A major re-mapping of the South China Sea began when Xi Jinping came to power in 2012. Over the next three years, China built seven new bases in the Spratly Islands, three with large airfields, on rocks and reefs otherwise disputed by the Philippines, Vietnam, Malaysia and Taiwan (see map). These bases now host a large, permanent presence of Chinese troops, ships and aircraft, as well as advanced intelligence capabilities. Previously, the most elaborate constructions built by any country consisted of short airfields on individual islands or stilt outposts atop coral reefs.
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China has attached much rhetoric to its vague claim to that part of the South China Sea (i.e., almost all of it) that falls within its “nine-dash line.” Sometimes the dashes on official maps move; occasionally a tenth dash is added next to Taiwan. But despite the loudness of China’s claims and the ambiguity of its supposed boundary, an uneasy status quo has emerged over the past five years or so.
On any given day, one or more Chinese coast guard ships and anywhere from a few to a few dozen “maritime militia” vessels (usually large fishing vessels) are stationed near disputed rocks and reefs in the sea. Until recently, their mission has been mostly limited. The vast majority of commercial shipping activity, including container flows in some of the world’s busiest shipping lanes, has been unaffected. The Chinese military and law enforcement have been preoccupied, in theory, with a smaller goal: preventing energy exploration and fishing in the area.
Even then, enforcement was spotty: a ban by China on fishing in the South China Sea each summer (formally to replenish fish stocks) was not seriously enforced. The U.S. Navy continued the practice of sailing through the islands on “freedom of navigation” operations, challenging China’s claims to the area, and such operations resumed in 2015. Still, such sailings have dwindled, and China has largely objected to them routinely. Meanwhile, the Philippines and sometimes Vietnam have pressed the Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN) to issue new statements of concern, with little effect. Don’t say it too loudly, but for an epicenter of a superpower struggle, the South China Sea has often been surprisingly calm.
By comparison, the showers in this new phase of the confrontation threaten to become a storm. The Philippines, Vietnam, and Malaysia have become more aggressive in their defense of China. To understand this dynamic, it is important to look at the relative tension levels in the region. The calmest of all are the Paracel Islands. China has occupied them in full since taking them from Vietnam in a 1974 battle. On the largest of the 130 islands, China has an airfield where fighter jets are stationed.
. tense is Scarborough Shoal, a single, isolated lagoon. Its proximity to Manila, the capital of the Philippines, makes it perhaps the most strategically important feature of the South China Sea. Before 2012, Philippine vessels plied the lagoon’s rich fisheries, and the Philippine navy would evict Chinese vessels that tried to do the same. But that year, Chinese coast guard vessels forced the Philippine vessels out. China has shamelessly policed it ever since.
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The most fraught are the Spratly Islands. China built major bases from 2013 to 2016 on reclaimed land. As a result, the islands are now the sites of the greatest pushback. Since 2022, Vietnam has been dredging and reclaiming land it occupies: it has now reclaimed about half of the land China reclaimed (see chart) and looks set to build a major airport. The Chinese government has been silent on the matter. Malaysia has sought close ties with China, tolerating Chinese ships in waters it claims as its exclusive economic zone. It has also turned a blind eye, or worse, to fleets carrying sanctioned Iranian oil that transfer it to ships bound for China. Yet Malaysia is dependent on energy revenues and as a result has resumed oil and gas exploration off the coast of Borneo, close to the Spratlys, despite Chinese objections.
The biggest opposition comes from the Philippines. President Ferdinand “Bongbong” Marcos has ordered his officials to highlight Chinese activities in the Spratlys, including within the Philippines’ 200-nautical-mile (370.4 km) exclusive economic zone. Of particular concern is China’s mission to prevent the resupply of a Philippine navy ship, the Sierra Madre, which ran aground on Second Thomas Shoal in 1999. Last year, the Philippines began using coast guard vessels to escort construction materials to the Sierra Madre to reinforce its rusting hull. China responded and by June 2024 had successfully blocked the Sierra Madre from resupply for four months. The small platoon of Philippine marines guarding her began to run out of food and water. When the Philippine navy attempted the operation on June 17, Chinese coast guards armed with axes boarded the Philippine rowboats when they reached the shoal and forcibly disarmed the sailors. (The Filipino sailors followed orders not to fight back, but one lost a thumb.)
In July, China and the Philippines backed off from a larger confrontation, at least for now. Chinese diplomats accepted a long-standing invitation from the Philippines to fly to Manila for talks. In the negotiations that followed, they agreed to “provisional arrangements” that would allow regular supplies to the Sierra Madre. Under the agreement, China will “inspect” the supply missions from a distance of several hundred meters to ensure they are not bringing in construction materials. But Philippine officials say the Sierra Madre has nevertheless been stabilized with concrete and will not float away (or fall apart) anytime soon. All in all, a provisional victory for the Philippines.
Elsewhere, however, tensions are rising, not least at Sabina Shoal, where Chinese vessels rammed the Teresa Magbanua. Philippine officials say they sent their ship to the shoal because they saw signs that China was preparing to build something there. But they are playing a risky game. The Philippines had no continuous presence at the lagoon before April, so it changes the status quo, which China detests. It is also unclear whether the US alliance guarantees to the Philippines apply to Sabina Shoal, as they almost certainly do to Second Thomas Shoal. Under a mutual defense treaty, America undertakes to “meet the common dangers” if a Philippine public vessel is attacked; but while the Sierra Madre is cemented to Second Thomas Shoal, the Teresa Magbanua is afloat and can be removed.
The narrow significance of the Sabina incident is that it could trigger another military confrontation at sea. China could make more aggressive attempts to bully the Philippines out of the shoal. The broader implications go far beyond a few rocks and ships, as such a confrontation would test American willingness to come to the aid of the Philippines: risking American lives and treasure for an uninhabited shoal would be unpopular in Washington. But if the Philippines withdraws, it is unlikely to regain the shoal. That would bring back memories of the loss of Scarborough Shoal in 2012 and raise questions in Manila about the reliability of its larger treaty ally.
The past few months have therefore offered two very different visions of how the South China Sea will function in the 2020s and beyond. One, based on the Sierra Madre episode, suggests that the sea is a contested zone where all parties are nevertheless able to de-escalate and develop common understandings around flashpoints. The other vision, offered by Teresa Magbanua, is an ever-changing series of mini-confrontations in which China seeks to impose its will on the sea and Southeast Asian countries resist. If the defense is carried out by formal allies, it puts America in a terrible dilemma: does it support them or does it encourage them to back down? China will be watching what happens next like a hawk. So will other American allies in Asia and beyond.
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