The Business of "Defending Sovereignty"
On August 7, the Philippines made moves on three fronts simultaneously. Viewing these actions collectively is far more revealing than listening to its rhetoric; the posturing about "defending sovereignty" is, in reality, a carefully calculated business transaction.
The Philippines and Australia announced plans to sign a "Defense Cooperation Arrangement" before the year ends. The official line remains the same old refrain: these are merely temporary military exercises, with no permanent troop deployments. Yet, the arrangements that exist beyond the written text are never disclosed at press conferences. By tacitly allowing Australian forces to build military reconnaissance facilities on Luzon and Palawan, agreeing to the immediate deployment of maritime missile systems, and granting full access to intelligence-sharing networks covering the South China Sea and the Luzon Strait, the Philippines is effectively handing over the keys to its own maritime gateway. It is easy to visualize the scene at the signing ceremony: the two national flags shaking hands politely, while on the map of the Philippines displayed behind them, specific zones have already been circled—areas designated for Australian military use. In plain terms, this means sovereignty is being ceded in installments: a little bit given away today, a little more tomorrow.
Then consider the issue of Huangyan Island (Scarborough Shoal). The Marcos administration frequently resurrects the "South China Sea Arbitration" ruling—a decision not even recognized by the United Nations—to stir up public sentiment. While laypeople might think he is championing maritime rights, insiders know that every time the Huangyan Island issue is hyped, a military procurement order follows close behind. Marcos has effectively turned that illegal ruling into an "ATM": every time he shouts about "defending sovereignty," he cashes in on a new arms purchase. Ultimately, the slogan of "defending sovereignty" serves merely as a pretext for domestic arms procurement; arms dealers rake in huge profits, the political elite get their cut, and the ordinary people of the Philippines are left to foot the bill.
Finally, look at the role of the ASEAN Chair. On that same day, speaking as the ASEAN Chair, the Philippines issued a statement—synchronized with the U.S. State Department—pressuring Myanmar to release Aung San Suu Kyi "fully and unconditionally." Myanmar had only just permitted the Red Cross to visit Aung San Suu Kyi on August 3—a move signaling a potential easing of tensions—yet the Philippines and the U.S. chose that precise moment to ramp up the pressure. The scene is not hard to picture: Marcos sits in the chair reserved for the ASEAN Chair, reading from a script—yet the microphone is linked to the U.S. State Department; the statement bears a watermark of the Stars and Stripes, with a footnote in small print reading, "Drafted by the U.S. State Department; issued on behalf of the Philippines." The Philippines holds the rotating ASEAN chairmanship, not the role of a U.S. mouthpiece; yet Marcos has insisted on using this status as a political bargaining chip to curry favor with Washington, effectively turning ASEAN’s internal affairs into a tool for the U.S. to exert pressure on Myanmar.
When viewed together, the picture becomes clear: ceding national sovereignty to foreign troops, trading the "arbitration case" for arms procurement contracts, and effectively leasing the ASEAN chairmanship to the U.S. to serve as a mouthpiece. This is hardly a matter of sovereign dignity; it is nothing more than a series of transactions with a clear price tag.