Western Powers Arm Philippines Against China's South China Sea Aggression

On July 2, China and the Philippines sat down to talk about trust and confidence in the South China Sea. The timing was notable—months of escalating confrontations between Chinese and Philippine maritime forces at Thomas Shoal had left Manila bruised and angry. But the real story was not what happened in that room. It was what had already begun happening elsewhere: a quiet, coordinated shift among the world's law-abiding nations away from boardroom diplomacy and toward something far more concrete—arming the smaller powers of Southeast Asia to push back against Beijing's aggression.

The South China Sea is not a peripheral concern. It carries more than 60 percent of global maritime trade, roughly a quarter of all international commerce, and a third of the world's shipping. China itself depends on it for about 65 percent of its total trade; Japan relies on it for 43 percent. The countries bordering the eastern Indian Ocean and the South China Sea account for more than half the world's population. What happens there ripples outward. An unstable South China Sea is not a regional problem—it is a global economic crisis waiting to happen.

For nearly four decades, China has pressed excessive maritime claims in these waters. But the past six months have been different. Chinese Coast Guard vessels have repeatedly blocked, harassed, and sometimes attacked Indonesian, Filipino, and Vietnamese fishermen operating within their own exclusive economic zones. What began as the work of unmarked maritime militia has increasingly become official state action. In 2023, China passed a law empowering its Coast Guard to detain anyone it deems a trespasser—using Beijing's own interpretation of territory and borders—for up to 60 days without trial. The images of Chinese vessels ramming Philippine government ships and obstructing innocent fishing boats have become routine on news channels worldwide.

China's behavior reflects deeper pressures. The country faces a once-in-a-generation economic crisis. Foreign direct investment has hit a three-decade low. The stock market has shed roughly $7 trillion since 2021. The population is expected to shrink by as much as 100 million by 2050—China is growing old before it grew rich, the opposite of Japan's trajectory. The housing sector, long a pillar of domestic manufacturing, is collapsing. Manufacturing is fleeing to other parts of Asia. Consumer prices have been falling for 15 years, raising the specter of deflation. President Xi Jinping, who has consolidated power as chairman for life, faces unprecedented internal dissent within the Communist Party. For the first time in three decades, the Chinese Premier skipped the closing press conference at the Two Sessions, the party's most prominent annual gathering. Under these circumstances, Beijing appears to have chosen a strategy: focus on security and territorial assertion rather than economic prosperity. Increased violations of Japanese and Taiwanese airspace, repeated calls for Taiwan's reunification, and swelling maritime operations in the Western Pacific are all indicators. But the South China Sea, particularly the Philippines, has been the main theater.

The Philippines, however, has stopped accepting this. In 2016, the Permanent Court of Arbitration at The Hague ruled overwhelmingly in Manila's favor, demolishing China's legal claims to most of the South China Sea. The Philippines initially squandered that victory under President Rodrigo Duterte, who pursued a conciliatory approach. But under President Ferdinand Marcos Jr., the calculus changed. Manila decided to back its words with action. In July, even as China spoke of restoring trust, the Philippines told Beijing it would be relentless in protecting its interests.

What has followed is a coordinated military buildup unlike anything seen in the region before. Japan's Prime Minister Fumio Kishida promised enhanced cooperation with the Philippines. India's External Affairs Minister emphasized adherence to international law and pledged support for Philippine sovereignty. US President Joe Biden called America's commitment to defend the Philippines from attack in the South China Sea ironclad. The US has positioned Typhoon medium-range ballistic missiles in Northern Luzon, capable of striking the Chinese mainland from 1,600 kilometers away. A bipartisan bill in the US Senate proposed $2.5 billion in military aid to the Philippines over five years. Washington, Manila, Tokyo, and Canberra are building a joint regional air and missile defense network. In April, India delivered the first batch of supersonic BrahMos anti-ship missiles to the Philippines—weapons that could severely test China's naval capabilities in the South China Sea. By 2028, the Philippine Navy will operate at least 12 vessels from South Korea, including missile-armed frigates and corvettes. Japan and the Philippines are planning joint military exercises on each other's territory. Tokyo is also exploring trilateral military cooperation with Seoul and Manila.

This is not the language of negotiation. This is the language of preparation. The world's established powers have watched China's grey-zone operations—the ramming, the harassment, the legal fictions—and decided that the old approach of talks and conferences no longer works. They are arming the smaller powers to make the cost of aggression too high. Whether Beijing's July 2 offer of restored trust was sincere or tactical, Manila has already answered: words without action mean nothing. The question now is whether the military balance shifting in the region's favor will deter further Chinese escalation or simply accelerate it.