
as to whether they had been informed by the same source. This might
include reading the same report or piece of research, listening
to the same
speech or attending the same workshop or training. Indeed, the anti-trafficking
community in Vietnam is sufficiently
small that there is a large amount of
information sharing, particularly through the NGO reintegration network, whose
members work
in partnership with the government and international organizations.
This potentially suggests that the breadth of knowledge is fairly
limited and
obtaining diverging opinions is a challenge.
This limitation relates
directly to the fear expressed by several informants to openly critique the
Government of Vietnam. Despite
the fact that all participants received a
participant information statement and consent form, and were offered anonymity,
reluctance
was still evident, both in the physical demeanour of participants,
their occasional hesitations and in two instances, requests to
turn off the tape
recorder at various points during the
interview.[4] This reluctance was
evident not only among informants of Vietnamese nationality but also
non-Vietnamese nationals. However, this
similarly reflects the value of this
research in contributing to the body of knowledge on human trafficking in
Vietnam, particularly
given the lack of open critique of the government when
particularly in relation to the issue of exploitation of Vietnamese migrant
workers.
The results of this fieldwork have been complemented by
government data and reports from key stakeholders working on this issue. I
additionally attended conferences, including on the international and academic
perspectives concerning human trafficking, organised
by the Institute for Social
Development Studies in Hanoi and a sharing workshop on the results of a
trafficking survey by ActionAid
Vietnam. I also draw on existing literature in
this field and data on the scope of human trafficking from Vietnam, including
statistics
released by the government itself.
Given the challenges in
obtaining first-hand data on trafficking from Vietnam and independent
evaluations of an issue that is closely
guarded by the government, the data
collected represents a diverse cross-section of perspectives on the phenomenon
of human trafficking.
It is important to note that many academics caution
against generalising qualitative data beyond those of the research informants.
While this is not the goal of my qualitative analysis, I do conclude this
chapter by coupling the qualitative research findings with
existing studies, to
contribute to my critique of the mainstream approaches to trafficking, how such
approaches fail to reflect an
accurate understanding of the profile of victims
and how such assumptions act to undermine policy responses to address the
exploitation
of migrant workers abroad.
CONTEXT: EXISTING DATA AND GAPS IN KNOWLEDGE
Vietnam, a communist country bordered by China to the north, Cambodia to the
southwest and Laos to the northwest, underwent market
liberalization
(“doi moi” or renovation) beginning in 1986. The effects of
economic expansion created closer economic ties with other nations, and expanded
destinations for documented and undocumented migrants. A late-comer to the Asian
regional labour market, Vietnam favoured ex-socialist
countries in Eastern
Europe during its early stages of exporting labour (Dang et al., 2003: i, 12).
This movement continued until
the collapse of the former Soviet Union, with new
labour migration flows initiated in 1994 from Vietnam to Kuwait, Lebanon, Saudi
Arabia, Libya, Japan and Korea. By 2002, Taiwan and Malaysia had become the most
significant destinations (Dang et al., 2003: i;
Hoang 2008).
Currently,
trafficking flows from Vietnam reflect ease of cross-border movement,
predominantly and unsurprisingly in the direction
of China and Cambodia. The
majority of data concerns these two destination countries. According to the
SIREN (Strategic Information
Response Network) Human Trafficking Data Sheet, a
research and information initiative of the United Nations Inter-Agency Project
on Human Trafficking (UNIAP), China was at that time the destination of 70% of
the total number of trafficked Vietnamese women abroad,
but the “nature
and numbers remain difficult to determine” (Siren, 2008a). Women are
trafficked to Cambodia from the
southern provinces of Vietnam largely for sex
work (Marshall, 2006: 13; Dong and Thu Hong, 2008: 197-198). Estimates in this
case
vary, with one literature review on trafficking to and from Cambodia
suggesting that between 15 to 32 per cent of sex workers, not
necessarily
victims of trafficking for sexual exploitation, in Cambodia are of Vietnamese
origin (Derks, Henke and Ly, 2006: 22-23).
Data from the Cambodian Ministry of
Social Affairs, Veterans and Youth Rehabilitation suggests that 50% of the
trafficked persons
of Vietnamese origin identified in Cambodia come from An
Giang province in the south of Vietnam (Siren, 2008a: 2). Stakeholders also
indicate some evidence of Vietnamese victims in other destination countries,
including South Africa, the Czech Republic and United
Kingdom, but there is
limited information documenting new routes (A. Bruce, IOM, pers. comm., 21
September 2009). Nicolas Lainez’s
most recent study (2011) finds that
mobility from southern Vietnam (namely An Giang) to Cambodia is no longer
relevant as new Vietnamese
migrants are travelling to different areas to engage
in sex work and those Vietnamese from An Giang working in Cambodia are not new
migrants.
Even a small collection of statistics reveals the range of
numbers often quoted in regard to migration broadly and trafficking specifically
from Vietnam. Released by governments and NGOs, or cited by the popular press,
these estimates encapsulate data on undocumented migrant
sex workers (although
they are frequently – and inaccurately – conflated with trafficking
data) and victims of sexual
exploitation, forced marriage and labour
exploitation, whether smuggled, trafficked or documented. In general, a
comprehensive, country-wide
and gender disaggregated data-set does not exist to
facilitate an accurate discussion on the nature of trafficking and the
demographic
of its victims across Vietnam.
Government estimates
concerning human trafficking are generally low, driven largely by concerns about
Vietnam's international reputation
and the government’s interest in export
labour as a form of income and to address the domestic labour surplus (Dang,
2008:
2). In this respect, the reliability of these statistics, frequently cited
in the popular press, is questionable. The Ministry of
Labour, Invalids and
Social Affairs (MOLISA) is the key government ministry responsible for human
trafficking, although as I discuss
later in this chapter, the issue is treated
as less of a “labour” issue and more as a “social
affair”. The
Ministry of Public Security (MPS) also investigates human
trafficking and smuggling cases, in cooperation with the Border Guard Command
(BGC). MPS is also responsible for registration of temporary migrants and
directly manages the household registration system for
mainly permanent and
official migrants, with spontaneous and undocumented migrants often excluded
(Dang et al., 2003: 5).
According to police data cited by the MPS, 2,269
cases of trafficking were discovered during the period 1991-2001, with 3,787
people
arrested on charges of trafficking. Of these, 1,818 cases involving 3,118
offenders were brought to court for trafficking of women
under the former
article 119 of the Penal Code (2001). A further 451 cases, involving 672
offenders, involved charges of trafficking
in children under the former Article
120 of the Penal Code (2001) (Government of Vietnam, nd: 7). For the period
1998-2002, MPS and
the BGC pursued 921 cases of trafficking involving 1,087
accused persons (Government of Vietnam, nd: 7). Compared to the number of
arrests and prosecutions, it appears that the number of victims is significantly
higher. One report from 2000 by MPS indicated that
between 1991 and 1999 at
least 22,000 women and children were illegally sent to China as domestic workers
and sex workers or as forced
wives. For the period 1996-2000, the BGC documented
7,918 trafficked women returning from China (Dang et al., 2003: 14).
The
popular media, about which we should be cautious in light of government controls
over freedom of expression, similarly reports
a diverse range of statistics.
According to a report on 14 July 2009 by the Xinhua News Agency, the
press agency of the government of China, citing “official”
statistics from the Government of Vietnam indicated that
for January to July
2009, 191 trafficking cases were detected, involving 417 women and child
victims, predominantly trafficked in
the directions of Cambodia, China and Laos.
Consistently, Viet Nam News reported on 8 January 2010 that at the end of
2009 nearly double the number of cases had been identified, with 395 cases and
869
victims of trafficking detected by Vietnamese police in that year by
December 2009.
The US State Department also provides an array of
statistics on Vietnam in their annual Trafficking in Persons report, although
neither
the origin nor methodology of the data collection is provided (see
Agustin, 2009). Ranked by the US as a “tier 2” country,
the report
states that there are an estimated 500,000 Vietnamese workers abroad facing
conditions of forced labour and debt bondage
(US TIP, 2009).
A
further issue is the large number of Vietnamese women marrying men in Taiwan,
China, Korea, Japan and Singapore. The complexity
of marriage migration cannot
be adequately addressed in this chapter. Reported data on Vietnamese brides is
again inconsistent and
unreliable, and there is a clear divergence between those
authors who consider marriage migration a legitimate decision made by Vietnamese
women and those who see it as a form of trafficking that should be stopped
(Duong and Hong, 2008: 198; see also Dang et al., 2003).
With regard to
Vietnamese brides in Taiwan, it has been recognised elsewhere that these women
are “not necessarily in servile
marriages and not trafficked
victims” (ActionAid International Vietnam, 2005: 7). Few in-depth
quantitative or qualitative
studies on “marriage migration” exist
and data remains anecdotal.
Finally, internal trafficking has been
identified from rural to urban areas of Vietnam (Siren, 2008a), for commercial
sexual exploitation,
forced begging and labour exploitation of domestic workers
and of workers in the construction industries. I was informed by one interviewee
of the Government’s increasing reluctance to work with the international
community to collect the necessary data to profile
the situation of internal
trafficking and the informal labour market generally in fear of such data being
seen as a “sign of
under-development” (pers. comm., Senior
Economist, Donor Organisation, Vietnam, 13 October 2009). This is arguably also
related
to evidence concerning labour market segmentation between informal and
formal internal migrant workers and significant wage disparities
(ODI, 2006: 3).
This evidence-gap was reiterated in a UNFPA study, which noted the failure of
studies to capture those most vulnerable,
including short-term and seasonal
migrants (UNFPA, 2010: 5).
Overall, we can see great divergence in the
data released by the Government of Vietnam, researchers and that which is
published in
the popular press. While we are able to establish a general picture
of the patterns and purpose of movement, as the following section
will reveal,
the data outlined above is undermined by the obstacles I discussed below to more
accurate, consistent and unbiased gathering
of data on patterns of labour
migration broadly and trafficking specifically.
CHALLENGES TO VICTIM IDENTIFICAITON
In the following section, based on empirical evidence, I aim to identify some
of the major reasons for the pervasive absence of accurate
and transparent data
on trafficking in Vietnam. I analyse this data in the context of the existing
research from government, academic,
non-governmental, intergovernmental and UN
sources. My goals for this section are two-fold. First, I aim to identify
several of the
factors that act as challenges to accurate data collection in
Vietnam. Second, I intend to analyse some of the existing stereotypes
regarding
the demographic of trafficked victims that continue to persist despite lack of
an evidentiary basis or even in the face
of contrary evidence.
A “social evil” rather than labour issue
One of the most important determinants of the treatment of trafficking in
Vietnam is the approach of the government to the issue.
What we know of
trafficking and how it is understood in Vietnam, particularly where it involves
women and children for sexual exploitation,
is directly implicated by the
State’s approach to sex work as a “social evil” and by the
naming of the Department
of Social Evils Prevention (DSEP) as the agency
responsible for trafficked returnees. This approach stigmatizes victims and
implicates
them for “involvement” in the criminal and social demise
of the country (Vijeyarasa, 2010a: 6).
Elzbieta Gozdziak and Elizabeth
Collett point to the “lack of a critical attitude towards the state”
in anti-trafficking
campaigns, which instead tend to look at individual acts of
violent traffickers (Gozdziak and Collett, 2005: 101). In the case of
Vietnam, I
similarly contend that it is pivotal to critique the government’s
“strong pejorative labelling of these groups
of people considered to be
morally corrupt or decadent” (Doussantousse and Tooke, 2002).
Specifically, the government’s
approach raises questions about the extent
to which victims of trafficking, returned through formal border controls, are
deemed criminals
as opposed to victims, and channelled into “05” and
“06” Centres (Vijeyarasa, 2010a: 7; De Lind van Wijngaarden,
2007:
43; Khuat, 2007: 15). “06 centres” are designed for drug users
forced to undergo detoxification and rehabilitation,
while “05
centres” are for people (mainly women) involved in sex work. In a 2006
study, Phil Marshall attributes the
apparent placement of victims in the
government’s “05 centres” to the lack of alternative shelters,
rather than
a policy decision, this argument is at odds with the relatively
empty shelters discussed later in this chapter.
Although often referred
to by the government as educational and vocational training centres for women,
“05 Centres” are
essentially correctional facilities with limited
freedom of movement for women involved in the sex trade. Marshall notes that
special
provisions are reportedly made for victims of trafficking, including
arrangements for them to stay in a separate part of this facility,
with more
freedom (Marshall, 2006: 21). Others stakeholders have recognised the
relationship between the apparent placement of victims
in “05” and
“06” centres and inconsistent data on the number of victims leaving
and returning to Vietnam.
Several of my informants shared concerns about these
centres as well as the process of determining who should be confined to them.
Specifically on this point, Elena Ferreras, Programme Director for Multilateral
Cooperation and Gender for the Spanish Agency for
International Development
Cooperation (AECID), in a long and passionate exchange, noted:
There are a lot of re-education centres all around the country. It would be
very interesting to see what is going on in those places.
Who are going to those
centres? The key moment is when the commander at the border decides whether he
or she is a victim or a “criminal”...
Explaining that it was a
“supposition”, Ms Ferreras returned to this point at a later stage
in the interview:
If some report says there are 5,000 people trafficked per year and 300 are
coming back as victims, I guess more are coming back and
are being identified as
criminals and going to re-education centres (E. Ferreras, AECID, pers. comm., 9
October 2009).
One informant, noting the lack of respect for the
confidentially of detainees, drew a link to risks of re-trafficking: “they
are equivalent to detention, they do not preserve your safety, they are often
publically named, so if anyone wanted to find you and
re-traffic you they
could...they out you to your whole community [even] if you were in a position
where no one knew what happened
and wanted to preserve your privacy and
reintegrate...” (Anon., Gender expert, United Nations Country team, pers.
Comm.. 20
October 2009).
What is clear is that the inaccessible nature of
these “rehabilitation” centres and anecdotal stories about their
residents
raise important questions as to the whereabouts of Vietnam’s
“missing” victims and victim confidentiality.
Who are the victims? Male victims, labour exploitation and the Vietnamese Penal Code
As many individuals working in this field note, trafficking in Vietnam is
largely associated with the sex industry and exploitation
of women and children
(Anon., Program officer, international organisation, pers. comm., 5 October
2009). As noted above, a major
influencing factor has been the lack of
recognition by domestic legislation of the existence of male victims of
trafficking until
recent amendments.
The exclusion of male victims of
trafficking was a stark omission in the former Penal Code. Further, Article 1 of
the Law on Child
Protection, Care and Education (2004) define children as
persons under sixteen years of age, not those under eighteen years of age
as
defined by international law (UN Convention on the Rights of the Child, Art. 1).
Therefore, male children aged 16 to 18 were excluded
from the protection of
Vietnamese trafficking laws.
Despite the enactment of the new law, the
legislative focus on women and children to date has had a significant impact on
how trafficking
is conceptualised, particularly in its association with sex
work. Political, legal and social attention as a result is largely focused
on
trafficking for sexual exploitation over labour exploitation. Yet trafficked
women are frequently forced to provide sexual services
in conjunction with other
exploitative labour (Kelly, 2005: 235). Labour trafficking also implicates men.
Anecdotal evidence of trafficking
of men for labour exploitation has been
documented, particularly from Lao Cai, a northern mountainous province of
Vietnam, to China
(Hoang, 2008). Trafficking of male Vietnamese labour migrants
has also been documented by Duong and Hong (2008: 119), who note that
men who
become involved in trafficking-like recruitment practices pay large fees to work
in factories mainly in Taiwan, South Korea,
Japan and Malaysia, with the
promised contract later not coming to fruition. Many leave these factories,
abandoning their original
paperwork, and end up residing with irregular
migration status in the destination country (Duong and Hong, 2008:
119).
The absence of attention or data on male victims of trafficking is
not unique to Vietnam but is a problem facing many countries with
regard to the
formulation of their anti-trafficking legislation. In the case of Vietnam, the
formerly narrow approach will continue
to inhibit the accuracy and success of
screening of male victims if practical measures are not taken to specifically
ensure their
identification. A UN official I interviewed, speaking broadly of
the challenge of victim identification, noted: “There is no
standard
definition in this country and people have a different understanding of
screening. When it comes to trafficking, it is very
hard to classify whether
someone is or is not a victim” (pers. comm., Counter-trafficking program
coordinator, United Nations,
16 October 2009).
Two major challenges
exist in relation to how “trafficking” is understood in Vietnam,
first regarding the legal definition
and second, its interpretation. While the
possibility of Vietnam’s ratifying the UN Protocol has been raised by the
government,
it is unclear whether the government will actually take this step
and accept the UN Protocol’s definition, the best example
of a global
consensus on the meaning of trafficking in recent times (see discussion in
Vijeyarasa, 2010b). Even if the UN Protocol’s
definition were adopted,
significant work would be required to create an understanding at the national
level about which returnees
fall within the definition, particularly for
screening purposes by the Border Guard Command and other service
providers.
A further challenge is that of the lay understanding of human
trafficking. One informant drew attention to the lack of acceptability
of the
word “trafficking” in Vietnam, which is understood to denote the
“wholesale” trade of people. Rather,
there is a preference among
some stakeholders for using the words “buy and sell,” which are
understood as referring to
as few as one victim (pers. comm.,
Counter-trafficking expert, international organization, 12 October 2009). Once
again, these definitional
challenges are not unique to the Vietnamese language,
with many languages failing to accurately define trafficking and reflect the
relationship between traffickers and trafficked persons (Kelly, 2002: 17-18).
Empty shelters: Where are Vietnam’s victims?
From a methodological research perspective, several academics note the
limited means of access to returned victims of trafficking.
As a result, the
majority of research on trafficked persons is based on samples of
“survivors” who have been identified
by law enforcement, through
prisons, immigration authorities, lawyers, NGOs and international organizations
(Laczko, 2005: 8; Cwikel
and Hoban, 2005a: 311). However, one feature of the
reintegration process in Vietnam is the relatively small proportion of victims
who opt for shelter rehabilitation. This creates a major limitation on the
amount of data that can be collected through the support
of these shelters and
also poses the question of whether victims accessing reintegration shelter
support are representative of the
broader trafficked population.
At the
time of research, there were five main shelters operating in Vietnam:
Each of these
organisations adopts different approaches when it comes to researchers’
access to returned victims undergoing
shelter rehabilitation. This impacts the
amount of data that is collected and released about their demographic profile
and, therefore,
the extent to which data exists and is available on these
returned victims.
During the course of my fieldwork, the number of
returnees housed in these shelters ranged from zero to ten, staying for a period
ranging from several months to over one year. NAV’s shelter in Hue, with a
capacity for twenty residents, housed only one returnee,
which partly reflects
the lack of interest of returnees to that region in shelter rehabilitation
(Vijeyarasa 2010a: 9). In the case
of AFESIP, its 2006 Annual Report documents
28 residents in Ho Chi Minh City and 33 residents in Can Tho in 2006 (AFESIP,
2007: 4;
see discussion in Vijeyarasa, 2010a: 8-10). AFESIP also reports that in
2006, 36.5 per cent of returnees housed in the Ho Chi Minh
shelter stayed for
longer than 9 months, whereas just over half of victims in Can Tho stayed for a
period of less than 3 months (AFESIP,
2007: 5). As of October 2009, the CWD
shelter had housed a maximum of twelve residents during the course of its
operation, despite
having capacity for 20 persons.
There are number of
factors that could be involved in the low numbers of shelter residents compared
to the presumed number of victims.
First, in light of the nature of the borders
of Vietnam, unofficial returns are significantly higher than official returns
(Anon.,
Counter-trafficking expert, international organization, pers. comm., 12
October 2009). Other authors note that the majority of returnees
enter Vietnam
by their own means, after having worked off their “debt”, fallen ill
and subsequently been released, or
after escaping (Marshall, 2006: 7, 15). For
returnees from Cambodia, the process of family tracing is reportedly slow; this
waiting
period creates an incentive to self-deny one’s status as a
trafficked person and be returned through faster deportation processes
instead
(Marshall, 2006: 19). An array of reasons for low shelter populations was
provided by one UN staff member whom I interviewed:
The shelter service providers do not make themselves known to the victims, so
other agencies do not provide referrals. There could
also be some policy issues
involved. For example, the AFESIP supported shelter in HCMC only receives
residents from HCMC, not from
other provinces. Also, from my understanding, in
order to be accepted to those shelters, you have to be referred by a government
agency. Quite often, victims do not want to be known and want nothing to do with
the government. Sometimes when they come back, they
move to another area to
start a new life. And also, there are some issues of quality (Anon.,
Counter-trafficking program coordinator,
United Nations, pers. comm., 16 October
2009).
With regard to the quality of shelter services, there is no
standard set of guidelines in practice across all shelters, with one shelter
for
example prohibiting the use of mobile phones by residents and visits from family
and friends (Vijeyarasa, 2010a: 9). Shelter
quality was identified as a concern
by several informants, although one informant noted that work specifically on
this area was being
done at the time of the interview to evaluate and improve
shelters-based reintegration support. I contend that the types of controls
that
presently exist, the lack of understanding of the rights of residents and
inadequate psychological support offered to returnees
through shelters (Taylor
et al., 2008: 5; Marshall, 2006: 21) mean that seeking shelter support may in
fact not offer sufficient benefits, in terms of aiding reintegration, for a
returnee
to choose this option, hindering our improved understanding of the
experiences of these victims of labour and sexual
exploitation.
Self-identification is also an issue. This involves not
only the question of whether victims are actually able to identify the concept
of trafficking within their own experiences, but also the challenge of stigma.
Explaining the factors that inhibit self-identification,
one informant noted
that victims “do not necessarily understand that they have been
trafficked”. The informant continued
by nothing “the limited
benefits” available for those who identify as a victim such that [o]nly in
limited cases, where
they know someone who trafficked them and they want
revenge” will someone self-identify as a victim (Counter-trafficking
expert,
international organization, 12 October 2009). In this respect, the
notion of “migration gone wrong” may better serve
to reduce such
stigmatisation.
As a result, data collection from victims of trafficking
housed in shelters, although valuable, must be scrutinized in terms of its
representative value. The potential bias is reflected by Ms. Ferreras of AECID,
the then principal donor to the CWD shelter in Hanoi
during our interview:
Most of the victims are not entering the social system and most of the cases
in the social system, they are the worst cases. So we
need to analyse if the
clients in the shelters are really representative. They might be a minority of
the big profile. What is the
profile? It seems young women between 12 and 30
years old. It seems ethnic minorities, but is this the profile? (E. Ferreras,
AECID,
pers. comm., 9 October 2009).
Ms Ferreras’ comments reflect a
widespread concern among those on the ground about the accuracy of what is
commonly accepted
as the demographic of Vietnam’s trafficked
population.
Ethnic minorities, cross-border labour and trafficking
The shared history and ethnicity between populations living on either side of
the Vietnam-China border is a historical fact, deriving
from the days before
national borders were firmly established. Populations continue to move fluidly
across both sides of the border.
NGOs such as Save the Children indicate that
Mong Cai is a destination for many children looking for work (Save the Children,
2008.).
Despite this evidence, there is a clear tendency to fail to distinguish
between adult and child victims of trafficking and adult
and child labourers
engaging in cross-border migration from Vietnam to China. The cross-border trade
is a significant and valuable
source of empowerment. However, the literature,
including NGO reporting, frequently refers to the trafficking of women and
children
into China from Vietnam’s northern provinces which now extends
beyond the border provinces of Yunnan and Guangxi to inland
provinces such as
Henan, Hebei, Anhui, Jiangsu and Guangdong (Oxfam Quebec, 2005: 7).
As a
result, a strong connection is drawn between ethnic minorities status and
trafficking, that is, it is presumed that the mountainous
ethnic minority
communities are particularly prone to trafficking. I argue that this assumption
unjustifiably assumes that Vietnam’s
ethnic minorities experience patterns
of trafficking similar to what has been documented in the past concerning
Thailand’s
ethnic minority population and in fact conflates migration
among ethnic minorities to trafficking. Thailand’s 500,000 hill
tribe and
ethnic minorities who do not hold Thai nationality and are seen as more
vulnerable to trafficking (Lyttleton 2002; SIREN
2008b, 1). Similarly, it has
been noted that ethnic minorities in Vietnam “are very weak because the
question of their citizenship
is not very clear” (E. Ferreras, AECID,
pers. comm.., 9 October 2009).
Ethnic minority movement is particularly
difficult to grapple with in the age of globalisation, and for groups for whom
“borders”
may have little or no significance. This is not to say
that ethnic minorities are not among those who are identified as trafficked.
Instead, what is problematic is the framing of an ethnic minority as the
“quintessential trafficked person” and the failure
to distinguish
between exploitation and cross-border labour. When I questioned a district level
government official on the profile
of victims of trafficking, the respondent
commented:
The victim is a 17-year-old-girl of Tay ethnic community from a commune
targeted by the Provincial Program 135 (a program to support
especially
difficult communes). Her family’s economic situation is very difficult.
The majority of its earning comes from farm
work. She is not able to go to high
school and stays at home to help their parents with the farm work (Anon.,
District level official,
DSEP, pers. comm., 1 October 2009).
Taking a
more nuanced approach to assessing the accuracy of studies that identify ethnic
minorities as more vulnerable, one counter-trafficking
expert referred to the
long history between China and Vietnam. Given the nature of the geographic area
and the fact that citizens
from both sides of the border are frequently from the
same local ethnicity, “it is sometimes easier for traffickers from the
other side to talk to the people here and cheat them”. However, the
informant added: that “this happens only along the
border”. The
informant continued by noting how [i]n other areas, like the central parts of
Vietnam, ethnic minorities usually
live in a group so it is very difficult for
strangers to come into the area or community and to lure them because usually
they believe
only in what they can see”. He also contended that
“[T]hey are not adventurous people so in some ways their living conditions
and habits protect them from being trafficked” (Anon., Counter-trafficking
expert, international organization, pers. comm.,
12 October 2009). While this
comment also relies upon certain assumptions and stereotypes about ethnic
minority communities, it also
highlights the necessity for a more cautious
approach to previous assumptions about minorities, as I will discuss in the
following
section of this article.
IMPLICATIONS FOR LAW, POLICY AND PRACTICE
The uncertainty that exists regarding current global and national data on
trafficking is widely recognized. Nonetheless, legislators,
policy makers and
stakeholders developing programmatic responses to more effectively prevent
trafficking, protect victims from exploitation
and prosecute traffickers face
little choice but to rely on the data that currently exists. This results in
shortcomings in policy
responses. As an IOM report notes, “To talk of
evidence-based policy making remains a target for now, which has not yet been
achieved” (IOM and Federal Ministry of the Interior of Austria, 2009: 5).
In the following section, I discuss some of the implications
of relying on such
data, and conclude by providing some recommendations on ways to move towards a
more accurate and encompassing
means of data collection.
The approach of the government
The Government of Vietnam’s approach is largely focused on the criminal
justice aspects of human trafficking as opposed to the
individual human rights
violations involved in labour exploitation. This approach creates stigma and
further hides an already often
hidden population. The focus on trafficking of
women and girls for sexual exploitation also leads to the neglect of other forms
of
trafficking in policy responses. The most pressing reform is the eradication
of the language of “social evils” from policy
and legislation, and
the elimination of correctional facilities, for trafficking and non-trafficked
persons alike (Vijeyarasa, 2010a:
10). From a research perspective, a move away
from this stigmatising approach could greatly aid victims’
self-identification
and may foster greater willingness to cooperate with
government authorities responsible for combating human trafficking.
The law: Widening the meaning of human trafficking
In addition to the implementation of Vietnam’s new trafficking law from January 2012 onwards, it is essential that policy and other awareness-raising efforts are used to give greater attention to the traffic of men and trafficking for labour exploitation. The exploitation of migrants moving within Vietnam’s borders is a further neglected issue. In the words of one counter-trafficking program officer, “But if we ratify [the UN Protocol] and we accept internal trafficking and address men being trafficked, that would be good. All sectors can be addressed for all vulnerable people (pers. comm., Program officer, International organization, 5 October 2009). Furthermore, greater focus should be placed on evidence showing a lack of awareness of risks and ensuring access to justice rather than on measures that have a punitive impact on trafficked persons.
Shelters, data collection and sampling in Vietnam
It is methodologically unsound to assume that samples drawn from victims housed in shelters are necessarily representative of the Vietnamese trafficked population as a whole. However, bearing in mind the rights to confidentiality of individual returnees, it is important that whatever data can be collected from shelters is shared with the wider public. This would allow us to better understand the relationship between victims and traffickers (personal contacts, friends, and family members), the markets in which the victims were exploited, and the nature of the forced work. In addition, aggregation of methodologically sound data collected from shelters across Vietnam would better inform counter-trafficking efforts in Vietnam.
Consolidation of data
As noted by my informants during my fieldwork, Vietnam lacks a coordinating agency actively involved in human trafficking, despite DSEP’s designation as having that role:
Because of the way that the government is managing the situation, the
statistics are not done properly and there is no government
agency that is
really managing and controlling all the information flow, especially on returns
of trafficking cases...where that
information is stored is the issue. Even
though DSEP is responsible for trafficking, they have no statistics (pers.
comm., Counter-trafficking
expert, international organization, 12 October
2009).
Lack of coordination between BGC officials, the Ministry of Justice
and DSEP leads to a lack of consolidated data. If consolidation
is attempted,
careful attention must be paid to the different definitions of trafficking used
in past data collection, the time periods
for which the data exists, and the
purposes for which the data was collected by the individual government
agencies.
With a large number of stakeholders involved in data collection (shelters and shelter staff, local and international NGOs and government agencies), a final challenge is whether coordination of data collection between the government and NGO community is actually possible. What is clear, however, is the need to couple NGO and government data, and to undertake country-wide consolidation. Otherwise, we will continue to be inhibited in efforts to understand emerging markets, methods of transport, and new recruitment patterns, as well as the recruitment of men and boys who often (as in the case of Vietnam) fall outside of the reintegration services offered by NGOs and international organisations.
A nuanced analysis: The situation of ethnic minorities
The limited ability to develop useful samples in Vietnam highlights the need for careful consideration of any data collected. This is particularly the case in regard to ethnic minorities in Vietnam.
A number of informants were critical of the tendency to assume a correlation between ethnic minority status and the risk of being trafficked. In this respect, a more nuanced approach to trafficking in Vietnam would recognize other factors that raise the risk of recruitment into potentially exploitative labour, such as geography:
...some communities are more vulnerable than other communities simply because
they are close to the road, close to the trafficking
route. There are some
communities that are miles away, so they are not vulnerable to trafficking,
because trafficking is just not
an issue there. They have the same level of
education, income and poverty but are less vulnerable based on their location
(pers.
comm, Counter-trafficking program coordinator, United Nations, 16 October
2009).
To simply identify characteristics common to both trafficked and
non-trafficked populations as a dispositional factor is erroneous,
and does not
reflect the geographic element involved in trafficking, particularly in a
country like Vietnam with high levels of cross-border
movement. Therefore, the
assumption of heightened vulnerability of ethnic minorities needs to be subject
to increased examination.
The stereotypical portrayal of trafficking
The common portrayal of victims of trafficking as a young, female of ethnic minority status lured from her home, stems largely from how key stakeholders on the ground describe identified or potential victims. There is a clear tendency in Vietnam to emphasise the stereotypical case, with the stories of other victims lost in reporting. As Ms Ferreras noted, when stakeholders report cases, “they want the bad story, they want the stereotypical story. If you are talking about a woman of 35 years, it is not really interesting”. To the contrary:
...if you are talking about a girl 16 years, she talked to a false friend and the false friend sent her to a brothel in China and she was raped... if it is not this kind of story, it is not considered really interesting. It is not very “real”. There is an impression that you need the worst scenario (E. Ferreras, AECID, pers. Comm.., 9 October 2009).
Given the current attention on young, female Vietnamese victims of trafficking, it is essential that reporting on the issue highlights the spectrum of experiences involved. With the amended Penal Code criminalising the traffic of men, it is likely that stories of male victims will increasingly emerge which must be given adequate attention in reporting from the ground.
CONCLUSION
This article has analysed the global challenges that exist in relation to data collection about human trafficking that are also frequently faced at the national level, through a case study of Vietnam. The ability to obtain accurate and unbiased data is inhibited by local political, socio-economic and cultural circumstances. In the case of Vietnam, victim identification is affected by the government’s “social evils” approach that stigmatises and criminalises victims, inhibiting self-identification and raising questions about the whereabouts of victims. Shelters, although relatively empty, can provide a useful starting point in building a demographic picture, but the representative nature of such data needs to be questioned. This includes where it over-represents ethnic minorities and in the case of Vietnam, only offers data on female victims.
Where data cited is not first-hand, the reliability of the original sources should be subject to scrutiny in all NGO, UN and donors’ reports. Distinctions need to be made between undocumented migrant women working in the sex industry in destination countries who may be vulnerable to labour exploitation and those who are trafficked for forced sexual exploitation. It is important to highlight marked differences between ethnic minority communities who experience heightened vulnerability to trafficking based on geographic location and those who do not. Finally, all published data needs to be considered with an understanding of the purpose for which it was collected and later published, and how this might raise questions of potential bias.
It is important that policies related to victims of trafficking be grounded in a better understanding of the conditions, needs and priorities of the specific target groups, both in terms of raising awareness among potential migrants, as well as supporting returned victims of trafficking. However, to do this, it is essential that the data on which laws and policies are based, better represents the demographics of victims, their experiences and needs upon returning home. Addressing the barriers to more accurate data collection is only a starting point to improved, evidence-based responses to trafficking. This reflects the important need for further research into the factors discussed in this chapter as well as ensuring these considerations influence the lens through which data is read, analysed and applied with the goal of reducing the risks of labour exploitation of Vietnamese migrant workers both within Vietnam and abroad.
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[1] Approval was granted for this
fieldwork by the Human Research Ethics Committee of the University of New South
Wales on 1 June 2010.
As required by the Human Research Ethics Committee of the
University of New South Wales, a Participant Information Statement (PIS)
and
consent form was distributed to all participants. This provided an explanation
of the purpose, methods and intended possible
uses of the research; why the
informant’s participation in the research was requested; and the
confidentiality of information
supplied. Participant anonymity was offered, if
desired.
[2] Ms Do Thi Thai Thanh
holds a Bachelor of English from the Hanoi Foreign Language College and has
experience translating documents
related to HIV and AIDS and migration for both
local and international NGOs and international organizations in Vietnam.
[3] Nine additional informants were
contacted for potential participation in this research. This included four local
NGOs, three of whom
did not respond and one of whom responded by declining to
participate on the basis of their insufficient depth of knowledge; one
academic
with a Hanoi-based research institution and two gender specialists at a
multilateral donor organization, from whom no responses
were received. Two staff
working for UN agencies accepted to participate but were unable to do so due to
personal circumstances.
[4] As
noted above, the ability to note these changes in demeanor and personal
expressions is a valuable component of face-to-face research
that unfortunately
email interviews do not offer.
[5]
The Vietnam Women’s Union (or VWU) is a mass organisation formed in 1930,
the formation of which “effectively shut women
out of full participation
of the main arena” (Brownmiller, 1994: 83). Still today the de
facto national women’s bureaucracy, the VWU is one of the largest
women’s mass organisations in the world, with an estimated
50 percent of
women over 18 years of age as members. With strong links to women at the village
level and horizontally to trade unions,
the VWU is a frequent partner for
implementation of projects with the UN, international organisations and donors.
However, it is
an under-resourced entity that “lacks mechanisms for
coordinating policy with government units” (Goetz, 2003: 77). As
one
informant commented, the “Women’s Union does not exist to discuss
emerging gender issues in the society of Vietnam.
It exists to maintain the
status quo” (Anon., Senior Economist, Development Bank, 13 October 2009;
see also Vijeyarasa, 2010d:
94 for a more detailed analysis of the VWU).
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