Fast-Tracking “National Rise”: How Vietnam Is Learning from China

The story often told about Vietnam’s China policy is one of historical distrust, South China Sea disputes and the imperative of a smaller state to guard its autonomy against an overbearing neighbour. That story is real. But it obscures another dynamic that may bring the relationship towards greater convergence: Hanoi’s active learning from Beijing to fast-track its “national rise” — the ambitious vision of its leader To Lam. Vietnam increasingly looks at China through a forward-looking developmental agenda — not only as a key partner for investment and commerce, but also a primary source of lessons on how a strong state can drive economic transformation.

Learning from China has been a longstanding feature in Vietnam’s history: from Confucian administrative institutions and the imperial examination system in earlier centuries, to the devastating land reform campaign of the 1950s, and later the parallels between Vietnam’s Renovation (“Đổi Mới”) and Deng Xiaoping’s Reform and Opening. Throughout Đổi Mới, China has been Hanoi’s principal reference point for modernising the economy while preserving political control.

Under To Lam, this learning arc has acquired a new developmental focus. Whereas previous generations looked to China for lessons in party organisation, political control, and economic reform, the current leadership is increasingly interested in how a strong party-state can transform physical space through infrastructure, urban redevelopment, and public mobilisation to accelerate national development.

This shift is evident in Hanoi’s current sweeping land clearance campaign to accelerate infrastructure building. Around 1,428 projects are undergoing site clearance across the capital, from ring roads to Red River bridges and large-scale new towns, turning the city into a “vast construction site”. The scale, speed and political resolve of this effort mark a significant departure from previous leadership eras and reflect To Lam’s emphasis on decisive action and fast implementation.

To Lam’s April 2026 state visit to China sheds light on where he looks for inspiration. Beyond official meetings, he travelled by high-speed rail to Xiong’an New Area in Hebei. Established by party decree in 2017 on former farmland, Xiong’an embodies China’s flagship experiment of state-led urban transformation through advanced infrastructure, green design, digital operating systems and administrative relocation.

China has long occupied a dual place in Vietnam’s national psyche — a source of both strategic anxiety and statecraft learning. To Lam appears to have recalibrated that balance in favour of the latter.

That inspiration rests on broadly shared institutional foundations. In China, urban land is state-owned. In Vietnam, land belongs to “the entire people”, with the state acting as representative owner, while individual citizens hold only land-use rights. This gives governments broad discretion to recover and reallocate land for projects deemed to serve national interests. In China, these powers enabled the remaking of cities such as Shanghai, Shenzhen and Chongqing, where entire districts gave way to financial centres, metro systems, industrial parks, airports and high-speed rail networks.

China’s experience also illustrates the political and social costs of such state capacity. From the 1990s onward, chaiqian (拆迁, “demolish and relocate”) became a defining feature of reform-era urbanisation. Local governments acquired land, relocated residents and leased land-use rights to finance development. The process generated widespread social tension, prompting Beijing to soften its approach over time — from the language of forced demolition to one of housing expropriation, market-based compensation and managed relocation.

Vietnam’s current approach is evolving in a similar direction. Compensation for land acquisition has been raised to up to twice the standard rate for major projects in Hanoi, alongside efforts to expand resettlement areas for relocation. Yet implementation has been uneven. Given the scale of displacement and the pace of land clearance, complaints over compensation, resettlement and fairness have surfaced.

Managing these tensions requires a persuasive political narrative beyond administrative and coercive power. Here, too, Hanoi is drawing from the Leninist repertoire of political mobilisation. Mainstream media frames land clearance as a necessary step towards building modern cities underpinning the nation’s rise. The disruption experienced by affected communities is recast as a necessary contribution to collective national progress, while the urgency to act becomes a governing imperative: Vietnam cannot afford to miss its rapidly closing window to become a developed nation.

This bears a striking resemblance to Xi Jinping’s invocation of the “great rejuvenation of the Chinese nation” to mobilise the Chinese people — including his call for young Chinese, amid a tough job market, to embrace hardship in rural areas, or the prioritisation of state resources for “new quality productive forces” over boosting household income. Both narratives invite citizens to see themselves as participants in a historic national project that transcends personal interest, deriving legitimacy from the promise that sacrifice today will secure national renewal tomorrow.

Urban transformation is one among many areas in which Hanoi’s developmental learning from Beijing is taking shape. To Lam is looking to China across a wider set of priorities: high-speed rail, technological upgrading, energy transition, e-governance and cyberspace sovereignty. Equally important, Hanoi is also learning from China’s setbacks. For example, it is seeking to avoid the kind of property market correction that has weighed heavily on China’s economic growth.

Of note, this contemporary learning is embedded within the shared revolutionary foundations of Vietnam-China relations. The “Red Study Tour”, initiated by To Lam and Xi Jinping, and organised by the two countries’ youth organisations, illustrates this approach. Alongside returning to revolutionary history and socialist ideals, more than 1,000 Vietnamese participants have also visited China’s centres of technological innovation, modern urban planning and enterprise development. Revolutionary solidarity is thus being repurposed to enable the exchange of contemporary governance and development practices.

China has long occupied a dual place in Vietnam’s national psyche — a source of both strategic anxiety and statecraft learning. To Lam appears to have recalibrated that balance in favour of the latter. As he pursues his “national rise” ambition, China offers not only capital, markets and technology but a proven template for how a strong state can reshape physical space, mobilise resources and accelerate development. That template is now visibly at work in Hanoi’s streets. Developmental learning, the quieter half of the Vietnam-China relationship over the past decade, may be becoming its most consequential going forward.

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