Diplomacy should always be polite, quiet, and discreet. In this view, a government spokesperson who talks too much and too bluntly is a liability, someone who risks provoking what should be managed delicately.
Really?
The trouble is, we do not live in a world where all countries have the same manners and language. We live in one where superpowers like the United States and China talk softly when they are preparing to run over smaller nations like Venezuela.
Going by that premise, whereby the silence of global bullies may be akin to the proverbial calm before the storm, China’s saber-rattling, whether against Taiwan or the Philippines, may even be a good thing.
China does not whisper in the West Philippine Sea — it announces, it asserts, it acts provocatively, and its coast guard and navy do not send polite notes of protest. Chinese vessels have fired water cannons at Filipino vessels, blocked resupply missions, shadowed ships and Filipino fishermen until intimidation has become numbingly routine.
Beijing deploys gray-zone aggression as a policy: coercion calibrated to stay below the threshold of war but well above the threshold of civility. And yet, when a Philippine official responds in kind — not with force, but with words — suddenly the tone is the concern?
Enter Commodore Jay Tarriela, the Philippine Coast Guard’s spokesperson for matters that have to do with that regional flashpoint — the West Philippine Sea overlapping the South China Sea.
Tarriela has been accused of mouthing off, of escalating the rhetoric, of crossing lines diplomats should tiptoe around. But perhaps that is precisely the point. Perhaps the mistake is assuming that diplomacy, to be effective, must always sound diplomatic.
China’s actions in the WPS are not ambiguous. They are deliberate assertions of control over waters that international law says are not theirs. The 2016 arbitral ruling and the United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea are clear on this. What is unclear is why the burden of restraint always seems to fall on the smaller party, in this case, the Philippines.
Firing water cannons is not a symbolic gesture, but an overt act of force. Lasers aimed at the eyes of Filipino sailors are more than warnings. And when these happen repeatedly, silence is no longer prudence — it is accommodation.
In this context, Tarriela performs a role that the system itself quietly requires. He says aloud what formal statements from the Palace and the Department of Foreign Affairs cannot. He calls out actions plainly rather than burying them in euphemisms. Tarriela reminds the public that sovereignty is not an abstraction negotiated only in conference rooms; it is tested daily on open waters.
Critics, like Senator Rodante Marcoleta and his son Paolo, argue that this bluntness of Tarriela undermines diplomacy and may push the country into a war it could not win against China. That’s a fair concern, we have to concede.
Still, China does not respect silence; it exploits it. Every muted response is read not as maturity but as hesitation. Every internal doubt, especially when voiced by local politicians, is amplified as proof that even Filipinos are unsure of their own claims.
That is why the recent spectacle of lawmakers publicly questioning settled maritime rights is more than a domestic sideshow. It is a gift to Beijing. When Filipinos cast doubt on the legality of their own exclusive economic zone, China does not see a healthy debate — it sees an opening.
Malacañang insists, rightly, that diplomacy remains the official policy. But diplomacy does not require everyone to speak in the same voice. Serious governments understand the value of pressure valves — figures who draw fire, absorb the heat, and keep the issues visible while diplomats do their work behind closed doors.
China practices this itself. Its “wolf warrior” diplomats insult, threaten, and scold foreign governments without apology. That is called defending sovereignty. When Filipinos do something far milder, it is called recklessness.
Simply put, we cannot afford to be quiet against China while our territory is being grabbed, one calibrated shove at a time. Fire away, Jay.