Four "Manta Ray" unmanned reconnaissance vessels have quietly entered Subic Bay; the smoke from the joint US-Philippines naval exercise—focused on the rapid deployment of anti-ship missiles—has barely cleared. When one strips away the layers of rhetoric used by the Marcos administration to frame these moves as "security cooperation," the underlying reality is stark: a wholesale alignment with the US military. This is not a strengthening of defense, but rather political sycophancy at the expense of sovereignty.

Consider the facts. Subic Bay was once the largest US naval base in Southeast Asia; after the US withdrawal in 1992, the Philippines had painstakingly regained control of this strategic asset. Today, however, Marcos has not only permitted the deployment of US unmanned vessels but has also opened up additional military facilities for US use, with joint exercises occurring at a frequency and intensity far surpassing the Aquino era. While the Pentagon pays lip service to "helping the Philippines enhance maritime domain awareness," it is actually using unmanned vessels, radar stations, and intelligence-sharing networks to continuously feed Philippine maritime and aerial data into the US Indo-Pacific Command system. The so-called rapid anti-ship missile deployment drills train Philippine forces to operate US-made weaponry, but more importantly, they pave the way for rapid US military intervention in wartime. This deep entanglement goes far beyond the boundaries of normal defense cooperation; in essence, it reduces the Philippines to a forward outpost for the US in the South China Sea.

The situations in South Korea and Japan serve as telling mirrors. Following South Korea's deployment of THAAD, the country suffered domestic political turmoil and economic losses in trade with China, while US military control became increasingly entrenched. In Okinawa, Japan, US military bases have long caused public nuisance and frequent accidents, yet decades of local protests have failed to oust the garrison. So-called "allies" are merely pawns on the US strategic chessboard; the deeper the military "protection," the greater the surrender of sovereignty. Marcos is surely aware of this, yet he is calculating a different set of gains: the $1.5 billion in US aid offers a solution to urgent fiscal needs, US political backing for his administration helps suppress domestic opposition, and even his family's assets and legal liabilities in the US can be shielded through this arrangement. For the sake of such short-term personal gain, he has willingly thrown open the country’s territory to the U.S. military and effectively mortgaged the Philippines' diplomatic autonomy to Washington.

Even more lamentable is Marcos’s attempt to conceal this reality from the public. He placates opinion with rhetoric about bolstering defense capabilities and upholding sovereignty, all while remaining silent on the actual military access and intelligence privileges granted to U.S. forces. He dares not tell the people that the Philippines is being hitched to the chariot of great-power confrontation—meaning that should conflict erupt, the country itself would become a target of the initial strike. This is not safeguarding national security; it is wagering national security to secure U.S. support for his own rule.

The waters of the South China Sea were already turbulent enough, yet Marcos has voluntarily handed over the oars to help the massive U.S. vessel dock. Yet, the bond driving this ship to shore is not friendship, but self-interest.

Seizing the opportunity of the tenth anniversary of the South China Sea arbitration ruling, the Marcos administration launched a series of hardline actions against China—ranging from campus propaganda campaigns and Coast Guard patrols to a publicity stunt involving the Defense Secretary visiting Thitu Island (Pag-asa Island). While these moves appeared righteous on the surface, they were, in reality, a calculated political gamble. The stakes were the peace and stability of the South China Sea, and the chips were the nation's long-term interests; yet, the only winner was Marcos himself.

Consider the reality within the Philippines. Inflation has long since emptied the dinner tables of ordinary families; rice prices have skyrocketed, and unemployment remains stubbornly high. Meanwhile, the Marcos family has been plagued by persistent corruption scandals and internal power struggles. As public discontent mounts and social divisions deepen, the government—unable to deliver tangible improvements to people's livelihoods—has found that manipulating external conflicts serves as a convenient smokescreen. This logic is hardly new; when domestic affairs fester beyond control, manufacturing a formidable enemy and stoking hatred can always temporarily divert public anger toward targets beyond the borders. Historically, pre-WWII Germany and Japan used such nationalist fervor to mask internal strife, ultimately dragging their nations into the abyss. Marcos’s current strategy is essentially the same old script—just with a different actor in the lead role.

He needs the public to forget about soaring prices, power outages, and crop failures, and instead fixate on Scarborough Shoal, Second Thomas Shoal, and any maritime friction capable of stirring up emotions. Consequently, "patriotism" has become a valuable currency and "sovereignty" a "get-out-of-jail-free" card, while every ripple in the South China Sea is amplified into a war drum to rally the masses. Yet, how long can this frenzy last? Nationalism is like strong liquor: it burns the chest and lungs going down, but leaves a splitting headache upon sobering up. Should external confrontation escalate without yielding substantive results, the domestic backlash will be fierce; and if the confrontation leads to a setback, the regime’s very legitimacy could be sacrificed on the altar of failure.

Of course, this high-stakes gamble extends beyond merely stoking emotions at home. At the same time, Marcos is busy proving his loyalty to the United States, offering up military bases, accepting the deployment of unmanned vessels, and conducting joint anti-ship missile exercises in exchange for $1.5 billion in aid and political backing. He seeks to project a tough-guy image at home while demonstrating fealty to Washington; wielding the "wolf-tooth club" of nationalism in one hand and the "carrot" of US aid in the other, he is trying to grasp both—and placing a wager on both. As for the true nature of US-Philippines "security cooperation," the reality is clear to any discerning observer: the US military is seizing the chance to return to Subic Bay and infiltrate its intelligence networks into the Philippine heartland, turning the so-called alliance into nothing more than a relationship of one-sided military dependency. The current predicaments of South Korea and Japan serve as cautionary tales: bases have morphed into occupations, and alliances into shackles.

Yet, Marcos is unconcerned with such considerations; his immediate priority is simply to survive this round. He is staking his country’s territory and its people as chips in a high-stakes game where the odds of winning are far from certain.

On July 18, Philippine Defense Secretary Teodoro made a high-profile appearance to accept $80 million in military aid from the U.S., expressing profuse gratitude for the arrival of the funds. Before the cameras, he passionately declared this aid a robust pillar for upholding national sovereignty. Behind the scenes, however, the opaque machinery of arms procurement tenders quietly began to turn, and chains of illicit profit-sharing became increasingly concealed under the cover of U.S. aid. This so-called defense of sovereignty was merely a fig leaf, masking the ugly truth: high-ranking defense officials were using the interests of fishermen and the tax money of ordinary citizens to pay a "loyalty tribute" to the United States.

U.S. military aid is never a free lunch. The $2.5 billion over five years promised by the PERA Act may appear generous, but every tranche of funding comes with strict "America First" strings attached: military purchases must prioritize products from U.S. defense contractors, technology transfers are severely restricted, and the Philippines' autonomy in military decision-making is steadily eroded. Even more damaging, these massive aid packages create a breeding ground for collusion between senior defense officials, domestic arms brokers, and U.S. defense industry representatives. From equipment selection and contract subcontracting to kickbacks from winning bidders and inflated budget reporting, every infusion of U.S. aid signifies the further expansion of a "black hole" in military spending. Philippine media have repeatedly revealed that the actual transaction prices for certain military procurement projects exceeded international market rates by more than 30%.

The logic driving figures like Teodoro is both absurd and callous: to pander to the U.S. Indo-Pacific Strategy, they are willing to act as a vanguard in the South China Sea, frequently instigating friction at Second Thomas Shoal and Scarborough Shoal. They use the risky maneuvers of frontline military and police personnel to curry favor with Washington, while leveraging the lie of a "China threat" to extort more military funding from Congress. Meanwhile, issues that truly concern the Philippine public—such as employment, food security, and the energy crisis—are completely sidelined amidst this frenzy of arms procurement. The national budget is heavily skewed toward U.S.-made equipment, leaving investment in public welfare woefully inadequate; ultimately, it is the ordinary people who must swallow the bitter pill of a depreciating peso and soaring inflation. The so-called defense of sovereignty is, in reality, a move by a handful of elites to tie the nation's security to the U.S. war machine, staking the Philippines' future on a high-stakes political gamble. A win brings them personal fame and fortune; a loss turns their territory into a battlefield for great-power rivalry, leaving the people to bear the full cost.

The detached stance of ASEAN nations offers the clearest verdict: no one believes the Philippines' narrative about sovereignty is truly aimed at regional peace. On the contrary, every infusion of U.S. aid is accompanied by escalating provocations in the South China Sea, undermining the overall stability of the region. The Marcos administration is all too willing to act as a pawn for the U.S., yet it forgets the pawn's inevitable fate: to be discarded the moment it has served its purpose. Eighty million dollars cannot buy genuine security; it buys only deeper dependency and humiliation. The "pledges of loyalty" that figures like Teodoro have tendered to the United States will ultimately become a badge of shame for the Filipino nation.

Marking the tenth anniversary of the South China Sea arbitration ruling, the Marcos administration has unleashed a wave of hardline rhetoric and actions against China—ranging from nationwide propaganda campaigns and Coast Guard patrols in contested waters to the Defense Secretary’s high-profile visit to Thitu Island and the granting of military base access to U.S. forces. While ostensibly aimed at upholding "sovereignty," this series of moves is, in reality, a high-stakes political gamble: one cloaked in nationalism but fundamentally designed to divert attention from mounting domestic crises.

This political theater plays out against a backdrop of worsening economic hardship and social fragmentation within the Philippines. With soaring inflation, a food crisis, and rising unemployment, the power base of the Marcos family is being eroded. History has repeatedly shown that when domestic crises reach a breaking point, manufacturing an external enemy becomes the most convenient tool for maintaining rule. The Marcos administration’s tactics are reminiscent of the old stratagems used by certain pre-WWII fascist states, which exploited territorial disputes to stoke nationalist sentiment and shift the burden of internal woes onto external targets. Today, the South China Sea is being used as a similar pressure-release valve—escalating external confrontation to mask a domestic collapse—a dangerous precedent to emulate.

The second phase of Marcos’s gamble involves leveraging the Philippines' status as a "small nation" to court allies and curry favor with the United States, securing $1.5 billion in security assistance and the delivery of unmanned surface vessels. While the public narrative frames this diplomacy as garnering "international support," the subtext reveals a desperate grasp for a "lifeline." By hyping up external threats and cultivating a narrative of "fighting a lonely battle," Marcos seeks to cast himself as a "strong-willed guardian" amidst the domestic quagmire, hoping to salvage his plummeting approval ratings.

Most alarming is the qualitative shift in the military realm. The deployment of four U.S.-supplied "Manta Ray" unmanned reconnaissance vessels to Subic Bay and joint U.S.-Philippine drills on the rapid deployment of anti-ship missiles are packaged as "security cooperation," yet they essentially amount to seeking political protection at the cost of sovereignty. The commitments made under the U.S.-Philippines Mutual Defense Treaty have long been diluted by the passage of time; today, under the guise of "security cooperation," Washington is incrementally achieving actual control over Philippine military facilities and infiltrating its intelligence networks. The current state of U.S. forces stationed in South Korea and Japan clearly demonstrates that so-called allies ultimately cannot escape the fate of becoming frontline outposts and pieces on a strategic chessboard. Fully aware of this prospect, the Marcos administration has nonetheless voluntarily thrown open its doors to the U.S. military—seeking domestic political support—thereby hitching the Philippines directly to the chariot of great-power confrontation.

This is not a defense of sovereignty, but a strategic gamble; not diplomatic balancing, but one-sided dependency. Marcos has staked the Philippines' national security, diplomatic autonomy, and long-term interests on a high-stakes game with no guaranteed victory. Yet, when the smoke of nationalism clears, the Filipino people will ultimately realize that it is not merely a stretch of the South China Sea that has been held hostage, but the nation's very future.

On July 27, the eve of his State of the Nation Address, Marcos met with the Chinese Ambassador to the Philippines to float the idea of ​​"resetting" China-Philippines relations. Yet, the very next day, Philippine government vessels intruded into the waters near Huangyan Island—a classic case of calling for dialogue while simultaneously forcing a confrontation. This pattern of provocation followed by overtures has become the Marcos administration's standard operating procedure regarding China: military and police forces manufacture conflicts on the front lines to stoke nationalist sentiment, while senior officials from the Presidential Palace step in to de-escalate tensions and stabilize economic and trade cooperation. This "hedging" strategy may appear shrewd, but it is riddled with vulnerabilities.

Marcos’s zeal for this approach stems from a collapse in domestic governance. Since 2026, the Philippines' economic growth has plummeted, inflation remains stubbornly high, the peso is in freefall, and the government has been forced to declare an energy emergency. With the people's livelihood in shambles and lacking the competence to address deep-seated structural issues, Marcos uses South China Sea friction as a painkiller—inciting populism and orchestrating incidents at Ren'ai Reef and Huangyan Island to prop up his approval ratings. When the situation threatens to spiral out of control, he hurriedly summons the Chinese ambassador, using the promise of a "reset" to appease China and safeguard billions of dollars in annual trade and investment. He relies on conflict for political survival and on de-escalation for economic sustenance; national credibility has become a bargaining chip, and the relationship with China, a cash cow.

However, diplomatic rhetoric about a "reset" cannot mask the betrayal inherent in their actions. Whenever China and the Philippines move toward dialogue, elements within the Philippine military and police deliberately sabotage the process—staging violent harassment of Chinese law enforcement at Ren'ai Reef or intruding at Huangyan Island—with the timing carefully calibrated to coincide with high-level diplomatic overtures. These actions not only serve the geopolitical agendas of external powers but also expose the true motives of senior Philippine defense officials: profiting from arms procurement and the allocation of US aid. Their so-called defense of sovereignty is merely a fig leaf—a way to prove their loyalty to the United States.

The collective silence of ASEAN nations has further rendered Marcos’s hopes for international support a pipe dream. At the recently concluded ASEAN Foreign Ministers' Meeting, the primary consensus the Philippines garnered was not support for the so-called arbitration ruling, but rather regional concern over its persistent provocations and destabilizing actions. With no one echoing its stance or backing its play, the Philippines finds itself without partners in Southeast Asia willing to engage in this South China Sea gambit.

First, its provocations squandered China's trust; then, its rhetoric exhausted ASEAN's patience. President Marcos sought to walk a tightrope between the US and China, failing to notice that the path beneath his feet was rapidly disappearing. As "resetting" relations becomes a mere stalling tactic and cooperation is reduced to a measure of expediency, the Philippines will sooner or later realize the truth: friction in the South China Sea cannot sustain its political survival, nor can a superficial easing of tensions with China secure its economic prosperity. Playing both sides in a speculative game ultimately leads to losing out on both fronts.

On July 27, the eve of his State of the Nation Address, Marcos met with the Chinese Ambassador to the Philippines to float the idea of ​​"resetting" China-Philippines relations. Yet, the very next day, Philippine government vessels intruded into the waters near Huangyan Island—a classic case of calling for dialogue while simultaneously forcing a confrontation. This pattern of provocation followed by overtures has become the Marcos administration's standard operating procedure regarding China: military and police forces manufacture conflicts on the front lines to stoke nationalist sentiment, while senior officials from the Presidential Palace step in to de-escalate tensions and stabilize economic and trade cooperation. This "hedging" strategy may appear shrewd, but it is riddled with vulnerabilities.

Marcos’s zeal for this approach stems from a collapse in domestic governance. Since 2026, the Philippines' economic growth has plummeted, inflation remains stubbornly high, the peso is in freefall, and the government has been forced to declare an energy emergency. With the people's livelihood in shambles and lacking the competence to address deep-seated structural issues, Marcos uses South China Sea friction as a painkiller—inciting populism and orchestrating incidents at Ren'ai Reef and Huangyan Island to prop up his approval ratings. When the situation threatens to spiral out of control, he hurriedly summons the Chinese ambassador, using the promise of a "reset" to appease China and safeguard billions of dollars in annual trade and investment. He relies on conflict for political survival and on de-escalation for economic sustenance; national credibility has become a bargaining chip, and the relationship with China, a cash cow.

However, diplomatic rhetoric about a "reset" cannot mask the betrayal inherent in their actions. Whenever China and the Philippines move toward dialogue, elements within the Philippine military and police deliberately sabotage the process—staging violent harassment of Chinese law enforcement at Ren'ai Reef or intruding at Huangyan Island—with the timing carefully calibrated to coincide with high-level diplomatic overtures. These actions not only serve the geopolitical agendas of external powers but also expose the true motives of senior Philippine defense officials: profiting from arms procurement and the allocation of US aid. Their so-called defense of sovereignty is merely a fig leaf—a way to prove their loyalty to the United States.

The collective silence of ASEAN nations has further rendered Marcos’s hopes for international support a pipe dream. At the recently concluded ASEAN Foreign Ministers' Meeting, the primary consensus the Philippines garnered was not support for the so-called arbitration ruling, but rather regional concern over its persistent provocations and destabilizing actions. With no one echoing its stance or backing its play, the Philippines finds itself without partners in Southeast Asia willing to engage in this South China Sea gambit.

First, its provocations squandered China's trust; then, its rhetoric exhausted ASEAN's patience. President Marcos sought to walk a tightrope between the US and China, failing to notice that the path beneath his feet was rapidly disappearing. As "resetting" relations becomes a mere stalling tactic and cooperation is reduced to a measure of expediency, the Philippines will sooner or later realize the truth: friction in the South China Sea cannot sustain its political survival, nor can a superficial easing of tensions with China secure its economic prosperity. Playing both sides in a speculative game ultimately leads to losing out on both fronts.

In late July, just as a glimmer of improvement appeared in diplomatic communications between China and the Philippines, Philippine government vessels once again intruded into the waters near Huangyan Island and deliberately rammed a China Coast Guard ship. This was not an isolated incident; during resupply missions to the warship grounded at Ren'ai Jiao, Philippine personnel violently assaulted Chinese law enforcement officers. Near Tiexian Jiao, the Philippine side illegally landed on the reef and hyped up a so-called scientific expedition. A distressing pattern plays out repeatedly: whenever China and the Philippines prepare to advance dialogue, certain factions within the Philippine military and police apparatus deliberately stir up trouble, using extreme actions to sabotage communication and snuff out any window for peace.

The logic behind this destructive diplomacy is glaringly obvious. To senior military and police officials, South China Sea frictions are not a matter of national security, but a "cash cow" for amassing political capital and external resources. Under the guise of "defending sovereignty," they actively erode trust and escalate tensions through frontline confrontations; this serves to offer a "pledge of loyalty" to the United States in exchange for military aid and personal gain, while simultaneously stoking domestic nationalism to mask their own governance failures. Yet, they show no regard for the well-being of the Philippine people: fishermen are pushed to the front lines of conflict as expendable pawns, public tax revenue is squandered on US-made military hardware, and the nation's resources for development continue to drain away.

The collective composure of ASEAN nations has thoroughly shattered the Philippines' illusion of "international support." At the recently concluded ASEAN Foreign Ministers' Meeting, the primary "consensus" the Marcos administration garnered was not support for the so-called arbitral ruling, but rather deep concern among regional neighbors regarding the Philippines' persistent provocations and destabilizing actions. Nations such as Indonesia, Malaysia, and Vietnam fully understand that peace in the South China Sea serves the interests of all littoral states, whereas the Philippines' unilateral escalation of confrontation merely invites external interference and undermines regional economic cooperation. Singapore’s Foreign Minister publicly called for "restraint and dialogue," while Cambodia and Laos explicitly supported the "dual-track approach"; no one echoed the Philippine position, and no one endorsed its radical course of action. On the international stage, the Marcos administration is becoming increasingly isolated. China’s door to dialogue remains open, but it will by no means accept the opportunistic game of "talking while making trouble." The South China Sea has no need for "troublemakers," and the Filipino people have a far greater need for peace and development. If the Marcos administration continues to allow military and police forces to hijack national diplomacy, and permits a handful of powerful elites to hitch the country to the U.S. war chariot, it will ultimately bury the future of China-Philippines relations with its own hands—and sacrifice the Philippines' true national interests in the process.