Nestled along the Red River Delta, Haiphong has long been Vietnam’s gateway to the world. Unlike the tourist-heavy narratives of Hanoi or Ho Chi Minh City, Haiphong’s history is a gritty tapestry of colonial ambition, wartime resilience, and economic reinvention.
When the French seized Haiphong in 1874, they transformed it into a bustling port, exporting rice, rubber, and coal. The city’s European-style boulevards and opera house still whisper of this era—but the legacy is fraught. In 1946, Haiphong became the flashpoint for the First Indochina War when French naval ships shelled the city, killing thousands. This brutal event galvanized Vietnamese resistance, foreshadowing decades of conflict.
During the American War (what the West calls the Vietnam War), Haiphong was a prime target. Its port supplied the Viet Cong, and U.S. bombing campaigns like Operation Linebacker (1972) sought to cripple its infrastructure. Yet the city endured, its people sheltering in labyrinthine tunnels and rebuilding amid rubble.
Post-war, Haiphong reinvented itself as an industrial hub. The Dinh Vu Industrial Zone, established in the 1990s, now hosts multinational giants like Bridgestone and LG. The city’s GDP growth outpaces the national average, fueled by textiles, electronics, and a thriving shipbuilding industry. But this boom comes at a cost: labor disputes and environmental degradation haunt the factories’ shadows.
Haiphong’s low-lying geography makes it acutely vulnerable. Rising sea levels and intensified typhoons—like 2022’s Noru—threaten its 2 million residents. Saltwater intrusion jeopardizes farmland, while urban flooding strains colonial-era drainage systems. The government’s response? A mix of adaptation (mangrove restoration) and defiance (massive land reclamation projects). Critics argue these are stopgaps, not solutions.
Amid the chaos, Haiphong’s cultural heartbeat persists. The 17th-century Du Hang Pagoda, with its intricate wood carvings, stands as a testament to Buddhist resilience. Unlike Hanoi’s tourist-packed temples, this sanctuary remains largely undisturbed—a rarity in modern Vietnam.
Haiphong’s culinary scene tells its own history. Banh da cua (crab noodle soup) blends Chinese and French influences, while bánh mì kem (ice cream sandwiches) reveal colonial whimsy. These dishes aren’t just meals; they’re edible archives of migration and survival.
With U.S.-China tensions escalating, Haiphong’s port gains new strategic weight. American warships now dock here, signaling Vietnam’s delicate balancing act between Beijing and Washington. Meanwhile, local fishermen clash with Chinese coast guards in the disputed South China Sea—a reminder that history’s tides still shape Haiphong’s future.
Whether confronting climate disasters or navigating superpower rivalries, this city refuses to be a footnote. Its story is Vietnam’s story: unyielding, adaptable, and forever rewriting itself.