THUCYDIDES warned that the rise of a new power unsettles an old order and makes conflict more likely. Our Harvard professor Graham Allison’s modernized that lesson as the “Thucydides Trap” — a reminder that the rivalry between a rising China and a ruling America carries dangerous momentum. For most countries, this is a theory. For the Philippines, it is geography. We sit right at the fault line where the Eagle and the Dragon test each other’s claws (“Thucydides trap – the coming US-China (non) war,” The Manila Times, Sept. 21, 2022).
The struggle is not only about warships and missiles. It is also about loans, jobs, fishing grounds, offshore gaming, cultural presence, and even the quiet but corrosive influence of money in politics. Our sovereignty is being squeezed, sometimes openly, sometimes subtly. The question is whether we still have the courage and clarity to defend it.
The shifting tide of alliances
Our foreign policy history reads like a pendulum. For decades after World War II, Manila leaned heavily on Washington. US bases in Subic and Clark were not only symbols of that alliance but also anchors of America’s presence in Asia.
Then came 1991, when the Philippine Senate voted to end the bases agreement. For a moment, we imagined independence. But China’s growing boldness quickly reminded us of our vulnerability. Mischief Reef, seized by China in 1995, was the first of many humiliations. By 2014, President Benigno Aquino III had signed the Enhanced Defense Cooperation Agreement (EDCA), letting US forces rotate through select Philippine bases. The Hague arbitration case soon followed, and in 2016 the tribunal ruled decisively in our favor — China’s “nine-dash line” was a legal fiction.
Yet that same year, the Deegong charted a very different course. He set aside the arbitral victory, cozied up to Beijing, and spoke about America with disdain. The justification was economic: China, he argued, had money to pour into our infrastructure, while America offered lectures and platitudes. For six years, the pendulum swung toward Beijing.
Now, under Bongbong Marcos, it has swung back. EDCA sites have been expanded from five to nine. American troops once again train side by side with Filipinos in Northern Luzon — just a stone’s throw from Taiwan. The Eagle is back in the nest. But if history teaches us anything, it is that our alignment has been less about long-term strategy and more about presidential moods. That is not statecraft. That is improvisation.
The Dragon’s embrace
China’s ambitions are sweeping. The Belt and Road Initiative seeks to stitch Asia into a Chinese-led economic order. Its navy now sails farther than ever before. Its coast guard, the largest in the world, patrols waters we claim as our own.
For the Philippines, this has meant real losses. Scarborough Shoal (Bajo de Masinloc), once a rich fishing ground for Zambales fishermen, now feels like foreign territory. Artificial islands bristle with runways and radars. Chinese vessels loiter even in our exclusive economic zone.
But China’s influence is not confined to the sea. It has seeped into our economy and society. Consider the Philippine offshore gaming operators (POGO). At their peak, officials bragged they were pumping P551 billion a year into our economy. But behind the neon lights came darker shadows — human trafficking, money laundering, kidnapping, and the “pastillas” bribery scandal at immigration.
Worse, POGOs became physical symbols of Chinese enclaves in Metro Manila, with apartment towers filled with workers living apart from the communities around them. It is not xenophobic to say this: when local institutions are bent, when the rule of law is undermined, when entire sectors of the economy depend on a foreign country’s indulgence, sovereignty weakens.
Taiwan and the flashpoint next door
If the South China Sea (West Philippine Sea) is a slow boil, Taiwan is a tinderbox. The island lies just across the Bashi Channel from Northern Luzon. In 1996, China fired missiles near Taiwan to intimidate its voters. The United States responded by sending two carrier strike groups. That crisis passed. But today, the stakes are higher.
When Nancy Pelosi visited Taipei in 2022, Beijing responded with massive war games. The People’s Liberation Army rehearsed blockades and simulated missile strikes. Each exercise looks more like a dress rehearsal for invasion.
Neither side wants nuclear war. But a conventional campaign — whether through blockades, cyberattacks, or outright assault — would put the Philippines on the frontlines. Our EDCA bases in Cagayan and Isabela would be staging areas for US forces or potential targets for China. We may not want to be dragged into conflict, but geography gives us little choice.
The danger within
Foreign threats are visible. The subtler danger lies within. A “fifth column” does not announce itself but chips away at sovereignty quietly.
History provides a cautionary tale. In prewar Davao, where I live, Japanese settlers integrated with local communities. When the war broke out, some provided intelligence for Tokyo. Today, rumors swirl that thousands of Chinese nationals linked to the PLA have entered the Philippines under commercial guises. Whether exaggerated or not, the suspicion reflects a real vulnerability: porous borders, weak institutions, and elites who may see profit before patriotism.
Equally worrisome is the behavior of some taipans and business leaders. When economic interests in China weigh more heavily than national loyalty, we must ask: whose side are they really on?
What must be done
The Philippines cannot afford to be a spectator in its own fate. We must take back strategic agency. First, diplomacy must be anchored in national interest, not presidential mood swings. Hedging is wise; surrender is not. We must defend our arbitral victory, patrol our seas, and invest in maritime domain awareness. EDCA should serve our deterrence needs, not just American convenience.
Second, money must not buy sovereignty. Foreign investment is welcome, but it must be transparent, regulated, and never at the expense of the rule of law. POGOs must go.
Third, resilience begins at home. A public that understands sovereignty issues is harder to manipulate. Professional law enforcement and independent courts are bulwarks against infiltration. Civic education is not a luxury; it is national defense.
Fourth, multilateral diplomacy warrants renewed attention. Asean can amplify collective voices, and collaboration with Japan, Australia, South Korea and the EU expands options. By approaching disputes through multilateral frameworks, single-power influence may be lessened.
And finally, we must reject fatalism. The Thucydides Trap warns of danger, not inevitability. War is not destiny. With clear-eyed leadership, disciplined institutions, and a people united in purpose, small states can survive in the shadow of giants.
A final word
The coming decades will test whether the Philippines remains a nation buffeted by external currents or one determined to remain sovereign.
Sovereignty is not an abstract word. It is the right of our fishermen to cast their nets without fear. It is the duty of our leaders to place country above personal friendships or foreign favors. It is the daily choice to say: the Philippines is not for sale.
Between the Eagle and the Dragon, we must stand not as prey but prove that even in the shadow of giants, a nation can remain sovereign, dignified and free.
The specter of the new millennium, insidiously hovering above us, does not inspire much confidence. Every political nook and cranny is abuzz with talk of change—calls for reforms in governance, the electoral system, social and economic structures, and a bureaucratic overhaul seem to be the order of the day. Yet, we falter. We hesitate. We bury ourselves in the details of trivial matters, occupying ourselves with the frivolous and anything that can distract us. We attempt to cocoon ourselves, clinging to a stubborn preference for the dull and the ordinary. But the reality of the inevitable is right in front of us. There is no escape. We must face what must be faced—otherwise, we perish.
Democratic deficits at every level are like dirty, giant worms devouring the country from within. Remember—they are worms: emotionless and blind. Scientifically, worms are soft-bodied, legless invertebrates with long, slender forms, thriving in various environments—soil, freshwater, and saltwater. In computing terms, a worm is a kind of virus. Ironically, these “worms” in our country wear coats and ties, ride luxurious cars—fantasies to millions—and crawl through society in the dead of night, while we sleep in ignorance and passivity.
A lack of transparency and accountability, the persistence of patronage politics, plundering by the oligarchy, detached technocratic decision-making, insufficient public participation, and a political system that serves only the wealthy and influential—these are the hallmarks of our situation.
It is no wonder that, nearly every day, we witness restless citizens joining massive protests, flooding the streets with questions: Why do only the small fry face justice, while those accused of major corruption remain free? Whispers abound about People Power 4, 5, or 6, and even the return of martial law. The majority hang by a thread, running out of patience.
A storm is brewing—not the kind triggered by a low-pressure area—but one born of a burnt-out citizenry, impatient for results: the incarceration of “big fish” politicians, the dismantling of the “crocodiles” in Congress and the Senate, liberation from abject poverty, and deliverance from police ineptitude and corruption. Yet, for all our talk, it remains just that: talk. And it’s all threatening to erupt in our faces.
Should we simply live and let live? Persist in apathy and indifference, living up to our reputation as the “sick man” of Asia? Or are we waiting to hit rock bottom, hoping that only then will we finally decide to change direction? If we are driven mad by these maladies afflicting our country, we know the blame cannot be cast elsewhere.
Change—or whatever it is we hold sacred as our deliverance—begins with each one of us. As George Bernard Shaw once said, “Progress is impossible without change, and those who cannot change their minds cannot change anything.”
Change is, indeed, a much-abused word. Nearly every administration has wielded it as a slogan. But now, what must be done? First, we must all acknowledge that the system is broken, calling for comprehensive reform in our politics and bureaucracy. Second, we must recognize and address poverty, for without tackling it, any institutional reforms will be futile.
We are free to choose, but we are not free from the consequences of our choices. Is change really coming? One can only sigh. And what change are we talking about? I doubt anything will happen if all we do is talk.