Hormuz, Malacca, and the Straits of Power
By Victor Ângelo
International Security Advisor. Former UN Under-Secretary-General
Published: 30 April 2026
There are places on maps that, in times of peace, seem like mere details—curiosities. Yet, when rivalry between great powers intensifies, these details become strategic. The Straits of Malacca and Hormuz, Bab el-Mandeb (the Red Sea), and the Indian Ocean routes are now at the heart of global politics: it is through these passages that the economy flows—and it is there that Washington and Beijing test the limits of their competition.
American foreign policy has revealed an emerging pattern: an increasing focus on so-called ‘choke points’—the maritime passages through which energy, commodities, and influence circulate. Control over these points projects both force and deterrence. Consider Hormuz. The figures speak for themselves: the International Energy Agency (IEA) estimates that, by 2025, over 20 million barrels per day will have transited the strait—approximately a quarter of the world’s maritime oil trade.
For the United States, a robust presence in these corridors is not merely about maritime security; it is also a means of protecting its vital interests in the event of a severe crisis.
This is why the ‘Malacca Dilemma’ remains a strategic obsession for Beijing. China depends heavily on maritime routes that traverse this narrow, congested corridor, which is difficult to replace without colossal costs—precisely the type of vulnerability any state seeks to reduce when anticipating a prolonged period of competition.
The Strait of Malacca, though exceedingly long, is only a few kilometres wide at its narrowest point. From an energy perspective, the US Energy Information Administration (EIA) classifies Malacca as a vital choke point: in the first half of 2025, an estimated 23 million barrels of oil per day will have transited the strait. It is this volume—and the immense difficulty of diverting shipping to more expensive alternatives through more treacherous seas south of Indonesia (the Sunda and Lombok waters)—that makes Malacca a national security priority for China and several Asian states.
And it is not merely energy. It is also the container ships, carrying every conceivable type of cargo, and the infrastructure of telecommunications. The Strait of Malacca is a critical corridor for digital connectivity, possessing a high density of subsea cables that link Asia to a significant portion of the globe.
In this context, the agreements and joint exercises between the United States and Indonesia gain a special significance. For Washington, Indonesia is crucial because it sits at the hinge between the Pacific and the Indian Oceans, and its territory defines one side of the strait. For Jakarta, cooperation with the US is useful: it bolsters capabilities, signals autonomy, and helps manage frictions with China—including recurring incidents in border waters—without abandoning its tradition of non-alignment.
The Chinese response to all of this has been simultaneously maritime and continental.
The growth of the Chinese Navy—now the world’s largest by number of vessels—follows a simple logic: if trade is conducted primarily by sea, then national security must also be sea-based. Hence the investment in the naval sector, in the capacity to operate further from its shores, and in port partnerships that, even when presented as commercial, may have military utility in crisis scenarios.
The ‘New Silk Road’ reinforces this strategy: it multiplies connections with the outside world. Projects such as the China-Pakistan Economic Corridor, logistical links through Myanmar, and the pursuit of navigation through the Arctic in coordination with Russia seek to create exits that circumvent Malacca and reduce exposure to the control of rival powers. Furthermore, on the technological level, Chinese dominance in critical segments of certain value chains—for example, in the processing and refining of rare earths, where it remains globally dominant—functions as an instrument of leverage to prevent extreme situations and the risk of shocks.
The result is a rivalry that leaves less and less room for naivety—and which turns the straits into the strongholds of the geopolitical chessboard.
There is, however, a global legal framework worth recalling: the United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea (UNCLOS) and the principle of freedom of navigation. This framework regulates transit through straits used for international navigation and limits arbitrary interference. Rules do not eliminate rivalry, but they increase the political, economic, and reputational costs when restrictions lack acceptable justification.
Summit diplomacy, however theatrical it may seem, matters. The White House has signalled that Donald Trump is slated to visit Beijing in mid-May to meet with Xi Jinping. The meeting will not change geography, but it may help clarify ‘red lines’ and reduce the risk of misunderstandings in an environment where the temptation to ‘test’ the other to the limit is constant. Trump’s trip serves as a test: not of the end of competition, but of the will to define its boundaries. In an interdependent world, the stability of routes is a common interest—even when the rivalry is structural.
If Washington and Beijing transform the straits—and commercial interdependencies—into instruments of permanent pressure, international relations will enter a far more dangerous phase: that of generalised insecurity. In such a scenario, the concern with deterrence becomes a daily occurrence. A miscalculation will, inevitably, be more likely and certainly catastrophic.
