Hannah Nguyen

Hannah Nguyen grew up in Vietnam with a clear and narrow definition of success. In school, academic ranking mattered. Being first or second was acceptable. Falling to fifth was embarrassing. Her parents had both done well academically and had sacrificed much for their own education, and Hannah internalised that logic early: if they had endured hardship, she had no excuse not to excel.

Her mother’s story left a deep impression. Born outside the capital, she secured a rare opportunity to attend university in Hanoi and later built a stable career in a state-owned import-export company in the late 1970s, shortly after the Vietnam War. It was a point of pride. Her father, an engineer known among his peers, also carried a strong sense of identity tied to academic excellence. For Hannah, studying well was not just important—it was the ladder to mobility and the prerequisite for a good life.

When she moved to Singapore, that mindset intensified. Hannah wanted to do well enough to secure a scholarship, knowing her family could not afford overseas education. The goal was practical and dutiful: graduate well, get a stable and well-paid job, settle down, and make her parents proud. Looking back now as a parent herself, she recognises how singular that focus was. Anything outside academics—leadership roles, co-curricular activities, even friendships—was often viewed as a distraction. When she was invited to join her school’s ceremonial flag-raising team, an honour reserved for model students, her mother declined on her behalf. Study came first.

Hannah gravitated toward Economics, influenced by strong English and humanities teachers who brought the subject to life as a way of understanding human behaviour and real-world outcomes. Economics felt practical and broad. At university, however, the experience surprised her. The discipline became increasingly technical and mathematical. While she could cope academically, it did not excite her. Even earlier, she had never enjoyed mathematics—often skipping tutorials to read widely in the library instead.

University became a period of exploration rather than certainty. As part of an interdisciplinary scholars programme, Hannah sampled widely—political science, Japanese studies, French, biodiversity, nanoscience. She spent a year in France on an international programme focused largely on language and international relations, with very little economics. It was, in her words, a time of “roaming.”

As graduation approached in 2008, Hannah faced a pragmatic decision. Completing honors would require another semester—six more months of effort with limited upside to her GPA—while graduating into a recession. She chose to graduate without honors and focused on finding a job.

Her first role came almost by accident. While doing part-time work during university—waiting tables and taking online translation assignments—she was approached by a small market intelligence and consulting firm, originally Fusion Consulting. Initially engaged for Vietnamese translation, she was later encouraged to apply for a junior analyst role when a vacancy opened. With an Economics degree and limited work experience, options were few. She took the opportunity.

The job proved formative. Hannah learned how to respond to the kinds of questions senior executives ask when they need decisions, not academic papers: market sizing, feasibility, competitive landscapes. She learned that to answer one high-level question, you often need many smaller ones—clarifying assumptions, finding experts, synthesising inputs, and turning fragments into something actionable. More than technical skills, she developed a mindset: you may not feel ready, but the work still arrives—and you learn by doing.

After about two years, the recession hit, clients struggled, and the firm went through mergers. Hannah began to consider whether she should continue in survival mode or move into an environment where she could build a stronger foundation.

She joined IE Singapore (now Enterprise Singapore), initially expecting to work on Southeast Asia market development. Instead, she was placed in trade services and policy, where the scope was broad and constantly shifting—food supply resilience, commodities, derivatives, logistics, and energy markets. The pace was demanding. She learned how government thinks: not only “is this commercially viable?” but “is this good for the country?”—jobs, GDP impact, competitiveness, and ecosystem development. One notable piece of work involved policy discussions around removing GST on investment-grade precious metals as part of positioning Singapore as a precious metals hub.

Over time, a familiar tension surfaced. Hannah was becoming a capable generalist, trusted and redeployed across topics, but she wanted to develop deeper commercial expertise—something concrete she could build and own.

That desire led her to the private sector at C. Steinweg, a logistics and commodities company, where she would spend the next nine years. She entered with no logistics background and described herself initially as a “brochure reader.” The learning curve was steep. She took on sales and operations, managing experienced specialists and learning the discipline of getting details right—how goods move, how warehouses operate, and where errors occur.

Her role expanded alongside the company’s growth. She moved into special projects and regional expansion across Vietnam, Malaysia, and beyond—conducting feasibility studies, working with regulators, interfacing with port authorities and landlords, and supporting real construction projects. The environment was entrepreneurial: few formal KPIs, minimal SOPs, and constant demands to figure things out. Over time, Hannah became the go-to person for unfamiliar problems by connecting the dots and bringing structure.

As she approached her late 30s, circumstances shifted. Leadership changed, expansion slowed, and COVID created space for reflection. When a former boss reached out about a role at the International Chamber of Commerce (ICC) Digital Standards Initiative, Hannah listened.

At ICC, she worked at the intersection of trade, policy, and digitalisation—convening businesses, governments, and standards bodies to reduce friction in global trade. The mission resonated deeply. She had seen firsthand how paper-based processes create errors and invisible labour, echoing her mother’s earlier experience in trade documentation. Hannah contributed to ecosystem building, strategic communications, and practical toolkits to support paperless trade adoption.

In the beginning of 2025, she joined the SGLN Fellowship and she also became a Fellow with onepointfive, using this period to deepen her understanding of systems leadership, sustainability, and transition-related challenges.

In late 2025, Hannah concluded her chapter at ICC. Rather than moving straight into another operating role, she chose to pause deliberately. Today, Hannah is preparing for her next lap—investing in learning, reflection, and clarity about the problems she wants to help solve next, rather than rushing toward the next title.