Southeast Asian States Weigh Maritime Forum as Path to Stability Amid South China Sea Tensions

China coast guard, South China Sea

In the five decades since its founding, the Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN) has evolved from a Cold War bulwark into one of the world’s most dynamic regional organizations. From its modest beginnings in 1967, ASEAN’s ten member states—Brunei, Cambodia, Indonesia, Laos, Malaysia, Myanmar, the Philippines, Singapore, Thailand and Vietnam—have collectively built one of the world’s largest trading blocs. The region’s GDP has surged, intra-ASEAN trade has deepened, and a generation of Southeast Asians has grown up under relative peace and prosperity.

Yet beneath this economic success lies a more sobering reality: ASEAN has failed to match its economic achievements with equivalent security and strategic coherence.

The bloc’s “ASEAN Way”—rooted in consensus, non-interference and mutual respect for sovereignty—has preserved regional stability but also shackled its ability to act decisively on the region’s most pressing security challenges. The South China Sea disputes, Myanmar’s descent into civil war, and the lingering border tensions between Thailand and Cambodia each reveal ASEAN’s institutional paralysis in the face of crises that demand collective action.

In short, ASEAN has reached the limits of what a consensus-based, non-supranational body can achieve in an increasingly turbulent region. The world’s attention has shifted toward the Indo-Pacific, and with it, the strategic importance of Southeast Asia’s vast maritime domain. The question now is whether a new, complementary framework can emerge to fill ASEAN’s widening security gap—one focused squarely on the region’s maritime realities.

Unlike the European Union, ASEAN is not a supranational body. It has no parliament, no binding dispute mechanisms, and only a modest secretariat in Jakarta. Its founding charter emphasizes cooperation, not integration. Security concerns drove its creation amid Cold War tensions, but over time, its priorities shifted toward economic liberalization and community building. The results have been impressive: ASEAN collectively represents a market of over 650 million people and is now the fifth-largest economy in the world.

But its structural weakness on political and security issues has become increasingly apparent. The bloc’s consensus rule—every decision requiring approval from all ten members—has made bold action virtually impossible. One dissenting vote is enough to block a proposal, allowing national interests to override regional priorities. Its non-interference principle, originally designed to prevent escalation and maintain harmony, now functions as a diplomatic muzzle.

This has left ASEAN unable to respond effectively to crises within its own ranks. On the South China Sea, the organization has struggled for decades to produce a unified stance against Beijing’s expansive maritime claims. On Myanmar, it has been sidelined as the military junta continues its violent repression, ignoring ASEAN’s “Five-Point Consensus.” And in cross-border disputes like those between Thailand and Cambodia, ASEAN’s mediation efforts have rarely gone beyond symbolic gestures.

Even its most visible defense initiatives, such as the ASEAN Defence Ministers’ Meeting (ADMM) and the ADMM-Plus (which includes partners like the United States, China, and Japan), remain primarily dialogue forums. Operational cooperation—joint patrols, intelligence sharing, or coordinated responses to maritime crime—remains rare and limited.

To address this deficit, some regional strategists are proposing a new idea: a regional maritime cooperation forum centered on Southeast Asia’s maritime nations and trusted partners. Such a grouping could complement ASEAN rather than replace it—focusing on practical collaboration rather than high-level diplomacy.

Tentatively dubbed MANIS—an acronym for Malaysia, Australia, New Zealand, Indonesia, and Singapore, and a Malay word meaning “sweet”—this coalition would bring together countries that already share strong security ties and maritime interests. Four of these nations—Australia, New Zealand, Malaysia, and Singapore—are long-time members of the Five Power Defence Arrangements (FPDA), one of the world’s oldest multilateral defense frameworks. Indonesia, a major maritime power and ASEAN’s largest member, has observer status in the FPDA and could play a pivotal bridging role.

Expanding this grouping to include Timor-Leste, Thailand, Papua New Guinea, the Philippines, and Brunei could evolve it into MANIS-TTPP, broadening its scope across the Indo-Pacific’s maritime heartland.

The logic is compelling. All prospective members are either ASEAN states or close partners with vested interests in maritime stability. Together, they occupy some of the world’s busiest and most contested sea lanes—from the Malacca Strait to the Sulu and Celebes Seas, and from the South China Sea to the Timor Passage. These waters are not only trade arteries but also arenas for competition, piracy, smuggling, and illegal fishing.

Critics might view such a grouping as undermining ASEAN centrality—the long-cherished idea that ASEAN should remain at the heart of regional diplomacy. But proponents argue that MANIS would complement, not compete with, ASEAN. In fact, by demonstrating what smaller, issue-driven cooperation can achieve, it might even revitalize ASEAN’s own mechanisms.

ASEAN’s principles of inclusivity and non-interference would remain intact. MANIS would simply operate where ASEAN cannot—on the practical, operational level. The forum could associate itself formally with ASEAN, much like the East Asia Summit or the ASEAN Regional Forum, ensuring political alignment while maintaining flexibility.

There is a genuine diplomatic gap for such an initiative. While existing ASEAN-led bodies facilitate dialogue, they are often hamstrung by bureaucracy and competing agendas. The Indo-Pacific already hosts an alphabet soup of forums—the ASEAN Regional Forum (ARF), East Asia Summit (EAS), FPDA, the Quad, and AUKUS—but few are tailored specifically to Southeast Asia’s maritime needs.

MANIS could step into this space with a pragmatic, results-oriented agenda. Its focus would not be on forming a new defense alliance—like NATO or AUKUS—but on building operational cooperation and shared capacity. Its agenda could cover a broad spectrum:

  • Maritime security and patrol coordination

  • Counter-piracy and anti-smuggling operations

  • Environmental protection and sustainable fisheries

  • Joint humanitarian and disaster relief

  • Cybersecurity and intelligence sharing

  • Peacekeeping and capacity-building

Working groups could be established across these domains, developing standard operating procedures, running joint exercises, and fostering trust among security forces. Annual MANIS Leaders’ Summits could cement political buy-in and set shared priorities.

Geography alone justifies this focus. Southeast Asia sits at the crossroads of the Indian and Pacific Oceans, controlling some of the world’s most critical maritime chokepoints. The Strait of Malacca handles nearly one-third of global trade and half of all energy supplies destined for East Asia. The South China Sea carries an estimated US$3.5 trillion worth of trade annually.

Yet these same waters are fraught with challenges: illegal, unreported and unregulated (IUU) fishing; human trafficking; piracy; territorial disputes; and growing environmental stress. Rising sea levels and intensifying storms threaten low-lying communities and naval infrastructure alike. Meanwhile, great power rivalries—especially between the United States and China—are increasingly playing out in these maritime domains.

A MANIS-led framework could help regional nations assert agency amid these tensions. By building their own network of maritime cooperation, Southeast Asian states could avoid becoming passive spectators in the evolving Indo-Pacific security order.

ASEAN already has limited examples of regional cooperation in the maritime sphere. The Malacca Strait Patrols (MSP)—involving Indonesia, Malaysia, Singapore, and Thailand—are often cited as a success story, significantly reducing piracy through coordinated patrols and shared intelligence. The Trilateral Cooperative Arrangement (TCA) among Indonesia, Malaysia, and the Philippines for the Sulu-Sulawesi Seas has shown similar promise, though operational challenges persist.

MANIS could build on these foundations, expanding their scope and linking disparate efforts into a coherent regional approach. It could also draw lessons from the Bali Process, co-chaired by Indonesia and Australia, which has become the Indo-Pacific’s key forum for addressing irregular migration. While the Bali Process focuses on human trafficking and smuggling, MANIS could address the full spectrum of maritime security and sustainability.

In an era of climate volatility, maritime security is inseparable from environmental resilience. Rising sea levels threaten coastal economies, while overfishing and coral reef degradation endanger food security. Natural disasters such as tsunamis, cyclones, and flooding events are increasing in frequency and severity.

A MANIS forum could take the lead in integrating climate adaptation and environmental protection into regional security planning. This could involve coordinated disaster response, shared monitoring systems for illegal fishing and marine pollution, and joint efforts to safeguard marine biodiversity. The grouping could also explore blue economy partnerships, aligning economic growth with ecological sustainability.

Such an agenda would resonate with both developed partners like Australia and New Zealand, which have technological resources to contribute, and developing maritime states seeking capacity-building assistance.

The Indo-Pacific’s strategic landscape is becoming more crowded. The Quad (United States, Japan, India, Australia) and AUKUS (Australia, the United Kingdom, United States) reflect a Western-led response to China’s rise. ASEAN, wary of choosing sides, insists on maintaining “ASEAN centrality.” Yet, as Washington and Beijing intensify their competition, Southeast Asian states are under pressure to hedge, balance, and preserve strategic autonomy.

A MANIS forum could offer a third path—a regional mechanism that strengthens local cooperation without being subsumed by great power politics. By keeping membership within Southeast Asia and trusted regional partners, it could ensure that regional priorities—rather than external agendas—drive collaboration.

Operationally, MANIS could empower member states to better protect their borders and maritime resources. Regular joint patrols, coordinated exercises, and shared intelligence would enhance surveillance and deterrence. Over time, these could evolve into joint task forces for maritime law enforcement or rapid-response units for humanitarian assistance and disaster relief (HADR).

In the longer term, MANIS could develop a Peacekeeping Taskforce, enabling co-deployment of personnel in conflict zones or UN peacekeeping missions. This would deepen interoperability and provide a tangible demonstration of collective commitment to peace and stability.

The payoff would not only be strategic but also political: greater confidence, shared norms, and a stronger regional identity anchored in maritime cooperation.

Skeptics will argue that Southeast Asia already suffers from “forum fatigue.” Between ASEAN, the East Asia Summit, the ARF, and numerous subregional bodies, why add another acronym?

But the distinction lies in purpose and scale. MANIS would be smaller, more agile, and focused on a concrete set of maritime issues rather than broad political dialogue. It would prioritize function over form, achieving practical cooperation that ASEAN’s consensus model has made difficult.

Moreover, the urgency of maritime challenges demands fresh thinking. Illegal fishing alone costs Southeast Asian economies billions annually. Piracy, smuggling, and environmental degradation continue to erode sovereignty and economic security. Climate impacts threaten to displace coastal populations, potentially destabilizing entire regions. These are not hypothetical threats—they are here, now, and growing.

If successful, MANIS could set a new standard for what regional cooperation looks like in Southeast Asia: pragmatic, inclusive, and focused on results. It could also provide a model for other issue-based groupings—such as in cyber defense or disaster resilience—where ASEAN’s current mechanisms fall short.

By fostering trust among militaries, coast guards, and law enforcement agencies, the grouping would also help reduce misunderstandings and accidental escalation in contested waters. It could build habits of cooperation that ultimately feed back into ASEAN, strengthening the bloc from within.

The idea of MANIS—or any variant of a maritime cooperation forum—remains conceptual. It would require diplomatic finesse to navigate sensitivities within ASEAN, particularly concerns from members wary of exclusion or redundancy. Yet, history shows that ASEAN has always evolved through experimentation. Subgroup initiatives, from the Mekong subregion projects to the FPDA, have coexisted with and even reinforced ASEAN’s broader goals.

Now, amid rising geopolitical uncertainty and the looming effects of climate change, the region faces a stark choice: remain constrained by institutional inertia, or build new mechanisms capable of addressing shared challenges. The latter requires courage, imagination, and a willingness to adapt.

ASEAN’s strength has always been its ability to maintain unity amid diversity. But unity cannot mean paralysis. As the geopolitical tides shift and maritime challenges intensify, the region needs tools equal to its strategic importance. A maritime cooperation forum like MANIS offers a realistic and forward-looking path—a means to safeguard sovereignty, sustain prosperity, and assert Southeast Asia’s collective agency in the Indo-Pacific century.

ASEAN’s founding spirit was one of regional self-determination. That spirit now demands renewal. Whether through MANIS or a similar initiative, the nations of maritime Southeast Asia have an opportunity—and an obligation—to shape their own security future.

Related Posts