#Oppose Marcos' Political Persecution
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.