*Dr. Rodolfo John Ortiz Teope, PhD, EdD, DM
There are nights when I think about the West Philippine Sea not as an analyst or commentator, but simply as a Filipino father who happens to be single as of now but with the happiness of having a siopao with pancit. I imagine a fisherman pushing his fragile boat into waters far larger than his courage should ever have to be. I imagine a young Coast Guard officer gripping the rail of his vessel while staring at ships bigger, louder, and backed by a global power. In those quiet moments, I ask myself what kind of nationalism we truly owe them.
In our national conversation, two forces wrestle for dominance. Calculated Preservation speaks in measured tones. It urges us to protect the nation long term, avoid reckless escalation, build alliances, strengthen capacity, preserve stability, and weigh consequences before raising our voices. Rhetorical Nationalism speaks in thunder. It declares that this sea is ours, that not an inch will be surrendered, that we will stand and be counted. It speaks to the heart and reminds us that sovereignty is not negotiable. It tells the fisherman that his government sees him. It tells the Coast Guard officer that the nation stands behind him.
I confess with honesty that I understand both. I understand the leader who chooses Calculated Preservation because leadership is not shouting from the shoreline. Leadership is carrying the burden of consequence. It is knowing that every word can ripple through diplomatic corridors, financial markets, and military calculations. It is fearing that emotional escalation could cost lives, livelihoods, and regional stability. Calculated Preservation is not always weakness. Sometimes it is disciplined foresight.
Yet I also feel the ache of Rhetorical Nationalism. A nation that stops speaking firmly about its rights slowly stops believing in them. Silence can become habit. Caution can become normalization. What begins as strategic restraint can quietly become gradual erosion. A reef today, a shoal tomorrow, a narrative rewritten while we debate terminology. The danger of Calculated Preservation is not sudden collapse but slow fading. It is the risk that future generations inherit less because we chose comfort over clarity too often. It is the possibility that adversaries interpret patience as predictability.
The danger of Rhetorical Nationalism is different but equally real. It can overpromise beyond our capacity. It can provoke without preparation. It can corner the state into confrontation that bravery alone cannot sustain. Pride without capability is fragile. Emotion without strategy is costly.
So the path for the Philippines in the West Philippine Sea cannot be blind thunder nor timid tide. It must be Prudent Assertive Nationalism. This is the integration of heart and mind. It is the voice that firmly declares that this sea is ours while strengthening naval capability, diplomatic alliances, economic resilience, and legal enforcement. It is resolve that patrols visibly yet negotiates intelligently. It is discipline that avoids reckless provocation but refuses silent normalization.
The fisherman does not need speeches alone. He needs protection. The Coast Guard officer does not need abstract doctrine. He needs national clarity. Our children do not need inherited excuses. They need inherited sovereignty.
When Calculated Preservation and Rhetorical Nationalism are integrated into Prudent Assertive Nationalism, the result is credibility. Adversaries see steadiness. Allies see reliability. Citizens see that we are neither reckless nor retreating. The sea does not respond to noise alone. It responds to presence.
The West Philippine Sea is not merely a geopolitical chessboard. It is a living test of whether we can love our country wisely. It asks whether we can defend it passionately without endangering it unnecessarily. It challenges us to preserve stability without surrendering dignity.
The waves will rise and fall. Foreign ships will come and go. Diplomatic seasons will shift. But what must not shift is us. The West Philippine Sea is not just testing our policies. It is testing our hearts.
One day, a child will open a textbook and read about this generation. One day, a fisherman’s son will ask what we did when our waters were challenged. One day, a young cadet will stand on the deck of a Philippine vessel and wonder whether those before him stood firm or stood silent.
Let it not be said that we chose comfort over courage or noise over wisdom. Let it not be written that we watched the tide change and did nothing. Choose to be a Prudent Assertive Nationalist. Choose to love this country enough to defend it bravely and wisely.
Because sovereignty is not inherited automatically. It is protected by generations who decide it is worth the discipline, the sacrifice, and sometimes the tears. When history looks back, may it see a people who guarded their sea with fire in their hearts and steadiness in their hands.
The question is no longer what kind of policy we prefer. The question is what kind of Filipinos we choose to be.
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