There is something that both Chinese and Filipino diplomats can learn from a young Filipina who spends much of her time facing powerful opponents on tennis courts around the world.

Her name is Alexandra Eala.

Unlike diplomats who sometimes mistake verbal aggression for national strength, Eala demonstrates a different kind of power: the ability to remain composed in the face of adversity.

Watch her play. Whether an opponent delivers a blistering serve, attacks her backhand, or forces her into a seemingly impossible defensive position, Eala rarely appears interested in theatrics. She concentrates on the ball, adjusts her position, and prepares her response.

She does not need to intimidate her opponent to demonstrate that she belongs on the court.

Her strength lies not merely in the power of her strokes but in the discipline with which she delivers them.

This is precisely what appears to be missing from the increasingly contentious diplomatic exchanges between the Philippines and the People’s Republic of China.

For years, the two countries have traded accusations over the South China Sea, particularly in waters that Filipinos call the West Philippine Sea. Chinese officials invoke sovereignty, historical claims, and territorial integrity. Philippine officials respond with international law, sovereign rights, and the 2016 arbitral ruling that rejected the legal basis for China’s expansive historic-rights claims.

The result has become depressingly familiar: one side serves a sharp diplomatic statement, the other returns an even sharper one, and the exchange continues until the original issue becomes obscured by the volume of the rhetoric.

Neither side seems particularly interested in lowering the temperature.

Perhaps both should spend an afternoon watching Alex Eala.

The difference between aggression and strength

Professional tennis offers an instructive contrast between emotional intensity and disciplined composure.

Consider the occasional outbursts of some of the sport’s most celebrated competitors. Aryna Sabalenka and other elite players have, at various moments, expressed their frustrations through shouting, animated gestures, or heated exchanges. Such reactions are hardly unusual in a sport where enormous psychological pressure accompanies every point.

But emotional displays should not be confused with competitive superiority. Nor should occasional outbursts define an athlete’s character.

Eala offers another model.

Her demeanor frequently suggests an athlete more interested in controlling her response than dramatizing her frustration. She may lose a point, a game, or even a match. Yet the essential challenge remains the same: recover, concentrate, and play the next ball.

That is an extraordinary lesson for diplomacy.

A country does not become stronger because its spokesperson raises the rhetorical temperature. Nor does a government demonstrate weakness simply by refusing to answer every provocation with an insult.

In international relations, as in tennis, the quality of the return matters more than the anger behind it.

For Manila, this means asserting Philippine maritime rights without allowing every Chinese statement to become an occasion for nationalist outrage.

For Beijing, it means recognizing that the Philippines’ defense of its lawful maritime entitlements need not be treated as an existential affront to Chinese national dignity.

Both governments have legitimate interests in preventing confrontation. But their legal positions are not equivalent. The Philippines’ rights in its exclusive economic zone are grounded in the United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea, while the 2016 tribunal found no legal basis for China’s claimed historic rights to resources within the nine-dash line beyond the entitlements permitted by the convention.

Diplomatic restraint does not require Manila to surrender those rights. Neither does it require Beijing to abandon its broader diplomatic objectives overnight.

It requires both to understand that defending national interests and escalating confrontation are not necessarily the same thing.

The problem of losing face

There is another reason why Eala’s example deserves attention, particularly from Beijing.

In Chinese society, the concept of miànzi, or face, concerns social recognition, dignity, reputation, and the respect accorded to an individual or institution.

In international relations, concerns about recognition and status can become especially significant when governments interpret another country’s actions as challenges to their national identity or standing.

China’s responses to developments involving Taiwan and the South China Sea often reflect this sensitivity to sovereignty, status, and international recognition.

But there is an important distinction between preserving face and becoming so preoccupied with it that every disagreement demands an aggressive response.

Eala demonstrates that dignity need not depend on humiliating an opponent.

When she faces a stronger player, she does not need to question that player’s legitimacy. When an opponent wins a point, she does not have to interpret the outcome as a personal insult. She recognizes that the contest continues and that her response, rather than her resentment, determines what happens next.

Imagine if Chinese and Philippine diplomats approached their disagreements with similar discipline.

Beijing could acknowledge that Manila’s insistence on protecting its maritime entitlements is not necessarily an attempt to humiliate China. Manila, in turn, could distinguish between Chinese diplomatic rhetoric and actions that genuinely threaten Philippine interests.

Neither country would have to sacrifice its dignity.

Indeed, the ability to absorb criticism without retaliatory theatrics may be one of the clearest demonstrations of national confidence.

A diplomatic strategy borrowed from the tennis court

My unsolicited proposal is straightforward: both governments should adopt what might be called the Eala approach to diplomatic adversity.

First, judge the serve before deciding how to return it.

Not every diplomatic statement deserves a public confrontation. Not every criticism constitutes a threat to national security. Governments should distinguish between rhetorical posturing, legitimate policy disagreements, and actual violations of international law.

Second, respond with precision rather than emotion.

When Philippine vessels encounter dangerous maneuvers or coercive actions in the West Philippine Sea, Manila should document the incidents, invoke applicable international law, and pursue appropriate diplomatic and operational responses. Evidence is more persuasive than indignation.

Similarly, China should address Philippine objections through substantive legal and diplomatic arguments rather than automatically invoking accusations of foreign interference or hostile intentions.

Third, never confuse composure with surrender.

Eala’s calm demeanor does not mean she allows opponents to win. She fights for points, challenges difficult shots, and continues competing even when the odds are against her.

The Philippines should do the same.

Maintaining a disciplined diplomatic posture does not mean abandoning the 2016 arbitral award, retreating from its exclusive economic zone, or accepting unlawful interference with its maritime activities.

It means pursuing national interests with consistency, determination, and an appreciation of the consequences of unnecessary escalation.

China, for its part, should recognize that its considerable economic and military power carries corresponding responsibilities. A major power need not demonstrate its superiority by intimidating a smaller neighbor.

Fourth, keep the channels of communication open even when the match becomes difficult.

Tennis players understand that competition operates within an agreed set of rules. Without those rules, the sport ceases to be a meaningful contest.

The same principle applies to international relations.

Both governments should strengthen maritime communication mechanisms, establish reliable procedures for preventing dangerous encounters, and pursue practical cooperation in areas where their interests overlap.

The objective should not be to manufacture an artificial harmony or conceal genuine disagreements. It should be to prevent disagreements from becoming uncontrollable confrontations.

A lesson in confidence

Perhaps the most remarkable thing about Eala is that she competes against some of the world’s most accomplished athletes without appearing overwhelmed by their reputations.

She knows that her opponents may be physically stronger, more experienced, or higher-ranked. But she also knows that reputations do not win points on their own.

The ball must still be returned.

There is an obvious parallel here.

The Philippines is not China’s military or economic equal. No amount of patriotic rhetoric will change that reality. But international law does not assign maritime entitlements according to the size of a country’s economy or the strength of its armed forces.

Manila therefore has no reason to behave as though its relative weakness requires diplomatic submission.

Neither does it need to compensate for that weakness through unnecessary verbal aggression.

China, meanwhile, should recognize that genuine great-power leadership is measured not only by military capabilities or economic influence but also by the confidence to accommodate disagreement without interpreting it as humiliation.

A powerful country that treats every objection as an insult risks making its own prestige hostage to the actions of others.

And a smaller country that mistakes every rhetorical exchange for a test of national courage risks allowing its foreign policy to become captive to domestic political theater.

Both outcomes are avoidable.

The next point matters more than the last insult
There is, of course, a limit to the tennis analogy.

Diplomacy is not a sporting contest. Maritime confrontations involve sovereign rights, national security, economic livelihoods, and the possibility of armed conflict. A dangerous encounter at sea cannot be dismissed as a lost point.

Nor should the Philippines be expected to demonstrate endless patience in the face of coercion.

But that is precisely why composure matters.

When the consequences of miscalculation are serious, emotional discipline becomes more important, not less.

The best diplomats, like the best athletes, understand that frustration is inevitable but retaliation is a choice. They know when to defend, when to counterattack, and when to let an opponent’s provocation pass without a response.

Above all, they understand that losing one’s composure can be more damaging than losing a single exchange.

Alex Eala does not win every match. She does not return every serve perfectly. Like every professional athlete, she experiences disappointment, frustration, and defeat.

Yet there is something admirable about an athlete who repeatedly returns to the baseline, gathers herself, and prepares for the next point.

That is the disposition both Manila and Beijing should cultivate.

The South China Sea dispute will not disappear because diplomats become more polite. Its underlying legal and geopolitical disagreements are too substantial for that.

But the danger of confrontation could diminish if both governments learned to separate the defense of national interests from the performance of national outrage.

So here is my unsolicited advice to the diplomatic establishments of China and the Philippines: Watch Alex Eala.

Watch how she handles adversity. Watch how she competes without making every difficult exchange a personal confrontation. Watch how she relies on preparation, discipline, and composure rather than theatrical anger.

And remember this simple lesson:

You do not have to shout louder than your opponent to make a stronger return.

Sometimes, the most powerful response is delivered with a steady hand, a clear mind, and the quiet confidence that you know exactly where the ball should go.