Southeast Asia is quietly entering a new strategic era, one defined not by the size of a navy’s fleet, but by the range of its missiles. Across the region, an emerging pattern is becoming visible. Vietnam, the Philippines, and Indonesia are each moving rapidly to establish anti-access/area-denial (A2/AD) postures. For some, the shift is born out of necessity, for others it is an assertion of sovereignty in an increasingly congested and contested maritime environment.
Vietnam was among the earliest in Southeast Asia to embrace A2/AD. With assistance from Moscow, Hanoi systematically modernized its maritime forces by acquiring Kilo-class submarines, advanced fighters, and coastal missile systems. As early as 2013, analysts described Vietnam’s approach as a deliberate A2/AD strategy designed to counter a much larger naval power while avoiding direct confrontation. This strategy did not emerge in a vacuum. It grew from years of maritime friction with Beijing, including a 2011 incident where Chinese patrol vessels cut the cables of Vietnamese survey ship as well as a dramatic 2014 oil-rig standoff that provoked nationwide protests. At sea, Vietnam has also embarked on land reclamation at every one of its occupied Spratly outposts, expanding platforms, piers, and defensive facilities to solidify presence and complicate attempts to dislodge them. These moves reflect a long-term strategic recalibration — Vietnam no longer relies solely on diplomacy or naval patrols, but on a layered system of denial that makes any hostile action costly, uncertain, and slow.
The Philippines took another path but also focused on the same strategy. Traditionally one of the region’s least-equipped maritime states, Manila has faced repeated confrontations with Beijing in the South China Sea. It eventually turned to long-range coastal defense missiles as a means of levelling the playing field. Today, the Philippines operates the BrahMos supersonic missile system with another batch scheduled for delivery, signaling a long-term commitment to A2/AD. For a state with limited naval assets, these missile batteries offer immediate reach, survivability, and a deterrent effect that far outweighs their size. The Philippine case illustrates that even a modestly funded military can drastically alter its strategic posture when it invests in capabilities that complicate an adversary’s freedom of maneuver.
Indonesia, meanwhile, stands on the brink of its own A2/AD breakthrough. Recent reporting indicates Jakarta is close to finalizing a $450 million deal with India for the BrahMos missile in what could become one of Southeast Asia’s most consequential coastal-defense acquisitions. Analysts interpret this not as alignment with any major power, but as Indonesia’s attempt to diversify partnerships and strengthen its ability to defend its archipelagic waters amid increasing great-power competition. Other reports suggest Indonesia is also evaluating Beijing’s CM-302 supersonic anti-ship missile, hinting at a potential two-layered coastal defense grid: one sourced from India, the other from China. Such a combination, if realized could give Jakarta unprecedented flexibility and make its long coastline significantly harder to penetrate. This is the evolution of A2/AD in Southeast Asia. Regional states are no longer passive observers, but active architects of their own deterrence systems.
All of this is unfolding as Malaysia remains deeply reliant on the sea for national survival. More than 90% of Malaysia’s trade, from energy to manufactured goods to food imports moves by sea. The Strait of Malacca is one of the world’s busiest waterways and the South China Sea contains offshore hydrocarbons, fisheries, and forward-most maritime communities. Yet, even as maritime pressure increases around the Luconia Shoals, the North Natuna Sea, and other key areas, Kuala Lumpur faces undeniable limitations in its ability to sustain presence. Surface combatant numbers are small. Submarines, though capable, are few. Air-maritime strike assets remain insufficient for persistent coverage. These structural realities make long-range sea-denial capabilities not merely an option but an important complement to traditional naval forces.
Malaysia’s own naval thinkers have long argued that for a small navy, sea denial is the utmost strategic anchor. The logic aligns with how others in the region have modernized. Hanoi uses submarines, coastal batteries, and fortified outposts. Manila fields mobile missile batteries. Jakarta is designing an archipelagic deterrence network. Hence, sea denial has become the practical path for those who cannot and need not match great powers ship-for-ship.
Interestingly, Malaysia is already making early steps that hint at this direction. Discussions under the Thirteenth Malaysia Plan have highlighted the prospect of new medium-range air defense and coastal surveillance systems that, if integrated with intelligence, radar networks and joint air-naval operations, could form the basis of a future layered denial architecture. While details remain limited, these signals suggest Malaysian planners understand that maritime threats are evolving and that traditional force structures alone are no longer enough.
Still, the contrast with neighbors is striking. Vietnam is expanding hardened positions in the Spratlys. Indonesia is negotiating a historic missile acquisition. The Philippines is already operating its first coastal-defense regiment. These moves collectively reshape the regional military landscape not in the direction of offensive posturing, but toward distributed, resilient deterrence. The question for Malaysia is not whether this trend exists, it is whether it is preparing for the resulting maritime environment.
This reality should spark curiosity among Malaysian policymakers and readers alike. What will the South China Sea look like when every major Southeast Asian coastline is guarded by long-range precision missiles? What happens when sea denial becomes the region’s new normal? How will this influence negotiation leverage, maritime incidents or the behavior of larger powers operating near Malaysia’s exclusive economic zone?
For now, the answers remain unwritten. But the developments make one thing clear. A2/AD is no longer an abstract military concept studied in foreign journals. It is now a living, evolving reality in Southeast Asia. Each neighbor that strengthens its denial capabilities alters the maritime equation, creating a region where control is contested, access is negotiated, and presence must be backed by credible capability.
Malaysia, with its long maritime history and strategic waterways, cannot remain a passive spectator. The question is not whether Malaysia seeks confrontation, but whether it is prepared for a future where deterrence is the price of sovereignty and where those without credible A2/AD architectures may find their maritime voice diminished in a region where others are speaking loudly.
