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The constitution is a remarkable document in other ways. Haunted by the specter of Diem's dictatorship, the drafters created a check-and-balance system of an executive, a bicameral National Assembly and a judiciary in which most of the checks are on the power of the executive. Thus, though the President determines national policy and commands the armed forces, his decrees, even in times of emergency, must be approved by the National Assembly; his vetoes of legislation may be overridden by a simple majority of both the Senate and House of Representatives. (The 137-man House will be elected Oct. 22, to complete the nation's constitutional government.)
The House and Senate have the power to impeach the President and Vice President; they can amend the constitution by a two-thirds vote, and they have the power to declare war and make peace. The Assembly also will choose the nine to 15 judges who will make up South Viet Nam's Supreme Court.
An amalgam of U.S. and European democratic structures, the constitution is American in its provision for a popularly elected President, European in the predominance of power it gives to the legislature. Even so, the fact that his country is at war, plus the power of the army at his back, inevitably gives Thieu a leverage in the legislature that is greater than a mere reading of the constitution might indicate.
Free from Lottery. Just how much that leverage will amount to depends in large part on Thieu's political skills, which are likely to be sorely tested—as they ought to be in a democracy—in his dealings with the legislature. Most Vietnamese politicians believe the six elected Senate slates will soon form into three groups—pro-government, opposition and swing-vote blocs—that will become solid nuclei for the development of two or three future nationwide political parties. Sure to cause trouble with Tri Quang and his militant Buddhists is the fact that half the new Senators are Catholic, although Catholics represent only 10% of the population.
But in fact the House, not the Senate, is the stronger of the two houses of the National Assembly, and the situation there promises to be far different. The House election will be along strictly representational lines, free from the lottery of slates. Candidates must run in their own localities and, in an astonishing show of vitality, some 1,500 are doing just that in the 137 election districts—302 are campaigning for Saigon's 15 seats alone. Some candidates will be disqualified before the official House campaign gets under way Oct. 6, but it will almost surely be a free-swinging campaign. A good many candidates, having observed the unexpected success of Truong Dinh Dzu, are likely to try to emulate it by turning into little Dzus, hitting hard at Thieu and plumping for peace at almost any price.
The Dzu Story. Basking in the sudden attention generated by his surprising finish, Dzu himself is already claiming the right to lead a coalition of the civilian opposition. But there has been no rush to fall into the ranks behind him; even by the devious standards of Vietnamese politics, Dzu is a maverick and a jumble of contradictions. Born in Binh Dinh province, he was schooled in Hanoi, moved to the Delta city of Can Tho to practice law in 1944, then on to Saigon in 1945. He soon demonstrated an ability to work with anybody.