Laos Remains Lotus Land Amid Dreariness of Communist Rule

Once the royal Kingdom of a Million Elephants, Laos is now practicing the gospel according to Lenin, isolating itself in a tropical bell jar without a single government computer and only one discotheque.

Since the communists took over Laos in 1975, this agrarian nation hemmed in by China, Thailand, Vietnam, Burma and Cambodia has gone backward to the future.

Pre-revolution, pro-American leaders are dead, have fled the country or have been deposed to re-education camps. The poor are poorer; the rich are gone. There are few remnants of an educated middle class.

Stern ideologues who fought from the 1940s onward for a Pathet Lao victory rule with tight-fisted control. Souphanouvong, the “Red Prince,” abolished his own royal heritage and is now president.

There are no democratic freedoms. The economy is deteriorating.

10% Have Left Country

The U.S. government estimates 10% of Laos’ people have left the country since 1975. There are now more Laotians in America--about 150,000--than there are in Vientiane.

Hmong tribespeople, the mountain dwellers who were once allies of Americans fighting in Indochina, are crammed by the thousands into makeshift refugee camps in northeast Thailand. Some of the Hmong who have escaped accuse Laos’ Marxist hierarchy of using chemical weapons against them.

A top priority of the Laotian government for 1986 is the establishment of a library for the nation. That is one library for 3.6 million people, but less than half of them can read or write.

But Laos’ riverfront capital of Vientiane is still a lovely backwater of whitewashed buildings, flowering trees, pungent sidewalk food stalls and smiling merchants who warmly greet the rare sight of American visitors and their welcome dollars.

“It’s a lot quieter now--and it was plenty quiet before the communists took over 12 years ago,” said U.S. State Department officer Stephen Johnson.

Seeking MIAs

In 1975, Johnson was political officer at the U.S. Embassy in Vientiane. He returned to the city early this year accompanying a delegation of U.S. senators and congressmen who went to Southeast Asia to talk about Americans still missing in action more than a decade after the Vietnam War ended.

“I was struck by all the empty shops, the lack of people at the hotel, the deteriorating plumbing and water system, the way things had obviously gone downhill,” said Johnson, who grew up in Asia as the son of a former diplomat.

“But there are no troops on the street, no military formations, no oppressive atmosphere. It is just a quiet place now. Very, very quiet.”

Vientiane’s citizens do not hurry toward their daily destiny. The 100,000 residents of this communist Brigadoon beside the Mekong prefer, instead, to stroll the wide, dusty boulevards of their city.

In a nation smaller than Oregon, where an average life span is 46 years and an annual income is about $150, there is no reason to rush. Even some of the Laotians’ benevolent stone Buddhas spend eternity lying down.

Antiquated Bicycles

Those who do not walk to work or temple or market in Vientiane pedal there on antiquated bicycles. Sometimes three people perch in perfect balance aboard a two-wheeler, a woman’s sarong skirt demurely wrapped about her ankles as she rides sidesaddle.

There are few cars. Those earmarked for top leaders are mostly Soviet-built Volgas, and even those sturdy black sedans don’t stray far from Vientiane. There are only a few roads outside the capital.

“My idea of a pleasant Sunday is a short trip to the country or a picnic with my family,” said Sangkhom Phomphakdy, an official in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs.

Vientiane’s broad, tree-lined streets, along with crusty bread and government in triplicate, were bequeathed by France before its colonialism finally failed in the 1950s.

What was once a genteel provincial outpost on the fringe of the French Cochin empire is now a place where almost nobody goes anymore.

The aging, hard-core leaders of what is now the Lao People’s Democratic Republic don’t want an influx of foreigners who might destabilize the rigid control exercised by the disciples of the Soviet Union and Vietnam.

Would Like Some Computers

“We do not have many amenities needed to host visitors,” said Sangkhom in good English. “For instance, we do not yet have government computers, but we would like to get some.”

Sangkhom cited such clerical problems and logistical handicaps as reasons for restricting the number of Westerners allowed to attend 10th anniversary celebrations last December.

“We did not have enough hotel rooms or cars,” he said. However, Sovet Bloc journalists had no trouble getting in.

Today, instead of public servants from Paris or hordes of American contractors and U.S. officials orchestrating a covert jungle war, there are just a few Soviet diplomats and East European technocrats sweating it out under Laos’ noonday sun.

There are also, according to Western sources, 50,000 Vietnamese troops scattered through the country to keep order, alongside a like number of Laotian soldiers.

During the 1960s and 1970s, when America was mired in the Indochinese war in Vietnam and Cambodia, Laos was the third leg of both sides’ military tripod.

Since Dec. 2, 1975, when communist victors abolished the monarchy, dissolved a coalition government, and established a socialist state, Laos has turned a cold shoulder to the West.

Earlier that same year there were 1,400 employees at the U.S. Embassy in Vientiane. Today the Lao government permits nine U.S. citizens to live and work at the embassy.

But Laos, flexing its autonomy to its allies in the Marxist bloc, still maintains diplomatic ties with the United States. There is no such bond between Hanoi or Phnom Penh and Washington.

“The serenity of Vientiane caught me by surprise,” said Sen. Frank Murkowski (R-Alaska), who headed the U.S. delegation allowed into Laos in January for a rare glimpse of life under the new regime.

Beauty of the People

“I wasn’t prepared for the beauty of the people, the river, the city itself. It was sort of unnerving to me, coming as we did directly from Hanoi, with its overwhelmingly visible poverty and the crush of people.”

Hamburgers and French fries were served as the entree at a formal Laotian government luncheon honoring Murkowski and Sen. Dennis DeConcini (D-Ariz.), Rep. Bob McEwen (R-Ohio), Rep. Michael Bilirakis (R-Fla.), their wives and staff members.

“We hope you like this special steak,” Sangkhom said. “It is to make you enjoy our food, our hospitality. It is the correct thing to do.”

Murkowski said such concern for their VIP guests’ sensibilities made him feel “comfortable” in Vientiane. “Or perhaps it’s because we have an American presence there.”

“Laos has a Marxist government with a Vietnamese troop presence, but an American presence too,” Murkowski added. “The more I observed the situation, the more it interested me.”

Millions in Aid

In the old days, Washington pumped millions of dollars in aid into Laos, scores of CIA men roamed the country’s triple-canopy jungle, and Vientiane was a regular stop for touring U.S. congressmen and government fact-finders.

Foreign correspondents, junior diplomats, assorted footloose adventure seekers and Air America pilots kept the bars propped up in the old city of Luang Prabang to the north. Several Vientiane nightclubs were rocking.

Today, this same shabbily elegant city is now shut tight against any hint of loose morals, extravagant living or nostalgia for the more prosperous days of the past.

But in the 11th year since the revolution, there is now a discotheque in Vientiane. It is the only place in Laos where dancing is officially allowed.

The disco is much the same as any in the American Midwest, said Tony Principi, a Senate staff aide who was part of the U.S. entourage visiting this year.

Girls Young and Pretty

“The girls were young and pretty, the music was rock ‘n’ roll, and the beer was good and cheap, even by Washington standards,” said Principi, who danced with the local ladies until the 2 a.m. closing.

Also drinking the $1-a-bottle German beer and boogieing to the beat were Russians, Australians and East Europeans.

The Americans were surprised to hear popular hits by Cyndi Lauper, Billy Joel and Abba blaring out of the loudspeakers.

They also guessed that the fashionably dressed Laotian women, clad in leather pants and the latest eye makeup, were related to top-ranked officials.

“Even under communism, there’s a higher socioeconomic scale for the elite,” noted Principi. “Some comrades are more equal than others.”

Laos has worn many labels in its history. It has been the conqueror and the conquered, colonial pawn and capitalist tool. It is now a country of comrades.

But its natural beauty has always made Laos a magic place, enduring beyond man’s misadventures. No matter what its future, it remains Lotus Land.