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By Wang Hung-jen 王宏仁
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A recent piece of international news has drawn surprisingly little attention, yet it deserves far closer scrutiny. German industrial heavyweight Siemens Mobility has reportedly outmaneuvered long-entrenched Chinese competitors in Southeast Asian infrastructure to secure a strategic partnership with Vietnam’s largest private conglomerate, Vingroup.
The agreement positions Siemens to participate in the construction of a high-speed rail link between Hanoi and Ha Long Bay. German media were blunt in their assessment: This was not merely a commercial win, but has symbolic significance in “reshaping geopolitical influence.”
At first glance, this might look like a routine outcome of corporate bidding. However, placed in the context of Vietnam’s recent political and economic transformation, it becomes clear that this was a highly politicized infrastructure decision. Particularly telling is the comprehensive cooperation agreement between VinSpeed and Siemens that includes technology transfer, even though Vingroup — VinSpeed’s parent company — later announced its withdrawal from the massive US$67 billion North-South high-speed rail investment.
This carefully calibrated advance-and-retreat suggests that Vietnam is not simply accepting foreign capital, but actively redefining the terms under which it enters the country.
Since taking office in 2024, Vietnamese Communist Party General Secretary To Lam has continued the reform trajectory set by his predecessor. While attracting foreign investment, he has made it clearer that Vietnam “will not allow key construction projects to become dependent on foreign countries.”
This principle has repeatedly surfaced in major state projects in recent years: Capital and technology could be imported, but control and the learning curve must remain at home. It is against this backdrop that China and Japan have gradually lost their edge.
China’s advantages in cost and construction speed are undeniable, while Japan has long been favored by Hanoi for its institutional credibility and engineering quality. Yet both have been reluctant to offer meaningful technology transfer or leave room for indigenous innovation. Germany’s willingness to put technology transfer on the table elevated it from a “third option” to the preferred partner.
This does not mean Vietnam has suddenly turned hostile toward Chinese investment. On the contrary, the two share a communist system and party-led governance, and are often portrayed as following similar economic reform paths. However, any analysis that ignores the long history of animosity and deep-rooted nationalist sentiment between the two misses the point. Vietnamese wariness toward overreliance on China often runs deeper than in many democratic societies.
Timing also matters. Vietnam is simultaneously seeking to repair its relationship with Germany. The 2017 abduction of fugitive Vietnamese state company official Trinh Xuan Thanh in Berlin plunged bilateral ties into a deep freeze. Vietnam’s relatively Moscow-leaning stance on the Russian invasion of Ukraine has further fueled German unease. In this context, high-speed rail cooperation functions as a diplomatic confidence-building measure, not merely an economic calculation.
From a political science perspective, Vietnam’s approach does not neatly fit the classic notion of a “hedging strategy,” whereby mid-sized states try to keep great powers at arm’s length to avoid choosing sides. Instead, it looks more like proactive de-risking. Rather than compromising out of fear, Vietnam is using competition among external powers to constrain their structural influence and is willing to sideline actors once deemed indispensable.
The implications for Taiwan are clear. Many nations’ relationships with China are far less solid than Beijing claims and certainly not monolithic. They, too, are grappling with how to prevent key industries, infrastructure and political decisionmaking from being captured by a single major power. The difference lies in response: Some endure the pressure passively, while others — Vietnam among them — convert structural vulnerability into negotiating leverage.
Vietnam’s North-South high-speed rail project would inevitably draw on substantial foreign capital and diverse technologies, creating a tangible opening for Taiwan to consider. The Taiwanese government’s emphasis on “non-red supply chains” and its “three-chain strategy” is, at its core, an economic security framework designed to counter authoritarian economic penetration and supply-chain risk. That logic aligns closely with Vietnam’s own push for de-risking and its insistence on avoiding dependence on any single great power.
It is not just Vietnam, either. Many countries long constrained by Chinese markets, capital and technology are actively searching for alternative partners. If Taiwan could move beyond a purely passive role in global supply chains, and instead leverage its experience in efficiency, financing and technological integration to offer compelling cooperation packages, it would not only participate in these countries’ transitions, it might well emerge as an indispensable node in the next phase of geoeconomic realignment.
Wang Hung-jen is a professor at National Cheng Kung University’s Department of Political Science and executive director of the Institute for National Policy Research.
Translated by Lin Lee-kai
