Get Rich ... Online ... that's what is happening in Vietnam
Why do we know Vietnam for ? ...
Fighting Americans /// that's Past.
In 1990, the average Vietnamese could afford about $1,200 (€1,025) worth of goods and services a year, adjusted for local prices. Today, that figure has risen by more than 13 times to $16,385 (€13,995).
Vietnam aims to get rich by 2045 and become Asia’s next “tiger economy”—a term used to describe the earlier ascent of countries like South Korea and Taiwan.
The challenge ahead is steep.
One Hanoi-based firm reported nearly tenfold revenue growth in a single quarter (three months) with a four-day real estate course priced at around US$6,000 — equivalent to half a year’s income for many Vietnamese workers.
These figures reveal more than the profitability of a niche industry.
They show how, in today’s social-media-driven culture, upward mobility has become a commodity.
Wealth is no longer only a personal goal; it is a performance — and one that can be monetized.
Why do people flock to these courses
This boom is rooted in the socio-economic pressures reshaping Vietnam. Young adults face a widening gap between income and living costs, especially housing prices that far outpace wage growth. Home ownership — once a traditional marker of adulthood — is slipping out of reach. Stable, long-term employment is also less common as the gig economy expands. (says a report in UCA News)
There's another story; however.
Vietnam's transformation into a global manufacturing hub with shiny new highways, high-rise skylines and a booming middle class has lifted millions of its people from poverty, similar to China.
But its low-cost, export-led boom is slowing and it faces a growing obstacle to its proposed reforms—expanding private industries, strengthening social protections and investing in technology and green energy—from climate change.
Vietnam was preparing to shift its economic policies even before Trump's tariffs threatened its model of churning out low-cost exports for the world, aware of what economists call the “middle-income trap,” when economies tend to plateau without major reforms.
To move beyond that, South Korea bet on electronics, Taiwan on semiconductors, and Singapore on finance, said Richard McClellan, founder of the consultancy RMAC Advisory.
But Vietnam's economy today is more diverse and complex than those countries were at the time and it can’t rely on just one winning sector to drive long-term growth, says a report in euronews.com.
But there is something more fundamental.
The explosion of get-rich courses in Vietnam cannot be understood without considering the role of digital platforms.
In recent years, Vietnam has seen a dramatic rise in so-called “get-rich” courses — programs promising financial freedom before thirty, a passive income while sleeping, or quick wealth through real estate, livestream sales, or cryptocurrency trading.
Flooding TikTok, Facebook, and YouTube, these courses reflect a broader shift in how knowledge is packaged and sold in the digital era. They are not simply classes; they form a marketplace built on the fears and aspirations of a society in economic transition.
A clear illustration of this trend is the sudden success of companies specializing in “mindset” and wealth training.
The rise of a lower-middle class with some disposable income
** but limited financial literacy also fuels this market.
Many have “just enough to gamble” yet lack the knowledge to evaluate risks, making them ideal targets for charismatic “gurus” claiming to possess a secret formula.
A secular religion of prosperity
The structure of many get-rich courses resembles a form of secular religion. Instructors present their success stories as personal revelations, followed by a mission to “awaken” others. Ritual-like activities — chanting motivational lines, emotional sharing sessions, late-night “breakthroughs” — foster a sense of belonging.
Psychologists note that these courses offer not just techniques but identity, says the UCA News report.
Students are told they can become “new versions” of themselves if they believe hard enough.
This mirrors prosperity theology: wealth is framed as enlightenment, while failure is blamed on a “poor mindset.” Such framing creates emotional dependence on the instructor — and financial dependence on ever more expensive “advanced levels.”
Instructor–student relationships in these courses often involve subtle psychological control. Instructors define not only the path to success but success itself.
When students fail, blame is redirected onto them: they did not commit enough or still harbor a “poverty identity.” This traps participants in a cycle of guilt and escalating investment. One victim, a 35-year-old online seller in Ho Chi Minh City, paid about $1,000 for a course run by a well-known livestream personality.
“My shop grew slowly at first, and I assumed it was because I lacked experience,” she said. “I kept trying because I trusted him, believing the problem was my effort, not his methods. But when he was arrested for selling counterfeit goods, my business collapsed. I didn’t just lose money. I lost my credibility.”
Another victim, a 42-year-old factory worker in northern Vietnam, borrowed $2,400 to join a financial course promising “ten million dong [$380] per day.” He now struggles to repay both debt and shame: “I worked for fifteen years. I just wanted one chance to change my life.”
These stories show the true cost of these programs. They extract hopes, identities, and sometimes dignity.
ends
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