Dr Phi Thi Linh Giang, sustainable tourism activist: “Go to understand the land, return to preserve the soul of the homeland”

Hello Linh Giang. During your journey with sustainable tourism, what was the memorable milestone that made you truly feel that you belonged to this field?

There have been many meaningful milestones, but one in particular stands out. In 2020, I co-organised a fieldwork workshop on community tourism and social entrepreneurship alongside Aalborg University, where I was then teaching, The Tourism CoLab (Australia), and the social enterprise CBT Travel. It was during this experience that I truly felt—this is where I belong.

That workshop was especially memorable—not only for the presence of international experts and advocates of community tourism, but for the participation of uncles, aunts, brothers and sisters from villages across Vietnam devoted to this way of life. It was in those candid exchanges, the everyday stories of how tourism had helped revive traditional crafts, preserve local heritage and culture, protect the environment, and provide diverse livelihoods for entire communities, that something truly resonated with me.

When I saw the pride shining in their eyes as they spoke of the changes in their villages—when I heard them say that “the younger generation now wants to stay rather than leave their hometowns”—I realised that my research, teaching, and projects were no longer abstract theories. They had found their way into real lives. In that moment, I understood that this wasn’t just a profession; it was my calling.

You are the author of the book Vietnam Tourism Destination Management: Perspectives on Sustainable Development and Competitive Advantage (Hanoi National University Publishing House), and have lived and worked on different continents. At this point in your life, do you see Vietnam as a destination—or as a place to return to?

I hold a deep affection for Vietnam’s landscapes and people. That love is rooted not only in childhood memories, but also in each field trip, each region I have visited over the past ten years. I believe I’ve travelled across nearly every corner of the country, yet each return reveals something new.

As someone embedded in the sector, I don’t simply experience destinations in Vietnam—I also observe, reflect, and quietly assess. There are places where tourism is thoughtfully managed, where culture and community are handled with care. But there are others that give me pause—where commercialisation has taken over, where the experience feels stripped of its original spirit. That sense of loss is what compelled me to write Managing Vietnam’s Tourist Destinations, to offer a constructive voice, and hopefully inspire a more strategic, sustainable path forward for the industry.

Now, as I prepare for new ventures beyond Vietnam, one thing remains unchanged: this will always be the place I wish to return to. Not only because it is home, but because I believe there is still more to be done. Vietnam’s destinations are beautiful, yes—but they can also become models of sustainability for the future.

In your view, what is the greatest challenge facing sustainable tourism in Vietnam today? And with the global shifts brought about by digital transformation and climate change, what path do you think Vietnam should take to develop tourism sustainably?

One of the key challenges lies in the fact that sustainable tourism in Vietnam is still largely fragmented, lacking cohesive direction at a national or systemic level. Most efforts are led by passionate individuals or a handful of responsible businesses. These initiatives are valuable, but they have yet to form a broader, unified movement.

At the same time, the economic appeal of tourism is undeniable, which has led some regions to pursue rapid development—prioritising numbers over long-term vision. The consequences have been clear: pressure on local communities, damage to the environment, and a gradual erosion of cultural identity.

The post-COVID-19 landscape, coupled with global uncertainty, has inevitably pushed economic priorities to the fore. Sustainability goals—however urgent—are often relegated to the background. It is a paradox worth acknowledging, as it is climate change and ecological imbalance that ultimately pose the greatest long-term risks to the survival of the tourism industry.

For Vietnam’s tourism to evolve with true sustainability, a holistic and multi-layered approach is essential. This must begin with a robust legal framework and operational mechanisms, supported by ongoing education and communication to raise awareness among both tourists and service providers. Above all, empowering local communities is key—ensuring they understand and can protect their rights when shared resources are used for tourism. Sustainability must not remain a slogan. It should be woven into the national development agenda, led by long-term vision and anchored in cross-sector collaboration.

You were formerly Director of the Entrepreneurship Centre at VinUni University. Do you believe sustainable entrepreneurship is truly viable in Vietnam today—or is it still a distant aspiration? What advice would you give to young people, especially students, who wish to pursue this path?

In my view, impact entrepreneurship—also known as social entrepreneurship—is no longer a distant dream. It is becoming an essential direction. We are entering an era where profit and purpose are no longer viewed as opposing forces. Young people today seek more than a livelihood—they seek lives filled with meaning.

I often remind my students that no matter where they choose to work—whether in the private, public, or non-governmental sector—the key lies in self-exploration. Understand what drives you, and what your mission in life might be. From there, you can shape your path with purpose, and your actions will naturally create positive impact in ways that reflect your own values.

Read more: Experts predict a sustainable era for Vietnam’s construction industry

Naturally, the challenges we face—from climate change to inequality and dwindling resources—are deeply complex. There are no quick fixes, no universal models. We must adopt systems thinking to appreciate the intricacies and interdependence of these issues, and nurture innovation to craft context-appropriate solutions.

Persistence matters too. Creating sustainable impact is less a sprint, more a marathon—steady, intentional, and enduring. But once you find a community that shares your ideals, the journey becomes far more fulfilling—and far more powerful.

Tell us more about the project FarmVet2 Virtual Veterinary Platform, of which you are the research team leader and which recently won the grand prize at the Trinity Challenge 2024. In your opinion, what made it stand out to the jury?

Truthfully, my team and I were both surprised and deeply moved when we emerged from a pool of 257 global teams. I believe there were two key elements that helped FarmVet2 stand apart and resonate with the jury.

The first was the team itself. We formed a rare interdisciplinary unit, bringing together specialists in generative AI, cybersecurity, behavioural science, environmental engineering, business, and startups. What made it even more distinctive is that most of our members are based in Vietnam. This allowed us to truly grasp the local realities—from the needs of farmers to the limitations of the current veterinary infrastructure.

Second is the project’s approach. FarmVet2 was shaped from the outset with the ethos of a social enterprise—committed not only to financial self-sufficiency but also to sustainable, long-term growth. Our aim extended far beyond addressing the lack of veterinary services in remote regions. We hoped to create lasting impact: supporting farmers to increase productivity, reduce disease risk, and ultimately connect to markets for clean, responsibly sourced agricultural products.

It may well have been this interplay of academic rigour, grounded local understanding, and a systems-thinking approach rooted in community that resonated most with the Trinity Challenge panel—who sought ideas that were as enduring in their social value as they were innovative in form.

You also wrote and published the book I Lived an Unconventional Life, sharing your personal reflections on nurturing a mindset that resists convention. On that journey, have you ever felt uncertain, weary—perhaps even tempted to return to a more ‘conventional’ life? What helped you to stay the course?

Absolutely. Choosing to live unconventionally doesn’t mean you are always centred or inspired. I too have found myself adrift at times—like swimming in open water, without sight of the shore. Taking the less trodden path, where no clear map exists, brings moments of doubt and fatigue.

What grounds me, however, is an inner stillness. Mindfulness has offered a way to listen deeply and discern what I genuinely want, rather than conform to prescribed expectations. The practice of observing my own thoughts, embracing my feelings in every step, every breath, has become a wellspring of quiet strength—one I return to again and again, no matter how far I wander.

These days, I no longer categorise life into “traditional” or “non-traditional”. At each point in time, I find myself drawn to different values. If one day what is considered “traditional” aligns with who I am and what I need, I will embrace it—with awareness, and with gratitude.

The core principle I hold to is this: to live as truthfully as I can, in alignment with the values I cherish, remaining open to growth and transformation. And in this journey, I know I am not alone—there is always a community walking beside me, living with intention, with care, and with purpose.

Have your personal experiences ever brought you face-to-face with gender stereotypes on this ‘unconventional’ path?

Yes—and not only gender, but also racial bias, particularly in the context of working as a global citizen. I often say, half in jest, that as an Asian woman lecturer, I sometimes need to put in double the effort just to be seen on equal footing with my white, male colleagues.

At international conferences, or while engaging with collaborators, it’s not unusual for people to assume I’m an assistant or supporting staff—rarely the lead researcher or project head. And my direct, transparent way of communicating—something praised in professional environments—is occasionally misread as ‘unfeminine’.

Pursuing an unconventional life as a woman, I’ve been met with all kinds of reactions. Some admire the freedom. Others express concern—or quietly suggest that I must be “troubled” for not following familiar routes. But these encounters have made me more attuned to the subtle, often unseen, layers of prejudice. And they’ve fuelled a deeper resolve—to continue living authentically, and to hold fast to the values I know to be true.

It was those experiences that deepened my understanding of the complex layers of social prejudice. For me, living a non-traditional life has never been about proving a point. It’s about staying true to myself—and, in doing so, perhaps lighting the path for other young Vietnamese to follow the road they believe in, no matter how unconventional it may seem.

You’ve lived and worked across countries, taken roles both within and beyond your profession, and adapted to many environments. With all these experiences behind you, is there a role or setting in which you feel most yourself? Or do they all form part of the portrait that is you today?

I value every workplace, every project, and every collaborator I’ve had the privilege of engaging with. Because I’ve always chosen work that aligns with my inner purpose, each space—whether in Vietnam, Australia, Denmark, or elsewhere—has allowed me to be authentically myself, in that moment in time.

With each chapter, I’ve come to better understand what is non-negotiable. I need a working environment that offers a degree of freedom—particularly in how I manage my time—so I can move in rhythm with my natural pace. I need space for creativity, one that avoids rigid norms or too many layers of formality. And, of course, I need work that is financially viable—so I can continue to create impact in a way that is sustainable.

So if you were to ask me, “Where do you feel most yourself?”—my answer wouldn’t be a specific place. It would be any space that offers enough room to breathe, to create, and to contribute meaningfully.

If a miracle could take you back in time—back to meet your younger self before she had even stepped out into the world—what would you tell the teenage Linh Giang of that day?

I would tell her, “It’s going to be alright. Not instantly—but eventually, you’ll always find your way.”

And I would want her to know that even in her loneliest moments, even when it feels like no one understands—she is never truly alone. Love is always present, quietly surrounding her, waiting to be recognised. From family, from nature, from teachers and friends who will appear at just the right moment—and from within herself.

And finally, I’d say this: “The world out there is full of wonder. Just live—and don’t be afraid.”

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