SEPTEMBER 14 — The deployment of a Nato aircraft carrier to Norwegian waters this month has been hailed in Europe as both reassurance and deterrence. Reassurance, because it tells member states on Nato’s northern flank that they will not stand alone in the face of Russian assertiveness. Deterrence, because it signals to Moscow that the alliance retains overwhelming military power and is prepared to project it into the Arctic and the North Atlantic. The symbolism is unmistakable: Norway is Europe’s “Eastern Sentry,” standing watch over a frontier where geography and geopolitics converge.
For Nato, the lessons of history have hardened into doctrine. The Cold War may have ended, but the principles of deterrence remain the same: show strength, be seen, and, if necessary, fight forward.
The arrival of an aircraft carrier — a floating city, a mobile runway, and a powerful icon of maritime dominance — embodies this logic. Its presence tells friend and foe alike that Europe’s security perimeter extends far into the northern seas.
The question for Southeast Asia is whether such a model offers any lessons for Asean. Should Asean, too, contemplate a posture of forward deterrence? Should its waters see the arrival of carriers meant to dissuade rivals and reassure partners? The answer is simple and categorical: No.
Asean’s strategic setting
Asean was never meant to be Nato. Where Nato was designed as a military alliance to counter a clear adversary, Asean was founded to prevent inter-state conflict through dialogue, consensus, and gradual integration. Its members face complex challenges, but not of the same kind as Europe’s.
There is no equivalent of Russia on Asean’s borders, threatening to redraw maps by force. Instead, the threats to Southeast Asia are multi-layered: natural disasters, climate change, pandemics, internal political upheavals, and occasional maritime disputes.
To graft Nato’s model onto Asean would not only be unwise but destabilizing. The projection of military power in Asean waters by external actors — be it carriers, submarines, or long-range bombers — risks triggering spirals of suspicion rather than building trust.
Asean has survived for more than five decades by avoiding precisely this kind of militarised signalling. Its credibility lies not in an arms build-up but in its ability to convene, to mediate, and to prevent escalation.
The real “Threat Environment”
What truly endangers lives in Southeast Asia? Not the spectre of invasion, but the devastation of nature. The 2004 Indian Ocean tsunami killed more than 230,000 people across several Asean countries.
Typhoon Haiyan in 2013 displaced more than four million in the Philippines. Cyclone Nargis in 2008 left over 100,000 dead in Myanmar. These catastrophes dwarf the casualties of any inter-state skirmish in the region’s modern history.
In this context, Asean’s armed forces are more urgently needed in Humanitarian Aid and Disaster Relief (HADR) operations than in deterrence patrols.
The real test of interoperability, readiness, and logistics is not in countering a hypothetical adversary but in how quickly forces can deliver clean water, emergency medical care, and shelter after a disaster.
Ironically, when carriers and amphibious ships have entered Asean waters in the past, their most constructive contributions were humanitarian.
After the 2004 tsunami, U.S. carrier strike groups rushed to Aceh to provide aid. Similarly, naval vessels from Japan and Australia have delivered relief after major typhoons. These episodes underline a simple truth: the most legitimate role of military hardware in Asean is not to intimidate, but to save lives.
Asean’s own path
If Asean is to draw any lesson from Nato’s Eastern Sentry, it is not to mimic its posture but to sharpen its own distinct identity. That identity must rest on three pillars.
First, prioritise HADR as the central doctrine of military cooperation. Asean’s defence ministers and chiefs of staff should institutionalise joint exercises, shared logistics, and rapid deployment protocols specifically tailored for disaster response. If military budgets are stretched, they should be stretched for preparedness against typhoons, floods, earthquakes, and pandemics.
Second, ensure that external powers respect Asean’s preferences. If the United States, China, Japan, India, or any other partner wishes to bring carriers or large platforms into the region, Asean should make clear that their most welcome missions are humanitarian. Anything else risks deepening rivalries in ways that ASEAN can ill afford.
Third, link humanitarian security with economic resilience. Disasters not only take lives but disrupt trade, investment, and supply chains.
A strong HADR framework reinforces investor confidence that Asean can weather crises, rebuild quickly, and remain a stable hub of commerce. This is a strategic dividend no less significant than traditional deterrence.
Conclusion: A different kind of strength
The sight of a Nato carrier in Norway may reassure Europe, but it offers a cautionary tale for Southeast Asia. Military projection has its place, but in Asean’s environment, that place is not in deterrence against rivals but in service to humanity.
Asean does not need an Eastern Sentry; it needs a Southern Shield of compassion and cooperation, where its armed forces are guardians of people’s safety in the face of disasters.
Thus, the lesson is not to replicate Nato’s logic, but to reject it. For Asean, the correct answer remains firm and unambiguous: No. All military operations in Asean should be focused on Humanitarian Aid and Disaster Relief.
