Hanoi is often known in Vietnam as the land of a millennium-old civilization, a living archive of past Vietnam life. Each tiny alley within the capital can evoke a strong sense of nostalgia in visitors, as those locations encapsulate both wartime memories and charming quotidien moments. There’s one special place in Hanoi that has contributed to the city’s languid pace of life amid the nation’s rapid developments — khu gia binh.
A firsthand witness to the early days of socialist transformation
The concept behind khu gia binh, meaning “quarters for military families,” first appeared in the 1960s–1980s, right in the middle of Vietnam’s ongoing war against the US. Its rise could be seen as a consequence of the Geneva Accords signed in 1954, which divided the land into two regions along the 17th parallel, where Hiền Lương Bridge links the two banks of the Bến Hải River, Quảng Trị Province. As such, numerous families had to flee their homes for various reasons.
Meanwhile, the Việt Minh Front launched a campaign encouraging the people to “move to the north” to strengthen the manpower to rebuild the region while preparing to liberate the south. During the period, much of the north was still grappling with postwar challenges, including destroyed infrastructures and an urgent lack of housing, the government decided to establish many collective housing projects to quickly provide cheap housing. These structures are known by many names such as khu tập thể, khu cư xá, or khu chung cư. Still, they only prioritized families with certain contributions to the revolution and country, as determined by number of years in service, government accolades, etc.
The design of khu gia binh drew heavily from that of khrushchevka, a similar type of residential complex in the Soviet Union. Khrushchevka typically has at most five stories, as more would require lifts. Similarly, rarely do Vietnam’s old tenements exceed five floors, too.
Khu gia binh, a form of collective housing of the subsidy era, was a model borrowed from the Soviet Union. After the October Revolution in 1920, the world’s first socialist state was born, which had major influences on Vietnam’s development. Khu gia binh, thus, epitomized the country’s ambitions to embrace socialist ideals, starting from communal living and discouraging individualism. Naturally, this housing model swiftly became a distinctive cultural trait of northern Vietnam’s way of life as it dovetailed with the people’s inherent communal lifestyle.
Residents often referred to khu gia binh by the moniker “quân khu” (military region) though that was mostly a street nickname, as officially designated quân khu must be decreed by President Hồ Chí Minh. In 1960–1970, Vietnam only had six such official regions: Việt Bắc, Tây Bắc, Đông Bắc, Tả Ngạn, Hữu Ngạn, and the 4th Region. This moniker was started and widely embraced by the children of khu gia binh, as a gesture of pride and perhaps a little “showing off” to those living elsewhere. The name didn’t appear on any official paper but has entered the people’s minds, like quân khu Nam Đồng or quân khu Khâm Thiên.
A slice of subsidy-era life
Khu gia binh-style complexes share plenty of similarities with the mikrorayon (mini district) and khrushchevka (tenement) models of the Soviet Union. Building blocks were often constructed in parallel formations, comprising numerous identical units with open space and ample natural lighting. Instead of traditional bricks, architects opted for on-site poured concrete columns in addition to walls and floors made of prefabricated concrete — a technique not different from many residential neighborhoods in Europe.
Due to the period’s severe economic constraints, many infrastructural elements like stairs, running water, electricity, and toilets were often incomplete. The copy-and-paste architectural style to maximize accommodation density was also often criticized for its inflexibility and monotony. Nonetheless, compared to the average living conditions of the city at the time, this “modern” new form of residence was once a dream for an entire generation of Hanoians.
Rural and urban habits intermingled at khu gia binh.
In his memoir Quân Khu Nam Đồng, author Bình Ca painted a picture of where he grew up in vivid detail: families co-inhabited buildings named Block 1, 2, and 3, each had four floors, and each floor included nine units. Households were usually grouped by places of work, though residents could socialize with neighbors from any block. The children would bump into one another at Đống Đa High School, or at streetside drink stalls, and soccer matches when school wasn’t in session.
Most units in Nam Đồng back then each had a chicken coop and a water tank made out of repurposed missile shells to keep water for daily use — a unique characteristic illustrating how northern cities were “ruralizing.” As such, many rural ways of life were transported and maintained even when their practitioners moved to metropolises. Vice versa, the touch of urbanity also affected them. Khu gia binh Nam Đồng built two soccer fields so the kids could exercise, and even organized amateur tournaments to boost community morale.
Life was marred by many difficulties, so residents in khu gia binh learned to be frugal and resourceful by sharing common spaces like cooking areas and bathrooms. Most people took care of family heirlooms and other valuable items owned by neighbors and relatives to pass down through generations. “During wartime, parents were occupied with countless responsibilities and barely had time for their kids. Not to mention that many fathers and mothers were away on military missions for years, if they return at all. There was no time to form a bond with their children even if they wanted to,” Bình Ca writes.
With barely any parental figures, children in khu gia binh grew up by interacting with their peers and the outside world.
There are a plethora of khu gia binh of varying sizes in Hanoi, and between them, conflicts arose quite often. Yhru usually transpired because of the strong personalities of the local kids, who were military brats, not content to sit around in the face of wrongdoings. Yet, as they often had poor impulse control, disputes tended to be resolved with fists. A few incidents became urban legends, like the fight between Nam Đồng and Lý Thường Kiệt quarters, or those of 3B Ông Ích Khiêm Quarter, 1A Hoàng Văn Thụ Quarter, and 28A Điện Biên Quarter.
Though their parents were military officers, the kids weren’t strictly monitored. They navigated social dynamics via interactions with their surrounding environs, at school, with peers, teachers, and, sometimes, rivals. These experiences delivered invaluable lessons to help them develop physical and mental capacities. When it was time to evacuate, the children ended up meeting people with different temperaments and cultural backgrounds. In spite of inadequate parental care, khu gia binh kids always carry a sense of pride with regard to their community’s identity.
Nurturing artistic souls
Although khu gia binh were created to house military households, life there extended beyond political and military concerns. They were surprisingly nurturing grounds for creative talents, producing a number of iconic writers and artists contributing to Vietnam’s resistance legacy. Many created artworks while living in rickety homes painted in that iconic yellow shade and by wooden windows dotted with the marks of time.
Khu gia binh also produced a generation of artists.
A prominent example is khu gia binh Lý Nam Đế, which currently houses the operation of the Military Magazine. It was once the home of several nationally famed authors, including Nguyễn Minh Châu, Thu Bồn, Lê Lựu, and Trần Đăng Khoa. During the eras of uncertainty and even after peace was achieved, Vietnam was still struggling with poverty, literature became a soothing remedy for the soul, keeping the fire burning amid so much loss. Literature and the arts could also do their part in the resistance by uplifting the people’s spirits.
Bình Ca once exclaimed: “One thing that distinguished our army from those of other countries was how we had our own ‘artistic squad.’ We had painters like Quang Thọ and Nguyễn Nghiêm, composers like Thuận Yến, Văn An and Nguyễn Đức Toàn, writers like Hữu Mai, Đỗ Chu, Hồ Phương and Hải Hồ.” Their prized contributions became associated with khu gia binh, the home of people who devote their entire life’s work to the growth of the nation.
Is khu gia binh a thing of the past?
The wars have been put to rest, and generations of inhabitants of khu gia binh have gradually moved away. Old units were sold to new owners and a new coat of paint came afterwards; only memories remain within those who grew up there. Some are still around today, but most units have been made over, moving alongside the developing rhythms of a new society. The professions and artistic pursuits of the old days could no longer find inheritors, because the country has changed, allowing new trades to flourish and giving kids the freedom to chase their own dreams.
Today, khu gia binh has become the home for retired military officers, though some were dismantled.
Reminiscing about their time living in khu gia binh, most people remember not just the instability, the relocations, or the mischievous games played with friends, but also the bond of a military household. Even though everyone was busy and family reunions were scarce, there was a connection. Each khu gia binh kids might have their own memories, but the shared experiences of life within the blocks of khu gia binh will remain treasured as reminders of the country’s transformative time.
