Pushed Overboard and Left to Drown: Inside Southeast Asia’s Fishing Industry
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A Burmese dock worker sorts different fish species after a catch from a Thai vessel was unloaded at a landing site in Ranong, Thailand, on January 23rd, 2025.
(Courtesy of Nicole Tung for Fondation Carmignac)

Pushed Overboard and Left to Drown: Inside Southeast Asia’s Fishing Industry

A Dispatch from Our Editor-at-Large

Based in Nairobi, Kenya, Kang-Chun Cheng covers how environmental change impacts one's sense of belonging, foreign aid, and outdoor adventure. She has reported for us from some of the most inaccessible locations on Earth, including war-torn Ukraine and South Sudan (pictured).


KC, an Asian woman, wades through water to visit a school that has been flooded out for 3 years in South Sudan's Jonglei State

Photojournalist Nicole Tung has covered some of the 21st century’s most defining conflicts — and their aftermath — across the Middle East. From the Libyan Civil War that overthrew Muammar Gaddafi (the political theorist and military officer who ruled the nation for 42 years until 2011), to the ongoing Russia-Ukraine war, Tung remained committed to covering international stories from the ground. 

Raised in Hong Kong—one of the world’s major seafood hubs, particularly for species such as seahorses and live reef fish — she developed an early interest in protecting marine wildlife. Reading The Outlaw Ocean by investigative reporter Ian Urbina two years ago sparked her interest in modern slavery and its links to the seafood trade. That interest soon translated into a major opportunity. In 2025, Tung won the prestigious Prix Carmignac Photojournalism Award along with €50,000 for her project titled ‘Overfishing in Southeast Asia — an ecological and human drama.’



I interviewed Nicole Tung on March 11th, as she was settling into her new base in Edinburgh, Scotland. Reflecting on the stark contrast between reporting on overfishing and her earlier work in conflict zones, she recounts documenting the slavery endured by fishers on distant-water vessels and the environmental hazards tied to the seafood trade in the Philippines, South Korea, and Indonesia.

This interview has been edited for length and clarity.


A close-up shot of dead fish behind metal bars.
Frozen Spanish mackerel are seen in the cold storage of a facility owned by a Thai family of commercial fishers, in Samut Sakhon, Thailand, on January 15, 2025. (Courtesy of Nicole Tung for Fondation Carmignac)

KC: Have you done investigative stories on supply chains before?

NT:  No. This was very different from what I normally do. I’ve spent most of the past four years in Ukraine, and before that — and even now — much of my work has been in Syria, Iraq, Lebanon, and across the Middle East.

KC: In conflict zones, people often want to show journalists what they are going through, as opposed to these situations, where traders prefer to stay discreet.

NT: [That’s partly] because the sea is so ungovernable and lawless. Even if every country has its own laws, and international conferences such as the United Nations Oceans Conference take place, it is mostly talk. Governments heavily subsidize the industry. That money could go to artisanal fishers, who might not otherwise survive, rather than the commercial industry. [What drives this] is the unchecked demand, especially in Asia, where wealthier countries are used to eating a lot of seafood.

KC: What was it like working on a project so different from your usual reporting?

NT:  It requires years of making great contacts. Since the seafood trade is opaque […] getting access is different from conflict zones; it can take weeks or sometimes months. People are more guarded about speaking to us or about what they want to show us. 

Every country has different rules, approaches, and regulations to tackle overfishing. There are laws […], but it’s all so convoluted. 

Each country I went to had something different to pick apart; logistically, it was very complicated. Finding the right contacts to get onto a boat and be out at sea was also very challenging. In the end, I didn’t do that — I did get out onto the water [on a boat] in the Philippines, but not in the way I imagined.

A fisherman carries a yellowfin tuna, wrapped in a sheet of paper.
Filipino fishermen unload catches of Yellowfin tuna, Bigeye tuna, and Blue Marlin, after being at sea for approximately one month, at General Santos fish port, the Philippines, on May 21st, 2025. General Santos is known as the Philippines’ tuna capital and hub for tuna fishing and exports. (Courtesy of Nicole Tung for Fondation Carmignac)

KC: Having tried to gain access to mines, I’m extremely sympathetic to your situation. Generally, the understanding stops at the fact that the seafood industry is opaque and that laws differ on the high seas. Amid these challenges, how did you talk your way onto one of the ships?

NT: These are usually medium- or long-distance vessels. I was advised to go on supply ships instead, so I wouldn’t be stuck on the open ocean for weeks at a time. But when I tried it, the local producers I worked with were doubtful [because] when they reached out to the ship corporations, they were very iffy. They didn’t understand why we wanted to be on board. 

You have to keep pushing for months.

In the Philippines, I ended up on commercial fishing vessels owned by Filipino fishermen. They were all concerned about the recent aggression of Chinese militias showing up [where they were working], because the Chinese boats had been further north and out at sea over the past decade in Palawan [an island province in the Philippines].

Fishermen line up on a commercial vessel, hauling their nets on the sea.
Commercial fishermen are seen out at sea, on May 27th, 2025, about 50 nautical miles off the coast of Rizal, Palawan, the Philippines. Many Filipino fishermen believe that the Chinese are now moving to build outposts in the nearby Sabina Shoal to dominate both trade routes and the fishing industry. (Courtesy of Nicole Tung for Fondation Carmignac)

These fishermen had heard about problems with Chinese boats, but it had never been an issue until now. The Chinese Navy surrounded their fishing boats, forcing them to leave their fishing grounds … and move closer to shore, where the catch isn’t as good. The fish [that the Chinese catch] is going to Hong Kong for seafood or the aquarium trade.

Filipino fishermen told me they are chased and harassed, and are filmed with cameras and cell phones. That’s why they were keen to get me on board to film from their side. That day, we were 50 nautical miles out (about 100 kilometers) off the coast of Palawan, when it just so happened that the Chinese were on a resupply mission [and] were away from that area.

Fishermen from all three ships I boarded told me they had been chased recently. It’s getting worse because China’s geopolitical strategy right now is to take control of rocks and [maritime] features in the middle of the sea.

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KC: Can you explain China’s broader geopolitical goals? What position have Southeast Asian countries taken?

NT: For China, it’s really about having control over the waterways in such an important area. China has the self-declared nine-dash line: a broad area of the South China Sea, stretching from north of Malaysia to Vietnam and the Philippines’ eastern economic zone. China claims economic control over the [nine-dash line], a unilateral declaration that [no country] recognizes. It’s all about trade routes, military strategy, and fishing waters.

Vietnam has tried to build up its own fishing fleets, which are becoming more militarized. The Philippines can’t really compete due to [lack of] resources. Taiwan and Malaysia have claimed some atolls or rock features in the sea. Everyone is racing to counter China’s force here.

With the world’s largest fishing fleet, the Chinese recruit a lot of Indonesians to work on their fishing vessels. That’s where I found many of the worst abuses happen. 

A large shark is strapped onto a three-wheeled bicycle cart at a busy fishing port, with colorful wooden boats and parked motorbikes in the background.
Indonesian fishermen crouch, sit, and smoke at the edges of their boats
Indonesian fishermen unload various types of species including sharks and wedgefish, which are one of the most threatened species, in Tegal, Indonesia, on June 13th, 2025. (Courtesy of Nicole Tung for Fondation Carmignac)

KC: What led you to conclude that the worst abuses occur on Chinese vessels?

NT: I spoke to several Indonesian fishermen … working on these ships. It’s not always the physical abuse; they get [trapped] in a cycle of debt bondage. Chinese manning agencies in central Java recruit many poor Indonesian men. 

Many are tricked. They are told they will work in construction or the service industry, or on a fishing vessel, where they will make good money.

[Chinese] manning agencies loan them money up front. A worker says that out of 4 million Indonesian rupiah ($237) he borrowed, he used 1 million to pay for the fishing gear he needed to work on the vessel. He would work the next four months to pay off the remaining three million rupiah. If he didn’t make enough, he would have to borrow more [for his expenses]. This process keeps many of them in the negative, barely leaving enough to buy cigarettes.

South Korean fishing vessels tend to be slightly better. Other [South East Asian] countries have smaller fleets and are not big on recruitment. 

KC: Unfortunately, this sounds like a typical tale of labor getting hoodwinked.

NT: There is also an [alleged] disparity between the Chinese and Indonesian crew. The captain is the only one with radio [access], and the rest of the crew cannot communicate with their families. Fights break out because their pay depends on the catch, so people fight over the fish. The captain tends to side with the Chinese workers. 

A fisherman carries heaps of sharks on his shoulders in the market area.
Various species of sharks, some of which are endangered, while others are listed as vulnerable, are hauled on shore at dawn by commercial fishermen at the Tanjung Luar port on June 9th, 2025, in East Lombok, Indonesia. Tanjung Luar is one of the largest shark markets in Indonesia and Southeast Asia, from where shark fins are exported to other Asian markets, primarily Hong Kong and China. (Courtesy of Nicole Tung for Fondation Carmignac)
Aerial view of a port in Jakarta, with hundreds of fishing vessels docked and the city’s skyline rising in the distance.
A drone image showing the largest commercial fish port in Indonesia, Muara Angke, where hundreds of commercial fishing vessels are docked, in Jakarta, Indonesia, on June 15th, 2025.  (Courtesy of Nicole Tung for Fondation Carmignac)

Fishermen said that in two or three incidents, Indonesian workers were pushed overboard during fights, and the captain simply sailed away, leaving them to drown.

KC: As someone who grew up in Hong Kong, did that give you a personal connection to the story?

NT: Growing up, I was aware of the shark fin trade […] but not how dark it really was. Hong Kong is a major seafood hub for China. It made me question: even if I knew about these issues, would I have chosen differently if not for this project?

You can be a conscious consumer, but I don’t think you can really understand what’s happening until you see it.

KC: This could be existential, but do you think showing the human cost of the seafood industry would raise public awareness of where our food comes from?

NT: I hope so. Not only must we know who is catching our seafood, but also its environmental cost.  Much of it has hidden costs. [For example], bottom trawling is poorly regulated and damages the seafloor and coral reefs where fish habitats [live]. There’s also a lot of trash fish … that is turned into fishmeal and pet food and are sold in the EU and the US. [Often], the labor used to catch trash fish falls below standards.

It’s hard, but consumers need to be aware and demand transparency in the supply chain.

KC: Did you have a favorite country to report from?

NT: Thailand was interesting because it’s at a point where everything could go back to how it was in 2014. Thai corporations are pressuring the government to relax fishing regulations.

Members of the Urak Lawoi indigenous group and local Thai villagers charge their boats towards the shore
Members of the Urak Lawoi indigenous group and local Thai villagers charge their boats towards the shore after gathering different kinds of wood on other nearby islands during a bi-annual festival to close out the fishing and tourism season, on Koh Lipe, Thailand, on May 11th, 2025. The Urak Lawoi tribe has seen its way of life change in recent years to be geared towards earning money from tourism rather than fishing, due to commercial fishing depleting fish stocks around their waters. (Courtesy of Nicole Tung for Fondation Carmignac)

The EU gives countries “red” or “yellow” cards based on standards and labor (red meaning no imports, yellow meaning some). Thailand got a yellow card in 2014 […] which led it to change its laws to keep shipping seafood to Europe. Last year, the Thai parliament discussed rolling back these regulations, with corporations saying, “We’ve followed these rules for 10 years […] it’s just not working in our favor.”

KC: They want more volume, basically?

NT: Yes. 

KC: What evidence shows the environmental and wildlife impacts of overfishing?

NT: Waste generated from fishmeal processing factories affects surrounding villages. I visited a wildlife rehabilitation centre in Thailand, where many sea turtles are treated. Some are permanently injured or missing flippers after being [caught in] ghost nets.

A female veterinarian carefully examines an injured sea turtle at a rehabilitation centre.
Oranee Jongkolpath, 30, a veterinarian at Thailand's Marine and Coastal Resources Research and Development Centre, cleans a hawksbill turtle on January 18th, 2025. Found in a garbage patch by a fisherman, the turtle was likely entangled in ghost nets. (Courtesy of Nicole Tung for Fondation Carmignac)


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Kang-Chun Cheng 鄭康君

KC is a Taiwanese-American photojournalist based in Nairobi, Kenya, covering how environmental change impacts one's sense of belonging, foreign aid, and outdoor adventure. Her work began in the Arctic and extends globally, including unfriendly places like eastern Ukraine, northern Mozambique, and South Sudan — she can work in any environment with ease.

KC's bylines include The Wall Street Journal, The New York Times, Nature Journal, Earth Island Journal, Christian Science Monitor, Bloomberg, and Summit Journal.

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