The Publications
That Recorded a City

When newspapers and magazines disappear, a city loses more than headlines. It loses one of the ways it remembers itself.

On June 30, 2026, eight long-standing publications in Ho Chi Minh City are scheduled to cease operations in their current form, according to the announced restructuring plan. These institutions, which have documented the city’s life for decades, will publish their final editions, leaving behind archives that now stand as historical artifacts rather than living publications.

For many residents, these were not merely media brands but familiar companions: the newspaper read over morning coffee, the magazine that offered advice to young families, the business weekly that tracked the city’s economic pulse. Their closure represents the end of a particular kind of connection between a city and its readers—one that cannot be replicated through screens.

Saigon and the Tradition of Urban Journalism

To understand why these publications mattered, one must first appreciate Saigon’s historical role as a publishing centre. Long before the digital age, Saigon was a crucible of journalistic activity, a place where newspapers were not merely sources of information but instruments of social and political change.

The birth of Vietnamese political journalism in Saigon dates back to the early twentieth century. The city, as the colonial capital of French Indochina, became a laboratory for new forms of public expression. What contemporaries called the “newspaper village”—the community of journalists, printers, and readers that clustered around publications—created an unprecedented public sphere in which all manner of issues could be debated.

Khoa học Phổ thông (Popular Science), one of the eight publications now closing, has an exceptionally long lineage. It was first established in the 1930s as a scientific magazine in colonial Saigon, founded by chemical engineer Lâm Văn Vãng. The publication carried a poetic motto on its pages: “Khoa học vững trơ cầm đuốc rọi” — “Science stands firm, holding the torch alight.” It survived colonial disruption, wartime interruption, and returned in 1976 as a journal, later becoming a newspaper in 1980, and finally a magazine in 2022. Now, this torch will be extinguished.

The Eight Publications
— a final chronicle

Under a city-wide media restructuring plan, Ho Chi Minh City will retain only three media organizations: the Sài Gòn Giải Phóng newspaper, the Tuổi Trẻ online newspaper, and the Ho Chi Minh City Radio and Television Station. The following eight publications will be dissolved entirely, with their final editions published by June 30, 2026, and operations officially concluded by August 31, 2026. A total of 553 staff members will be affected.

The Publications and the City They Recorded

Each of these eight publications captured a different facet of Ho Chi Minh City’s evolution. Together, they form a mosaic of urban life that no single history could replicate.

Người Lao Động tracked the city’s industrialization and the lives of its working class. Phụ Nữ TP.HCM documented the transformation of family life and women’s roles. Pháp Luật TP.HCM recorded the development of legal institutions and civic society. Giáo Dục TP.HCM chronicled education reform and the aspirations of Vietnamese families. Du Lịch TP.HCM shaped and reflected the city’s emergence as a global tourist destination. Doanh Nhân Sài Gòn captured the entrepreneurial spirit that defines Saigon’s commercial identity. Kinh tế Sài Gòn analysed the market economy that transformed Vietnam. And Khoa học Phổ thông nurtured scientific literacy across generations.

This is the intellectual heart of the story: these publications did not merely report on the city—they helped shape it. They provided a forum for debate, a record of change, and a mirror in which the city could see itself.

How These Publications Helped Introduce Vietnam to the World

For readers of Indochine Chic, this is where the story connects directly to our core mission. Publications like Du Lịch TP.HCM and Kinh tế Sài Gòn played a crucial role in shaping Vietnam’s international image.

The tourism magazine documented the evolution of Vietnam’s hospitality industry, from the colonial-era hotels of Hanoi and Saigon to the luxury resorts of Hội An, Huế, and the Mekong Delta. It helped introduce destinations like Hội An’s lantern-lit streets, the Imperial Citadel of Huế, and the floating markets of the Mekong to a global audience. These publications were the bridge between Vietnam’s heritage and the world.

Kinh tế Sài Gòn similarly documented the rise of Vietnam as an economic destination, tracking the development of key industries, the emergence of Vietnamese brands, and the integration of Vietnam into the global economy. For business travellers and investors, this publication was an essential guide to understanding modern Vietnam.

These publications, along with their sister titles, formed part of a broader ecosystem of cultural promotion. They didn’t just report on tourism and business—they actively shaped the narrative of a nation opening to the world.

Why These Publications Mattered

Cities are remembered through institutions as much as through buildings. The publications that recorded a city’s daily life, its struggles and triumphs, its ordinary moments and extraordinary events, are essential to its memory.

Newspapers record everyday life, not just major events. The advertisements, interviews, and local reporting that filled the pages of these publications are now invaluable historical evidence. They capture the rhythms of daily existence—what people bought, what they worried about, what they celebrated. When researchers of the future seek to understand Ho Chi Minh City in the late twentieth and early twenty-first centuries, they will turn to these archives.

The End of an Era

The closure is part of a larger consolidation of media in Ho Chi Minh City. The city’s Party Committee issued Decision No. 863-QĐ/TU, approving a plan to restructure media organizations, reducing them from eleven to just three. The rationale includes streamlining operations and improving efficiency in an era of declining print readership and advertising revenue.

But for those who worked at these publications, and for their readers, the closure is deeply personal. The journalists who reported on labour issues, women’s concerns, legal affairs, education, tourism, business, economics, and science will lose their institutional homes. The readers who turned to these publications for information, guidance, and connection will lose a familiar companion.

What Remains

For those interested in Vietnamese history and culture, the archived issues of these publications remain valuable sources. Old magazines reveal how Vietnam presented itself to residents and visitors over time. They document changes in fashion, language, and lifestyle. They trace the evolution of tourism, business, education, and urban life.

Researchers can trace these changes through the pages of the publications that covered them. The advertisements, the opinion pieces, the photographs, and the advice columns all speak to a particular time and place. For those who study Vietnam’s development, these archives are an indispensable resource.

Conclusion: A City’s Memory Does Not End Here

The closure of these eight publications marks the end of institutions, not the end of the stories they recorded. Ho Chi Minh City continues to change, and future historians will rely on the archives, photographs, articles, and interviews left behind by these publications to understand how the city became what it is today.

There is a poignancy to this moment. The workers who read Người Lao Động will find their routines broken. The women who turned to Phụ Nữ TP.HCM for advice will need to find new sources of counsel. The business leaders who tracked economic trends in Kinh tế Sài Gòn will turn elsewhere. These are personal losses, part of the human dimension of a larger transformation.

But something irreplaceable has been lost. The particular character of each publication—its voice, its perspective, its connection to its readers—cannot be transferred to a new platform. The 553 staff members affected by the closures will carry their expertise elsewhere, but the institutions they built over decades will not continue.

Ho Chi Minh City will not forget these publications. Their names will be remembered, their archives will be preserved, and their contributions to the city’s story will be acknowledged. For travelers, historians, and residents alike, the story of Saigon’s—and Ho Chi Minh City’s—media heritage remains one of resilience, adaptation, and the enduring power of the written word, even as that word’s printed form fades into memory.