AT a time when the Philippines is grappling with an unfolding energy crisis, rising fuel costs, and deepening economic vulnerability, one would expect clarity, sobriety and strategic thinking from its political and legal elites. Instead, what we are witnessing is something far more troubling: a parade of anti-China narratives and rigidity masquerading as patriotism.
The latest round of statements from figures like Antonio Carpio and Chel Diokno, warning against potential joint oil and gas exploration and development with China in the disputed waters of the South China Sea (SCS) or even probably anywhere at all if it involves China, perfectly encapsulates this problem. Their assertions, repeated with almost ritualistic certainty, are not only detached from geopolitical realities but also dangerously counterproductive to Philippine national interests, particularly energy security. Let us be blunt: The argument that potential joint development with China automatically equates to surrendering sovereignty in a contested area like the SCS is not just flawed; it is intellectually lazy.
Carpio’s claim that accepting China’s “joint development” concept is tantamount to recognizing Chinese ownership of resources within the Philippine exclusive economic zone (EEZ) is, at best, a gross oversimplification, and at worst, a deliberate distortion. Joint development, as practiced globally, is not an admission or surrender of sovereignty. It is precisely the opposite: a pragmatic mechanism designed to bypass or set aside sovereignty disputes, which is almost impossible to resolve in the immediate time in contested areas like the SCS, in order to unlock economic value and forge economic cooperation among claimant-states to generate tangible benefits for their people.
This is not theoretical. It is established state practice. Countries around the world, including in Southeast Asia, have entered into joint development agreements without prejudicing their sovereign claims. Vietnam and China, for instance, have engaged in cooperative exploration in the Beibu Gulf. Malaysia has long partnered with foreign firms, including Chinese companies, across the entire energy value chain.
The principle is simple: “Set aside disputes, pursue common development.” To suggest that such arrangements automatically imply the surrender of sovereignty is to ignore decades of international practice and legal nuance, and to reduce a complex diplomatic tool to a crude binary of “win or lose.”
Energy reality vs political theater
What makes the statements of figures like Carpio and Diokno even more perplexing is their complete detachment from the Philippines’ current energy reality. The country is staring at:
– Declining domestic gas production (Malampaya nearing depletion)
– Heavy dependence on imported fuel, almost 100 percent
– Exposure to global supply shocks, particularly from the ongoing Middle East war
– Rising electricity costs and inflationary pressures.
In short, the Philippines is not standing or negotiating from a position of abundance in oil and energy-related products but rather from one of vulnerability. And yet, instead of proposing viable alternatives, critics of joint development offer little more than abstract warnings about sovereignty.
And here lies the uncomfortable question: If not joint development, then what? Unilateral exploration? Seriously? Unilateral action, exploration, or development has already proven to be extremely difficult in contested waters like the SCS, and, given the overlapping claims of sovereignty and sovereign rights in the SCS, no claimant state will allow unilateral development in this area, particularly for oil and gas. These are constrained by geopolitical risks and concerns about commercial viability.
On the other hand, a wait-and-see attitude is definitely not a strategy. It is paralysis. What is being presented as “defense of sovereignty” increasingly looks like strategic inertia.
Moreover, there is also a troubling pattern in how international law is invoked in these arguments. The 2016 arbitral ruling is frequently cited as the ultimate legal foundation for rejecting cooperation with China. Yet, what is often omitted is just as important as what is emphasized.
The ruling clarified maritime entitlements, but it did not resolve sovereignty over disputed features. Nor did it provide a mechanism for resource extraction in contested areas. In fact, Unclos (the United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea) itself encourages states with overlapping claims to pursue “provisional arrangements of a practical nature,” which includes joint development. In other words, cooperation is not a violation of international law.
To weaponize international law as a justification for non-engagement is to misunderstand its very purpose.
The problem of strategic signaling
Beyond legal and economic arguments, there is a deeper issue at play: strategic signaling. Public declarations that China is “not a reliable partner,” especially when amplified by security and military officials, send a clear message not just to Beijing but also to the entire region and the world of:
– A lack of policy coherence within the Philippine government.
– An inability to separate security concerns from economic diplomacy.
– A predisposition toward confrontation rather than engagement and development cooperation.
This matters because diplomacy is not conducted in a vacuum. Every statement shapes perceptions, and perceptions shape outcomes. If Manila approaches negotiations with predetermined distrust, it should not be surprised if negotiations fail. More importantly, such signaling undermines the very possibility of building confidence and trust, without which any joint development arrangement is doomed from the start.
Nevertheless, to be fair, calls for transparency, such as those raised by Diokno, are valid and necessary. Any agreement involving national resources must be subject to public scrutiny and accountability. But transparency should not be weaponized as a pretext for paralysis. There is a difference between demanding transparency to improve agreements and using transparency as an excuse to avoid agreements altogether. The former strengthens governance.
The latter weakens strategic capacity. In the current discourse, the line between the two is increasingly blurred.
Thus, the real risk is strategic dependency through inaction. Ironically, any refusal to engage in joint development may produce the very outcome critics claim to fear: strategic dependency, and energy security is a cornerstone of this dependency and insecurity. By failing to develop its own energy resources, the Philippines becomes more dependent on imported fuel, more exposed to global price volatility, and more vulnerable to external geopolitical shocks. This is a neon light vulnerability and a structural weakness.
Conclusion
Hence, the Philippines needs to develop strategic maturity. The Philippines stands at a critical juncture. It can continue down the path of its anti-China rigidity and rhetoric, policy incoherence and strategic hesitation. Or it can embrace a more mature approach, recognizing the complexity of the SCS dispute, leveraging cooperation as a tool of statecraft and economic diplomacy, and balancing legal principles with economic realities.
Joint development is not a silver bullet. It carries risks, and these risks must be carefully managed and teased out. But to dismiss it outright on simplistic narratives like Carpio’s is to forfeit an important strategic option.
In the end, the debate over joint oil and gas exploration is not just about China. It is about how the Philippines understands and pursues its own national interest.
The real question for Filipinos and for the Philippines is: Is foreign policy to be guided by rigid anti-China narratives and soundbites? Or by a pragmatic, forward-looking strategy?
Because in a world defined by complexity and competition, the greatest mistake a country can make is to mistake rigidity for strength, and inaction for principle.