AOIP and the South China Sea Dispute

The South China Sea is no stranger to turbulence, both metaphorically and literally. It stands as a theater where nations project their might, drawing lines in the water as if cartography were a tool of conquest. This geopolitically charged region sees overlapping claims from China, the Philippines, Vietnam, Malaysia, Brunei, Indonesia, and Taiwan, each brandishing history and law to assert their sovereignty. The stakes are astronomically high—not just for national pride but for the resources and strategic routes that this maritime crossroad offers.

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China’s ten-dash line, for instance, pushes boundaries—both geographical and diplomatic—staking claims over vast swathes of the sea in defiance of international law and rulings like the United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea (UNCLOS) and 2016 arbitral tribunal decision, respectively. Meanwhile, Taiwan counters with its eleven-dash line, a position that some might describe as upping the ante. Vietnam’s artificial island-building activities add yet another layer to this already convoluted puzzle, which proves that no claimant is above reproach. When you factor in the Philippines’ asking for help from external powers such as the United States, Japan, and Australia and their so-called “free and open Indo-Pacific” stance and “freedom of navigation operations,” it becomes clear that the waters are murkier than ever.

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Amidst this tangled web, the ASEAN Outlook on the Indo-Pacific (AOIP) shines as a critical benchmark of hope—albeit one that flickers under the weight of its lofty ambitions. The AOIP is ASEAN’s roadmap for navigating the choppy waters of the Indo-Pacific; it emphasizes principles of inclusivity, rule of law, and cooperation. What sets it apart, in my view, is its rejection of a zero-sum game mindset. Instead of choosing sides in the escalating U.S.-China rivalry, the AOIP seeks to build bridges, not walls. It is a vision rooted in ASEAN’s DNA—promoting dialogue and mutual respect in a region known for its friction.

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Yet, is the AOIP the magic bullet the region needs? From a realist perspective, the answer is likely no. Realism emphasizes the anarchic nature of international politics, where states act in their self-interest to maximize power and security. The AOIP’s principles, noble as they may be, clash with the hard realities of state behavior in the South China Sea. China’s actions, from militarization to the coercion of smaller states, reflect a classic realist strategy of power projection. ASEAN’s consensus-based decision-making, often criticized for being toothless, further undermines its ability to enforce the AOIP’s vision.

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On the other hand, constructivism offers a more optimistic lens. This theory highlights the power of ideas, norms, and shared understandings in shaping international relations. The AOIP, in this sense, represents an attempt to redefine regional norms—to promote a cooperative Indo-Pacific identity over divisive power politics. If ASEAN can persuade China and other major players to internalize these norms, the AOIP could indeed chart a path toward lasting peace. However, this requires a level of unity and strategic patience that ASEAN has yet to demonstrate.

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Diplomatic theory also sheds light on the AOIP’s potential and limitations. The concept of multi-track diplomacy emphasizes that resolving complex disputes requires more than just state-level engagement. People-to-people exchanges, business collaborations, and academic dialogues—all integral to the AOIP’s pillars—could act as pressure points for change. These soft-power strategies might not dismantle warships or redraw maps, but they can slowly erode the foundations of mistrust and rivalry. At the heart of the matter is ASEAN’s perennial challenge: unity and Centrality. Some member states, such as Cambodia and Laos, appear to lean toward China’s orbit, while others, like Vietnam and the Philippines, push back against Beijing’s maritime assertiveness. This internal dissonance weakens ASEAN’s voice and threatens to turn the AOIP into little more than a paper tiger. If ASEAN cannot align its actions with the AOIP’s principles, how can it expect others to follow suit?

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Still, I firmly believe the AOIP holds immense potential if ASEAN can truly commit to its ideals. Its emphasis on peace, stability, and sustainable development aligns perfectly with what the South China Sea desperately needs. The AOIP’s approach to maritime cooperation—focusing on environmental conservation, sustainable fisheries, and humanitarian assistance—could transform this contested sea into a shared space of opportunity rather than conflict. Isn’t it high time we stopped fighting over the pie and started baking a bigger one instead? But the real question is: how do we bake it? This won’t be easy. It will require negotiation, concession, and compromise.

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Hence, the South China Sea is, in many ways, a litmus test for the AOIP. It is a stage where the region’s competing interests, identities, and aspirations collide. Whether the AOIP succeeds or not depends on ASEAN’s ability to bridge the gap between lofty rhetoric and ground realities. It requires a delicate balancing act between power politics and principle—a feat that might seem impossible but is not entirely out of reach.

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In the end, the South China Sea is about maritime boundaries and resource competition. Consequently, it is also a stage where the future of regional order is being written. While the AOIP offers a promising script, ASEAN must deliver a performance that lives up to its ideals. Calm seas never made a skilled sailor, and this is no time for ASEAN to abandon ship. Instead, it must steer this ship with resolve in order to ensure that the AOIP does not just float but sails toward a more stable and cooperative Indo-Pacific.