The Risk of Vietnam’s Local Leadership Carousel

Nguyen Duc Trung thought he had reached the pinnacle of his career. On 13 November 2025, the Politburo of the Communist Party of Vietnam (CPV) moved him from being the party chief of Nghe An Province to the chairman of Hanoi City, one of the country’s most powerful local jobs. Yet just 15 days later he stepped down, citing “unexpected health reasons”, and resurfaced as a deputy at a little-known central policy commission. His brief tenure is an extreme example of a bigger story: Vietnam’s effort to cure provincial “localism” through mass cadre rotation has created a leadership carousel that risks undermining governance itself.

The scale of the shake-up is extraordinary. In mid-2025 the National Assembly approved a plan to merge 63 provinces into 34 units, the most dramatic administrative restructuring since the country’s reunification in 1975. By the end of that year, the CPV had completed an equally radical personnel experiment: 100 per cent of provincial party secretaries and chairs of provincial people’s committees — the real powers in these localities — will come from outside the provinces they govern.

The logic is straightforward. “Localism” — entrenched patronage networks linking officials, businesses and clans — has long plagued Vietnam’s local governance. Provincial bosses who grow up and build careers in one place often prioritise parochial interests over national directives. A notable example is Le Thanh Hai, the former party secretary and chairman of Ho Chi Minh City, who developed his entire political career within the city and fostered a broad network of cronies along the way. This reportedly included Truong My Lan, the former chairwoman of Van Thinh Phat Group and a key owner of Saigon Commercial Bank. Lan, who allegedly built her business empire with Hai’s political backing, was the central figure in a major fraud and corruption scandal that shook the country’s banking system in 2022.

Such entrenched networks of local interests tend to breed corruption and cronyism. At times, these networks challenged central government authority and hindered local economic development. The anti-corruption campaign has already felled scores of provincial leaders, including Le Thanh Hai, who was disciplined and stripped of all his Party and government titles due to serious violations during his long tenure in Ho Chi Minh City. Cadre rotation is meant to prevent officials from building entrenched networks of local interests, as was the case with Hai.

But the timing is awkward. Vietnam’s recent historic floods, the worst in years, have exposed the costs of hyper-centralised experimentation and tested the new system early on. Newly merged provinces now encompass multiple former jurisdictions, with chains of command redrawn and district-level governments abolished. Expecting these new constructs to function smoothly in an emergency is unrealistic. Leaders who have been parachuted in arrive with limited knowledge of the local terrain, budgets and informal power structures. This restricts their ability to govern effectively.

Moreover, these leaders may have little emotional attachment to the localities they govern, which could affect how strongly they prioritise long-term local development. In some cases, this may encourage a focus on projects that yield short-term results within their tenure for gaining recognition and securing promotion, typically to a position within the central government.

The way rotation is implemented also undermines the CPV’s claims to intra-party democracy. The Politburo’s Directive 45 simply bypassed elections in the 23 merged provinces and directly appointed entire provincial Party committees. The central mandate effectively extends to non-merged localities as well. Hanoi illustrates this dynamic: Bui Thi Minh Hoai, elected Party secretary at the capital city’s October Party congress and hailed as its first female Party chief, lasted only six weeks before being reassigned to chair the Vietnam Fatherland Front, a largely ceremonial post. Her replacement, Nguyen Duy Ngoc, a police general and former head of the Central Inspection Commission, was appointed to the position without election.

… a system in which the centre writes the script, casts the actors and reserves the right to change them mid-performance breeds a different problem: cynicism which does not necessarily root out cronyism.

This pattern repeats itself across the country. Khanh Hoa’s first post-merger chairman resigned to move to Hue after just two months, with Hue’s counterpart reassigned to Ha Tinh, whose leader, in turn, was transferred to Nghe An — all shortly after being elected. For the delegates who voted for these leaders, such rapid changes raise questions about the weight of local input to leadership elections.

There is also the old problem of favouritism. Rotation is supposed to dilute patronage by moving cadres around. But in reality, it can function as a conveyor belt for protégés, particularly as the centre, now with greater power concentration under General Secretary To Lam, can override local resistance. The new order reflects whose power is on the rise: nine of 68 provincial leadership positions are now held by career military or police officers, and five out of 34 party secretaries come from Hung Yen, To Lam’s home province — the highest number from any locality. To some observers, the rotation policy seems to conveniently justify certain factions in Hanoi inserting their members into key local power structures. With the CPV’s 14th National Congress approaching, having allies in strategic local positions may enable key leaders in Hanoi to advance their political agendas with minimal resistance.

Vietnam’s dilemma is real. A country seeking to climb the global value chain cannot afford to have provinces run as closed patronage networks. But a system in which the centre writes the script, casts the actors and reserves the right to change them mid-performance breeds a different problem: cynicism which does not necessarily root out cronyism. If provincial elites come to believe that local Party congress outcomes are provisional and real power resides solely in securing favour with the central party bosses, they will invest more in building patronage networks with the centre and less effective local governance.

The Party should keep cadre rotation while giving leaders enough time to build local knowledge – for instance, by setting a minimum three-year term instead of reshuffling them within months. It should also retain the benefits of rotation while restoring some weight to local Party congress votes, perhaps by having one of the two top posts (Party secretary or chair) elected locally rather than appointing both positions from above. Such adjustments would balance Hanoi’s legitimate concern about provincial capture with the practical need for leaders who know their terrain and feel accountable to those they govern.

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