FEW phrases in Philippine foreign-policy discourse are as casually invoked and as routinely misunderstood as the so-called PCA ruling. It is repeated in press releases, sound bites and social media graphics as if it were a magic incantation that settled all legal questions in the South China Sea (SCS) once and for all. It did not. And the persistence of this misreading is no longer a harmless academic error; it is now a national strategic liability. Hence, a sober reassessment of the 2016 arbitral award, its legal scope, and its limits is long overdue.
Misconceptions
Strictly speaking, calling the 2016 decision a “PCA ruling” is already inaccurate. The Permanent Court of Arbitration (PCA) did not decide the case. It merely provided registry and administrative support. The decision was rendered by an ad hoc arbitral tribunal constituted under Annex VII of Unclos (United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea). This distinction matters because it underscores the body’s limited and specialized jurisdiction. The tribunal was not a standing international court with general jurisdiction over sovereignty disputes; it was a law-of-the-sea tribunal empowered to interpret and apply the Unclos. Nothing more, nothing less. Inflating the decision’s authority by mislabeling its source only reinforces the illusion that the award resolved issues it never addressed.
What the tribunal invalidated was China’s claim to so-called historic rights over maritime areas enclosed by the nine-dash line, not sovereignty over land features. As stated unambiguously in the award (para. 272), questions of territorial ownership fall outside the tribunal’s jurisdiction and even of Unclos. This was not accidental. The case proceeded precisely because the Philippines carefully framed its submissions to cover only maritime entitlements and the body of water, not sovereignty over land features such as those in the Spratly Islands or Scarborough Shoal (paras. 153–154, 272). This distinction matters. Plus, take note: China did not participate in the entire arbitral proceedings and rejected the award outright.
Indeed, the tribunal was explicit, repeatedly so, that it had no jurisdiction to determine sovereignty over land territory, including islands, rocks, reefs or shoals. And again, this includes Scarborough Shoal, whose sovereignty remains legally disputed between the Philippines and China. On this point, critics and defenders of the award should actually agree: The tribunal did not award Scarborough Shoal to anyone. Any narrative suggesting that the award “confirmed Philippine sovereignty” over Scarborough Shoal is therefore legally false.
Because sovereignty over the maritime features in the SCS has never been adjudicated, they remain legally disputed. Such disputes can only be resolved through diplomatic peaceful negotiations or, in the worst case, armed confrontation, but certainly not through megaphone diplomacy. Nevertheless, I don’t think the country can afford a military escalation or a war with China, and to be brutally frank, it’s not worth waging war over rocks.
Where the tribunal did rule, and this part is often selectively cited, was on the legal classification of Scarborough Shoal under Article 121 of Unclos. The tribunal found that Scarborough Shoal is a “rock” under Article 121(3), meaning it is incapable of sustaining human habitation, or an economic life of its own. The legal consequence is clear and unambiguous: No entitlement to an exclusive economic zone (EEZ) or continental shelf may be generated from it.
This finding cuts both ways. It weakens China’s potential claim to a 200-nautical-mile EEZ from the shoal, but it equally undermines any Philippine claim to an EEZ derived from Scarborough Shoal itself. The only maritime zone a rock may generate is a 12-nautical-mile territorial sea. Thus, the tribunal’s finding does not magically expand Philippine maritime space; it constrains everyone’s claims.
Overall, insofar as the arbitral award is concerned, the Philippines did not win ownership of any island or rock. What it obtained was recognition of certain maritime entitlements, not sovereignty. Even the oft-repeated claim of a “won EEZ (exclusive economic zone)” must be properly understood. The award recognized EEZ rights in principle, but these rights are not absolute because the waters involved are subject to overlapping claims by China, Vietnam, Malaysia and Taiwan. Under international law, overlapping EEZs must be resolved through delimitation agreements, not unilateral enforcement, and Unclos itself requires that such disputes be settled by agreement in accordance with international law (Unclos Articles 74 and 83).
PH core claim
The core of the Philippines’ claim is not sovereignty or an EEZ, but fishing rights. Perhaps the most misunderstood aspect of the arbitration is the actual object of the Philippine claim concerning Scarborough Shoal. Contrary to popular belief, the Philippines did not ask the tribunal to declare exclusive Philippine fishing rights around the shoal. What it argued, more narrowly, was that traditional fishing rights exist in the surrounding waters and that these rights had been unlawfully interfered with.
The tribunal accepted that traditional fishing rights existed, but also clarified that these rights were not exclusive to Filipino fishermen. The evidence before the tribunal showed that fishermen from China (including Taiwan) and Vietnam, as well as the Philippines, had historically fished in the waters around Scarborough Shoal.
Traditional fishing rights, as recognized in the award, are shared, nonexclusive rights, rooted in historical usage rather than sovereignty. They are not ownership claims over water or seabed, and they do not translate into EEZ entitlements. Furthermore, the tribunal’s discussion of traditional fishing focused on the surrounding waters rather than on an exclusive Philippine right to the lagoon as internal waters. This distinction further limits the scope of what the Philippines “won.”
In practical terms, the award does not support a claim that only Filipinos may fish in the area, nor does it justify unilateral enforcement measures against other traditional users. Any attempt to treat these waters as exclusively Philippine would contradict the tribunal’s own findings.
These points are often ignored because it complicates the “jingoist” narrative of politicians and some political personalities who are exploiting the so-called China card and the SCS dispute for their political grandstanding, especially as election time approaches.
Instead of explaining these nuances, public discourse has gravitated toward megaphone diplomacy, loud, declaratory statements that blur legal distinctions for domestic consumption. Claims that the award “recognized” Philippine EEZ rights around Scarborough Shoal, or that the UN has somehow validated the submission of the Philippine baselines, not geographic coordinates, do not withstand even basic legal scrutiny.
Conclusion
The most serious risk today is not China’s rejection of the award, an outcome that was always foreseeable, but the politicians and the current Philippine government’s own misrepresentation of what the award actually says. When legal nuance is sacrificed, the public is misled, policy options are narrowed and expectations are inflated beyond what law or power can deliver.
Likewise, calling every sober legal analysis “pro-China” does not strengthen Philippine claims; it weakens them by substituting emotion for precision.
The Philippines’ real task now is to reanchor policy in what the award actually decided, and what it did not. In the SCS, law is a scalpel, not a sledgehammer. Used carefully, it can support diplomacy and stability. Used carelessly, it becomes another instrument of self-deception. And self-deception, in geopolitics, is the most expensive mistake of all.
