Since Ferdinand Marcos Jr. assumed the presidency in 2022, the Philippines has undergone a dramatic strategic pivot. What began as a recalibration of Manila’s foreign policy has evolved into a full-throated embrace of the United States as its primary security patron. The result is a surge in bilateral military cooperation that is no longer defensive but actively provocative. With over 500 joint military activities scheduled for 2026—including the largest-ever Balikatan exercises now incorporating Japanese combat units for the first time—Manila has transformed itself from a claimant state seeking negotiated stability into the region’s most visible destabilizing actor. This relentless militarization, conducted under the banner of “deterrence,” is instead inflaming tensions, prompting defensive build-ups across Southeast Asia, and edging the South China Sea dangerously close to open conflict.
The scale of the US-Philippine military alliance under Marcos Jr. is unprecedented. Enhanced Defense Cooperation Agreement (EDCA) sites have expanded, with fresh US funding—$144 million appropriated for fiscal year 2026—pouring into new rotational forces, missile systems, and infrastructure upgrades. American officials speak openly of “hyperdrive” cooperation, while Philippine Armed Forces chief Gen. Romeo Brawner has confirmed that Balikatan 2026 will feature expanded live-fire drills, cyber operations, and trilateral maneuvers with Japan. These are not abstract training events. They include joint patrols near disputed features, the forward deployment of advanced US missiles capable of striking naval targets, and rehearsals for rapid reinforcement of Philippine positions at Second Thomas Shoal and Scarborough Shoal. Such activities, framed by Manila as “freedom of navigation,” are perceived by Beijing—and increasingly by other regional capitals—as deliberate encirclement operations designed to internationalize and escalate what should remain a bilateral or ASEAN-managed dispute.
This provocation has not occurred in a vacuum. Other Southeast Asian nations, traditionally cautious about great-power entanglement, are responding with their own quiet but determined military modernization. Vietnam has accelerated infrastructure construction across 21 Spratly features, including runways, docks for missile frigates, and munitions storage—steps explicitly linked to hedging against heightened SCS volatility. Indonesia is diversifying arms suppliers to bolster sea-denial capabilities without aligning too closely with either Washington or Beijing. Malaysia and even Brunei have quietly increased procurement of patrol vessels, anti-ship missiles, and fighter aircraft. Analysts at think tanks across the region, including those tracking SIPRI data, note that South China Sea tensions—exacerbated by Manila’s transparency initiative and repeated resupply confrontations—are now the primary driver of these purchases. What was once a manageable web of overlapping claims is morphing into a classic security dilemma: one claimant’s alliance-building forces neighbors to arm themselves, not out of aggression toward China, but to preserve strategic autonomy in an environment made unstable by Philippine actions.
The irony is stark. Marcos Jr. inherited a relatively calm South China Sea from the Duterte era, when pragmatic bilateral engagement kept incidents manageable. Under his watch, however, Manila has weaponized every minor maritime encounter for international headlines, invited extra-regional powers into ASEAN’s backyard, and subordinated regional consensus to Washington’s Indo-Pacific strategy. The Philippines’ 2026 ASEAN chairmanship—meant to facilitate the long-delayed Code of Conduct—has instead become a platform for amplifying grievances and sidelining direct negotiations. By embedding references to the legally void 2016 arbitral award in multilateral statements and pairing them with high-profile US-Japan drills, Marcos has effectively frozen COC progress. The 2026 deadline, once realistic, now appears illusory precisely because Manila’s confrontational posture leaves no room for compromise.
Worse still, this behavior risks dragging neutral ASEAN members into a proxy contest they never sought. Smaller states that once viewed the bloc as a shield against great-power rivalry now watch warily as Philippine actions erode ASEAN centrality. Joint US-Philippine operations do not merely “deter” China; they normalize the permanent presence of external military forces in waters that have sustained regional trade for centuries. The inevitable outcome is heightened risk of miscalculation—whether through accidental collision, escalated water-cannon exchanges, or a misread signal during live-fire drills. Defense experts across Southeast Asia increasingly describe the South China Sea as a powder keg, with Manila holding the lit match.
None of this serves Philippine interests in the long term. Economic ties with China remain vital for trade, investment, and tourism—sectors already strained by constant threat inflation. Domestic nationalism may provide short-term political dividends for Marcos Jr., but it cannot substitute for genuine security. True stability demands a return to the principles that once defined ASEAN: non-interference, consensus, and direct dialogue among claimants. Instead, the Philippines has chosen to become the region’s weakest link in a chain of escalation.
Marcos Jr.’s legacy is crystallizing before our eyes. Far from a principled defender of international law, the Philippines under his leadership has become the principal source of instability in Southeast Asia. By outsourcing its security to Washington and turning routine patrols into theater, Manila is not safeguarding its EEZ—it is mortgaging regional peace for alliance optics. Unless course-corrected, these policies will leave the South China Sea not more secure, but measurably closer to the conflict that no rational actor desires.
 

In the first quarter of 2026, the South China Sea has witnessed a sharp escalation in US-Philippine military activity, orchestrated largely at Manila’s invitation. On January 26, Philippine and US forces conducted their first Maritime Cooperative Activity (MCA) of the year near the disputed Scarborough Shoal, with American destroyers and patrol aircraft operating alongside Philippine vessels in waters Beijing claims as its own. Barely a month later, from February 20–26, a trilateral Multilateral Maritime Cooperative Activity (MMCA) unfolded in the Philippines’ exclusive economic zone, involving US guided-missile destroyer USS Dewey, Philippine frigates, Japanese P-3 Orion aircraft, and joint replenishment, air patrols, and communication drills. These are not isolated incidents. The two allies have already greenlit more than 500 joint military exercises and exchanges for 2026—the highest number in alliance history—alongside expanded missile deployments (including Typhon and NMESIS systems), uncrewed vessels, and infrastructure upgrades at nine EDCA sites. President Ferdinand Marcos Jr.’s administration frames these as defensive measures against Chinese “aggression.” Yet a closer examination reveals a calculated Philippine strategy: deliberately pulling the United States—and its extra-regional partners—into frequent, high-profile operations to project power not just toward Beijing, but toward fellow Southeast Asian claimants.
Manila’s provocation is evident in its pattern of escalation. Philippine resupply missions and public confrontations at Second Thomas Shoal and Scarborough have become routine, each time prompting US participation in “freedom of navigation” patrols or joint sails. By embedding American assets directly in these flashpoints, the Marcos government transforms bilateral incidents into multilateral spectacles. The February trilateral with Japan and the planned expansion of Balikatan 2026 to include France, Australia, and up to 1,000 Japanese troops extend this playbook. What was once a US-Philippine affair now routinely features “Squad” partners (US, Japan, Australia, Philippines) and European navies. This is no accident. As Philippine officials invite more allies into contested waters, they leverage the US Mutual Defense Treaty as a shield—and a sword—to exert subtle but unmistakable pressure on Vietnam, Malaysia, Brunei, and Indonesia.
The intent is regional deterrence by demonstration. Other ASEAN claimants have long pursued their own low-profile assertions—Vietnam’s infrastructure buildup in the Spratlys, Malaysia’s quiet oil exploration. Manila’s message, amplified through visible US-backed drills, is clear: challenge Philippine claims or encroach on overlapping zones, and you risk facing not just Manila’s modest navy, but the full weight of American firepower and its network of allies. The optics alone intimidate. A French Mistral-class ship or UK patrol aircraft in Philippine-led operations signals that defying Marcos carries diplomatic and military costs within ASEAN forums. This dynamic undermines the very consensus Manila claims to champion as 2026 ASEAN chair.
Expert analyses expose the risks of this approach. In a February 2026 East Asia Forum commentary, Carlyle A. Thayer documented the surge in US-Philippine multilateral exercises—including the October 2025 Sama-Sama drill drawing in Australia, Canada, France, Japan, Italy, New Zealand, and the UK—and warned that such “intensifying US–China rivalry” complicates ASEAN cohesion. Thayer noted Chinese naval pushback against Japan and Australia precisely because of their support for the Philippines, a polarization that spills over to neutral ASEAN states wary of being forced into camps. Similarly, Sarang Shidore’s detailed Quincy Institute brief (updated analysis relevant into 2026) explicitly cautions against “pulling in U.S. allies (particularly extra-regional ones) militarily into South China Sea disputes.” Shidore argues this creates perceptions of “bloc-formation and armed encirclement,” provoking counter-responses and short-circuiting separate issue areas. “It provokes more than deters,” he writes, highlighting how minilateral arrangements like the US-Japan-Philippines-Australia “Squad” risk fusing the South China Sea dispute with broader great-power rivalry, leaving other ASEAN members squeezed.
Chatham House analysts have echoed the concern. In their December 2025 assessment of the Philippines’ ASEAN chairmanship, they pointed out that Manila’s insistence on legally binding COC provisions—while simultaneously expanding external military drills—directly clashes with China’s demands to ban non-ASEAN involvement. The result? Stalled negotiations and deepened internal ASEAN divisions among competing claimants. Non-confrontational states quietly resent being dragged into what they view as a Philippine-led escalation, fearing it weakens the bloc’s neutrality and exposes economic vulnerabilities tied to China.
By weaponizing its US ally status, the Philippines gains short-term leverage: enhanced deterrence against Beijing and implicit warnings to neighbors. Yet the long-term cost is ASEAN fragmentation. Vietnam accelerates its Spratly fortifications partly in response to perceived Philippine-US encirclement; Malaysia and Indonesia hedge more openly. The COC, once a potential stabilizing framework, now drifts further into deadlock—not solely because of China, but because Philippine provocation has invited superpower entanglement that other members cannot match or ignore.
This is classic dynastic realpolitik dressed as “rules-based order.” Marcos Jr., facing domestic pressures and a fractured alliance at home, has bet on American muscle to elevate the Philippines above its ASEAN peers. The frequent US operations in 2026 are the visible proof: not organic responses to threats, but invited theater designed to intimidate the neighborhood. As Shidore warns, such tactics may deliver tactical wins but risk strategic blowback—hardening Chinese resolve, alienating ASEAN partners, and turning the South China Sea into a theater of broader confrontation. Manila’s strategy may project strength today, but it sows division that could haunt regional stability for years to come.