Hedging under siege: Rethinking Vietnam's small-state agency and coercive erosion in the South China Sea

Imagine the world of international relations as a giant, high-stakes game of chess played on a board where the pieces are constantly moving, and the rules are written in invisible ink. In this game, "hedging" is a clever strategy used by the smaller players. Instead of picking a side and betting everything on one big king (like the US or China), a small player tries to keep their options open. They act friendly with everyone, buying snacks from both sides and promising to help both, just in case one side turns out to be a bully. This strategy relies on "strategic ambiguity"—being vague enough that no one is sure exactly who you are friends with, which keeps everyone guessing and usually keeps the peace. But what happens when the game gets heated, and the big players start pushing the smaller ones off the board? This paper asks a critical question: Can a small country keep playing this tricky game of "maybe I'm with you, maybe I'm with them" when the pressure gets too intense? The authors, Roksana Islam Sujana and Md Imran Hosen, dive into the specific case of Vietnam, a country squeezed between a massive neighbor (China) and a powerful distant friend (the US), to see if this balancing act is starting to crack under the weight of modern rivalry.

The paper investigates Vietnam's attempt to navigate the South China Sea, a region that is like a crowded, volatile kitchen where two giant chefs (the US and China) are fighting over who owns the stove. Vietnam, the small chef trying to cook its own meal, has been using a strategy called "hedging" for decades. This involves deepening trade with China while simultaneously building stronger security ties with the US and other partners, all while refusing to officially join a military alliance with anyone. The authors argue that this strategy isn't failing because Vietnam is making bad choices or because its leaders are confused. Instead, they suggest that the strategy is eroding due to a "feedback loop" of pressure.

Here is the core finding: The paper suggests that hedging is becoming increasingly difficult to sustain not just because the big powers are fighting harder, but because Vietnam's own attempts to protect itself are accidentally making the situation worse. It's like trying to walk a tightrope while holding a heavy umbrella; every time Vietnam tries to steady itself by buying a new weapon or signing a new deal to feel safer, China sees that move as a threat and pushes back harder. This pushback makes the "fog of war" (strategic ambiguity) clear up, forcing Vietnam into a corner where it can no longer pretend to be neutral. The authors propose that this isn't a simple case of Vietnam getting tired; it's a structural trap where defensive moves trigger coercive responses, squeezing the space for flexibility until the "maybe" option disappears.

The study explicitly rules out the idea that this erosion is simply a result of domestic political squabbles or a lack of will from Vietnam's leaders. The authors argue that even if the Vietnamese government wanted to be more assertive or take a harder stance, the physical and economic reality of the situation makes it impossible. They also reject the notion that hedging is a stable, permanent state of peace. Instead, they suggest it is a fragile condition that is currently being worn down by the "escalatory logic" of the rivalry. The paper does not claim that Vietnam has already abandoned hedging or that it will definitely pick a side tomorrow. Rather, it suggests that the "buffer zone" where Vietnam can play both sides is shrinking rapidly, potentially forcing the country toward a "doctrinal adjustment" or a "de facto alignment" (where they act like they are on one side without officially saying so) simply because the space to be neutral is disappearing.

To understand how this works, imagine Vietnam as a small boat trying to stay in the middle of a river between two massive, speeding cruise ships. One ship is China, which is right next to the boat, and the other is the US, which is further away but shouting instructions. The boat's captain (Vietnam) tries to stay in the middle by waving at both ships and selling them some fruit. This is the "hedging." But as the cruise ships speed up and start throwing water at each other, the boat gets tossed around. Every time the captain tries to grab a life preserver (a new defense deal) or shout back to the US ship to feel safer, the China ship sees it as an attack and splashes even harder. The paper argues that this cycle creates a "structurally embedded feedback loop." The boat isn't sinking because the captain is bad at steering; it's sinking because the physics of the river (the geopolitical pressure) are changing. The "ambiguity" that once kept the boat safe—where neither ship knew exactly which way the boat would turn—is vanishing.

The authors used a mix of reading existing reports and talking to six experts (like former diplomats and think-tank analysts) to piece this story together. They found that Vietnam's "Four No's" policy (no alliances, no foreign bases, no siding with one against the other, no use of force) is a strong rulebook, but it's being tested to its limit. The paper highlights that while Vietnam has successfully diversified its trade and defense partners—buying submarines from Russia, planes from France, and training with India—the "gray zone" tactics used by China (like using coast guard ships and fishing militias to harass without starting a full war) are wearing down Vietnam's ability to say "no."

One of the most vivid points the paper makes is about the "operational constraints." Imagine you are trying to negotiate a deal, but your hands are tied behind your back by a heavy chain. The paper suggests that for Vietnam, the chain is the sheer economic dependence on China. Vietnam trades about $256 billion worth of goods with China, making it the largest trading partner. If Vietnam gets too aggressive, China can cut off supplies or stop buying goods, which would hurt Vietnam's economy immediately. This economic chain means that even if the political leaders want to push back harder, the material reality of the economy stops them. The paper suggests that this creates a situation where "assertive hedging" becomes "materially infeasible," meaning it's not just a bad idea; it's physically impossible to do without causing a collapse.

The study also points out that the "security dilemma" is the engine driving this erosion. In plain English, this means that when one person tries to feel safer, the other person feels more threatened. When Vietnam buys a new radar system to watch the sea, it thinks, "This is just to protect my house." But China looks at it and thinks, "They are getting ready to fight me." So, China sends more ships to the area. Vietnam sees the extra ships and thinks, "I need even better radar!" and buys more. This cycle compresses the space for ambiguity. The paper suggests that this isn't a failure of communication; it's a structural problem where the very act of trying to stay safe makes the other side more aggressive, leaving less room for the "maybe" game.

The authors are careful to note that this doesn't mean hedging is dead. They suggest that Vietnam is likely to adapt, becoming more "selective" and "risk-conscious." Instead of trying to balance perfectly everywhere, they might stay ambiguous in some areas (like digital technology or trade) but become much more firm and defensive in others (like maritime security). It's like a person who used to be friends with everyone at a party but, as the party gets rowdy, decides to stick closer to the exit and only talk to the people they trust most. The paper concludes that while Vietnam hasn't given up, the "stabilizing feature" of the region is weakening. The "small-state agency" is being squeezed, and the future might look less like a flexible dance and more like a tightrope walk where the rope is getting thinner every day.

In the end, the paper paints a picture of a small nation caught in a storm of its own making, not because it chose poorly, but because the storm itself is changing the rules of the game. The "hedging" strategy, once a brilliant way to survive, is now being eroded by the very pressures it was designed to manage. The authors suggest that as the rivalry between the US and China deepens, the space for small countries to play both sides is shrinking, forcing them to make harder choices sooner than anyone expected. It's a reminder that in a world of giants, the small players can't just stand in the middle forever; eventually, the ground beneath them shifts, and they have to decide which way to step.