Thuong’s Resignation and Vietnam’s ‘Blazing Furnace’ Anti-corruption Campaign

On March 21, Vietnam’s National Assembly accepted the resignation of President Vo Van Thuong, making him the second state president to step down in as many years. 

A day prior, the Central Committee of the Communist Party of Vietnam (CPV) announced that it had accepted Thuong’s resignation from all official and party positions. It added that “violations and shortcomings by Vo Van Thuong have left a bad mark on the reputation of the Communist party.”

The Committee did not specify the exact nature of Thuong’s “violations,” but its language suggested that his resignation was related to the country’s ongoing “blazing furnace” anti-corruption campaign. Thuong is the fourth member of the CPV Politburo, Vietnam’s highest decision-making body, who has stepped down since the beginning of the campaign in 2016. The other “victims” include a deputy prime minister, two ministers, more than 10 provincial leaders, and literally hundreds of officials at lower levels of government.

Thuong is understood to be involved in a bribery scandal related to local real estate developer Phuc Son. During Thuong’s time as party secretary of Quang Ngai Province during 2011-2014, one of his relatives allegedly received 60 billion Vietnamese dong ($2.4 million) from Phuc Son, allegedly for Thuong to build his ancestral shrine.

Thuong’s resignation did not come totally out of the blue; it had been rumored since the abrupt cancelation of a state visit by the Dutch king and queen the week prior. But it was nonetheless tantamount to a “political earthquake,” as Nguyen Khac Giang of Singapore’s ISEAS-Yusof Ishak Institute described it.

The defenestration of Thuong, who had been considered a close associate of CPV General Secretary Nguyen Phu Trong and a relatively “clean” official by prevailing standards, highlighted both the shortcomings and contradictory dynamics of Trong’s anti-corruption campaign. 

Indeed, as the political drama unfolded in the capital Hanoi, a 68-year-old businesswoman sat in a courtroom in Ho Chi Minh City, in the country’s south. Truong My Lan, the chairperson of the Ho Chi Minh City-based real estate developer Van Thinh Phat Holdings Group, is currently on trial for masterminding the largest corruption scandal in the country’s history. Prosecutors accuse her of embezzling a scarcely believable 304 trillion dong ($12.54 billion) from Saigon Commercial Bank, where she was a majority shareholder, in collusion with family members and scores of accomplices. The trial against Lan and 85 alleged associates is expected to run until the end of April.

The fact that the “blazing furnace” campaign has failed to stem the seemingly endless parade of corruption revelations seem to suggest that corruption is inseparable from the CPV’s monopoly on power, and that tracking down individual perpetrators has done nothing to alter the political economy that permits graft to flourish. As Karie Nguyen wrote in The Vietnamese in 2021, “corruption has gradually become universally accepted into the system. This means that the decision to commit an act of corruption no longer depends on the rationality or morality of an individual. It has become an instinct of those who participate in the system.”

Thuong’s resignation also points to the fact that the anti-corruption campaign has always been closely entwined with political machinations at the highest levels of government. One observer put it well: “That a second incumbent President, a candidate for the [CPV] general secretary position in 2026, is ousted from power only within a year does not indicate much intra-party stability, let alone ‘comradely sentiments.’” 

While Trong no doubt desires to cleanse the Party of corruption and restore its upright reputation – he said in a speech in 2021 that “each party cadre and member needs to shoulder the responsibility of being a role model” – the anti-graft campaign has become entangled with political rivalries, complicating Trong’s search for a suitable successor.

Many observers believe that Thuong’s resignation is a sign that intra-party struggles are intensifying ahead of the next CPV Congress, which is scheduled for early 2026. Trong, who is now 79 and in ill health, is almost certain to step down, but he has struggled to nominate a successor. The exact character of the factional disputes within the CPV has always been vague, given the party’s opacity, but some observers argue that hardline elements in the CPV security apparatus have always viewed Thuong – a southerner – with some suspicion, as a potential Gorbachev who might loosen the party’s control on the state.

While the presidency is a mostly ceremonial position, the position could well serve as a stepping stone to the party leadership. As such, the choice of the next president is likely to be furiously contested. Under the CPV’s regulations, there are only four candidates who are eligible to replace him: Prime Minister Pham Minh Chinh; National Assembly Chair Vuong Dinh Hue; Truong Thi Mai, the standing member of the CPV Secretariat; and To Lam, the minister of public security, who has played a prominent role in the anti-corruption campaign (even as he was caught on camera eating a gold-encrusted steak during a trip to London).

In an article late last month for the ISEAS-Yusof Ishak Institute’s Fulcrum blog, Le Hong Hiep noted that of these four candidates, Mai and Lam were the most obvious choices, unless the party bends its eligibility rules in order to permit an outside candidate to take the role.

Regardless, there is likely to be heated jostling behind the scenes to become Thuong’s permanent replacement, while the current vice president, Vo Thi Anh Xuan, fills the role in an interim capacity. But “even after the new president is elected,” Hiep argued, “political infighting will likely persist until 2026 unless a clear succession plan for Trong is announced.” 

The fact that such a succession plan has not been established up until now – in fact, Trong was forced to remain as party chief for a third term largely because there was no viable alternative – suggests that Vietnam’s reputation for political stability, one of its main attractions to foreign investors,  can no longer be taken for granted.