Protect Tarriela, protect WPS

By Herman M. Lagon

Some issues only feel “national” when they reach the dinner table. The West Philippine Sea (WPS) is one of them. You can ignore it until galunggong or tuna gets pricier, a fisherman comes home early because the sea feels “crowded,” or students repeat a viral clip claiming we are “just visitors” in our own waters. That is when it sinks in: The WPS fight is not happening far away. It is unfolding in our chats, classrooms, and newsfeeds. In that space, Commodore Jay Tarriela stands out not because we idolize uniforms, but because he speaks clearly, with evidence, even under pressure that would make most people go quiet.

Protecting Tarriela is not about hero worship. It is about defending the principle that public servants should be able to explain and document what happens at sea without being bullied into silence. His work sits where law, communication, and diplomacy collide, which is why the pushback matters. The real warning is simple: Speak too clearly and you will be targeted. Transparency answers that warning by keeping the lights on.

Being seen is not always elegant. Transparency can be awkward, sharp-edged, and easily read as provocation. That is why the DFA keeps pointing to diplomacy as the proper space for state disputes. This is not meant to silence the Coast Guard. It simply recognizes that the country works with many instruments at once. The problem starts when diplomacy is mistaken for retreat. Silence can be useful, but only when it is chosen—not when it becomes reflex.

That distinction became clearer this week, when 15 senators—cutting across party lines—signed a resolution condemning recent public statements by the Chinese Embassy in Manila. The Senate called out the language used against Philippine officials as falling short of the restraint and courtesy expected in diplomacy and as contrary to mutual respect and noninterference. The message was firm but measured: Asserting sovereignty and explaining one’s position is not aggression. It is a right. In effect, the Senate did in formal language what many Filipinos already feel—that foreign missions are guests, not referees, in our democratic space.

That sense of crossed lines explains why the tone in the Senate itself shifted—from measured condemnation to open frustration. In a privilege speech, Sen. Erwin Tulfo put into words what many Filipinos were already muttering under their breath. Defending free speech, democracy, and sovereignty, he reminded foreign officials that this country is not theirs to police—and if they cannot respect that, they can, in his words, “get the f—k out.”

The latest exchange over Tarriela’s posts and China’s diplomatic protest should still be viewed with restraint. Filipinos use satire to survive pressure; it has long been our shorthand for truth. Still, diplomacy draws lines. Tarriela’s reply rested on a basic rule: Foreign missions should not meddle in domestic affairs. Strip away the legal language and the point is clear. Disagreement is fair. Intimidation is not. Institutions should be steady, not jumpy.

Now, let us move from “national dignity” to the part we all feel in our bones: livelihood. Many people who live far from Palawan or Zambales still think the WPS is an abstract debate among men in barong and men in camouflage. But fish statistics have a way of removing romance. PSA data reported locally point to a decline in WPS fish catch in early 2024, driven by sea tensions and environmental strain. This is felt far beyond any presentation. In the wet market, these numbers become smaller piles, thinner slices, earlier closing times. And when small fishers are pushed away from traditional grounds, they do not magically gain new fishing skills overnight. They take loans, skip repairs, and tell their kids, quietly, that college might need to wait. That is the moment you realize the WPS is not a “Palawan issue.” It is a rice-and-ulam issue.

Law matters because it keeps the argument honest. The Philippine claim rests on UNCLOS and the 2016 arbitral ruling, not on sentiment. That ruling did not end the dispute, but it drew clear boundaries around what claims could no longer pretend to be lawful. It proved that preparation, not volume, can still matter for smaller states.

Public opinion reflects that realism. A 2025 Pulse Asia survey found Filipinos favor firm assertion, stronger defense capability, and partnerships more than symbolic protests. This is not anger speaking. It is exhaustion—an insistence that calm should not mean being pushed without response.

Where do teachers fit in all of this? Right at the center, whether we like it or not. Teachers are the country’s informal fact-checkers, the front-liners of attention. A student who learns to distinguish evidence from propaganda will not suddenly become anti-foreign or pro-war. They become harder to fool. In a typical classroom, the WPS shows up in small ways: an offhand joke about “jetski promises,” a meme that mocks international law as useless, a “both sides” argument delivered with the confidence of a 30-second clip. The teacher’s task is not to sermonize. It is to model a habit of discernment: pause, look at sources, weigh claims, notice who benefits from your anger, and choose the response that builds the common good rather than inflames the ego. That habit is not religious, but it is moral. It is the quiet discipline of choosing light over heat, without pretending heat is never necessary.

Defending Tarriela is not about hero worship. It is about drawing the line against intimidation—whether from water cannons, troll armies, or diplomatic pressure meant to soften voices. The country can demand professionalism without rewarding silence. We can disagree on delivery while standing firm on what matters: The West Philippine Sea is linked to food, identity, and tomorrow. Transparency that unsettles bullies is not recklessness. It is responsibility.

The real test is ordinary life. When a fisherman or market vendor is told that silence is the safest choice, it sounds practical. But safety bought by erasure is fragile. The better choice is patient, lawful persistence. A country that stops defending its facts will one day wonder where its future went.

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Doc H fondly describes himself as a “student of and for life” who, like many others, aspires to a life-giving and why-driven world grounded in social justice and the pursuit of happiness. His views do not necessarily reflect those of the institutions he is employed by or connected with.