Imagine traveling across the ocean just to tell the homeowner his house isn’t that big.

That’s how Chinese Ambassador Jing Quan chose to introduce himself to Filipinos.

“One may easily win a confrontation with a smaller neighbor [like the Philippines]… but nobody wants force.”

That’s the reassurance: “We could hit you, but we’re being nice.”

Nothing warms the ears faster than being called “small” by someone currently enjoying your hospitality.

Ambassador, welcome. Truly. We are famously gracious. We offer coffee, beaches, smiles, and even patience, for a limited time.

But let’s clarify something gently. You are a guest. A respected diplomatic guest, but a guest nonetheless.

Driving on our roads. Holding receptions on land protected by Filipino police. Powered by our grid. Served by Filipino staff. Explaining, under our flag, how easy it would be to buy the house.

Here’s a really hospitable suggestion: take a little walk. Step outside the gates. Come see what a “small neighbor” looks like up close. Look people in the eye when you call them small.

You said we’re not talking enough. You said this while talking. In Manila.

Embassy gates open because this country allows them to open. Dialogue is stalled? What are you doing here?

How confident someone can sound when he’s protected by the very sovereignty he’s sizing up.

You can “easily win.” Maybe. Big navy. Big economy. Big everything. Very impressive.

Here’s what’s more impressive: We didn’t sail thousands of kilometers to remind anyone who we are.

We are smaller. We are also the ones who wake up with those seas outside our windows.

You can sail in. Sail out. We can’t sail away from our own coastline. That’s the difference.

If size determined ownership, the Pacific would belong to whoever bought the biggest ship. The richest country would own the planet.

When you keep reminding us how big you are, it starts sounding like you need the reminder more than we do.

First, pressure at sea. Then pressure over our tone. If you can convince a country that speaking firmly is “escalation,” you’ve already reduced it without firing a shot.

Very clever. Almost hypnotic. “We are small. We are calm. We are small. We are calm.”

Suddenly, the conversation isn’t “what happened,” but “Why is Jay Tarriela disrespecting China?”

To the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and to President Xi, if he’s listening: Gentlemen, if this tone is the plan, fine. But if you truly want stability, then send the message like you mean stability. “Nobody wants confrontation.” OK, then send your warships back to China.

Jing Quan would prefer we speak more softly. Smaller. More grateful. But gratitude is for guests. Sovereignty is for hosts. And this, in case there was confusion, is home.