How Vietnam Is Personalising To Lam Without Building a Personality Cult

When To Lam addressed the Shangri-La Dialogue in Singapore last month, the speech first appeared to be diplomatic. In the first keynote by a Communist Party of Vietnam (CPV) chief at the forum, Lam used Asia’s premier security gathering to warn against great-power disorder and to present Vietnam as a pragmatic and resilient middle power.

But the speech also projected a new and coherent image of a Vietnamese leader without venturing into building a personality cult. He appeared less as a former public-security official and more as an execution-oriented leader who presents reform, development, technology and Vietnam’s growing international role as parts of the same national project. At home, that image is reinforced by his “new era” slogan: a technocratic, delivery-focused leader associated less with doctrine and more with implementation, results and improvements to everyday life.

That image has gained stronger institutional backing since Lam became CPV general secretary in August 2024 after the death of his predecessor, Nguyen Phu Trong. His confirmation as party chief for a new five-year term at the January 2026 Party Congress, followed by his election as state president in April, has further consolidated his authority.

The appeal for the propaganda apparatus is clear. Compared with the image of austere authority associated with Trong, Lam’s image and messaging resonate more easily across digital platforms. State media and their social media accounts have presented him through short, easily circulated scenes: meeting party cadres, engaging with foreign leaders and attending national functions. Pro-Lam and pro-regime accounts have then recast these appearances through short videos, captions, music and emotive online content that portrays Lam as compassionate and attentive to ordinary citizens. One TikTok video, for example, highlighted Lam’s emotional response to the plight of abandoned children and his call for the state to find a way to address the problem. The core message is that Lam sits at the centre of the system and is driving it.

Vietnam is treading an intriguing path: using platform-era propaganda to build leader-centred narratives while a system built on collective leadership norms continues to guard the boundary between leader promotion and personality-cult politics.

The question is how Vietnam’s propaganda apparatus can make Lam more relatable without crossing into personality-cult territory. Marxist-Leninist systems have accommodated personality cults before, from Stalin and Mao to the Kim dynasty in North Korea. But in Vietnam, Lam still operates in a system built on collective leadership, elite bargaining and ideological discipline. Ho Chi Minh also remains Vietnam’s founding leader and the only figure around whom sacred political reverence has long been permitted, making overt personal exaltation of Lam politically risky.

The enforcement of that boundary requires a coordinated system for promoting Lam’s image. State media coverage and pro-Lam online amplification suggest coordination around his image-building, but documenting the machinery behind it would be difficult. Recent reporting on internal party documents gives a clearer view of how Vietnam is organising platform-era propaganda around its senior leaders, including Lam.

Reuters reported in May that Vietnamese authorities are seeking to recruit influencers and AI experts, expand podcasts and short-form content, train officials in digital communication, make online discourse more “positive” and encourage more creative coverage of senior leaders. Although this does not prove direct control over every pro-Lam account or viral post, it does suggest a move from informal amplification toward a more coordinated platform-era propaganda system.

Vietnam is not moving in isolation. Prabowo Subianto’s 2024 campaign in Indonesia helped turn a former general into a more approachable figure through viral dance moves and cuddly cartoon imagery. The Philippines shows how fake accounts and paid influencers can shape political narratives at scale.

Vietnam differs because these tools are being integrated into a one-party propaganda system, making China the more relevant institutional comparison: influencer mobilisation, AI-assisted monitoring, short-form content, targets for “positive” online content, leader-centred messaging and tighter message discipline. But Vietnam is not simply copying China.

The similarity lies in the tools, not in how far the system is willing to personalise power. Under Xi Jinping, China has moved much closer to overt leader glorification. Xi’s name and ideology have been written into party doctrine, and his image is promoted through apps, songs, cartoons and constant state-media visibility. Vietnam under To Lam does not go that far. It is adapting Lam’s image to social media, but in a way that remains controlled by party-state structures.

There are political reasons why Vietnam is unlikely to turn Lam’s image-building into a personality cult. His reform agenda requires buy-in from ideological conservatives, military elites, technocrats and party networks. Leader promotion is therefore useful but sensitive. Propagandists can link Lam to national renewal, but cannot easily make him look indispensable without unsettling the system he needs to hold together.

Recent episodes suggest that Vietnam is still policing the boundary between leader promotion and personality-cult territory. In April, “My Uncle”, a song reportedly dedicated to Lam, appeared to trigger official unease because it likened him to Ho Chi Minh. Soon after, Reuters reported, state media were told not to cover “improperly oriented” cultural products that could undermine the prestige of communist leaders and ideology.

A month later, a similar sensitivity surfaced around Ngo Phuong Ly, Lam’s wife. Reports said state-linked outlets initially used “suy tôn” – roughly, “to exalt” or “to reverentially elevate”– to describe her appointment as honorary chair of a children’s rights association. The wording was later softened to “mời” (“invited”), suggesting discomfort with prestige language that bordered on veneration.

The likely next step is not an official To Lam TikTok account or a strongman-influencer model. More plausibly, his “new era” image will be promoted through an increasingly coordinated mix of state media, official portals, short videos, selected influencers and managed online narratives.

If used well, such a method could tie reform and modernisation to a unifying national story; if overdone, it risks raising expectations of personal delivery and inviting backlash if implementation lags. Vietnam is treading an intriguing path: using platform-era propaganda to build leader-centred narratives while a system built on collective leadership norms continues to guard the boundary between leader promotion and personality-cult politics.

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