By taking its case to the UN’s arbitration court in The Hague, the Philippines government hoped to find a peaceful, internationally acceptable solution to its long-running maritime dispute with China, its vastly more powerful neighbour. But Tuesday’s ruling, largely backing Manila and rejecting Beijing’s claims to exclusive control of large parts of the South China Sea, may do the exact opposite, stoking regional tensions, drawing in the US and Japan, and increasing the risk of armed confrontation.



The possible trigger for such an escalation is China’s refusal to accept the authority and jurisdiction of the UN court, and its instant rejection of its findings, despite the fact Beijing is a signatory of the UN’s convention on the law of the sea, which the court oversees, and is a permanent member of the UN security council. This attempt by Beijing to cherry-pick which treaties and rules it follows poses a significant challenge to the supremacy of international law and the UN system, of which it, in theory, is a key guardian. Its supporters will argue it is only following the US example.

That Chinese officials and state media pre-empted the court ruling over a period of months before the verdict, disparaging the court and proclaiming its proceedings null and void, suggests a disturbing new doctrine of Chinese exceptionalism may be emerging under the muscular tutelage of Xi Jinping, China’s authoritarian president. The irony should not be lost on the US, which justified its 20th-century global expansion in terms of exceptionalism and now finds itself on the receiving end.

China’s island-building across the South China Sea has been exclusive, unapologetic, rapid and brazen. It has barely bothered to disguise its plans to create new facts on the (new) ground, including naval, air force and missiles bases. It has busily employed its soft-power influence, for example as a major lender and investor in developing countries, to face down possible criticism. And it has produced supposedly authentic, ancient documents supporting its dubious claims, behaving much like a dodgy auctioneer trying to pass off a fake oil painting as an Old Master.

Chinese propaganda noisily rejected the court’s findings even before they were made public. Its drive to whip up diplomatic support in advance in places as distant as Lesotho and Palestine suggests Beijing knows very well, privately, that its attempt, in effect, to annex most of the South China Sea has scant historical, legal or moral justification. Generally speaking, the louder a government shouts, the bigger its lies.

The Philippines, under the maverick leadership of its newly elected president, Rodrigo Duterte, might appear to be first in the firing line as China looks for ways to give concrete expression to its deep displeasure. Manila thought long and hard about the possible adverse consequences of bearding its giant neighbour before bringing the case in 2013.

China’s provocative efforts to bar Philippines vessels from Scarborough Shoal, generally considered to be located within the Philippines’ exclusive economic zone, and its lack of seriousness over finding a diplomatic solution through bilateral talks meant Benigno Aquino, Duterte’s predecessor, had little choice but to seek redress, whatever the cost.

In doing so, Manila became unofficial standard-bearer for others in the region, including Vietnam, Singapore, Indonesia and Malaysia, all of which dispute China’s “nine-dash line” encompassing 90% of the South China Sea’s fisheries, strategic shipping lanes and untapped energy resources. As the dispute intensified, all these countries, in common with Japan and Taiwan, have been steadily reinforcing their military-to-military relationships with the US. Washington sent a powerful naval force to the area before The Hague ruling and has mounted numerous patrols to maintain freedom of navigation in what it and they view as international waters.

Thus the principal object of China’s ire may turn out to be not the Philippines, whose protestations it feels it can safely ignore, but rather the US, the military superpower that binds regional nations together in a potential anti-Beijing coalition. State media have already been complaining about a US-led conspiracy, while officials from Xi down have made clear their grim determination to defend what they define as Chinese sovereignty and territory, with force if necessary.

It is possible Xi may back off, even at the risk of losing face. As host of September’s G20 meeting, he may opt not to further inflame international opinion. But it is also possible he may choose to sink or swim – escalating, for example, by stationing advanced combat aircraft on the artificial islands he has built or declaring unilateral air and sea exclusion zones.

Facing unquantifiable challenges at home arising from China’s economic slowdown and growing public dissatisfaction with Communist party incompetence and corruption, it may suit Xi to generate some kind of bogus national emergency, tightening his grip on power by exaggerating external threats. The risks inherent in such a course of action, on land and sea, are only too obvious.