It raises the level of tension rather than lessens it
At a moment when the Philippines seeks to quietly lower the temperature in the South China Sea, China's decision to sanction Defense Secretary Gilberto Teodoro and his family has drawn a sharp rebuke from President Ferdinand Marcos Jr., who sees the move not as diplomacy but as its opposite. Speaking in Vancouver on July 4, Marcos argued that punishing officials for their words severs the very communication lines needed to prevent a maritime skirmish from becoming something far graver. The dispute is not merely territorial—it is a test of whether international law can hold when a powerful nation chooses to ignore it, and whether smaller nations can sustain principled positions across changes in leadership.
- China's June sanctions against Defense Secretary Teodoro—barring him and his family from Chinese territory and freezing their financial dealings—were framed as a response to his vocal criticism of Beijing, but Manila sees them as a deliberate silencing of a key voice in the bilateral relationship.
- The stakes are viscerally real: a Filipino sailor lost a thumb during a 2024 Chinese Coast Guard confrontation at the BRP Sierra Madre resupply mission, and near-collisions at Scarborough Shoal have shown how quickly these encounters can escalate.
- Marcos warns that cutting defense-to-defense communication channels raises, not lowers, the risk of a miscalculation spiraling into open conflict—the sanctions, he says, are performative punishment rather than a path toward resolving anything.
- Canada's Prime Minister Carney offered reaffirmation of the Philippines' legal standing under international maritime law, giving Marcos an international anchor for a position grounded in the 2016 Arbitral Award that China refuses to recognize.
- Marcos's deepest anxiety is temporal: his term ends in 2028, and he fears a future Philippine administration could abandon the legal framework he has built, leaving the country's maritime claims without the principled foundation that gives them weight.
President Ferdinand Marcos Jr., speaking to reporters in Vancouver on July 4, did not mince words about China's decision to sanction his Defense Secretary. Beijing had declared Gilberto Teodoro Jr., along with his wife and son, unwelcome across mainland China, Hong Kong, and Macau—and had frozen their ability to transact with Chinese entities. The announcement came on June 11, in apparent retaliation for Teodoro's pointed criticism of Beijing in international forums. Marcos called it unhelpful, and more: he said it actively worsened a situation Manila was trying to carefully de-escalate.
The sanctions, in Marcos's telling, addressed nothing real. The actual problem between the two countries was territorial—China's sweeping claims over the South China Sea, including waters that fall squarely within the Philippines' exclusive economic zone. Those claims had produced years of confrontation. In June 2024, Chinese personnel boarded a Philippine resupply vessel near the BRP Sierra Madre, a deliberately grounded Navy ship serving as Manila's permanent outpost in the West Philippine Sea; a Filipino sailor lost his thumb in the encounter. Near Scarborough Shoal, a Chinese naval vessel and Coast Guard ship had collided while jointly pursuing a far smaller Philippine boat. These were not abstractions—they were the kind of incidents that could spiral.
Marcos's concern was precisely that. By sanctioning Teodoro, China had removed one of the few channels through which the two defense establishments could communicate when tensions spiked. "It does not lessen the risk of a mistake or some kind of skirmish that could grow into something more," he said. Teodoro himself appeared unbothered by his new status, but Marcos saw the broader damage clearly.
In Canada, Marcos found a sympathetic audience. Prime Minister Mark Carney reaffirmed Ottawa's support for the Philippines' interpretation of maritime law and the 2016 Arbitral Award—the international ruling that rejected China's expansive claims, which Beijing has refused to recognize. That external validation mattered to Marcos, because it tied the Philippines' position to something larger than any single administration's will.
And that was his deepest worry. His term ends in 2028. He admitted openly that he feared what a future government might do with the maritime policy he had built—whether it would hold the legal line or quietly retreat. "It's almost an existential issue for us," he said. The sanctions on Teodoro, he believed, made the already difficult work of managing that future just a little harder.
President Ferdinand Marcos Jr. stood before reporters in Vancouver on Saturday, July 4, and offered a blunt assessment of China's decision to sanction his Defense Secretary: it was making things worse, not better. Beijing had declared Gilberto Teodoro Jr. and his family—his wife and son included—unwelcome in mainland China, Hong Kong, and Macau. The move, announced on June 11, also froze their ability to conduct any financial transactions with Chinese individuals or entities. Marcos called it unhelpful. More than that, he said it raised tensions at a moment when Manila was trying to lower them.
The core complaint was simple: the sanctions did nothing to address the actual problem between the two countries. Teodoro, one of the Philippine government's most vocal critics of Beijing, had made his views known in international forums. China responded by punishing him personally. But this, Marcos explained, sidestepped the real conversation Manila wanted to have—about the territorial disputes that had poisoned relations for years. "It does not move that process forward in any way," the president said. The sanctions were performative, a response to words rather than a step toward resolving the maritime conflicts that kept both nations on edge.
Those conflicts were not abstract. China claims nearly the entire South China Sea, including vast stretches of water that fall within the Philippines' exclusive economic zone and that other nations also claim. For Filipino fishermen and the government agencies that patrol those waters, China's claims had meant repeated confrontations. Chinese Coast Guard vessels and People's Liberation Army Navy ships had harassed Philippine boats and aircraft with increasing frequency. In June 2024, during a routine resupply mission to a grounded Philippine Navy ship called the BRP Sierra Madre—deliberately positioned in the West Philippine Sea as Manila's permanent outpost—Chinese personnel had boarded and damaged equipment. A Filipino sailor lost his thumb in that encounter. Almost a year earlier, a Chinese naval vessel and a Coast Guard ship had collided while both chasing a much smaller Philippine Coast Guard boat near Scarborough Shoal. These were not minor incidents. They were the kind of accidents that could spiral into something far larger.
Marcos worried that cutting off communication channels between defense ministries made such spirals more likely, not less. "It does not make it easier. It does not lessen the risk of a mistake or some kind of skirmish that could grow into something more," he said. The sanctions, in his view, removed one of the few lines through which Manila and Beijing could talk when tensions spiked. He acknowledged China had the right to do as it pleased, but he questioned whether it served anyone's interests. Teodoro himself had shrugged off the sanctions, unbothered by his new pariah status.
Marcos had been trying to reset relations with China since taking office. He had visited Beijing in early 2023, but the years since had only deepened the tensions. Now, in Canada, he was making the case to international partners that the Philippines' position was sound—grounded in international law, in the 2016 Arbitral Award that had ruled against China's expansive claims, and in the Philippines' sovereign rights. Prime Minister Mark Carney of Canada reaffirmed his country's support for those principles, backing the Philippines' interpretation of maritime law and territorial integrity.
But Marcos harbored a deeper worry. His term would end in 2028. He was, he admitted, "worried" about what would happen to the country's maritime policy after he left office. "It's almost, not quite, but it's almost an existential issue for us," he said. The Philippines had staked its position on international law and on the arbitral award. If a future administration abandoned that stance, the entire framework could collapse. The validation from countries like Canada mattered precisely because it anchored the Philippines' claims in something larger than any one president's preferences. But that anchor could be pulled up. For now, Marcos was trying to manage the tensions while maintaining the legal and diplomatic ground the Philippines had claimed. The sanctions on Teodoro, he believed, made that harder.
Notable Quotes
It does not move that process forward in any way. It does not make it easier. It does not lessen the risk of a mistake or some kind of skirmish that could grow into something more.— President Marcos Jr., on the sanctions against Defense Secretary Teodoro
It's almost, not quite, but it's almost an existential issue for us.— President Marcos Jr., on his concern that maritime policy could shift after his term ends in 2028
The Hearth Conversation Another angle on the story
Why does Marcos see the sanctions as counterproductive? Isn't China just punishing someone who criticized them?
Yes, but that's exactly the problem. Teodoro made statements in foreign forums, and China responded by making him a pariah. But that doesn't solve anything about the actual maritime disputes. It's theater instead of negotiation.
So Marcos wants to keep talking to China even after they sanction his own Defense Secretary?
He wants the channels open, especially between defense ministries. When you're dealing with vessels that could collide at any moment, you need ways to communicate. Cutting those lines increases the chance of an accident spiraling into something worse.
What happened in that June 2024 incident you mentioned?
Chinese personnel boarded a Philippine resupply mission and damaged equipment. A Filipino sailor lost his thumb. It was a physical confrontation in disputed waters. Those are the moments that terrify Marcos—they're the sparks.
Is Marcos actually trying to improve relations with China, or is he just managing a bad situation?
Both. He visited Beijing in 2023 hoping to reset things. But the incidents keep happening. So now he's trying to keep tensions from exploding while maintaining the Philippines' legal position based on international law and the 2016 arbitral award.
What's his worry about 2028?
His term ends then. If the next president abandons the maritime policy he's built—the one grounded in international law—everything shifts. He's worried the Philippines could lose the legal and diplomatic ground it's claimed. That's why he keeps emphasizing that countries like Canada support the Philippines' position.
Does Teodoro care about being sanctioned?
He's brushed it off. He's not deterred. But the real issue for Marcos isn't Teodoro's feelings—it's that the sanctions remove a communication channel at a moment when those channels are fragile and necessary.