Tag / Southeast Asia politics

by ed fernandez

Malampaya and the Discipline of Sovereign Partnership

When Manuel V. Pangilinan says, “we should engage China,” in the context of reviving the stalled Malampaya project, the statement lands with the weight of both pragmatism and history. The Philippines has long navigated a world where major powers — whether China, the United States, or others — approach Manila with strategic interests that far exceed its own bargaining capacity. Engagement, in itself, is not the problem. The problem is entering these engagements without the discipline of sovereign partnership.

Malampaya is not just an energy field. It is one of the few strategic assets that has given the Philippines a measure of energy security since 2001. Its decline, and the delays in expanding extraction, expose a familiar national vulnerability: the country’s resources are finite, but its dependence on external actors is not.

This is why the question is not whether the Philippines should work with China, or with any other major power. The real question is whether the Philippines can negotiate from a position that protects its national security and ensures that Filipinos benefit more from their own resources than the foreign entities extracting them.

Other resource-rich nations have learned this discipline. Norway built a sovereign wealth fund that now shapes its future. Qatar leveraged its gas reserves into geopolitical influence. Malaysia has consistently structured deals that keep national interest at the center. The Philippines, by contrast, often negotiates as though grateful to be invited — even when it holds the very resource that makes the partnership possible.

A mature foreign policy begins with a simple premise: if the resource is Filipino, the primary beneficiary must be the Filipino people. This is not nationalism; it is governance. It is the difference between partnership and dependency, between strategic engagement and strategic surrender.

Engaging China is not inherently risky. Engaging the United States is not inherently safe. What is risky — and historically costly — is entering any partnership without guardrails, leverage, or a clear articulation of what must not be compromised. National security is not a geopolitical preference; it is a boundary.

Malampaya is a test case. If the Philippines cannot negotiate from strength when it holds the resource, it will not negotiate from strength anywhere else. The country does not need to choose between China and America. It needs to choose itself.

by ed fernandez

When Admiration Becomes Blindness

By Ed Fernandez

My wife and I recently watched a National Geographic documentary on North Korea’s dictator, and we found ourselves stunned by the way he is worshiped like a god. It made me wonder how political devotion can harden into something unshakeable — something that prevents people from seeing what is right in front of them.

I know what it means to admire a leader. When I was a boy in rural Mindanao, I was chosen to greet President Ferdinand Marcos Sr. as he stepped off a helicopter. To a child, that moment was dazzling. I became a fan — not only of him, but of Imelda Romualdez Marcos, the former beauty queen whose elegance captivated the nation.

But admiration has a way of maturing when reality intrudes. Under Martial Law, I saw the cruelty of soldiers at checkpoints between Norala and Cotabato City. I heard the stories of “salvage” victims — people killed for resisting the regime. I witnessed how power could be used not for service but for plunder. Those experiences forced me to re‑evaluate the man I once admired. I changed my mind because the truth demanded it.

And so I find myself grieving when I see friends who remain loyal to leaders whose actions have caused undeniable harm. Some of my friends continue to defend former President Rodrigo Duterte, even as evidence mounts about extrajudicial killings and the possibility that the drug war served interests far darker than public safety. Their devotion seems to override their capacity to evaluate the facts.

Why is it that some people can re‑examine their loyalties while others cannot?

I don’t believe in predestination. I believe people have the freedom to think, to choose, to change. But I also know that we are shaped by our fears, our loyalties, our communities, and the stories we tell ourselves about the leaders we admire. And I know I am not infallible — I do not understand everything.

Still, I return to this question:
What allows one person to step back and see clearly, while another clings to the image of a leader long after the truth has become impossible to ignore?

I don’t have a final answer. But I know this: the ability to re‑evaluate our heroes is not a sign of disloyalty. It is a sign of moral courage. And in times like ours, courage may be the only thing that keeps admiration from becoming blindness.