The perception gap stems from both historical roots and legal interpretations. A joint, fact-based, truly collaborative process could be a start.
Few disputes in Asia are as enduring – and as polarising – as those over the South China Sea. For more than a decade, two sharply opposed narratives have dominated. In one, Beijing is seen as using force, or the threat of force, to change the status quo, undermining peace and stability. In the other, China is portrayed as exercising restraint, acting within its rights and working to safeguard regional stability.
These perspectives are not merely different; they are mutually exclusive. One side’s defensive action is interpreted as aggressive by the other, reinforcing mistrust and escalation. Measures to enhance one party’s security inevitably diminish the sense of security for others. This makes de-escalation difficult and drives the dispute beyond legal or territorial boundaries into the realm of identity, national pride and historical grievance. Without narrowing this gulf, a peaceful resolution remains remote.
At its core, the divergence stems from conflicting national interests. Yet the roots run deeper, in the incomplete territorial arrangements left after the second world war.
The rapid onset of the Cold War froze parts of the post-war settlement in ambiguity. Treaties such as the 1951 San Francisco Peace Treaty and 1952 Sino-Japanese Peace Treaty required Japan to renounce the Spratly and Paracel Islands but did not specify their new sovereign owner. Beijing maintains these territories are historically Chinese, before Japan’s wartime seizure.
Other claimants read the record differently. Some argue Japan’s renunciation did not automatically transfer sovereignty to China, rendering the islands terra nullius – open to lawful occupation.
A further source of contention is the mismatch between the historical and legal frames of reference. China grounds its claim heavily in history, citing the Cairo Declaration, Potsdam Proclamation, Japanese Instrument of Surrender and its own 1946 reclamation of the Dongsha, Zhongsha, Xisha and Nansha Islands. It points to maps published in 1947 and the erection of stone markers – acts uncontested at the time – as evidence of sovereignty.
By contrast, other claimants place greater weight on the 1982 UN Convention on the Law of the Sea (Unclos), which defines exclusive economic zones (EEZs) extending 200 nautical miles from coastlines. From Manila’s perspective, Beijing’s activities infringe on its rights conferred under Unclos. From Beijing’s perspective, dismissing its historical title undermines the post-war order and infringes on Chinese sovereignty.
Finally, the US-China strategic rivalry has deepened the divide. Washington has become more openly supportive of Southeast Asian claimants as part of a broader effort to counter China’s rise. Legal arguments have merged with security concerns, further hardening positions.
The perception gap has damaging consequences. It reduces the likelihood of compromise, fuels nationalist sentiment and narrows the space for rational policymaking. The dispute becomes framed in zero-sum terms, obscuring the possibility of shared or overlapping maritime interests.
When all sides see themselves as aggrieved, convinced their rights are being violated, it is harder to acknowledge the limits of one’s claims or the legitimacy of others’ perspectives. In such a climate, even minor incidents risk escalation.
Bridging these opposing narratives is not easy, but it is not impossible. The first step is to recognise the limitations of relying exclusively on history or Unclos. The post-war record should be examined in full, without selective citation to suit national positions.
For China, this could mean more explicitly acknowledging its Unclos obligations, including the legitimate EEZ rights of neighbouring states. For other claimants, it would mean recognising that Unclos does not determine sovereignty over islands, and that historical claims cannot be dismissed outright.
Second, all sides should avoid “territorialising” maritime entitlements. China’s nine-dash line remains a vague demarcation, legally disputed; treating it as a fixed territorial boundary escalates tensions. Similarly, when the Philippines or others describe EEZs as sovereign territory, they blur the legal distinction between land and sea rights, making compromise more difficult.
Third, strategic rivalry should not be allowed to instrumentalise legal disputes. If sovereignty and maritime rights become tools in a broader geopolitical contest, the incentive to reach negotiated settlements will diminish.
A joint, fact-based process could help reduce misperceptions: historians, archivists and legal scholars from all claimant states could cooperate to produce an agreed factual baseline. Reducing disputes over basic facts would limit opportunities for distortion. Such an initiative must be genuinely collaborative, avoiding nationalist narratives and political interference.
China could signal good faith by clarifying how its historical claims align with Unclos, reaffirming that its interpretation does not entail unqualified control over all waters within the nine-dash line. Southeast Asian states, in turn, could commit to distinguishing between EEZ rights and sovereignty claims, avoiding rhetoric that frames maritime zones as national territory.
The South China Sea is more than a symbol of national pride. It is a shared space critical to the economic and security interests of all littoral states, as well as a vital artery of global trade. Regional peace and stability depend on managing disputes without force, respecting both history and law.
This does not mean abandoning claims or conceding core interests. It means engaging in good faith, acknowledging each other’s legal and historical references, and avoiding absolutist positions.
Objective narratives and balanced perceptions are not luxuries – they are prerequisites for peace. As long as each side views itself solely as the aggrieved party and the other as the aggressor, compromise will remain elusive. By narrowing the perception gap, states can reduce the risk of miscalculation and create space for practical cooperation.
All littoral states share a collective obligation to reduce gaps in perceptions, promote consensus through dialogue, and commit to resolving disputes peacefully. The challenge is formidable, but so are the costs of failure.
Source: South China Morning Post, August 19, 2025
Author: Zheng Zhihua is an associate professor and head of the East Asia Marine Policy Project at the Centre for Japanese Studies, Shanghai Jiaotong University. He is currently a visiting scholar at the Huayang Centre for Maritime Cooperation and Ocean Governance in Haikou.