Small boats: Why so many Vietnamese are fleeing to the UK

Phuong looked at the small inflatable boat, hesitating to step aboard. It was crammed with 70 people, sitting low in the water. She recalled the fear, exhaustion, and desperation on people's faces. There weren't nearly enough life jackets. Still, Phuong was so desperate at the time, she felt she had no choice.

She said she had been in France for two months, sleeping in a makeshift tent in the woods, after traveling from Vietnam via Hungary. She had previously refused to board a boat because it was too crowded, and had been turned back three times in the English Channel due to bad weather or engine failure. Her sister, Hien, who lives in London, recalled Phuong often calling her in tears while she was in France. “She was both scared and desperate to move on,” Hien said. “But she had borrowed about £25,000 for this journey, and there was no going back.” So, she eventually got on that boat.

Today, Phuong and her sister live in London, but without any legal status. She was too nervous to speak to us directly, and Phuong is not her real name. She asked her sister, who is already a British citizen, to recount her experiences. In the six months to June, Vietnamese were the largest group arriving in the UK by small boat, with 2,248 people, exceeding those from countries with human rights concerns such as Afghanistan and Iran. The huge efforts made by Vietnamese migrants to reach the UK are well-documented, with the BBC reporting in 2024 on how Vietnamese groups successfully operate people-smuggling operations.

Vietnam is a one-party communist state, which ranks poorly in most human rights and freedom indices. Political opposition is not permitted, and a small number of dissidents who dare to speak out are harassed and imprisoned. However, most Vietnamese have learned to live with the ruling party, which relies on its record of economic growth to maintain legitimacy. Few of those heading to the UK are doing so to escape oppression. Nor are these migrants generally fleeing poverty. The World Bank has specifically noted that Vietnam has achieved almost unparalleled success in reducing poverty among its 100 million people. Instead, they are trying to escape what some describe as a “sense of relative deprivation.”

While Vietnam’s economic achievements have been remarkable, it started far behind most of its Asian neighbors, with economic growth only accelerating after the end of the Cold War in 1989. As a result, average wages are around £230 a month, much lower than in neighboring countries like Thailand. Furthermore, three-quarters of the 55 million workforce are in informal jobs, with no security or social protection. “There is a huge gap between big cities like Hanoi and the rural areas,” says Nguyen Khac Giang, a Vietnam scholar at the ISEAS-Yusof Ishak Institute in Singapore. “There is a glass ceiling for most workers with limited skills. Even if you work 14 hours a day, you can’t save enough money to build a house or start a family.” This is exactly how Phuong, from Hai Phong, Vietnam’s third-largest city, felt.

Her sister, Hien, arrived in the UK nine years ago, smuggled in a container. It cost her around £22,000, but she paid it off within two years through long hours working in kitchens and nail salons. Hien married a Vietnamese man who already had British citizenship, and they have a daughter; all three are now British citizens. After the pandemic, work opportunities were scarce in Hai Phong, and 38-year-old Phuong wanted what her sister had in London: the ability to save money and start a family. “She could survive in Vietnam, but she wanted a home, a better life, and more security,” Hien explained.

Lan Anh Hoang, a professor of development studies at the University of Melbourne, has studied migration patterns for years. “Twenty or thirty years ago, the desire to migrate abroad was not so strong because everyone was poor,” she said. “People were content with a water buffalo, a motorbike, and three meals a day.” “Suddenly, some people successfully migrated to countries like Germany or the UK, working on cannabis farms or opening nail salons. They started sending a lot of money home. Even if the economic situation of those who stayed behind hasn’t changed, they feel poor compared to the families of migrants who work in Europe.”

This tradition of seeking a better life overseas goes back to the 1970s and 80s when Vietnam allied with the Soviet Union after defeating the US military in the south. The state-run economy hit rock bottom. Millions were impoverished, and some areas suffered food shortages. Tens of thousands went to work in Eastern European countries like Poland, East Germany, and Hungary. This was also the period of the boat people, 800,000 mainly ethnic Chinese who fled communist oppression, risking their lives sailing the South China Sea, eventually settling in the US, Australia, or Europe.

The economic hardship of that time threatened the legitimacy of the communist party, and in 1986, it made an abrupt U-turn, abandoning its attempt to build a socialist system and opening its doors to global markets. The new theme of the Vietnamese national story was to catch up and get rich, by any means necessary. For many Vietnamese, that meant going abroad. “Money is God in Vietnam,” says Lan Anh Hoang. “The meaning of ‘the good life’ is largely defined by your ability to accumulate wealth. And especially in central Vietnam, people have a strong obligation to help their families.” “That is why whole extended families will pool their resources to fund the migration of one young person, because they believe that person can send back large sums of money and facilitate the migration of others.”

Vietnam is now enjoying a large influx of foreign investment as it is seen as an alternative to China for companies hoping to diversify their supply chains. That investment is even starting to reach provinces like Nghe An. Foxconn, the multinational giant that makes iPhones, is one of several foreign companies that have set up factories in Nghe An, providing thousands of new jobs. But even with overtime, a non-skilled worker can only earn around £300 a month. This is not enough to compete with the alluring stories told by people smugglers of the money to be made in the UK.

The US, the UK, and UN agencies have urged the Vietnamese communist authorities to do more to control smuggling operations. Remittances from abroad bring around £13 billion into Vietnam each year, and government policy is to promote labor migration, though only through legal channels, mainly to wealthier Asian countries. In 2024, more than 130,000 Vietnamese workers left under official schemes. But the costs of these contracts can be high, and the wages far lower than what they could earn in the UK. The deaths of 39 Vietnamese people in Essex in 2019, who suffocated after being sealed in a container while crossing the Channel, brought home the enormous risks of the illegal route.

However, this has not noticeably reduced the demand for smugglers’ services. Increased scrutiny of container traffic has prompted them to look for alternative ways of crossing the Channel, which helps to explain the sharp increase in Vietnamese using small boats. “The tragedy of the 39 deaths in 2019 has almost been forgotten,” says Le Van Ha, a cousin of one of the victims. He left behind a wife, two young children, and a huge debt for the journey. His cousin, who asked not to be named, says the attitude in their community has not changed. “People hardly care anymore. It is a sad reality, but it is true.” “I see the trend of leaving continuing to grow, not to decrease. For people here, the stories of success are still bigger than the risks.”

Three of the victims were from the agricultural province of Quang Binh. The headteacher of a secondary school in the region, who also asked not to be named, says that 80% of his graduates soon plan to go abroad. “Most parents here are from low-income families,” he explained. “The idea of [encouraging their children] to broaden their knowledge and develop skills is not a priority.” “For them, sending their children abroad is mainly to make quick money, then send it back home to improve their families’ living standards.”

In March this year, the UK Home Office launched a social media campaign to deter Vietnamese people from migrating illegally. The Vietnamese government has also made some efforts to remind people of the risks of using people smugglers. But unless there are more attractive economic opportunities in these provinces, these campaigns are unlikely to have much impact. “They can’t just run these campaigns once,” argues Diep Vuong, the co-founder of Pacific Links, an anti-trafficking organization. “There needs to be sustained investment in education.” She speaks from experience, having left Vietnam for the US as part of the mass exodus of Vietnamese boat people in 1980.

“In Vietnam, people believe they have to work hard and do everything for their families. It is like a yoke they can’t easily get out of. But if enough good information is put out over the years, they might start to change this attitude.” But these campaigns are fighting against a powerful narrative. Those who fail to make it abroad – and many do – often feel ashamed and remain silent about what happened. Those who succeed return to places like Nghe An, flaunting their new-found wealth. As for the tragedy of the 39 who died in the container, the prevailing view in Nghe An remains that they were just unlucky.