Lifestyle
Photos: How overfishing in Southeast Asia is an ecological and human crisis
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.
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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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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.
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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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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.
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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.
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Fishermen play a card game on June 10, 2025, on Maringkik Island, off the caost of East Lombok, Indonesia.
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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.
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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.
NEW YORK, NEW YORK – APRIL 21: Laverne Cox attends the “Animal Farm” New York Premiere at Regal Theater on April 21, 2026 in New York City.
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In 2013, when the Netflix series Orange Is the New Black came out, the world met the character Sophia Burset — a Black trans woman serving as the resident hairstylist in prison.
For much of the audience, it was also the first time they met actress Laverne Cox — who landed the role of Sophia at the age 40, just when she was thinking of quitting acting altogether.
In her new memoir Transcendent, Cox talks about the challenges she faced long before Netflix came knocking: a mother who withheld love, a father who was never around and the brutal denigration she encountered growing up Black and trans in the deep South.
To unlock this and other bonus content — and listen to every episode sponsor-free — sign up for NPR+ at plus.npr.org. Regular episodes haven’t changed and remain available every weekday.
Email us at considerthis@npr.org.
Scott Simon talks with author Judy Blume at the Santa Fe International Literary Festival in May.
Tira Howard Photography./Courtesy Santa Fe International Literary Festival
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Tira Howard Photography./Courtesy Santa Fe International Literary Festival
Judy Blume is the legendary writer of books for young adults including Are You There God It’s Me Margaret, Deenie, Tiger Eyes, Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing and Blubber.
Her last book, 2015’s In The Unlikely Event, was published more than a decade ago. Blume now spends her time reading children’s books behind the counter at her bookstore in Key West, Florida. Though she says she is done writing, her books remain beloved; her readers numerous and devoted.
Judy Blume spoke with NPR’s Scott Simon at the Santa Fe International Literary Festival in May. Here are excerpts from that conversation, edited in parts for clarity and length.
Scott Simon: How did you begin to write? What do you think made you a writer?
Judy Blume: I was a reader. And, you know, I meet so many kids and they say, “I want to be a writer when I grow up, but I don’t like to read.” And I say, “You know what? Forget being a writer.” Because I think every writer — that I know anyway — grew up a reader. And certainly that was true for me.
Simon: What was the spark that set it in motion from reading to writing, do you think?
Blume: I was married young. I had two kids young. And I was desperate for a creative outlet. I loved taking care of babies, but I needed something else and it could have been anything.
Simon: I have read that at one point in your life you made felt art pieces?
Scott Simon with Judy Blume in Santa Fe in May.
Tira Howard Photography/Courtesy Santa Fe International Literary Festival
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Blume: Oh God, my first career. You know, I stopped because the Elmer’s glue — I’m an allergic person — started to give me funny things on the tips of my fingers. I made $300 selling those. And I bought myself a small electric typewriter. And the rest is history.
But I always had stories inside my head — when I was 9 years old. I bounced a rubber ball against the side of my house for hours. But really what was going on were stories. Fabulous stories, very melodramatic. I never told anybody. I never asked a friend, “Hey, do you have stories inside your head all the time?” Because I thought they’d think I was weird, which I might have been. So the stories were always there.
Simon: When you were writing, what was the process like for you?
Blume: Well, I kept a notebook for each book and I scribbled everything in it. Everything, everything, everything for a long time. For months.
And then on the day that I feel ready to start, well, that’s either the scariest part of writing or the best. Because, you know, when you have a good day — I mean, I had kids, and I would sit down at the dinner table and I would say, like, “You will never believe what Tony did today.” Because they’re real. They’re real to you. And you’re living with them for months, sometimes years. And you’re locked up in a little room all day with them. That’s why 50 years is enough. I was ready to come out into the world.
But I have found another career that I love dearly. I have a bookstore and I love that.
Tira Howard Photography/Courtesy Santa Fe International Literary Festival
Simon: I get the idea that you, at least for the moment, don’t miss writing right now.
Blume: I don’t miss writing but I’m very glad that I wrote. I mean, writing changed my life. But it was time to let it go. Could I have come up with more ideas and written more books? Yes. But I’m really happy that I found something else that I love to do.
Simon: Do characters ever come calling on you?
Blume: No. They know better. They’re quiet.
You know how many letters I get? “We need Judy to write a book — Margaret In Menopause.”
Margaret is always going to be 12. She’s not knocking, saying, “Let me out. I’m in menopause!”
They are what they are. They stay in the book. They stay in the book. They live for me in the book. And then I have to let them go.
Director James Burrows attends the “Will & Grace” start of production kick off event and ribbon cutting ceremony at Universal City Plaza on August 2, 2017 in Universal City, California.
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LOS ANGELES — James Burrows, who helped create volumes of laughter as director of more than a thousand episodes of such classic television comedies as “Cheers,” “Taxi,” “Friends” and “Will and Grace,” died Friday. He was 85.
His family confirmed his death in a statement to People, saying he “passed away peacefully today surrounded by his family.” No location or cause of death was provided.
Burrows spent his career behind the camera specializing in situation comedies. Few viewers recognized him or knew his name, other than to see it flash quickly on the screen in the opening credits. But they knew his work.
Burrows got his start in television relatively late at age 35 in 1974, directing episodes of “The Mary Tyler Moore Show,” “The Bob Newhart Show,” and “Laverne & Shirley.”
He co-created “Cheers,” directing 243 of the 273 episodes, as well as all 246 episodes of “Will and Grace.”
He also helmed multiple episodes of such hits as “Frasier,” “Friends” and “Mike & Molly,” and the pilots of “Two and a Half Men” and “The Big Bang Theory.”
“When I direct a television show, I try to reach that sweet spot where the best script meets the best performance and the best chemistry between performers,” Burrows wrote in his 2022 memoir “Directed by James Burrows.” “Hitting that exact moment, where these factors land in combination, results in the sweetest and most enduring laugh.”
His family said, “Burrows understood that great comedy was never simply about laughter. It was about humanity, connection, and truth. That understanding became the foundation of a career that forever changed television.
“But beyond his remarkable achievements, Burrows will be remembered for something even greater: his kindness, generosity, and unwavering belief in the people around him. He possessed a rare ability to make everyone better and was known for remembering every person he met by name, making colleagues at every level feel seen, valued, and appreciated,” the family statement said.
Born James Edward Burrows on Dec. 30, 1940, in Los Angeles, he moved to New York when he was 5 years old. He spent five years in the Metropolitan Opera Children’s Chorus until his voice started to change. He attended LaGuardia High School of Music & Art.
His father was writer, director and producer Abe Burrows, whose Broadway hits included “Guys and Dolls” and “Can-Can.” The elder Burrows also mentored Larry Gelbart, future creator and producer of the TV show “M(asterisk)A(asterisk)S(asterisk)H.”
The younger Burrows spent hours of his youth in theaters and studios watching his father work, dining with him at such famed New York haunts as Sardi’s and Gallagher’s and meeting celebrities who attended his father’s New Year’s Eve parties.
After earning a bachelor’s degree from Oberlin College, Burrows attended the graduate program of the Yale School of Drama, where his classmates included actor-comedian Robert Klein, playwright John Guare and film director John Badham.
At Yale, he was required to take directing classes and he got hooked.
Burrows’ first sitcom experience was as Burl Ives’ dialogue coach on “O.K. Crackerby!” which was directed by his father and ran for one season on ABC in 1965.
From there, he was an assistant on “The Patty Duke Show.” He moved back to New York and worked for Broadway producers Lee Guber, Frank Ford and Shelly Gross. He first met actor Moore while working on the Broadway production of “Holly Golightly,” an adaptation of “Breakfast at Tiffany’s” that was directed by his father.
Burrows eventually worked as a stage manager for various road productions, where he met such actors as Hugh O’Brien, Zsa Zsa Gabor and Julie Harris.
By 1974, after working in dinner theater and summer stock, he turned on his television and saw Moore’s eponymous TV show. He wrote her a letter asking if there was any opening “small or smaller” at her production company that he could fill, according to his memoir.
Moore’s husband and business partner, Grant Tinker, invited Burrows to Los Angeles to direct an episode of the comedy. He apprenticed for MTM Enterprises, which had four sitcoms on the air at the same time.
Burrows cited his theater background for learning how to give actors direction and block out scenes. He’s credited for being one of the first sitcom directors to increase the typical multi-camera television shoot from three to four cameras.
The common thread between Burrows’ shows were the bonds between friends and unrelated families, whether it was the motley crew of regulars meeting at the bar in “Cheers” or the drivers working toward a better life in “Taxi” or the 20-somethings sharing the same apartment building in “Friends.”
“The best sitcoms transcend the screen and reach out and grab the audience by the throat and by the heart,” Burrows wrote in his memoir.
He relished discovering new acting talent while directing more than 75 pilots that were picked up as series.
“Having directed over a thousand shows means that almost any night you can turn on your television or go online and find a show that I directed. I’m very proud of that,” he wrote in his memoir.
In 2019, Burrows was an executive producer on live productions of “All in the Family” and “The Jeffersons” with famous actors re-creating episodes of those 1970s comedies.
Burrows was married in 1997 to Debbie Easton, whom he met when she worked as a hairstylist on “Frasier.” Daughters Kat Schatzow, Ellie Gluck and Maggie Burrows, who followed her father into directing, are from his first marriage to Linda Solomon, who died in 2004. His stepdaughter Paris is from his wife’s previous marriage. He has a sister, Laurie Burrows Grad, and seven grandchildren.
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