The Silent Crisis: Nicole Tung Exposes the Invisible War on Southeast Asia’s Oceans

The vast, sapphire expanse of the Southeast Asian seas has long been romanticized as a bountiful cradle of life and a cornerstone of regional identity. Yet, beneath the surface—and often just beyond the horizon—a silent, industrial-scale catastrophe is unfolding. Photojournalist Nicole Tung, laureate of the 15th Carmignac Photojournalism Award, has spent the last nine months documenting this hidden reality. Her exhibition, Overfishing in Southeast Asia, currently on view at the Bronx Documentary Center through April 26, 2026, serves as a visceral, unflinching indictment of an industry operating largely in the shadows.

Tung’s work transcends simple nature photography; it is an investigation into the intersection of human rights, geopolitics, and ecological collapse. From the bustling tuna ports of the Philippines to the shark markets of Indonesia and the regulatory battlegrounds of Thailand, Tung captures a narrative defined by scarcity, exploitation, and the inevitable decay of marine ecosystems.

The Anatomy of a Crisis: Main Facts and Observations

The exhibition is the culmination of a rigorous nine-month investigation supported by the Fondation Carmignac. Tung traveled across Thailand, the Philippines, and Indonesia to document the multi-layered consequences of industrial fishing. What she discovered was a systemic crisis that pits massive, high-tech commercial fleets against small-scale, traditional fishers who are watching their livelihoods vanish.

"The prime concern shared by every fishing community I visited," Tung explains, "was that there simply weren’t any fish of value to be caught near the shore anymore." This is not merely a matter of bad luck; it is the direct result of industrial vessels vacuuming the ocean floor, leaving local, artisanal fishermen unable to compete. The exhibition exposes the grim reality of this competition: as stocks plummet, the desperate search for catch drives boats further out to sea, encourages the use of destructive gear, and fuels the exploitation of migrant labor.

Chronology of the Investigation

The project, which began in earnest in early 2025, follows a deliberate trajectory across the most critical maritime zones in the region:

• January 2025 (Thailand): Tung documented the landing sites in Ranong, witnessing the labor-intensive reality of the sorting process. This phase focused heavily on the regulatory environment, specifically the struggle to maintain post-2015 reforms against intense industry pressure to relax labor and environmental laws.
• May 2025 (The Philippines): The focus shifted to General Santos, the "Tuna Capital of the Philippines." Here, Tung documented the intersection of industry and international geopolitics. She captured the plight of local fishermen who face intimidation and harassment from foreign militias, particularly in the disputed waters of the South China Sea.
• June 2025 (Indonesia): The final leg of the investigation took Tung to Tegal and East Lombok. This segment provided the most harrowing imagery, focusing on the landing of highly threatened species like sharks and wedgefish, and highlighting the disconnect between international treaty signatures (such as CITES II) and the reality of local enforcement.

Supporting Data: A Region Under Pressure

The environmental data supporting Tung’s visual evidence is stark. Southeast Asia remains one of the world’s most significant regions for marine biodiversity, but it is also a global epicenter for the decline of fish populations.

According to reports from marine biologists and environmental NGOs working in the region, the combination of "ghost nets"—discarded fishing gear that drifts for years—and bottom trawling has decimated the seabed, which serves as the nursery for countless species. In the Philippines, the reliance on industrial exports often creates a "food security paradox," where high-value species like Yellowfin tuna are exported to satisfy global demand, while local communities are left with dwindling access to their own nutritional resources.

The exploitation of labor is equally quantifiable. In Indonesia, the conditions aboard long-haul commercial vessels have been described as modern-day indentured servitude. With limited oversight and the difficulty of monitoring activities in international waters, these vessels often operate as "floating prisons" for migrant workers, a reality Tung highlights through her intimate portraits of port workers and local villagers.

Official Responses and Regulatory Challenges

The regulatory landscape Tung encountered is one of fragmentation and inconsistency. Thailand represents the most complex case study in the region. Following severe international scrutiny in 2015, Thailand implemented the "Port In Port Out" (PIPO) system, a rigorous monitoring protocol designed to curb illegal, unreported, and unregulated (IUU) fishing.

"I could see that Thailand had implemented these checks," Tung notes. "There were many fishing vessels left at their docks because the restrictions made it impossible for owners to continue covering costs." However, the success of these measures is fragile. The political climate in Bangkok has seen recurring pressure from industry lobbyists seeking to roll back these regulations, arguing that they stifle economic growth.

In contrast, Indonesia and the Philippines face steeper uphill battles. Indonesia has signed onto international treaties, but the sheer geography of the archipelago makes enforcement nearly impossible. "Enforcing bans on the types of sharks caught and sold is incredibly difficult," says Tung. In the Philippines, the problem is compounded by geopolitical instability. When fishermen are chased by foreign militias, the conversation moves from "sustainability" to "national sovereignty," effectively stalling any meaningful environmental regulation.

The Human and Ecological Implications

The implications of this crisis are profound and multi-generational.

1. The Loss of Tradition

Tung’s photography of the Urak Lawoi indigenous group in Thailand serves as a poignant reminder of what is being lost. For these communities, the sea is not merely a source of income; it is the center of their cultural and spiritual lives. As commercial fishing forces them to pivot toward tourism or abandon their traditional ways of life, an entire intangible heritage is being erased.

2. The Biodiversity Collapse

The images of sharks and wedgefish at Indonesian ports are a haunting visual record of a collapsing ecosystem. When apex predators are removed from the marine food chain, the effects cascade downwards, destabilizing the entire system. This, coupled with the "garbage patches" and ghost nets that entangle marine life like the hawksbill turtles documented by Tung, paints a picture of a sea struggling to breathe.

3. The Global Consumer Connection

One of the most critical aspects of Tung’s work is her effort to bridge the gap between the consumer in the West and the reality of the ocean. "Overfishing is a very complex issue and understandably seems very far away," Tung explains. However, the supply chain for canned tuna and shark-derived products is global. Every purchase made at a local supermarket is a vote that resonates all the way back to the ports of General Santos and Tegal.

Conclusion: A Call for Conscious Consumption

Nicole Tung’s Overfishing in Southeast Asia is more than an exhibition; it is an urgent plea for visibility. By documenting the invisible—the labor in the dark, the depletion under the waves, and the geopolitical intimidation at sea—Tung forces us to confront the true cost of our appetite.

For the average citizen, the path forward involves a radical shift in perspective. Supporting policies that align with sustainable fishing, questioning the origin of seafood, and utilizing resources like the Monterey Bay Aquarium’s seafood watch lists are essential first steps. However, as Tung suggests, the most important step is simply acknowledging that the ocean is not an infinite resource.

The exhibition, which will conclude its run at the Bronx Documentary Center on April 26, 2026, serves as a testament to the power of photojournalism to illuminate the darkest corners of human activity. It leaves the viewer with a lingering, uncomfortable question: when the nets come up empty, what will we have left to sustain us?