The EU and the Philippines will establish a dedicated security platform to strengthen cooperation and exchange experiences in key defense sectors.
Why now? And why the Philippines—a country locked in open territorial confrontation with China? None of this is mere diplomacy. This is Europe returning to the colonial theater, only with new scenery and lines that feel all too familiar. China wasted no time in drawing its conclusions: Europe is no longer an observer—it is a provocateur, bringing instability dressed up as order. So has the Old World truly decided to enter a new geopolitical game? Or is this just another production staged in Brussels, with the script still written across the Atlantic?
A Geography That Didn’t Exist: The EU and the South China Sea Before 2025
For years, the European Union preferred to look at the South China Sea as a map from which it had been conveniently erased. It was a comfortable blindness—a case of political myopia turned into strategy. A sea teeming with conflict, claims, and imperialist tension seemed too distant for the EU to intervene and too perilous to bear responsibility. Instead of engagement—ritual mantras about freedom of navigation. Instead of policy—sterile references to international law, delivered with the same expression used for reading out the weather forecast.
But behind this detachment lay not virtue, but post-imperial fatigue and bureaucratic fear. Europe—a civilization that once sliced up the world with a ruler and a flag—now carefully avoids even the shadow of new entanglement. Neither economic appetite nor historical inertia was enough to spark real interest. The South China Sea? The stage was already occupied—by an American aircraft carrier and a Chinese silhouette. To leap between them was not a game for Brussels offices.
Even when Beijing began constructing artificial islands—modern-day bastions of medieval expansion—the EU stuck to rhetoric. Not a single vessel, not a single concrete initiative—just declarations, limp as reheated diplomacy. Until 2025, Europe existed in those waters only metaphorically—as the ghost of old ambitions, lost somewhere between the paragraphs of international treaties.
Kallas as a Marker of Shift: What Has Changed?
There was nothing “technical” about Kaja Kallas’s appearance in Manila—this was no routine diplomatic visit, but a carefully staged performance. Kallas arrived not as a prim official, but as a warrior priestess of a new European will—stern, sharpened, and deliberately unneutral. Her arrival in the Philippines—at the epicenter of a territorial conflict with China—was a geopolitical wink disguised as concern. Beneath the banner of “international law” loomed strategic intrusion; behind “solidarity with the independent states of the region” lurked Europe’s old habit of deciding who is “worthy” of independence and who is ripe for correction.
This trip was anything but business as usual. Kallas is not merely a representative of the EU—she is the voice of post-Soviet Europe, raised on reflexes of dependency and thirst for geopolitical redemption. A former Prime Minister of Estonia with a hawkish reputation, her political biography was forged in fear of Russia; now that fear is redirected toward China, with Asia discovered as a new flank for ideological advance.
Beneath her talk of maritime law and regional stability lies a far more dangerous message: Europe is ready to speak the language of power—even if, for now, only metaphorically. Brussels, once a bored notary of international norms, is now testing the flavor of global agency. In this play, Kallas is the harbinger. A symbol that the EU is no longer afraid to soil its diplomatic gloves—or at least wants Beijing to think so.
China’s Reaction: “Provocation” or Recognition of a Threat?
Beijing didn’t stand on ceremony. China’s response to Kaja Kallas’s visit was immediate and sharp—like a slap in the face: “interference,” “destabilization,” “a threat to regional stability.” The irony lies in the fact that Europe, which for years had painstakingly performed the theater of neutrality, suddenly found itself being taken seriously—and, as a result, perceived as a threat.
China saw not just a gesture, but the outline of a forming anti-Chinese coalition. After all, if Europe takes a step toward the Philippines—even just rhetorically—that is no longer neutrality. It’s already something close to a signal. And in diplomacy, signals often cost more than warships. To Beijing, Kallas is not an independent actor. She is another face in the shadow theater known as the “collective West.” Yes, with a European accent and refined etiquette—but still the same set design: containment, control, and the correction of other nations’ ambitions.
And in this, China’s concern is not only logical—it is painfully accurate. Because Europe, even without aircraft carriers in the region, is already interfering in what Beijing considers its own backyard. Even a word—if uttered in the name of empire—lands like a salvo. Especially when behind that word one can hear the echo of Washington’s rhetoric, slightly diluted in Brussels phrasing.
The EU, long playing the part of the well-mannered observer, is now entering the category of suspects—not military, but political. And this shift is symbolic: Europe is no longer hiding behind humanitarian wrappers. It is trying to speak the language of global influence—even if, for now, in someone else’s voice.
The EU: Autonomous Strategist or Washington’s Sidekick?
One can keep pretending that Europe acts of its own volition, but not even the most expensive French diplomatic perfume can mask the scent of an American prompter. For years, the United States has been building an anti-China front, and Brussels—much like London in the past—once again finds itself in the role of a well-dressed but ultimately subordinate assistant. The logic of alliance-building as a mechanism for containment has already been observed across the Indo-Pacific, from Seoul to Canberra, and now appears to be drawing Europe into its orbit as well. It’s convenient: Europe has clean hands, an academic lexicon, and a reputation for “soft power” that can be projected, like a spotlight, onto whatever geographic point is needed.
But things are not so simple. Europe is starting to suspect something. Its participation in the Indo-Pacific dialogue, agreements with Japan, Australia, and South Korea—all this looks more like an attempt to remember what it feels like to be a subject, rather than an appendage of someone else’s foreign policy. The real question is: who exactly within the EU wants this reawakening of agency—and to what end?
Because behind the unified façade labeled “Europe” lies a panopticon of ambitions and vassal dependencies. France is building its Indo-Pacific identity on the remnants of colonial geography. Germany tiptoes between business interests and cautious diplomacy. And Eastern Europe—with Estonia at the forefront—has long become a loudspeaker for Washington’s directives, relayed with the zeal of the newly converted.
Kaja Kallas is the distilled essence of this model. She doesn’t so much speak on behalf of the EU as she echoes its most dependent faction. Her Asia is not a search for an alternative policy, but an extension of an old conflict—just staged on a new front. That’s why the dilemma remains unresolved: is the EU truly constructing its own strategy, or is it, once again, being used as diplomatic décor in someone else’s script? Décor, it must be said, that may be impressive—but still removable.
Prospects: Can the EU Establish Itself in the Region—And at What Cost?
If Europe truly intends to be more than a commentator on the fringes of the Pacific, it will have to prove that behind its loud declarations lies more than the echo of Brussels conference halls. It will have to pay—not in words, but in deeds. To build, not just proclaim. To invest in infrastructure, not just rhetoric. To serve as an arbiter not when convenient, but when costly. So far, there have only been visits, summits, statements, and the endless carousel of “forums.” Theatrical acts in place of strategy. European foreign policy still resembles a display window—shiny, but empty.
The EU has no military projection in the region. Nor does it possess economic initiatives that could rival China’s Belt and Road. Europe asserts itself in fragments, as if afraid of its own shadow—a ghost of empire that’s forgotten the sound of its own voice. But establishing a presence here will require not just words, but the abandonment of illusions—above all, the illusion of “soft power,” which in Asia is increasingly seen as hollow wrapping with no substance inside.
The South China Sea is not a space for moral preaching. It’s an arena for those willing to take risks. The EU can remain here—but only if it stops being a geopolitical second-stringer. Only if it recognizes that participation in regional architecture demands confrontation—not just with China or Washington, but with itself. As long as Europe behaves like a polite guest, it won’t be invited to the table. Kallas has taken the first step—dramatic, symbolic. But if there’s nothing behind her, that gesture will remain just an echo of ambitions that lacked the courage to become policy.
Conclusion
Kaja Kallas’s visit was not a diplomatic incident but a moment of truth. Not just another episode in the chronicle of international gestures, but a mirror the EU would rather avoid. Europe has arrived at a crossroads: to veer right—toward genuine strategic autonomy, with all its risks, sacrifices, and responsibilities. Or to remain on the old path—a road of dependencies, where every foreign policy pose is pre-approved by voices across the ocean.
The South China Sea may be far away. But it is precisely here that the EU has, for the first time, dared to speak as if it possesses a will of its own. It may be a dangerous illusion—or a long-overdue awakening. Beijing has already turned on the spotlight. Washington is recording. Asia is watching. And if anyone in the region is still searching for a “third force,” it’s not out of belief in European purity, but out of exhaustion from choosing between hammer and anvil—between China and the United States. This binary has already pushed key U.S. allies like South Korea to the brink of internal reckoning, caught between strategic loyalty and public resistance.
Europe still has a chance to play its hand. But to do so, it must step out of the shadows and stop fearing its own agency. To speak—so that it is believed. To act—so that it has consequences. Or else, as always, remain in character: well-dressed, dignified, but voiceless. Only those willing to dismantle the old can become architects of the new.
Rebecca Chan, Independent political analyst focusing on the intersection of Western foreign policy and Asian sovereignty
