7 Truths About Southeast Asia’s Runway Wars
On December 19, 2025, a Vietnam Airlines Boeing 787 touched down on fresh tarmac 40 kilometers east of Ho Chi Minh City. The water cannons fired. Government officials applauded. And just like that, Long Thanh International Airport—the most expensive infrastructure project in Vietnamese history—received its first flight.
But here’s what nobody’s talking about: this wasn’t just another airport opening. It was the opening salvo in what might become the most consequential infrastructure battle of the next decade. Across Southeast Asia, governments are pouring tens of billions of dollars into runways and terminals, betting their economic futures on a simple premise: whoever controls the skies will control the region’s growth.
We dug into the details of this mega-project and the broader airport arms race consuming the region. What we found challenges everything you might assume about aviation infrastructure, national ambition, and the hidden costs of building gateways to the world.
1. Long Thanh Had to Clear Vietnam War Bombs Before Breaking Ground
Three days after construction officially began in January 2021, workers made a chilling discovery: unexploded mortar shells scattered across the site, remnants of a conflict that ended nearly half a century ago. What followed was months of painstaking mine clearance across 5,000 hectares of red basaltic soil—an area more than four times the size of London Heathrow.
This isn’t an isolated challenge. Vietnam still has approximately 5.6 million hectares of land contaminated with unexploded ordnance, roughly 17.7% of the country’s total land area. Since 1975, these lethal remnants have killed more than 40,000 people and injured 60,000 others. The airport site, once home to rubber plantations and forested areas, required the relocation of 28,500 residents before workers could even begin preparing the ground.
Building an airport on former conflict zones creates engineering challenges most project managers never anticipate. Every foundation pour, every trench for drainage, every meter of runway preparation carries risk. The fact that Long Thanh’s first runway was completed three months ahead of schedule—despite this legacy—speaks to an almost manic determination from Vietnamese authorities to deliver on political promises. Prime Minister Pham Minh Chinh had set December 19, 2025 as a non-negotiable deadline, and somehow, they hit it.
2. The Congestion Crisis That Made This Necessary Is Genuinely Staggering
Tan Son Nhat International Airport, the existing gateway to Ho Chi Minh City, was designed to handle roughly 28-30 million passengers annually. In recent years, it’s been processing over 40 million. The domestic terminal alone operates at nearly double its intended capacity, creating scenes during peak periods that resemble rush hour on a packed subway rather than an aviation facility.
During the 2025 Lunar New Year travel wave, Tan Son Nhat recorded close to 1,000 flights and more than 130,000 passengers daily. Immigration queues at the international terminal have become notorious, with travelers regularly reporting waits of one to three hours just to clear passport control. The congestion peaks between 10:00 and 14:00, and again from evening into late night—precisely when wide-body flights from Korea, Japan, Singapore, and long-haul markets arrive simultaneously. The terminal and runway infrastructure, authorities have acknowledged, are “stretched beyond their design limits.”
In August 2025, a technical failure in the immigration processing system triggered a multi-hour disruption that left hundreds of passengers stranded in departure queues while border checks were temporarily halted. Seven flights were directly affected. Images of packed halls and frustrated travelers underscored just how vulnerable the airport had become to any disruption.
Here’s the uncomfortable reality: there’s nowhere to expand. Urban development has swallowed the land around the airport. A controversial golf course sits immediately north of the facility, and the debate over whether to reclaim it for aviation use has dragged on for years. The opening of Terminal 3 in April 2025 provided temporary relief—shifting domestic operations for several airlines away from the overwhelmed Terminal 1—but everyone knows it’s a stopgap. Long Thanh isn’t optional anymore. It’s the only path forward for a city that’s become one of Asia’s most important commercial centers.
3. Vietnam Is Growing Faster Than Anyone Predicted
In 2025, Vietnam welcomed nearly 21.2 million international visitors, shattering the previous record of 18 million set in 2019. That’s a 20.4% jump from 2024, placing Vietnam alongside Japan as the world’s fastest-growing tourism destination.
Consider what this means: while global international arrivals increased by only about 5%, Vietnam was growing four times faster. The country now ranks as the third-most-visited destination in Southeast Asia, trailing only Thailand and Malaysia. China alone sent over 5.3 million visitors, accounting for roughly a quarter of all international arrivals.
What’s driving this? Visa policy liberalization has opened floodgates. The e-visa system now covers citizens of all countries, with validity extended to 90 days. New direct flight routes are launching constantly—Vietnam Airlines inaugurated service to Copenhagen in late 2025, and partnerships with Singapore Airlines and Scandinavian Airlines are expanding Nordic market access.
But infrastructure hasn’t kept pace. Over 84% of international visitors arrive by air, and the aviation system is straining under the load. The International Air Transport Association reports that Vietnam’s air transport market registered the highest growth rate among the top 10 markets in the Asia-Pacific region over the past decade, expanding by 121% from 2014 to 2024. Long Thanh isn’t just accommodating current demand—it’s trying to get ahead of a trajectory that shows no signs of flattening.
4. This Is Actually Part of a Region-Wide Mega-Airport Arms Race
Singapore broke ground on Changi’s Terminal 5 in 2025, a project that will nearly double the airport’s existing footprint across 1,080 hectares. Designed by Kohn Pedersen Fox and Heatherwick Studio, the terminal aims to blend mega-scale efficiency with what Thomas Heatherwick calls “lush greenery and characterful districts that redefine what an airport can be.” When completed in the mid-2030s, it will add capacity for 50 million passengers annually, pushing Changi’s total handling ability to around 140 million.
The price tag? Approximately $10 billion. The stakes? Singapore’s economic future. Transit and transfer passengers currently make up a third of Changi’s overall traffic, and as longer-range aircraft like the Airbus A350-1000 enable flights that bypass traditional stopover points, Singapore’s hub status faces genuine threat.
Thailand is pushing Suvarnabhumi toward 120-150 million passengers through a new South Terminal and fourth runway. The expansion includes a terminal designed to handle 55 million passengers annually—comparable to major Chinese airports like Chongqing. Malaysia aims to handle 150 million passengers annually by 2030 through a combination of new facilities and expansions, including a $1.5 billion cargo hub in northern Malaysia. The Philippines is constructing Bulacan International Airport outside Manila on 2,500 hectares of reclaimed land, targeting 100 million passengers upon full completion.
Boeing forecasts that Southeast Asian passenger air traffic will more than triple over the next 20 years, growing at 7.2% annually—well above the 4.7% global average. The region’s airplane fleet is projected to grow from roughly 1,600 jets today to nearly 5,000 by the mid-2040s. Airports Council International projects that combined investments of $240 billion will flow into airport development across Asia-Pacific and the Middle East between 2025 and 2035.
What we’re witnessing isn’t just airport construction. It’s a coordinated bet by every major Southeast Asian economy that connectivity will define economic winners and losers for the next generation. Singapore’s Prime Minister Lawrence Wong put it bluntly at Changi’s Terminal 5 groundbreaking: some regional competitors have announced mega-airports capable of handling over 100 million passengers annually, “so they are narrowing the gap with Singapore.” The message was clear: complacency isn’t an option.
5. The Lotus Flower Design Creates Engineering Nightmares (And Cost Overruns)
Long Thanh’s four terminals are shaped like lotus flowers—Vietnam’s national symbol. It’s a stunning architectural concept that photographs beautifully in renderings. It’s also significantly harder to build than conventional rectangular structures.
Curved geometries require more complex formwork, specialized structural calculations, and construction techniques that push concrete and steel to their limits. The terminal’s free-span ceiling concept stretches 82 meters without internal column support, creating open passenger areas that look spectacular but demand thousands of additional tons of steel arranged in five layers for insulation, waterproofing, and durability.
Since the project was first proposed in 2006, cost has been a persistent criticism. The lotus curves require geometries that angular architecture doesn’t, increasing labor and technical difficulty at every stage. Concrete behaves differently under curved loading conditions, potentially requiring thicker sections. Bending heavy steel into organic shapes demands specialized equipment and expertise.
The total project cost is now estimated at somewhere between $16-18.7 billion, depending on which phase estimates are included. For a country still on a growth trajectory, the concern from some observers is that loans to finance Long Thanh could generate long-term debt capable of straining public finances if passenger demand doesn’t materialize at projected rates.
6. Red Dust Has Become an Environmental Crisis
The construction site sits on red basaltic soil—distinctive, iron-rich earth that generates dense clouds of particulate matter when disturbed. Thousands of vehicles and heavy machines moving earth created a dust problem that spread to residential areas up to seven kilometers away.
Residents reported respiratory problems worse than during the pandemic. Agricultural crops in surrounding areas were smothered—with leaves covered in dust, plants couldn’t photosynthesize and died quickly. Local authorities implemented speed limits and constructed reservoirs to moisten the soil, but the measures haven’t eliminated the problem.
This is the part of mega-infrastructure that rarely makes the promotional materials. Airport terminals and runways require moving staggering quantities of earth. At Long Thanh, workers performed large-scale excavation, landfill, and compaction across the 5,000-hectare perimeter. In 2018, nearly 2,000 vehicles and machines were reportedly working the construction site simultaneously. Each one stirred up that distinctive red dust.
The environmental and social costs of airport construction don’t disappear once planes start landing. They settle into the lungs and livelihoods of neighboring communities, creating a permanent tension between national ambition and local consequence.
7. Long Thanh Is Designed to Make Tan Son Nhat Almost Irrelevant for International Travel
Once Long Thanh reaches full operation, the plan is remarkable in its scope: all international routes with distances of 1,000 kilometers or more—accounting for 80% of international flights—will be transferred to the new airport. Tan Son Nhat will essentially become a regional connector, operating only flights to Thailand, Cambodia, and Laos (roughly 15-17% of international traffic).
This isn’t just about relieving congestion. It’s about positioning Ho Chi Minh City as an international financial hub. The Vietnamese government is explicitly linking Long Thanh’s scale to its ambitions for attracting foreign experts and investors to a planned international financial center in the city.
The first phase, now operational, provides 25 million passengers and 1.2 million tons of cargo capacity annually. Phase 2 will add a second terminal and third runway, doubling capacity to 50 million. By Phase 3, with four terminals and four 4,000-meter runways, Long Thanh aims to handle 100 million passengers and 5 million tons of cargo—numbers that would place it among the largest airports on Earth, comparable to Atlanta’s Hartsfield-Jackson.
Getting passengers the 40-50 kilometers between downtown Ho Chi Minh City and Long Thanh remains a challenge. The expressway connecting the airport to the city is being expanded to 8-10 lanes, and plans call for two railway lines. But as of late 2025, site clearance for the highway expansion had encountered delays, and there was still no clear timeline for completing the rail connections.
What This Means for the Future
The runway wars of Southeast Asia are really proxy battles over something much larger: who will be the gateway to a region projected to see its air traffic more than triple in the next two decades. Vietnam is betting that Long Thanh can capture a meaningful share of that growth, potentially challenging Singapore’s long-standing dominance as the region’s premier aviation hub.
There’s genuine risk here. Building for 100 million passengers when you’re currently handling 40 million requires confidence in growth trajectories that might not materialize. Economic downturns, geopolitical tensions, pandemic aftershocks, competition from high-speed rail—any of these could disrupt the assumptions underlying these massive investments. Vietnam has already set an ambitious target of attracting 25 million international visitors in 2026, but hitting that number requires everything to go right simultaneously.
But there’s also undeniable momentum. Vietnam’s tourism numbers are surging. Its economy is growing at rates that outpace most regional competitors. Its middle class is expanding rapidly. And its existing airport infrastructure genuinely cannot handle current demand, let alone future growth. The aviation sector has already cemented itself as a pillar of the economy, contributing over 7% of GDP and supporting millions of jobs.
Long Thanh also represents something beyond economics: a statement about Vietnam’s capabilities and aspirations. Building a world-class airport from scratch, on contaminated land, while relocating tens of thousands of residents, navigating pandemic disruptions, and meeting aggressive political deadlines requires institutional competence that many doubted Vietnam possessed.
Long Thanh may or may not become the hub its planners envision. What’s certain is that the airport represents one of the largest infrastructure bets any developing economy has made in decades. The lotus flower terminals rising from former rubber plantations and war-era minefields are either the foundation of Vietnam’s aviation future or an extraordinarily expensive monument to overconfidence.
We’ll know which within the next decade. In the meantime, the question that should keep regional planners awake at night is this: in a world where every major Southeast Asian economy is building airports for 100+ million passengers, who exactly are all these travelers going to be?
This article was produced in accordance with our editorial standards. Aviantics maintains strict editorial independence.
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