On April 30, 1975, North Vietnamese tanks rolled through the gates of the Presidential Palace in Saigon, marking the collapse of the South Vietnamese government and the end of the decades-long conflict in Vietnam. Across the world, audiences watched dramatic scenes unfold – the haunting images of helicopters lifting off from rooftops, civilians pleading for rescue. The images became enduring symbols of the human cost of war and the far-reaching impact of the Cold War on nations and ordinary lives. 

Beyond the battlefield, another war had been fought – one waged not with bullets, but with cameras and typewriters. Historians such as Daniel Hallin in The Uncensored War have demonstrated how the Vietnam War was the first conflict truly brought into living rooms worldwide, largely free from the military censorship that had constrained reporting in previous wars. Hallin’s research shows that this openness created a unique “credibility gap” between government statements and the reality presented in the media. 

This article highlights how the Vietnam War fundamentally transformed the relationship between warfare, media, and public opinion, establishing precedents that continue to shape conflict reporting today. Through the lens of unprecedented press freedom and technological advancement, we explore how journalists became inadvertent participants in the war itself, wielding influence that extended far beyond traditional reporting roles. By analysing key moments where media coverage intersected with military strategy and political decision-making, this piece highlights the Vietnam conflict as a pivotal moment when the power of images and narratives proved capable of challenging even superpower ambitions then.

When Shutters Spoke Louder Than Bullets

Unlike previous conflicts, Vietnam correspondents moved freely across the theatre of war. Over 600 journalists reported from Vietnam, with more than 60 losing their lives. Michael Herr's Dispatches described it as "a nightmare you could not wake up from," where correspondents became immersed witnesses rather than detached observers. The War Remnants Museum in Ho Chi Minh City now commemorates these fallen journalists through their photographs, press passes, and final dispatches.

The Vietnam War became known as the first "television war".Media historians like Susan L. Carruthers highlight that never before had the immediacy of moving images so strongly shaped the public’s perception of an ongoing conflict, creating a feedback loop between battlefield events, media narratives, and political decisions. The war’s pivotal moments were captured through powerful imagery such as:

• Photographs like Eddie Adams’s Execution of a Viet Cong Prisoner in 1968 during the Tet Offensive.

• Nick Ut’s Terror of War, popularly known as Napalm Girl published in 1972, became global icons of the war’s brutality in a single frame.

• Nightly news broadcasts showing rows of body bags returning home forced Americans to confront the war’s human cost.

Among the most influential journalists at that time was Walter Cronkite from a major broadcasting station CBS (Columbia Broadcasting System). During the 1960s, American households only had a handful of TV channels and CBS was one of the most trusted sources of news. Its evening new programme, anchored by Walter Cronkite, reached tens of millions of viewers across the country at the same time. 

On 27 February 1968, shortly after the Tet Offensive in Vietnam, Walter Cronkite made this comment: "It seems now more certain than ever that the bloody experience Vietnam is to end in a stalemate... It is increasingly clear to this reporter that the only rational way out will be to negotiate, not as victors, but as an honourable people who lived up to their pledge to defend democracy and did the best they could." 

President Lyndon Johnson, upon hearing this broadcast, reportedly said, "If I’ve lost Cronkite, I’ve lost Middle America"—a phrase referring to the broad cross-section of average, mainstream Americans whose opinions often influenced national politics.

As Hallin argued, media coverage did not single-handedly “lose” the war for America—but it made it impossible to sustain without public faith. Phillip Knightley, in The First Casualty, reinforces this view, noting that Vietnam marked a turning point in the relationship between the press and the military, where “truth became the first casualty” only when access was later restricted.

Yet while Cronkrite’s words highlighted  the power of the press, other journalists paid the ultimate price simply for bearing witness. The conflict drew in reporters from across the world – including Singapore. Charles “Charlie” Challapah, a freelance photographer with the Associated Press, was killed in 1966 when a Viet Cong mine exploded near CÙ Ci as he tried to aid wounded soldiers. Six years later, in 1972, Sam Kai Faye, a veteran cameraman working for American Broadcasting Company (ABC) News, was shot by sniper fire near Quang Tri alongside his colleague and fellow Singaporean Terry Khoo. Their deaths are reminders that the dangers of frontline reporting were not confined to Americans alone. 

Influencers Before the Age of Instagram

Long before the rise of social media, war correspondents were already shaping public opinion as the true “influencers” of their age. They carried cameras instead of smartphones and typewriters instead of keyboards. Their impact was not measured in likes or shares, but in headlines that rattled presidents and photographs that mobilised protests. As Mark Bowden observed in Hue 1968, their work “cut through the fog of war” to expose realities official reports left unspoken. In Vietnam, the most powerful blows were often delivered not with bullets, but through the lens and the written word.  

The Cold War Chessboard

In Cold War terms, Vietnam was a key piece on the geopolitical chessboard. The United States entered the conflict under the logic of the “domino theory,” fearing that a communist victory would trigger a chain reaction in Southeast Asia. The belief justified deepening American involvement, from military advisors to full-scale intervention, as the government in Washington D.C. sought to uphold its credibility as the leaders of the free world. Yet the very scale of that commitment revealed the fragility of the strategy.  Fredrik Logevall, in Embers of War, argues that the war’s outcome severely damaged U.S. credibility, revealing the limits of its ability to shape outcomes in the developing world and raising doubts among allies about American resolve. Media coverage only sharpened these doubts, ensuring that the failures in Vietnam were not only military and diplomatic, but also it’s reputation in the eyes of the world. 

Without public support, the U.S. had withdrawn its troops in 1973. When Saigon fell, there was no political will to return. The media had not created the failure, but it had ensured the world would witness it. As North Vietnamese forces closed in on Saigon in April 1975, journalists recorded the city’s last desperate hours: helicopters evacuating embassy staff, South Vietnamese civilians clinging to fences, and Marines holding back crowds. These were not just news events—they became enduring symbols of the end of America’s longest war at that time.

The Fall of Saigon in 1975 became a powerful symbol of those limits. It demonstrated that even a superpower could face strategic setbacks when military objectives were misaligned with political realities and public opinion. It also illustrated how, in an age of global media, control over the narrative could be as crucial as control over territory.

After Vietnam: The Era of Controlled Access

The unfettered media access during the Vietnam War became rare in later conflicts. In the Gulf War of 1991, journalists were embedded with military units and subject to strict oversight. Supporters argued this safeguarded operational security; critics, including Knightley, contended it restricted the public’s right to know. The question remains, should war reporting prioritise unfiltered truth, even at risk to military aims, or accept controls for security and safety? The debate reflects a deeper struggle: while politicians seek to frame wars as “just cause” worth fighting, freedom of reporting often shows the messier realities that undermine such claims. When images of civilian suffering or battlefield setbacks circulate unchecked, the carefully crafted moral rational for war becomes harder to sustain. 

Lessons for the Classroom

For students in Singapore, the Vietnam War is a major war very close to home, and a chapter in Cold War history. There are several key learning points that teachers can choose to focus on:

• There is power in public opinion. The Vietnam War shows how public sentiments, shaped by media coverage, can influence political and military decisions. 

• Media shapes memory. Much of what the world remember about Vietnam comes from its images and stories.

• Critical thinking is essential. Students should always ask how and why information is presented, recognising that what appears as the “truth” may be shaped, or even manipulated, by reporters framing events through their own agendas, angles and biases.

• History is made by others besides politicians and soldiers. Journalists and photographers can shape the war’s trajectory and legacy.

Conclusion: A Legacy Written in Ink and Blood

Fifty years after the Fall of Saigon, the legacy of the Vietnam War remains sobering. It reminds us that wars are fought on many fronts—in battlefields, in back rooms, and in the public arena. The reporters who carried cameras and typewriters into the heart of the conflict were not merely recording history; they framed how it would be remembered. That legacy continues in the media today, including the coverage of war and tensions around the world. It reminds us that even the “truth” is never unfiltered and that the task of questioning, comparing, and scrutinising accounts falls to every critical reader. 

References

• Bowden, M. (2017). Hue 1968: A turning point of the American war in Vietnam. Atlantic Monthly Press.

• Carruthers, S. L. (2011). The media at war: Communication and conflict in the twentieth century (2nd ed.). Palgrave Macmillan.

• Hallin, D. C. (1986). The uncensored war: The media and Vietnam. Oxford University Press.

• Herr, M. (1977). Dispatches. Alfred A. Knopf.

• Knightley, P. (2004). The first casualty: The war correspondent as hero and myth-maker from the Crimea to Iraq (Rev. ed.). Johns Hopkins University Press.

• Logevall, F. (2012). Embers of war: The fall of an empire and the making of America’s Vietnam. Random House.

• Ut, N. (1972). The terror of war [Photograph]. Associated Press.

• Adams, E. (1969). General Nguyen Ngoc Loan executing a Viet Cong prisoner [Photograph]. Associated Press.

Humans love to commemorate. We commemorate births, anniversaries and achievements, beginnings and ends. Monuments, ceremonies, news reports and memorabilia are constant reminders of the ubiquity of commemoration around us (Tuathaigh, 2014). Commemoration is such a regular part of our lives that we cannot imagine any year in which we do not commemorate something.

This year, 2025, is no exception. Among many other things, we will be commemorating ‘SG60’, Singapore’s 60th year of independence. Prime Minister Lawrence Wong has said that SG60 should not be just about celebration. It is also an opportunity for all Singaporeans to reflect on our shared values and identity, and renew our commitment to Singapore and build our shared future together (Wong, 2024). In response to this exhortation, let us then consider: what does it mean to commemorate something, and how is commemoration related to memory and historical knowledge or significance? Finally, how do the answers to these questions apply to SG60?

The Meaning of Commemoration

Commemoration can be described as a ritual that transforms historical knowledge into collective memory (Saito, 2010). This implies that commemoration is a highly specific and choreographed set of actions, undertaken as a group or part of a group, with shared understanding of the importance and meaning of the event that is being commemorated, thus instilling a sense of common identity and belonging among the individuals involved. ‘As is the case with national anniversaries, mutual awareness that other members of the nation are marking the same occasion helps to produce a sense of group membership and solidarity among individuals’ (Saito, 2010).

Commemoration is not just for happy events. We also commemorate wars and traumatic events, such as the fall of Singapore during World War II (now Total Defence Day), the Holocaust and the atomic bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. This is true for Singapore’s National Day as well. We must not forget that the experience of Singapore’s separation from Malaysia in 1965 was actually traumatic for some; our first Prime Minister, the late Mr Lee Kuan Yew, described it as ‘a moment of anguish’.

History, memory, and commemoration

However, the act of transforming historical knowledge into collective memory through commemoration is not unproblematic in itself. One reason is that the two are rather different things. According to Halbwachs (1950), historical memory or knowledge strives for an objective account of the past, whereas collective memory is socially constructed and supported by a group bound in space and time. Collective memory is conditioned by the needs and contexts of the present, while historical memory or knowledge seeks to understand and communicate about the past on its own terms.

To complicate things, many of us may not actually have any memory of the event being commemorated, because we did not experience or live through it ourselves. As time passes, most (and eventually all) Singaporeans would not have any personal memory of 9 August 1965 at all, as they would have been born after that date. So, as personal memory fades and gets transformed into archival traces, collective memory will increasingly rely on historical knowledge as its source material instead. Furthermore, with advances in digital technologies and social media, the way collective memory is constructed and transmitted is constantly evolving, while posing new challenges in the process.

While history and memory both deal with the past and the passage of time, they are not good bedfellows. History, based on rigorous analysis and interpretation of evidence, is often difficult, inconvenient and uncompromising. Memory is much more malleable and amenable to manipulation and even gaslighting. History values multi-perspectivity, whereas collective memory privileges one common narrative. Given these tensions between history and memory, commemorations can prove to be contentious, and even controversial. 

Commemoration and history education

The practice of history and the act of commemoration may be an awkward fit, but in dealing with the past, we cannot run away from the possible challenges that might arise. How do we reconcile historical scholarship with the collective memory that commemoration seeks to build? What do such anniversaries mean for the younger generation and why does teaching about the commemorated events matter? And, if it is important to bring these events of public remembrance into the classroom, how do we transfer them into meaningful classroom experiences?

As history teachers, we have to be clear and deliberate in how we want to approach the anniversaries of key historical events with our students. It is vital to help them distinguish between history and memory, and be discerning in how they express appreciation of the past. One way is to examine commemorations and anniversaries through the conceptual lens of historical significance. As the historical significance of an event is often ascribed to it by those who came later, it can vary over time and across groups. Similarly, commemorations are reiterative and may change over time, together with the significance of what is being commemorated (Tuathaigh, 2014; Wolfrum et al, 2016).

SG60 can be a useful case study to illustrate this historical understanding. History teachers are familiar with Phillips’ GREAT framework and Counsell’s 5Rs for determining historical significance. Going by these frameworks, 9 August 1965 is indisputably a significant date in Singapore history. However, does its importance increase,  or does it become more worthy of commemoration, when the anniversary falls on is a multiple of 10 years? To help us address this, it is important to place the event and its commemoration in context, by asking the following questions (Tuathaigh, 2014):

Who is doing the commemorating?

What is the stated reason for the commemoration, the declared purpose or aim?

What exactly is being commemorated?

What form(s) is the commemoration to take?

Why now? – the issue of timing or frequency

Together with our students, we can also reflect on how changes in the characteristics of the group involved would affect the meaning and significance of a historical event and how it is commemorated. As Singapore’s demographics change over time, do the traits or characteristics that make us Singaporean change as well? It is clear that the values, beliefs and outlook of the Pioneer Generation are not entirely the same as that of Gen Z Singaporeans, and that of the new Gen Beta (born this year and after) will differ as well. Does this make a particular generation any less Singaporean than others? With the ascendance of each new generation, how has the commemoration of National Day changed over time, and how might it evolve in the future?

This year, then, let us answer the call for reflection, and ponder what it makes us Singaporean, and how we can commemorate the birth of our nation in ways that are meaningful and sustainable for generations to come. Majulah Singapura!

References

• Halbwachs, M. (1950). On collective memory. University of Chicago press.

• Savage, K. (2007). History, memory, and monuments: An overview of the scholarly literature on commemoration. University of Pittsburgh.

• Saito, H. (2010). From Collective Memory to Commemoration. In Handbook of Cultural Sociology (pp. 629-638). London: Routledge.

• Tuathaigh, G. Ó. (2014). Commemoration, public history and the professional historian: an Irish perspective. Estudios irlandeses, (9), 137.

• Wolfrum, E., Triebel, O., Arendes, C., Siebold, A., & Duyster Borredà, J. (Eds.). (2016). European Commemoration: Locating World War I (ifa Edition Culture and Foreign Policy). Stuttgart: ifa (Institut für Auslandsbeziehungen). https://nbn-resolving.org/urn:nbn:de:0168-ssoar-51520-9.

• Wong, L. (2024) speech at People’s Association Community Club Management Committees (CCMC) 60th anniversary on 4 November 2024. https://www.pmo.gov.sg/Newsroom/PM-Lawrence-Wong-at-the-PA-CCMC-60th-Anniversary. Retrieved on 14 January 2025.