The Philippines is hopelessly mismatched against China in pure military
terms. But there are historical reasons why it won't back down in the
South China Sea.
Last month, I wrote a column for Global Times in which I
observed that a dominant Chinese Navy lets China’s leadership deploy
unarmed surveillance and law-enforcement vessels as it implements policy
in the ongoing stand off at Scarborough Shoal.
It can flourish a small, unprovocative seeming stick while holding the
big stick – overwhelming naval firepower, and thus the option of
escalating – in reserve.
That, I wrote, translates into “virtual coercion and deterrence”
vis-à-vis lesser Asian powers. If weak states defy Beijing, they know
what may come next. Global Times
readers evidently interpreted this as my prophesying that Southeast
Asian states will despair at the hopeless military mismatch in the South
China Sea – and give in automatically and quickly during controversies
like Scarborough Shoal.
Not so. Diplomacy and war are interactive enterprises. Both sides –
not just the strong – get a vote. Manila refuses to vote Beijing’s way.
Military supremacy is no guarantee of victory in wartime, let alone
in peacetime controversies. The strong boast advantages that bias the
competition in their favor. But the weak still have options. Manila can
hope to offset Beijing’s advantages, and it has every reason to try.
Sounds familiar, doesn’t it? China has been the weaker belligerent in
every armed clash since the 19th century Opium Wars. It nevertheless
came out on top in the most important struggles.
That the weak can vanquish the strong is an idea with a long
pedigree. Roman dictator Quintus Fabius fought Hannibal – one of
history’s foremost masters of war – to a standstill precisely by
refusing to fight a decisive battle. Demurring let Fabius – celebrated
as “the Delayer” – marshal inexhaustible resources and manpower against
Carthaginian invaders waging war on Rome’s turf.
Fabius bided his time until an opportune moment. Then he struck.
Similarly, sea power theorist Sir Julian Corbett advised naval
commanders to wage “active defense” in unfavorable circumstances.
Commanders of an outmatched fleet could play a Fabian waiting game,
lurking near the stronger enemy fleet yet declining battle. In the
meantime they could bring in reinforcements, seek alliances with
friendly naval powers, or deploy various stratagems to wear down the
enemy’s strength. Ultimately they might reverse the naval balance,
letting them risk a sea fight – and win.
Victory through delay represents time-honored Chinese practice. Mao
Zedong built his concept of protracted war on stalling tactics, and,
like Corbett, he dubbed his strategic vision “active defense.” For both
theorists, active defense was about prolonging wars to outlast
temporarily superior opponents.
Mao pointed out that China boasted innate advantages over the
Japanese Army that occupied Manchuria and much of China during the
1930s. It merely needed time to convert latent power – abundant natural
resources and manpower in particular – into usable military power. Mao’s
Red Army later overcame stronger Nationalist forces by winning over
popular support, and with it the opportunity to tap resources, establish
base areas in the countryside, and the like.
Good things came to those who waited.
So there’s some precedent for Philippine leaders to hope for
diplomatic success at Scarborough Shoal. The Philippine military is a
trivial force with little chance of winning a steel-on-steel fight. But
like lesser powers of the past, Manila can appeal to law, to justice,
and to powerful outsiders capable of tilting the balance its way. Sure
enough, Philippine officials have advocated submitting the dispute to
the Law of the Sea Tribunal and invoked a longstanding U.S.-Philippine
mutual defense pact.
Despite all of this, the deck remains heavily stacked against Manila.
Why persevere in defying China, with its overwhelming physical might?
Thucydides would salute the Filipinos’ pluck. The Greek historian
chronicled the Peloponnesian War, the protracted 5th century BC struggle
between Athens and Sparta. One of Thucydides’ best-known precepts is
that “fear, honor, and interest” represent “three of the strongest
motives” driving societies’ actions.
In one infamous episode, Athenian emissaries inform the leaders of
Melos, a small island state, that “the strong do as they will and the
weak suffer what they must” when their interests collide. They demand
submission. The Melians balk, but have no hope of help from Sparta or
any other rescuer. When they remain defiant anyway, the Athenians put
the men to the sword while enslaving the women and children.
Fear, honor, and interest animate small states like Melos and the
Philippines as much as they do superpowers like Athens and China.
Maritime claims are a matter of self-interest for Filipinos. They are
also a matter of honor. Beijing can't expect Manila to simply tally up
the balance of forces, acknowledge it faces a hopeless mismatch, and
buckle. Philippine leaders can solicit foreign support, and they know
Beijing has no Melian option.
Why admit defeat prematurely, any more than Fabius or Mao did?
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James Holmes | The Diplomat | May 14, 2012 | Article Link
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