The Problem With The South China Sea Code Of Conduct Is Not China: It’s ASEAN – Analysis
ASEAN reaffirmed the importance of maintaining and promoting peace, security, stability, safety, and freedom of navigation in and overflight above the South China Sea and recognised the benefits of having the South China Sea as a sea of peace, stability, prosperity, and sustainable development. In this regard, we underscored the importance of the full and effective implementation of the DOC in its entirety. We welcomed the positive momentum and progress achieved in the ongoing negotiations on the Code of Conduct in the South China Sea (COC). We will endeavour to conclude the negotiation of an effective and substantive COC that is in accordance with international law, particularly the 1982 UNCLOS, within 2026. We emphasised the need to maintain and promote an environment conducive to the COC negotiations, including the situation in the South China Sea, and thus welcomed practical measures that could reduce tensions and the risk of accidents, misunderstandings, and miscalculation. We stressed the importance of undertaking confidence building and preventive measures to enhance, among others, trust and confidence amongst parties, and we reaffirmed the importance of upholding international law, particularly the 1982 UNCLOS.
The ASEAN Foreign Ministers’ Retreat (AMM Retreat) held in Cebu, Philippines on 29 January 2026 produced exactly what seasoned observers expected, a reassurance without resolution. The language was careful, the tone optimistic, the commitments familiar. There was concern about incidents in the South China Sea. There was another affirmation of international law. And there was, once again, confidence that a Code of Conduct on the South China Sea (COC) might finally be completed—this time by 2026.
None of this was new. What mattered was what the statement did not say.
The Philippines, as ASEAN Chair, has made no secret of its desire to use the role to keep the South China Sea high on the agenda. But as political scientist Dr. Aries Arugay recently pointed out, ASEAN does not work by ambition. It works by avoidance. Issues that cannot attract consensus are not resolved, they are softened, delayed, or discussed in a way that ensures no one is forced to disagree.
That reality has shaped every stage of the COC negotiations. The Chair can convene meetings. It can shape language. It cannot force ASEAN Members to take positions they would rather not defend.
This is why the 2026 deadline should be treated with caution. Some diplomats involved in the process genuinely believe progress is being made. Others are quietly sceptical. Both can be right at the same time. ASEAN is capable of concluding documents. It is far less capable of concluding difficult ones. The COC is difficult because it sits at the intersection of law, security, and power. The stakes, for the Philippines, are obvious. It is a claimant State with a favourable arbitral ruling in 2016 and a public commitment to UNCLOS. Any COC worth signing, from Manila’s perspective, must reflect that legal framework.
China has never accepted that premise.
Beijing’s preferred version of a COC is well understood in diplomatic circles. It would not be legally binding. It would limit meaningful consultations to claimant States. It would discourage or prohibit joint military exercises with external partners in disputed areas. It would keep oil and gas cooperation “within the region.” And it would treat questions of sovereignty and maritime entitlement as matters outside the scope of UNCLOS altogether.
These positions are often described as negotiating demands. They are better understood as strategic filters. They determine in advance what kind of regional order the COC is allowed to produce. If such terms define the final document, the COC would do little to restrain behaviour at sea. What it would restrain is ASEAN’s strategic flexibility. External security partnerships would be politically constrained. UNCLOS would be rhetorically endorsed but practically sidelined. The 2016 arbitral ruling, already rejected by Beijing, would be further marginalized by silence.
None of this would go unnoticed outside Southeast Asia.
Japan, which has invested heavily in the idea of a Free and Open Indo-Pacific (FOIP), would see a non-binding, legally ambiguous COC as incompatible with that vision. Australia and the United States of America would read restrictions on joint exercises as an attempt to narrow strategic access rather than promote stability. A document intended to reduce tensions could instead formalize competing rules for the same body of water.
This is the dilemma Manila cannot escape. As ASEAN Chair, it is expected to preserve unity. As a coastal State, it has every reason to resist a Code of Conduct that legitimizes alternative interpretations of maritime law. ASEAN offers no mechanism to reconcile those roles. Consensus remains the organizing principle—and the limiting factor.
That is why the Cebu statement emphasized atmosphere rather than substance. It spoke of “conducive environments,” “confidence-building measures,” and “positive momentum.” It did not say whether the COC would be binding. It did not say how compliance would be enforced. It did not say what happens when restraint fails.
This is not diplomatic oversight. It is design.
ASEAN has always relied on process to manage disagreement. In less contested spaces, that approach works. In the South China Sea, where actions accumulate quietly and legal interpretations harden over time, process risks becoming a substitute for strategy.
If the COC is concluded in 2026, ASEAN will likely declare success. Whether the region is any more stable—or any clearer about the rules that govern it—is a separate question. The real test is not whether ASEAN can produce a document, but whether it is willing to accept the disagreements that a meaningful one would expose.
For now, consensus still comes first. The South China Sea comes second.