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ECONOMIST
Politics in Vietnam
A colourful prime minister goes, as the grey men stay
WHEN Great Grandfather, a revered turtle which had long paddled around
Hanoi’s central lake, was found dead on the eve of the Communist Party’s
five-yearly congress, many Vietnamese thought it a bad omen for the
ruling party. The animal embodied a legend about a 15th-century
Vietnamese warrior who presented his sword to a turtle after vanquishing
the Chinese. Some wondered whether the party’s leaders, whose dusty
Marxism-Leninism feels increasingly out of step with Vietnam’s youthful
population of 93m, were also losing their edge.
As it happens, the congress, which concluded in pomp on January 28th,
ended up backing an only slightly more sprightly reptile. After eight
days of unusually fierce politicking, party bigwigs forced the
charismatic and pro-business prime minister to leave government after
his term expires in a few months. Nguyen Tan Dung had hoped to assume
the top party post of general secretary. Instead Mr Dung, along with the
state president, Truong Tan Sang, failed to get a seat on the party’s
new Central Committee, while the septuagenarian incumbent, Nguyen Phu
Trong, was asked to carry on as all-important party chief.
Given term limits and mandatory retirement ages, Mr Dung, who is 66, had
every reason to be shown the door. Yet analysts thought he might win
promotion to general secretary. His patronage network is extensive, and
he enjoyed the support of business types backing a more open economy.
Younger Vietnamese liked Mr Dung’s friendly stance towards America and
his robust defence of Vietnam’s sovereignty in territorial disputes with
China.
True, whiffs of corruption hung over him, and the bankruptcies of two
state firms he championed were a blot. But many Vietnamese could accept
these things. Despite the scandals, “he still improved Vietnam’s
relations with America”, says Pham Khac Quang, a 33-year-old
machine-parts distributor in Hanoi. Had he kept on doing that, all else
“would have been forgiven”. In December Mr Dung defended his record in a
nine-page memo to colleagues, later leaked to a political blog.
In the end an opposing party faction loosely grouped around Mr Trong
gained the upper hand, in part through skilful management of voting
procedures that baffle even some insiders. This group appears to have
emphasised Mr Dung’s economic mishaps. His opponents almost certainly
pointed out that his self-promotion and his anti-China populism were
incompatible with the Communists’ preference for cautious, consensual
rule. Some doubtless worried that his rise would undermine their own
power.
As for Mr Trong, party chief since 2011, he is a colourless apparatchik
in the twilight of his career. His support owes as much to Mr Dung’s
divisiveness as to any personal merits; indeed, with the prime minister
out of the picture Mr Trong may soon retire himself, to be replaced by a
bland successor—a front-runner is the party’s propaganda chief, Dinh The
Huynh. More interesting are the officials the congress appears to have
chosen for other top jobs. Nguyen Thi Kim Ngan looks likely to become
the first woman to chair the National Assembly; she understands
economics and is broadly well-regarded. The probable new state president
is Tran Dai Quang, the minister for public security. He would be a
worrying choice, given the state’s tendency to lock up and occasionally
torture dissidents. Human Rights Watch calls its record “dismal”.
The next prime minister is expected to be Nguyen Xuan Phuc, who is
harder to read. As one of Mr Dung’s deputies he has worked to cut red
tape, with the help of some American funding. A foreign businessman
calls him a “straight shooter”. Yet Mr Phuc has demonstrated little of
Mr Dung’s popularity or vim, and he probably cleaves closer to Mr
Trong’s slightly more conservative views.
The new leaders may slow the pace of economic liberalisation, but they
are unlikely to reverse it. Nor will relations with America be set back.
It was Mr Trong, after all, who delighted in calling on President Barack
Obama in Washington last summer—a big step in attempts to make Vietnam
less vulnerable to Chinese bullying. A party plenum recently reaffirmed
its support for the Trans-Pacific Partnership, an American-led trade
deal which the incoming government will soon have to ratify. Meanwhile,
bigwigs at the congress made encouraging noises about shrinking flabby
state firms. Investors will welcome this sense of consistency, although
the prime minister’s imminent departure has also dashed hopes that
grander modernisations might be on the cards.
More radical changes may have to wait for the next congress, in 2021.
Then a mass of Russian-speaking party members, brought up hating
America, are due to retire. Their successors may well be
Western-educated technocrats who understand that the party’s best hope
of survival lies in making the economy more competitive, and in
convincing young Vietnamese such as Mr Quang, the machine-parts
distributor, that it has their interests at heart. For the moment,
though, hammer-and-sickle banners cover the capital. And most
people—like subjects in a 15th-century kingdom—have no say in who rules
the roost. |