When land meets sea: How Asean can shape the next world order

IT is tempting to think of today’s geopolitical turbulence as something new — a modern drama of ideology, technology and strong men. But peel back the headlines and you will find something far older and more elemental at work.

Beneath every summit communiqué and security pact, there’s a deeper fault line running through history itself: the clash between land power and sea power, between empires built on territory and those built on trade.It’s a rivalry as old as Athens and Sparta, as enduring as Rome and Carthage — and it’s shaping the 21st century every bit as much as it shaped the 19th.

As historian SCM Paine has noted, much of today’s great-power tension "flows from a long-standing disagreement over the sources of power and prosperity — one continental, the other maritime.” Geography, she argues, is not just background noise; it is the stage on which power is built and contested.

And nowhere is this ancient struggle more visible — or more consequential — than in the waters and straits that define South-East Asia.

Two worldviews, one planet

Geography, more than ideology, shapes strategy. Continental powers are defined by proximity.

They live cheek by jowl with rivals and have learned over centuries that neighbours are threats. Their reflex is to build walls, raise armies, and carve out buffer zones.

In this worldview, power is measured in land, and security is secured by dominating those around you. Expansion becomes both a habit and a necessity because authoritarian rule thrives on enemies. Manufacturing threats — real or imagined — justifies repression at home and aggression abroad.

Maritime powers, by contrast, are shaped by water. Oceans insulate them from invasion and grant them strategic depth. They do not need vast armies to defend their borders, so they channel resources into trade, innovation and industry.

They see neighbours not as adversaries to be conquered but as partners to be traded with. Their power compounds not by seizing territory but by growing wealth — by treating the sea as a global commons that connects rather than divides.

The difference between these two worldviews is profound. Continental powers play finite games — winner-takes-all contests over territory and domination. Maritime powers prefer infinite games — expanding wealth and shared prosperity through trade and rules. One builds walls; the other builds bridges.

A long arc of history

History is littered with examples of these two logics colliding. During the Napoleonic Wars, Britain did not try to match France’s vast armies. Protected by water, it built a navy, secured trade routes and grew rich from commerce.

Napoleon tried to blockade British trade – a “France first” strategy that ultimately damaged continental Europe more than Britain. Overextended and isolated, his empire collapsed under the weight of its own ambitions.

The pattern repeated in the 20th century. Germany, blessed with industrial strength, could have dominated Europe economically.

Instead, it sought to dominate territorially and fought two catastrophic world wars that set it back generations.

Japan, too, was thriving under a maritime trading order before it abandoned that path for continental conquest in the 1930s. The result was disaster, followed, after defeat, by an embrace of trade and international institutions that fueled the Japanese economic miracle.

Even the Soviet Union was undone by overreach. It expanded far beyond what its stagnant economy could sustain, pouring resources into ideological wars and client states until the system buckled.

In each case, the lesson was the same: the continental impulse to expand through force eventually devours itself. Wealth-destroying wars erode power. Wealth-compounding trade multiplies it.

The modern front line

Today’s great-power competition is simply the latest chapter in this long story. States rooted in continental logic still seek to rewrite borders, undermine neighbours, and chip away at the rules-based order.

They view liberal societies not just as ideological rivals but as existential threats to their model of power. Their tools are varied — territorial aggression, disinformation, cyberattacks, predatory lending, resource weaponisation — but their aim is the same: to replace a shared system with one carved into spheres of influence.

The maritime coalition, led by the United States and joined by allies and partners across the world, defends a different vision — one that treats the sea as a global commons, trade as a foundation of strength, and alliances as force multipliers.

This order is not perfect, but its achievements are undeniable. Around half the world’s population now lives near the coast. Coastal regions generate two-thirds of global wealth. 90% of global trade by weight moves by sea. Submarine cables carry 99% of international communications. The arteries of the modern world are maritime, and open seas, secured by coalitions of states, are what keep them flowing.

But the maritime world is facing a danger of its own making. Some of its leading powers have begun flirting with a continental mindset — raising tariffs, antagonising allies, undermining institutions, and retreating from the very order they built.

Protectionism, economic nationalism, and “country-first” rhetoric are not just policy choices; they are symptoms of strategic amnesia. A maritime power that forgets how it wins is halfway to losing.

Asean: from crossroads to catalyst

Nowhere is the collision between land and sea more consequential than in South-East Asia. Geography has placed Asean squarely on the seam line where these two visions of world order meet.

The South China Sea is not just a body of water; it is a maritime superhighway through which a third of global trade flows. The Mekong, the Malacca Strait, and the Sunda Shelf are more than names on a map — they are the arteries and choke points of the global economy.

For decades, Asean’s instinct has been to hedge — to avoid choosing sides in the contest between great powers. That caution has helped keep the peace, but it risks becoming a liability if it slips into passivity. The truth is, Asean is not condemned to be a pawn on someone else’s chessboard. Its geography, demographics and economic dynamism give it agency — and leverage. If wielded wisely, that leverage could make South-East Asia not just a crossroads but also a catalyst in shaping the future order.

First, Asean can anchor the maritime system. By deepening its internal economic integration and investing in ports, logistics, and digital infrastructure, it can position itself as the indispensable hub of global trade.

Initiatives like the Regional Comprehensive Economic Partnership (RCEP) can strengthen regional supply chains and embed Asean more deeply into the maritime economy — reducing vulnerability to coercion while amplifying its voice in rule-making.

Second, Asean can set standards and shape norms. As middle powers, its member states often have more credibility as honest brokers than superpowers do.

By championing freedom of navigation, transparent investment practices and dispute resolution under international law, Asean can help preserve the open, rules-based order from which it has benefited so profoundly.

Third, Asean can diversify its strategic relationships. This is not about choosing one camp over another; it’s about multiplying options. Expanding partnerships with the EU, India, Japan, Australia, and others reduces overdependence on any single power and increases Asean’s strategic resilience.

It also broadens the coalition of states vested in keeping seas open, trade flowing, and coercion in check.

Finally, Asean can leverage geography as power. Its choke points — the Malacca and Singapore Straits, and the South China Sea lanes — are not vulnerabilities; they are bargaining chips.

Coordinated maritime domain awareness, investment in coast guard capabilities, and cooperative patrols can make the region not just a passive transit corridor but an active guardian of the global commons.

The choice before us

The battle between land and sea power is not going away. It will shape the rest of this century as surely as it shaped the last. And while geography may set the stage, it does not write the script. Choices do.

For South-East Asia, the choice is not between subservience to one power or another. It is between playing a marginal role in someone else’s story or stepping into the centre of its own. By embracing the maritime order — not as a follower but as a shaper — Asean can turn geography into strategy and proximity into power.

History suggests the outcome of this contest is not decided on the battlefield but in the marketplace. It is not won by who conquers more land, but by who builds more wealth, attracts more partners, and writes the rules everyone else plays by.

The maritime order — for all its flaws — has delivered prosperity, stability and peace on a scale the world had never seen before. But it is not inevitable. Like oxygen, it is invisible until it is gone. And if it collapses, South-East Asia will feel the shock first — in its ports, supply chains, economies, and its sovereignty.

That is why Asean’s task is not to choose between land and sea, but to stand firmly with the order that has served it best: one that treats oceans as bridges, neighbours as partners, and trade as power. If it does, it won’t just survive the storm gathering between continental and maritime visions; it might also help decide how the new world is built when the waves recede.

ABBI KANTHASAMY

Kuala Lumpur