Lifestyle
How one L.A. immigrant’s quest spawned generations of Christmas tree sellers
It’s mid-November, a full week before Thanksgiving, and the progeny of Francisco Robles, a Mexican immigrant who peddled watermelons in East L.A., have converged in West Covina to commemorate the 76th year of the family’s seasonal business: selling fresh Christmas trees around L.A. from the forests of the Pacific Northwest.
Francisco and his wife, Lucia, left Mexico for a better life in the early 1900s, so it’s hard to imagine what they would make of their thoroughly Americanized descendants today. One of them is looking for a place to plug in her electric car; another is zipping around the large lot on a motorized scooter; and a third is carrying a large, elaborately framed photo of their mother, “the Queen of our hearts,” who died on Mother’s Day, so she can be part of the family photo commemorating the 2025 tree season.
The Robles’ 76-year-old grandson, Louis Jr., is keeping track of today’s Christmas tree delivery from a folding chair, wearing horn-rim glasses, slacks and a white, open-neck dress shirt. But most of his family — his three adult children, their spouses and a few of his grandchildren — are casually dressed in red “Robles Christmas Trees”-themed sweatshirts or holiday leggings, laughing and posing for cellphone photos under a huge red-and-white striped tent in the parking lot of the bustling Plaza West Covina mall.
Louis Robles Jr., 76, right, listens as his children go over an inventory list of Christmas trees delivered to his son Gabriel Robles’ lot at Plaza West Covina on Nov. 19. Gabriel stands at his father’s left, beside his wife Kathy Robles. His sister, Lorraine Robles-Acosta, far left, looks over paperwork about the trees that will next be delivered to her lot in Montebello.
All the pumpkin patch trimmings from October have been put away — the petting zoo, towering inflatable slides, Cyglos and other rides — and now the family is setting up Christmas decor and stands for the trees that will soon be delivered.
It’s a far cry from the dusty streets where Francisco Robles sold his watermelons from a truck more than a century ago. By the end of this day, the massive 53-foot-truck will have delivered its icy bundles of Nordmann, noble and silvertip firs — what Louis Jr. calls “the Cadillac of Christmas trees” — to all three of their lots in Eagle Rock, Plaza West Covina and the Montebello mall.
The Robles family is eager to get the Christmas tree lots going. Sales were slower than usual at their pumpkin patches this year, a slump they blame on Immigration and Customs Enforcement raid concerns among their large Latino customer base.
Antonio Villatoro, left, closes a hatch after moving trees, while Javier Vasquez, looks on at Robles Christmas Trees run by Gabriel Robles at Plaza West Covina.
The Robles family adds festive decor and places for photos to their Christmas tree lots such as this wall at Gabriel Robles’ business at Plaza West Covina.
Members of the Robles family talk carefully about ICE and immigration. They are business people and deeply religious — Louis Jr. is an assistant pastor at the Living Word Apostalic Church in El Monte, where they attended as a family for years — and they want to keep their politics private.
“But we are not fearful,” said Gabriel Robles. “We’ve lived here all our lives, born and raised here, and we’ve been through so much. I believe this ICE issue is another moment in time. It will pass like COVID happened and passed, and we can stand whatever they throw at us. Los Angeles is a melting pot of immigrants. We’re all unified together, no matter who is in office, and you can’t get rid of us. We are the fabric of L.A.”
Getting the family together in mid-November is unusual because, from October through December, the Robleses are juggling the family business with their other jobs: Gabriel Robles, operator of the Robles Pumpkin Festival and Christmas Trees in West Covina, is an insurance broker; his wife, Kathy, is a homemaker who manages their books. Gabriel’s older sister, Lisa Nassar, operator of Cougar Mountain Pumpkin and Christmas Trees in Eagle Rock, does security screenings at Disneyland (“I keep Tinker Bell safe,” she says, laughing). Her husband, Sam Nassar, is a counselor at Mt. San Antonio College. Lorraine Robles-Acosta is a massage therapist who does lots of work for her church; her husband, Joseph Acosta, is a drug and alcohol counselor. Together, they run the Robles Pumpkin Patch and Christmas Tree Farm in Montebello.
It’s a grueling schedule, but they cling to Louis Jr.’s motto — “We’ll sleep in January” — because this business is in their blood. Not all of the younger generation of Robleses is as gung-ho about the family business as their parents are. But Gabriel and Kathy’s sons, Roman, 21, and Mason, 19, are already devising plans to improve the family’s presence on social media, and the couple’s art-loving daughter Loren, 15, set up the acrylic paints for pumpkin painting.
The Robles family’s late matriarch, Madalene Robles, smiles from a portrait held by her husband, Louis Jr., so she can be part of the family photos commemorating the start of the 2025 Christmas tree season on Nov. 19 at their son, Gabriel Robles’ lot in West Covina. Madalene Robles died on her birthday, May 11, which also happened to be Mother’s Day, her favorite holiday.
Louis Jr.’s children, Lisa, Stephen, Gabriel and Lorraine, played among the trees in their father’s tree lots, first in Monrovia in 1973, Louis Jr. says, then in Rosemead and Pico Rivera. Louis Jr. purchased a small trailer with a tiny space heater to sit on the lot so the kids could eat and rest there while he and his wife sold trees.
“That trailer was so cold at night,” said Lisa, shivering with the memory.
In those early years, when Louis Jr. worked all day at a produce warehouse with his dad before spending his evenings at his Christmas tree lot, he and Madalene used the tree money to create magical Christmases for their children.
“I remember waking up to mountains of presents under the Robles’ tree,” Lorraine said dreamily, “and Mom wrapped every single gift.”
When they were older, Lorraine and her siblings helped set up and sell the trees. They’d chase after the few scalawags who tried to steal them, and ultimately they lobbied Louis Jr. to let them have their own lots, which over time expanded from selling a few pumpkins on straw before Halloween to big pumpkin patch extravaganzas with petting zoos, art activities, inflatables and rides. (Stephen, who lives in San Diego, stepped away from the seasonal business.)
The Robles family considers silvertip firs, with their sturdy open branches and graceful form, to be the Cadillac of Christmas trees, said Gabriel Robles. They used to be plentiful, but they’re harder to find these days, he said, because they require altitude and cold to thrive.
Inflatables like bounce houses and giant slides were Gabriel’s innovation, and so popular he insisted on adding them to his Christmas tree lot too. His dad warned against the idea, but Gabriel said he was determined. He set them up at his lot and they did well for a few days. But then it rained, and his father’s logic became apparent. The inflatables never dried, Gabriel said, and the cold and mud made them even less appealing to visitors. “I still have customers to this day who say, ‘Please put the inflatables out again,’ but they don’t understand they take forever to dry.”
The Robles family is dismissive about big-box competitors (“They’ll never replace the tradition and environment you get at our lots,” said Lisa), and they collectively hiss at the mention of artificial trees.
“My dad has been worried that artificial trees get nicer and nicer, but it hasn’t really changed our sales,” Gabriel said. “The No. 1 reason people come to our lots is the fragrance. They want that fresh pine smell throughout their home, and fake sprays don’t cut it.”
Worker Jonathan Tovar, foreground, who helps with general operations, and Roman Robles, 21, background, whose father Gabriel Robles runs the lot, arrange trees while inventory is being unloaded.
The Robles family hand-select their trees every year from the farms in the Pacific Northwest. (The names of the farms are secret to keep competitors away, Gabriel said.) After the trees are delivered, the family sprays them with water every night and keeps them shaded from the sun so they don’t dry out. “That’s the secret of our success,” Gabriel said.
Louis Jr. said the biggest part of his family’s success has been adding fresh ideas to expand the business that come from each passing generation, starting with his dad, Louis.
Francisco and Lucia Robles and their five L.A.-born children lived on Brooklyn Avenue in East L.A. All three of their sons went to war for the United States, and two never came home, one lost in World War II and the other in the Korean War. Their third son, Louis Robles, served in WWII, right out of high school. He entered the Army’s 101st Airborne Division and earned a Purple Heart as one of the paratroopers who, at age 20, dropped into German-occupied France on D-day, June 6, 1944.
Paratrooper and produce wholesaler Louis Robles Sr. supplemented his income in 1949 by selling Christmas trees in L.A. In this family photo from 1955, Robles, then 31, pauses by his Robles Produce truck preparing to drive a load of fir trees from snowy Washington to his lot in Lincoln Heights. The boy at left is unindentified.
When he returned from the war, Louis joined his father selling produce, but he had bigger ideas, Louis Jr. said of his dad. He didn’t want to sell from a truck; instead, he went into the wholesale business, selling watermelons and oranges from a stall at the old Central Wholesale Produce Market at 8th Street and Central Avenue in downtown L.A. He married Elena Ramirez, who helped at the warehouse, keeping the books, and they had four children: three girls — Gail, Priscilla, Denise — and a boy, Louis Jr.
Then, in 1949, the same year his son was born, Louis Robles had another idea: Watermelon sales slowed in the winter. Oranges were plentiful year-round, but he needed another crop that could fill the income gap. He noticed how people went to the railyard in December and bought Christmas trees off boxcars, so fresh they still had ice clinging to their branches. Packing them in snow was how trees were kept fresh during transport from the Pacific Northwest.
Inspired by this, Louis Sr. found a vacant lot in Lincoln Heights and started selling Christmas trees. Being the innovator he was, he didn’t want to rely on other people’s choices for his trees. So he researched tree farms in the Pacific Northwest and visited them himself, selecting his own trees and, for a while, even driving his warehouse’s Robles Produce truck up north to transport them himself.
Lisa Nassar helps unload small Christmas trees at her brother Gabriel Robles’ Christmas tree lot at Plaza West Covina on Nov. 19. The 53-foot-long truck filled with trees from the Pacific Northwest stopped at Nassar’s lot first in Eagle Rock that morning, and would continue on to their sister Lorraine Robles-Acosta’s lot in Montebello.
Eventually, Louis Sr. bought his own produce warehouse, and Louis Jr., always a helper after school and on weekends, joined the business right after graduation. The younger Robles married his high school sweetheart, Madalene Maldonado on Jan. 4, 1969 — after the busy holiday season, of course — and they immediately started a family. Although she helped at the warehouse, Madalene’s main interest “was being a homemaker; raising her children and being a good wife,” Louis Jr. said.
Louis Sr. was considered by his family to be a taskmaster. He was generous about giving out jobs, but he didn’t tolerate people standing around at work. Laughing, Lisa said anytime you saw him coming, you grabbed a broom and started sweeping. “I still carry that mentality — there’s always something to do, even if it’s just pushing a broom,” she said.
Louis Sr. instilled that work ethic in all of his family growing up. “Grandfather was the first one out on the floor, always working and moving, and he took people up with him,” Gabriel said. “He really believed if he succeeded, you were going to succeed. It wasn’t about a handout, it was a hand up.”
Workers unloaded trees at Robles Christmas Trees run by Gabriel Robles.
Louis Sr. was well-respected by his creditors and so beloved by his employees that they insisted on filling his grave themselves after his sudden death in 1984. But the senior Robles never attended any of his son’s games in high school, Louis Jr. said, and he missed many family activities because of work.
“That was his blind spot. He always put business first,” Louis Jr. said. “I decided I wanted a balance — I would take care of business but I would also take time to go to my children’s games.”
Louis Sr. was such a force of nature, no one was prepared when he fell in December 1984. Because this was the family’s busy season, he insisted on working despite a bad cold that turned into walking pneumonia, Louis Jr. said. He told his family he would rest in January.
He almost made it. Shortly before Christmas Louis Robles had a stroke, then a heart attack and, on Dec. 27, at age 60, he died.
Gabriel Robles, right, consults with his father, Louis Robles Jr., while Gabriel’s son Mason, left, checks his phone during the first delivery of this year’s Christmas trees at his West Covina lot.
Louis Sr.’s death, so unexpected, required Louis Jr. to take over the business himself, but it also cemented his vow to put God and family first. “I remember playing in the all-stars game in baseball and looking for my dad, and he wasn’t there, and I thought, ‘I’m not going to do that to my kids,’” he said.
Gabriel laughed, saying: “My dad was so much into my basketball games, I got kind of embarrassed.”
Eventually, the watermelon and produce business became too competitive, and Louis Jr. sold the warehouse around 2012. By then, Robles Produce was debt-free, he said. His children were working, getting married and established in their own homes, and he’d been ordained as a pastor in 1999 and was deeply involved in his church. But the family pumpkin patch and Christmas tree business remained a constant.
“It does get in your blood,” said Lorraine’s husband, Joseph, with a laugh. “I got my blood transfusion when I married my wife.”
Today, Louis Jr. acts as an advisor and consultant to his children’s three pumpkin patches and Christmas tree lots. They meet to discuss pricing and inventory, but the siblings run their own lots with each a little different from the other. There are disagreements, of course, Gabriel said, “but in the end, the thing that makes us so successful is we’re united — if someone goes against us, we’re a united front.”
Louis Robles, 76, center, of El Monte, poses with three generations of his family: son Gabriel Robles, of Fontana, far left, with his daughter Loren, 15, wife Kathy, and two sons sitting up top, Mason 19, left, and Roman, 21, Louis’ daughters Lisa Nassar, of Upland, right, Lorraine Robles-Acosta, of Pomona, and Lorraine’s husband Joseph Acosta, far right, at Robles Christmas Trees in West Covina. Gabriel’s sons say they are eager to continue the family business. “I’ve been bitten by the bug,” said Mason.
It’s not clear how many of Louis Sr.’s seven great-grandchildren will continue the family business, but Gabriel’s sons, Roman and Mason, say they’re on board. Both have opted to skip college for a hands-on business course, soaking up whatever they can from their father and grandfather.
“Our great-great-grandfather started with nothing, and now we have this. And every generation we’ve built it higher,” Mason said.
“Not many kids my age are blessed to have a family business to learn from,” said Roman. “I want to do something more with my life than just showing up.”
Promo image with Phil Pritchard, Alzo Slade, and Peter Sagal
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This week, Phil Pritchard, NHL’s Keeper of the Stanley Cup, joins us to about taking the cup jet-skiing and panelists Alonzo Bodden, Adam Burke, and Dulcé Sloan beef with the Pope and get misdiagnosed.
I have a “big” birthday coming up. It’s the big 70 (gulp!). I’d like to throw myself a party, but one that might seem more fit for a 7-year-old than a 70-year-old (except when it comes to the food). I would like for there to be activities or games such as scavenger hunts, escape rooms, billiards, pinball, karaoke, pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey — you name it. But my friends and I also appreciate gourmet-quality food like the stuff that’s served at Providence, Crustacean and Mélisse. Is there any way to combine all of that into a party for 20-30 people? — Marla Levine
Looking for things to do in L.A.? Ask us your questions and our expert guides will share highly specific recommendations.
Here’s what we suggest:
Marla, I love that you want to celebrate your milestone birthday in a playful way that sparks your inner child. Who says you can’t run around and play games with your friends just because you’re a “grown-up”?
Similar to you, I prefer fun activities over stuffy, formal parties. I’ve celebrated my birthday at a go-kart racing track and a bowling alley. One year, I hosted an adult field day at the park with sack races, water balloons and snow cones, so I have some fun ideas for you. While many of these spots don’t offer gourmet-level cuisine — unless you consider chicken tenders and fries fancy — I’ve paired them with nearby restaurants that you can walk to. Depending on your vibe, you can do the activity first then walk to dinner, or vice versa.
One of my favorite adult-only barcades in Los Angeles is EightyTwo in the Arts District. Not only is it nestled between an array of bars, shops and restaurants, it is home to more than 50 vintage pinball and arcade machines. They have all of the classics like “Donkey Kong,” “Galaga,” “Mario Bros.,” “Ms. Pac-Man” and “Mortal Kombat.” On certain nights, you can catch live DJ sets as well. For a meal, consider the Michelin-recommended restaurant Manuela, which received a stamp of approval from the late Times restaurant critic Jonathan Gold. Tucked inside of the Hauser & Wirth complex, Manuela is a farm-to-table establishment with a variety of modern American bites to choose from. Whatever you do, be sure to order cream biscuits for the table.
An activity that instantly makes me feel like a kid again is singing — OK, more like belting — my favorite song into a microphone while surrounded by loved ones. One of the coolest karaoke spots in L.A. is Break Room 86, a nostalgic speakeasy hidden inside Koreatown’s Line hotel, which has private karaoke rooms, live DJs (and sometimes dancers, including a Michael Jackson impersonator) and an ice cream truck that serves boozy ice cream and Jell-O shots. Times senior food editor Danielle Dorsey says, “Entering the bar feels like you’ve stepped through an ’80s time machine with vintage arcade games, stacks of box TVs with static-fuzzy screens and tape cassettes decorating the walls.” Break Room 86 doesn’t open until 9 p.m., so check out Openaire for a sunset dinner. Led by Michelin-starred chef Josiah Citrin (the same guy behind one of your favorites, Mélisse), the rooftop restaurant offers elevated American fare such as a brick-pressed jidori chicken and grilled branzino — and it’s inside a glorious light-filled greenhouse.
Another spot that would make for an enjoyable birthday celebration is Highland Park Bowl, the oldest functioning bowling alley in L.A. Built in 1927 during the Prohibition era, the venue still has that vintage aesthetic with old pinsetters that serve as chandeliers, a revamped mural from the 1930s and eight refurbished bowling lanes. There’s also a billiards room and a full bar (with a tasty cocktail menu that rotates twice a year). When you get hungry, take a quick walk to Checker Hall, a neighborhood bar and restaurant that serves California-Mediterranean food such as skewers, turkish chicken and chicken schnitzel. Actor-comedian Hannah Pilkes told The Times it’s her “favorite bar in all of L.A.” How she described it: “It has the best cocktails and it almost feels like you’re in New Orleans when you step inside. It has a beautiful patio overlooking Highland Park. The decor is funky and kitschy yet classy; it’s magical.” Afterward, you can take another short walk to Jeni’s Splendid Ice Creams for a sweet treat (if you don’t have a cake).
My colleague Todd Martens, who writes about theme parks and immersive experiences, says it’s difficult to find escape rooms that can accommodate 20 to 30 people, but if you don’t mind splitting up and staggering your start times, check out Hatch Escapes near Koreatown. The venue can accommodate about 10 people at a time. Martens wrote about their room called “the Ladder,” which he describes as a “90-minute interactive movie with puzzles, taking guests through five decades, beginning in the 1950s, in which they will play an exaggerated game of corporate life.” The room “incorporates a wide variety of games, puzzles, as well as film and animation,” he adds. If this theme doesn’t spark your interest, there are three other options, including “Lab Rat,” which can accommodate 12 people.
You sound like a fun person, so I have a feeling that anything you do will be a good time. I hope that these suggestions are helpful in planning your special day. If you end up visiting any of these spots, please send us a photo. We’d love to see it. Happy birthday!
Various species of sharks — some of which are endangered, while others are listed as vulnerable — are hauled on shore at dawn at the Tanjung Luar port on June 9, 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 — and their bones are used in cosmetic products also sold to China.
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“We were fighting over who had caught more fish, and then I saw my crewmate pushed overboard by the captain,” Akbar Fitrian, 29, an Indonesian crewmember says as he recounts an incident aboard a Chinese-owned fishing vessel in 2022. “The ship then started to drive away as my crewmate tried to swim towards us. And then I don’t know what happened. The captain never reported the incident.”
The seas of Southeast Asia — home to some of the richest in biodiversity in the world — have long been in decline. Since the 1950s, the Center for Strategic and International Studies estimates that 70-95% of fish stocks have been depleted and are at risk of collapse, perpetuated by the rise of industrial-scale fishing, much of which is illegal. Legal overfishing is another factor, and both are propped up by weak regulations, insufficient monitoring and insatiable demand. Approximately half of the world’s global marine fish catch comes from the seas of Southeast Asia, according to the U.N., and it comes at a calamitous cost.
In the United States, approximately 50% of the imported seafood comes from Asia, with nearly $6.3 billion in trade coming from China, Vietnam, Indonesia and India alone, according to the U.S. National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration.
Behind the illicit seafood trade is an opaque world standing at the crossroads of intertwining issues. There is the legacy of brutal human rights violations that have enabled sea slavery to become the norm. Those involved in the efforts of organizations like the international Freedom Fund and Thailand’s Labour Protection Network, which work to end modern-day slavery in the region, say many workers are murdered at sea, abused and often brought into a cycle of debt bondage.
There is the lawless nature of the seas, which has emboldened traffickers to exploit desperate fishermen and impoverished casual laborers. Then there are the geopolitical factors at play: In a race to dominate the seas, China and, to a lesser extent, Vietnam, the Philippines, Taiwan and Malaysia have all built outposts and bases on shoals, reefs and atolls. Fishing fleets — of which China has the largest in the world — are fast becoming more militarized as a result.
All of this has imposed a heavy cost on unique ecosystems and led to devastating socioeconomic impacts on artisanal and small-scale fishers.
Three countries illustrate the intersectional nature of overfishing:
Thailand
Fishing vessels are seen docked together at a landing site in Chumphon, Thailand, on Jan. 22, 2025.
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“Fish were in abundance before,” says Mimit Hantele, 53, a member of the Urak Lawoi tribe on the island of Koh Lipe in Thailand. “But now, the fishing season is a lot shorter, the variety of fish is far fewer, and I sell less. So I take tourists out on scuba expeditions to earn money.”
For generations, the Urak Lawoi plied the rich waters around them for sustenance. Sea gypsies in a time past, the villagers evolved to rely only on what they could catch and used simple fishing equipment cast from small wooden boats.
Then, in the 1970s, came the big Thai and Malaysian fishing boats. Fishermen on Koh Lipe say the boats fish illegally around the island, appearing only at night to escape detection and in a protected national forest area. The ships use purse seiner nets and demersal trawlers, destroying the coral underneath and, consequently, the habitat for fish. Such overexploitation has led the Indigenous group to turn to tourism to make up for lost income and declining fish stocks. “Fishing is in our blood,” Hantele said, but “our way of life has changed. We can’t rely only on the fish.”
Frozen Spanish mackerel and other species of fish in cold storage in Samut Sakhon, Thailand, on Jan. 15, 2025.
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Fishermen mend nets in Samut Sakhon, Thailand, on Jan. 15, 2025.
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Small-scale artisanal fishermen shake sardines from nets to gather them en masse after returning to shore with their catch, in the Gulf of Thailand, off the coast of Prachuap, Thailand, on Jan. 20, 2025.
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According to a 2001 report from the U.N., roughly 80% of fishers in Southeast Asia at the time were small-scale or artisanal, relying on traditional practices. However, declining nearshore fish stocks have forced many artisanal fishers to venture farther from shore in search of commercially valuable species. Added to that are government subsidies for fuel and tax breaks for commercial fishing vessels, which have propped up the seafood industry. Rapid advancement in maritime technology has made fleets far more effective at finding rich hunting grounds while avoiding detection by switching off their monitoring systems.
Oranee Jongkolpath, 30, a veterinarian at Thailand’s Department of Marine and Coastal Resources’ research and development center in the Rayong province, prepares to clean a hawksbill turtle in Prasae, Thailand, on Jan. 18, 2025. The turtle was found by fishermen in a garbage patch and was likely entangled in ghost nets — fishing nets that are lost or discarded by fishermen — that had caused severe damage to its two front flippers.
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A seafood merchant displays dried seahorses for sale in Chumphon, Thailand, on Jan. 22, 2025. Dozens of countries around the world are involved in the dried seahorse trade, with Thailand, the Philippines, Vietnam and India being the largest exporters. As the trade of seahorses, which are typically used for traditional medicines, has sharply increased, the seahorse catch has declined over time. Seahorses are among the species protected under the Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species of Wild Fauna and Flora.
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Lax regulations on the most destructive types of fishing, particularly demersal trawling and cyanide fishing, the capture of juvenile fish that prevents the replenishment of stocks, the poor oversight of labor laws and the exploitation of workers desperate to earn a living have all contributed to the devastating knock-on effects for communities along coastlines and the potentially irreversible environmental consequences.
Members of a crew working on a Thai fishing vessel, most of whom are from Myanmar, prepare to show their documents to Port In Port Out (PIPO) inspectors in Chumphon, Thailand, on Jan. 22, 2025. PIPO inspection centers were set up in 2018, following an outcry in the international community over Thailand’s gross human rights abuses in its fishing industry.
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A Burmese dock worker sorts fish after a catch from a Thai vessel was unloaded in Ranong, Thailand, on Jan. 23, 2025.
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In Thailand last year, artisanal fishermen held protests over the rollback of major fisheries reforms implemented a decade ago that had helped to rebuild fish stocks in Thai waters. Thai corporations, which own a significant share of commercial fishing vessels, pushed the government to deregulate the fishing industry to increase their profits. Protestors focused on their concerns that relaxing the rules would revive illegal, unreported and unregulated fishing and lead to increased overfishing. The rollbacks, they argued, would reduce transparency and accountability across the industry and reduce checks on gear and labor. Less transparency would lead to less knowledge about what is left in the sea. In turn, sustainability decreases, hurting artisanal fishers who depend on the sea for sustenance and livelihoods.
The Philippines
Filipino fishermen unload Yellowfin tuna, Bigeye tuna and blue marlin at a fish port in General Santos, the Philippines, on May 21, 2025.
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The first time Donald Carmen was harassed by Chinese boats off the coast of Palawan was in December 2024. The following February, they harassed him and another fisherman again, getting close enough to hit their outriggers. “They forced us to move away and recorded us with cell phones and cameras. I have been fishing in this area since 2016, and back then, everyone was free to fish. I would catch 400-500 kilograms of fish in a night, about 60 nautical miles offshore. Now, because I don’t dare venture out as far, I’m lucky if I catch 200-300 kilograms over three days,” Carmen said as he steered his banca just weeks later, on the lookout for Chinese fishing boats and militia.
A drone shot of the shoreline in Rizal, Palawan, the Philippines, on May 28, 2025. Many fishermen here have lost more than half their incomes because of harassment by Chinese ships, limiting the distances they can go out to sea to fish for specific species.
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Vincent Gehisan, 36, enjoys a meal at his home in Quezon, Palawan, the Philippines, on May 24, 2025. Gehisan was hassled and detained for nearly a day at sea by Chinese Coast Guard and navy ships while out on a resupply mission the year before and now says he’s afraid to venture far from Filipino shores to fish.
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People sing karaoke on May 21, 2025, at a local bar near the main fish port complex in General Santos, the Philippines, where the clientele are mainly fishermen on their days off.
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Illegal, unreported and unregulated fishing is inextricably linked to the geopolitical struggle for maritime dominance in the South China Sea. Over the past two decades, China has rapidly scaled up its fishing militias in a race to assert control over a vast area while trying to meet the country’s insatiable demand for seafood. Vietnam, the Philippines, Malaysia and Taiwan have followed suit on a much smaller scale.
The South China Sea — or the East Sea, as Vietnam calls it, and the West Philippine Sea, as it’s known in the Philippines — is one of the world’s most strategic waterways. China’s use of its fishing fleet to control trade routes and dominate territory to create maritime buffer zones threatens the food security and livelihoods of fishers in the region.
Family members of Filipino fishermen place bait on fishing lines in Quezon, Palawan, the Philippines, on May 24, 2025.
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Small-scale Filipino fishermen unload their catch a fish port in General Santos, the Philippines, on May 22, 2025. The city is known as the Philippines’ tuna capital and hub for tuna fishing and products exports.
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While Chinese aggression has persisted for years in areas off Zambales, a province of the Philippines, it has only recently affected waters off the coast of Rizal in Palawan, as China is believed to be building up its presence in the Sabina and Bombay shoals, much closer to the Filipino coast — encroaching on the Philippines’ claim to the Kalayaan Island Group — from its original areas of claim like the Spratly Islands and the Scarborough Shoal. Among some of the tactics used by Chinese fishing militias to deter fishermen are water cannons, using swarming and encircling techniques, military-grade lasers and ramming fishing boats to intimidate and drive them from fishing grounds.
As countries in the region militarize their fishing fleets, the cost will ultimately be detrimental to ecological sustainability and geopolitical stability.
Indonesia
Indonesian fishermen unload various species, including sharks and wedgefish, which are one of the most threatened, in Tegal, Indonesia, on June 13, 2025.
Nicole Tung/Fondation Carmignac
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Nicole Tung/Fondation Carmignac
In Indonesia, poverty, lack of opportunities and desperation have pushed thousands of Indonesian men into trafficking circles, while others are lured by the promises of a well-paid job in the construction or service industries before being put aboard a fishing vessel unbeknownst to them. Patima Tungpuchayakul, the founder of Thailand’s Labour Protection Network, says hundreds of fishermen go missing from commercial vessels each year, and many more are brutalized while facing appalling conditions and inhumane, unsanitary conditions on board, often at the mercy of the captain or the ship’s owners.
Labor rights activists at the Migrant Resource Center in Pemalang, Indonesia, fishermen and a widow of a woman still fighting for compensation after her husband’s death say agencies in central Java are adept at recruiting Indonesian crew to work primarily on Chinese fishing vessels, entrapping them in a cycle of debt bondage and, in many cases, effectively enslaving them at sea. Workers are not offered compensation for death or injuries unless they or their families were aware of what kind of insurance the vessel owner had for them. In the worst circumstances, they face brutal working conditions and 16- to 22-hour workdays and are often subject to physical violence.
Fishmongers gather to sell the catch brought in at dawn by fishermen at the Tanjung Luar port on June 9, 2025, in East Lombok, Indonesia.
Nicole Tung/Fondation Carmignac
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Nicole Tung/Fondation Carmignac
A drone image of the largest commercial fish port in Indonesia, Muara Angke, where hundreds of commercial fishing vessels are docked, in Jakarta, Indonesia, on June 15, 2025.
Nicole Tung/Fondation Carmignac
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Nicole Tung/Fondation Carmignac
A fisherman poses for a photo in Pemalang, Indonesia, on June 13, 2025. Both Tegal and Pemalang are known as hubs for recruiting laborers who then work on commercial fishing vessels for Chinese, Taiwanese and Korean companies.
Nicole Tung/Fondation Carmignac
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Nicole Tung/Fondation Carmignac
Southeast Asia is still a hub for slave labor, primarily in Thailand and Indonesia, where the seafood trade contributes much of the tuna, shrimp and trash fish used for fishmeal to the supply chains of major retailers and pet food brands in the U.S. and Europe.
“There is now less physical violence and coercion — but coercion is now more debt-based,” says Rosia Wongsuban, a program advisor at the Freedom Fund, a nonprofit working to end modern-day slavery. “Working conditions are the same. Because of a labor shortage, there aren’t enough workers to operate on vessels, and then the crew needs to take the extra burden.”
“In order to work on the fishing vessel, which was Chinese-owned, I was given a loan of 4 million Rupiah,” Akbar Fitrian, 29, a fisherman interviewed in Jakarta, explains. “1 million went to paying for fishing equipment, and then I had to work until I paid back the other 3 million. Sometimes, I had to keep borrowing more to continue working to pay off the initial loan. Sometimes I would only end up with enough salary to buy cigarettes. Sometimes I went into the red.”
Anis Khuprotin, 28, rests her head on the gravesite of her husband, Muhamad Nur, in Tegal, Indonesia, on June 13, 2025. Anis’ husband died on board a commercial fishing vessel after a piece of equipment came loose and struck him in the head. Staff from the recruiting agency the hired her husband told her he died of a heart attack instead of admitting the truth in an attempt to avoid paying insurance fees to the family.
Nicole Tung/Fondation Carmignac
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Nicole Tung/Fondation Carmignac
Indra, 28, who declined to provide his last name out of fear for his safety, dresses as a clown and plays music to earn some extra money in his neighborhood in Jakarta, Indonesia, on June 14, 2025. Indra, who previously worked on a commercial fishing vessel, recounted harrowing experiences at sea, where he said he witnessed abuses of his fellow cremates. Since returning home, he’s refused to sign up for another job on a commercial fishing vessel, but says he has limited opportunities owing to the lack of a school degree. He currently works in a warehouse, packing boxes, and dresses as a clown to earn extra income.
Nicole Tung/Fondation Carmignac
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Nicole Tung/Fondation Carmignac
Fishermen play a card game on June 10, 2025, on Maringkik Island, off the caost of East Lombok, Indonesia.
Nicole Tung/Fondation Carmignac
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Nicole Tung/Fondation Carmignac
For the nearly 10 million people who rely on these fisheries for their livelihoods and source of protein, the future of Southeast Asia’s fisheries hangs in the balance, at the mercy of consumer demand and political will to enforce laws. The region faces not just ecological collapse, but deepening poverty, food insecurity and social instability if illegal, unreported and unregulated fishing continues unchecked. Overfishing occurs because high demand and global overconsumption for seafood far exceed the ocean’s ability to replenish itself. Growing markets — especially in China, the European Union and North America — have transformed fish and fish products into a highly profitable global commodity. Exports from Southeast Asia alone amount to over $5 billion worth of fish products to the United States each year, illustrating the scale of international trade. This demand fuels industrial-scale fishing operations such as bottom trawlers and purse seiners, which sweep through vast areas of ocean indiscriminately. Supported by government subsidies, these fleets prioritize maximum yield, even when fish stocks are already severely depleted.
But decline is not inevitable. With stronger regional cooperation, transparent supply chains, corporate accountability and informed consumer choices, Southeast Asia can reclaim stewardship over its waters. The survival of its fisheries — and of the communities that depend on them — hinges on decisions being made now, far from shore.
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 10, 2025, in East Lombok, Indonesia.
Nicole Tung/Fondation Carmignac
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Nicole Tung/Fondation Carmignac
This body of work, based on a nine-month-long investigation supported by the Fondation Carmignac, is on exhibit at the Bronx Documentary Center through April 26.
Nicole Tung is a photojournalist working primarily in the Middle East and Asia. You can see more of her work on her website, NicoleTung.com, or on Instagram, at @nicoletung.
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