The Crusade of a Humanist Psychologist

Originally from the city of Da Nang, Central Vietnam, nothing predestined Mr Uy to renew the practice of psychology Vietnam: he was born from a very modest family. His parents have a low level of education and worked as market peddlers. Yet Mr Uy took an early interest in psychology. More than purely intellectual motivation, it is the empathy that comes with discipline and the ability to help others that his passion stems from. Sitting straight in his chair, in a corner of his office in Central Saigon, the air infused with the scent of chamomile flowers, the 43-year-old offers a serious and attentive face for the interview. Mr Uy speaks quickly and has a lot to say about his country and the urgent need to develop suitable psychotherapies to help his people, including the poorest.

In 1994, he was in his senior year and then moved to Saigon where he studied and obtained his university degree in psychology.

“When I got out of college, I didn’t feel like I could practice my profession properly, I didn’t have the expertise that a psychologist should have,”

he explains. The desire to always improve himself made him discover different approaches and, over the course of various meetings, he became aware of the failure of the Vietnamese system. After his course in classic psychology, he took advantage of the establishment of a Swiss university to learn about family therapy until 2003.

“In school, the teacher talks, talks, talks, without allowing the slightest intervention on the part of his class or worrying about the progress of each individual student. In psychology, we should do the exact opposite.” Says Mr Uy, advocating for reform of the system: The goal is to remove the current system in which psychology is implemented in the country and instead offer another practice of psychology, based on listening, empathy and sharing.

The unprofessional psychologists, however, should not shoulder all the blame for the lack of effective psychological treatment in the country. The deep ignorance of the population, who often have never heard of psychology or, at best, do not know what to expect during a consultation, are also partially to blame. Admittedly, a few decades ago, this ignorance of psychology was common to all of Asia, but certain countries such as the Philippines, Singapore, Indonesia, and Malaysia were able to catch up quickly. They now offer quality university training. All serious Vietnamese psychologists have studied there or, like Mr Uy, learned from foreigners who came to practice in Vietnam. Most of the other practitioners have neither the curiosity to be interested in foreign approaches nor even the necessary critical eye on the weakness of their own practice. A double paralysis that sustains itself and prevents the development of psychology. However, it would be beneficial in a country where institutions are omnipresent and weigh on the population.

While many of his colleagues now seek fame on the internet and on television in hyper-connected Vietnam, Mr Uy focuses on the urgency of advancing his discipline in his country and helping Vietnamese youth. “In Vietnam, a person is successful and enriched by telling people what they want to hear. Today I am 43 years old, and when I am invited to TV shows, I warn them that I will not deny my beliefs. I am proud to be a rigorous scientist and will not sacrifice ethics for fame,” he says firmly.

But the psychologist is not satisfied with speeches. Away from the cameras, he helps children who have no one to talk to – even those who sometimes never learned to talk.

“Our goal is to empower these children. We realise the grip of the family that muzzles them when we speak with them. Their horizons are totally blocked.”

When asked if they have a dream, they don’t say they don’t have one. It’s much deeper than that: they don’t understand the meaning of the question.

Several times a year, Mr Uy trains local officials of the Children of the Mekong association to help them have a better approach to the youth with whom they help.
Often, certain psychological blockages earn these young people a reputation for laziness or apathy. “It’s true that they don’t have a sense of responsibility. But is it their fault? In daily life, their decision-making power is minimal: decision-making is always monopolised by the generation above and few are those in a real position to take their destiny in their own hands”, explains Mr Uy patiently. For him, the solution almost always lies on the listening side: “We have to listen to these young people to allow them to discover their autonomy and to stop the drain of accountability. Self-awareness would solve many ailments in Vietnamese society”, says Uy.