IN the last 20 years, Philippine foreign policy has been a balancing act-sometimes bold, often reactive, always shaped by the push and pull of domestic politics, economic imperatives, and shifting global tides. From the courtroom victory in The Hague to the diplomatic fallout of the drug war, from Chinese-funded infrastructure to mini-lateral security drills, the country’s external engagements have mirrored its internal contradictions-and the world’s convulsions.
But the stakes have grown sharper. As the rivalry between China and the United States intensifies, the Philippines finds itself caught in the middle-geographically, economically, and strategically. Its location at the crossroads of the South China Sea and the Pacific makes it a critical node in regional security, trade routes, and military logistics. The proximity to Taiwan, just 400 kilometers north of Luzon, adds another layer of urgency. In any future flashpoint, the Philippines is not just a bystander-it’s a frontline state.
Presidents set the tone, but the world sets the tempo
FOREIGN policy in Manila has long been presidential. Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo leaned on Washington for counterterrorism and economic stability, especially in the wake of 9/11. The Philippines was among the first in Southeast Asia to support the US-led ‘War on Terror,’ hosting joint military exercises and intelligence exchanges. Benigno Aquino III took a legalist route, filing the landmark arbitration case against China. Rodrigo Duterte pivoted hard-at least rhetorically-toward Beijing and Moscow, while Ferdinand Marcos Jr. has since tried to recalibrate, restoring predictability with traditional allies while keeping China close for trade and investment.
Each shift came with costs. Projects were renegotiated. Defense postures were reworded. Diplomats had to explain sudden turns in tone. The Department of Foreign Affairs (DFA) often found itself playing catch-up, adjusting to the president’s voice rather than steering a long-term strategy.
Dr. Jay Batongbacal, director of the UP Institute for Maritime Affairs and Law of the Sea, calls this the ‘sakit talaga ng foreign policy natin.’ He explains: ‘It depends on the President. He is considered the sole architect of Philippine foreign policy. It means foreign policy is prone to the personality and personal preferences of the President. There is very little by way of legislation, practice, or custom that moderates the wild swings.’
The Hague ruling: A legal win, but not a strategic shield
IN 2016, the Philippines won big. The Permanent Court of Arbitration invalidated China’s sweeping ‘nine-dash line’ claims, affirming Manila’s maritime entitlements under the UN Convention on the Law of the Sea (UNCLOS). It was a textbook victory for rules-based diplomacy.
But the sea didn’t calm. Chinese coast guard ships continued to harass Filipino fishers. Swarms of militia vessels lingered near contested shoals. The legal win gave the Philippines moral and diplomatic leverage-but without sustained maritime presence, it couldn’t deter gray-zone tactics. Surveillance, patrols, and logistics became the new battlegrounds.
Batongbacal warns against viewing the Marcos recalibration as a radical shift. ‘UNCLOS has always been part of our foreign policy. We’ve always valued our seas. We’ve taken actions to exercise our rights. During the previous administration, it swung wildly to the other way. So pagbalik sa dati [when we try to restore the balance], the other side says we’re being provocative-which isn’t true when you look at it from a longer timeframe.’
Infrastructure diplomacy: Fast money, slow scrutiny
UNDER Duterte, Chinese loans and turnkey projects flooded in-bridges, roads, dams, and railways. The Build, Build, Build program became a showcase of Beijing’s economic clout. But speed came at a price. Some deals lacked transparency. Others triggered environmental and fiscal concerns. Audit reports and Senate hearings exposed gaps in procurement and accountability.
Miriam College President and former DFA Undersecretary Laura del Rosario recalls that this pattern began under Arroyo. ‘There was a shift to the economic aspect, leaning more toward China. That’s why she had plenty of projects-including the Northrail system and ZTE National Broadband Network that were later aborted. The policy wasn’t institutional. It was personality-led, dictated by close aides who had dinner with the Chinese ambassador.’
Del Rosario adds that Aquino’s rejection of China-funded projects wasn’t ideological-it was corrective. ‘He knew people made money from them. When he erased those projects for economic reasons, Scarborough Shoal happened.’
She’s referring to the 2012 standoff, when Chinese and Philippine vessels faced off over the disputed shoal. After weeks of tension, the United States brokered a deal for both sides to withdraw. The Philippines complied. China did not. Manila effectively lost control of the shoal-a turning point that hardened Aquino’s stance and transformed what began as an anti-corruption purge into a full-blown foreign policy shift. ‘So what started as an anti-China project initiative,’ Del Rosario explains, ‘naging anti-China policy because of Scarborough Shoal. Nagkatugma lang ‘yun.’
Defense upgrades: Hardware without staying power
IN recent years, the Armed Forces of the Philippines ramped up its modernization drive-acquiring new ships, aircraft, surveillance radars, and BrahMos supersonic missiles from India. Japan donated patrol vessels. The United States resumed large-scale joint exercises and loaned HIMARS missile systems. Australia, Canada, South Korea, New Zealand, and Japan joined maritime drills, signaling growing regional support for Philippine deterrence efforts.
Experts cautioned, however, that hardware alone doesn’t guarantee readiness. Without long-term sustainment funding, spare parts, and trained personnel, these assets risk becoming static displays. Maritime domain awareness improved on paper, but patrol days remained limited. Coast guard deployments were sporadic, often constrained by fuel budgets and crew availability. Intelligence and deterrence still leaned heavily on allied support. For now, Philippine presence at sea remains more symbolic than strategic.
Pandemic diplomacy and the OFW imperative
COVID-19 turned vaccine procurement into a diplomatic race. Manila negotiated with China, Russia, the US, and COVAX. Consular teams scrambled to repatriate stranded overseas Filipino workers (OFWs). Evacuations from Israel, Libya, and Gaza reminded the DFA that labor diplomacy isn’t just about contracts-it’s about crisis response.
Remittances kept the economy afloat. Protecting OFWs became a non-negotiable foreign-policy priority. Bilateral labor agreements, host-country protections, and digital consular services became central to Manila’s diplomatic toolkit.
The ICC withdrawal: A reputational wound that lingers
IN 2019, the Philippines formally withdrew from the Rome Statute, following the International Criminal Court’s preliminary examination into Duterte’s drug war. The move drew global criticism. Human rights groups called it a retreat from accountability. European partners expressed concern. Training programs and aid became more conditional.
Under Marcos Jr., the government has shown signs of improving its human rights record. But rejoining the ICC remains off the table. The reputational damage hasn’t fully healed. Manila’s moral authority in multilateral forums remains dented.
Global flashpoints, local recalibrations
THE world didn’t wait for Manila to catch up. After 9/11, the Philippines quickly aligned with the United States in counterterror operations-hosting Balikatan exercises, expanding intelligence cooperation, and receiving military aid. That alignment reaffirmed Manila’s strategic value in the Indo-Pacific, but also tethered its security posture to Washington’s global priorities.
Two decades later, the Ukraine-Russia war in 2022 forced another reckoning. The Philippines joined international calls to uphold sovereignty and territorial integrity, condemning the invasion in line with its own maritime claims. But the war also exposed economic vulnerabilities: fuel prices surged, supply chains buckled, and inflation rippled through Filipino households. Global conflict had once again reached local dinner tables.
Then came Israel-Gaza. In 2023, the Philippines abstained from a United Nations resolution calling for a humanitarian truce. Critics argued that Manila’s longstanding support for Israel came at the expense of its credibility on human rights. The abstention reflected a delicate calculus: protect OFWs in Israel, preserve defense ties, and avoid alienating Western allies. After Filipino hostages in Gaza and seafarers in Yemen were released, the government shifted-voting in favor of several UN General Assembly resolutions supporting Palestinian rights. But it stopped short of labeling Israel’s operations as ‘genocide,’ a move seen as calibrated restraint.
The swing revealed the limits of Manila’s moral diplomacy. In a world of hard choices, values often yield to vulnerability. And for a country caught between strategic alliances and economic dependencies, neutrality is rarely neutral.
Minilateralism over multilateral drift
Frustrated by Asean’s glacial pace in negotiating a binding Code of Conduct for the South China Sea, the Philippines began pivoting toward smaller, faster-moving coalitions. Trilateral dialogues with Japan and the United States yielded more tangible results. Joint patrols, status of forces agreements with Japan, Australia, and New Zealand, logistics and access arrangements with Washington, and real-time intelligence sharing proved far more practical than waiting for regional consensus.
Del Rosario sees the shift as symptomatic of deeper contradictions. ‘Thailand leaned toward China quietly for economic reasons,’ she notes. ‘But the Philippines became schizophrenic-economic China, political America. Namamangka sa dalawang ilog.’ Unlike Malaysia or Vietnam, she adds, the Philippines lacks the economic leverage to hedge confidently. ‘That’s why we need to lean more on Japan and Australia. They offer strategic depth without the baggage.’
What’s next: From improvisation to institution
AFTER two decades of tactical wins and strategic gaps, the Philippines stands at a crossroads. Will it continue to improvise-reacting to crises, presidential preferences, and geopolitical shocks-or will it finally build the institutional backbone needed for long-term strategy?
The options are clear. A Strategic Foreign Policy Council could anchor decisions beyond political cycles. A public register of foreign-funded projects would restore transparency and public trust. A sustainment guarantee for defense assets would ensure that modernization isn’t just procurement, but persistence.
Miriam College President and former DFA Undersecretary Laura Del Rosario believes the Department of Foreign Affairs must evolve. ‘Foreign affairs and defense are now intertwined,’ she says. ‘We need thought leaders who understand both. The National Security Council should play a bigger role in shaping foreign policy-not just reacting to it.’
The bottom line
PHILIPPINE foreign policy has weathered legal battles, maritime standoffs, reputational blows, and shifting alliances. It has won in court, lost control of shoals, and stumbled through global crises. The next chapter will depend not on improvisation, but on institution-on whether Manila can turn episodic diplomacy into sustained strategy. Because in the Indo-Pacific, where great power rivalry meets local vulnerability, improvisation is no longer enough.