Beyond the Bloodline
Why Vietnam’s next era of leadership depends on building institutions, not just preserving family names
In Vietnam, legacy is often equated with inheritance.
A successful business is expected to stay in the family.
The name remains. The reins are passed. Continuity becomes the measure of success.
But what if legacy isn’t about who takes over — but what survives?
As Vietnam’s business landscape matures, this question is no longer hypothetical. We are living through a quiet but profound shift — from founder-led empires to the age of professional leadership. And many companies are not ready.
The Bloodline Blindspot
Vietnam has no shortage of first-generation entrepreneurs who built real businesses from nothing — navigating policy shifts, corruption, capital constraints, and a rapidly evolving market. Many of them started with little more than grit and street-level instinct.
But the next step — handing over the reins — is proving far harder than expected.
In many cases, succession planning is driven less by readiness than by obligation. Children are placed into leadership roles not because they’ve earned them, but because they were born into them. Titles are conferred quietly, often without process. And key talent around them — those who actually helped build the company — begin to disengage.
One executive at a mid-sized FMCG firm described the moment the founder’s daughter took over:
“She was well-educated, but no one knew her. There was no announcement, no roadmap, no signal of direction. People started leaving quietly. Even the old guard didn’t stick around.”
Another second-generation CEO I spoke with privately admitted:
“I didn’t want the role — but everyone expected it. Now I’m just trying not to mess it up.”
This is the inheritance trap: when family succession is assumed, not earned — and the very notion of legacy becomes a liability.
When Legacy Becomes Fragile
The cost of mishandled succession is often hidden until it’s too late. Growth slows. Culture cracks. Customers sense drift. The founder, unsure whether to step back or step in, hovers between roles. And the business — once a symbol of personal triumph — becomes a source of confusion and quiet decline.
We’ve seen this play out behind the scenes in multiple Vietnamese firms. In one case, a family-run logistics company tried to elevate the founder’s son while sidelining longtime executives. Within 18 months, two regional directors and the CFO had resigned. Deals fell through. Customers weren’t sure who to call. Eventually, the founder returned in an “advisor” role — effectively reversing the transition.
This isn’t just about power. It’s about structure.
Legacy businesses in Vietnam often operate more like extended families than institutions. Power is personal, not procedural. And when personal authority fades, there’s nothing in place to replace it.
The Companies That Are Getting It Right
Contrast that with companies like PNJ and Masan — two examples of Vietnamese businesses that are actively building institutions, not dynasties.
At PNJ, the founder Cao Thi Ngoc Dung has remained an influential figure, but the company’s leadership bench has expanded through deliberate professionalization. Under the tenure of CEO Le Tri Thong, PNJ has embraced modern governance, invested in digital transformation, and built a culture that supports leadership development beyond bloodline. It’s not a family business anymore — it’s an enterprise.
Masan Group took a different route. Its founder, Nguyen Dang Quang, understood early on that capital markets reward clarity, not confusion. Masan has professionalized aggressively, bringing in international advisors, clarifying board governance, and emphasizing institutional credibility. The company now operates with the kind of operational transparency and talent depth that gives investors confidence — regardless of who’s at the top.
What both companies understand is this: Succession isn’t a moment. It’s a system.
Institution > Inheritance
The Vietnamese businesses that scale into the next era will not be those that cling to bloodlines, but those that build operational muscle beyond the founder.
That means:
Clear governance structures — not just personal authority.
Leadership development — not leadership assignment.
Culture-building — not culture assumption.
Decision rights based on accountability — not proximity to the family name.
It’s a difficult shift. Especially in a culture where loyalty, respect for elders, and “face” still dominate boardroom dynamics. But it’s already underway.
Some founders are beginning to ask harder questions:
“Can my company run without me?”
“What happens if my children don’t want to lead?”
“Have I built a business — or just an extension of myself?”
What Real Legacy Looks Like
Legacy isn’t who inherits your company.
It’s whether your company can thrive without you.
It’s the values that guide decisions long after you’re gone.
It’s the culture that stays intact when the name on the door changes.
It’s the team that knows how to lead — even in your absence.
That kind of legacy doesn’t come from inheritance. It comes from intent.
It takes longer. It’s harder.
It requires founders to step back before they step out.
It requires successors to earn trust, not assume it.
But that’s the only legacy that endures.
Not the one inscribed in the family tree —
The one embedded in how people lead when you’re no longer in the room.
