Vietnam’s ruling communists rush to fill the country’s top jobs

THE MONOLITHIC façade erected by one of the world’s most secretive ruling parties is intended to project awesome power, competence and granite-faced consensus. Yet the cracks in the Vietnamese Communist Party’s front of late have been only too obvious to both ordinary Vietnamese and foreign businesses.

In March the state president, Vo Van Thuong, was fired for “violations” and “shortcomings”—words presumed to refer to corruption. Extraordinarily, Mr Thuong had been in place for little more than a year, after his predecessor took the rap for a massive scam involving covid-19 testing kits. Then in April the chairman of the National Assembly, Vuong Dinh Hue, quit, for (also unexplained) “violations” that supposedly harmed the party, the state and himself. And on May 16th the powerful head of the party’s central secretariat, Truong Thi Mai, the first woman to rise so high, resigned on similar grounds. In short order, then, incumbents of three of the land’s five most powerful posts have been fired. Such turmoil is unprecedented. It is assumed to be related to a fierce battle against graft being waged by the 80-year-old general secretary of the party, Nguyen Phu Trong. Mr Trong calls this campaign his “blazing furnace”.

The downfall of these cadres hints at how corruption reaches to the very top of the party. Deeply embarrassed, it has rushed to restore calm. On May 18th To Lam, the minister in charge of the police and public security, was made state president. On May 20th a National Assembly stalwart, Tran Thanh Man, was made its chairman. And a senior general, Luong Cuong, has been moved to the central secretariat to replace Ms Mai.

The one to wonder about is Mr Lam. Head of state is not the most powerful job (that is Mr Trong’s post). But it matters in the conduct of foreign affairs. President Vladimir Putin of Russia was expected to fly to Hanoi after a recent state visit to China; but the trip was cancelled for lack of a head of state to greet him. The presidency is also a potential springboard to the general secretaryship. The three-term Mr Trong will step down at the party’s next five-yearly congress in 2026—if his poor health allows him to last that long.

Mr Lam’s deputy has been made the interim police minister—until a Politburo-level replacement is found. It is a potent job: Mr Lam was probably behind Mr Thuong’s downfall. Should one of his own men replace him, that will strengthen his position. But, says Le Hong Hiep of the ISEAS-Yusof Ishak Institute in Singapore, that would bring with it risks for the country. If he does become general secretary, Mr Lam might use the levers of power to turn Vietnam into a police state, viewing national affairs chiefly through the prism of security. It might even, Mr Hiep suggests, threaten the party’s very survival, by shattering all notions of consensus.

If, by contrast, a security minister is appointed from outside Mr Lam’s camp, then he might himself become a target for the blazing furnace. The police force, after all, is among Vietnam’s most corrupt institutions. And Mr Lam’s family, like those of many senior leaders, have their fingers deep in business pies. His brother, for instance, has interests in property, energy and transport. Should Mr Lam have to take the rap for past corruption, then turmoil at the top would break out again.

In other words, a period of uncertainty, in which the fight against graft and fierce jockeying for power grow increasingly conjoined, is likely to last at least until the party congress in early 2026. (The uncertainty would tip into crisis if Mr Trong were incapacitated before then.) Foreign businesses riding an investment boom in Vietnam are right to be concerned, less because the direction of economic policy might change, but rather since political infighting could prove a distraction from policymaking and might only aggravate tendencies towards bureaucratic foot-dragging. Mr Hiep points to delays already in project approvals. Even as the furnace blazes, some of the shine comes off the Vietnam story. ■