Photographer Nicole Tung has completed an extensive nine-month investigation that shines a powerful light on the hidden human and environmental costs plaguing Southeast Asia's fishing industry. The freelance photojournalist, born in Hong Kong and based between assignments worldwide, was recently named the laureate of the 15th Carmignac Photojournalism Award for her groundbreaking work documenting illegal fishing practices and labor abuses across Thailand, the Philippines, and Indonesia.
Tung's career has been built on documenting some of the most urgent and difficult stories of our time, with her work typically focused on conflict zones and humanitarian crises. Her photographs have appeared in leading international publications and have supported NGOs working on the ground. However, this latest project represents a significant departure from her usual focus on war and displacement, marking a new chapter that explores the intersection of human rights and environmental decline.
The Carmignac Photojournalism Award, established in 2009, provides crucial funding for long-term investigative projects that illuminate underreported issues worldwide. Unlike many other awards that recognize completed work, the Carmignac Award is specifically designed to enable journalists to carry out new investigations. Each year, the Foundation selects a geographic region and theme, offering laureates not only financial support but also editorial freedom and logistical assistance. For security reasons, the laureate is officially announced only after the reporting has been completed.
This unique support system allowed Tung to spend nine months in the field, documenting a hidden industry where ecological devastation and human exploitation often remain invisible to the public. Her investigation took her across three countries that are at the heart of global fishing supply chains while simultaneously being among the most affected by illegal practices.
"I am extremely honored, and what it represents for my work is something quite different in the sense that it is not about conflict," Tung explains. "It opened up a whole different set of challenges for me because I had to think differently about how to approach the subject of overfishing, to visualize its impact on the environment, and to understand the cost on human lives of the food we consume."
Shifting from conflict reporting to environmental storytelling required Tung to completely rethink her visual and narrative approach. Instead of the immediacy of frontline reporting, this project demanded patience, long-term observation, and a thorough examination of systemic issues rather than sudden events. She had to slow down, immerse herself in communities, and develop trust with those whose stories are often invisible to the outside world.
The fishing industry proved notoriously difficult to access, especially operations at sea where activities are shielded from oversight. Tung approached her investigation by tracing the interconnections between environmental destruction, forced labor, and geopolitics. Her photographs document both the human toll on migrant laborers and the ecological collapse driven by destructive fishing methods.
"It was meeting with fishermen who had been recruited to work on Chinese vessels, and hearing the stories of the abuse they witnessed and endured, that stayed with me," Tung recalls. "It made me realize that we accept these invisible costs of the seafood we eat at our peril, precisely because they remain hidden from public view."
For Tung, separating environmental degradation from human rights abuses proved impossible, as the two crises are intertwined at every level of the fishing industry. The depletion of marine life is not just an ecological issue but also a human one, with exploitation and abuse woven into the same system that strips the seas of their resources.
"Industrial scale fishing is contributing to the rapid decline of fish stocks because of the sheer volume it removes from the sea without sustainable methods to allow fish to replenish," Tung explains. "What drives that, however, is the exploitation of labor. Vessels are under pressure to catch as much as possible in the shortest time, and it is not profitable for them to pay people fairly or treat them with dignity."
Tung's reporting spans multiple facets of the industry that together form a complex and often opaque network. In the Philippines, she examined the tuna trade, a cornerstone of the global seafood economy, where the path from small coastal canneries to international markets reveals the difficulty in tracing the origins of what ends up on plates around the world. Her photographs show Filipino fishermen unloading catches of Yellowfin tuna, Bigeye tuna, and Blue Marlin at General Santos fish port after approximately one month at sea. General Santos is known as the Philippines' tuna capital and serves as a hub for tuna fishing and exports, hosting numerous processing facilities where fish is packaged or canned for both domestic sale and worldwide export.
In Indonesia, she investigated the shark industry, where meat is sold locally but fins and bones are exported for cosmetics and traditional medicine, highlighting how global demand fuels local exploitation. Her images capture various species of sharks, some endangered and others listed as vulnerable, being hauled ashore at dawn by commercial fishermen at the Tanjung Luar port in East Lombok. Tanjung Luar represents 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, while bones are used in cosmetic products also sold to China.
Across the region, Tung documented the working conditions of crews, many of whom are migrant laborers trapped in cycles of debt, withheld wages, and sometimes violence aboard vessels operating far from oversight. Her photographs show Burmese migrant workers preparing to unload hundreds of stingrays at a facility owned by a family of commercial fishers in Samut Sakhon, Thailand. According to facility owners, the imported frozen fish and rays are brought in from Indonesia and sold mainly for domestic consumption in Thailand, reflecting how much of the seafood Thailand now consumes is imported due to Thai waters being overfished and the decline of fish stocks over recent decades.
Each layer of Tung's reporting adds to a broader picture of supply chains that are vast, transnational, and largely untraceable to consumers. By weaving together environmental loss with human suffering, she underscores how the seafood industry's hidden costs are borne both by the oceans and the people who work within them.
Tung's work also documents the broader environmental consequences of these practices. Her images show a veterinarian at Thailand's Marine and Coastal Resources Research and Development Center preparing to treat a hawksbill turtle with a double amputation. The injured turtle was found by fishermen in a garbage patch and was likely entangled in "ghost nets" – fishing nets lost or discarded by fishermen – causing severe damage to its front flippers.
The investigation also reveals how the demand for fishmeal, a coarsely ground powder made from cooked wild fish, bycatch, and "trash fish," is contributing to ecosystem collapse. Tung's photographs show workers at a fishmeal factory moving sacks of ground fish meal in Chumphon, Thailand. This fishmeal is produced to make animal feed and pet food, among other uses, and the excessive demand is threatening to collapse the bottom of the food chain.
Tung's work captures the impact on indigenous communities as well. Her images show members of the Urak Lawoi indigenous group and local Thai villagers during a bi-annual festival on Koh Lipe, Thailand. The tribe has seen their traditional ways of life change in recent years to focus on earning money from tourism rather than fishing, due to commercial fishing depleting fish stocks around their waters.
The geopolitical dimensions of the crisis are also documented in Tung's work. Her photographs show Filipino commercial fishermen at sea about 50 nautical miles off the coast of Rizal, Palawan. Many Filipino commercial and small-scale fishers report being chased or harassed by Chinese Coast Guard, Navy, and militia ships while at sea. Previously, such attacks or harassment in this area did not exist, but since August 2024, incidents have started and increased. 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.
Tung believes that images can serve as powerful reminders of ongoing issues even when the facts are not new. Overfishing, illegal and unreported practices, and abuses at sea have been documented for years, but she argues that photography can play a crucial role in keeping pressure on governments and corporations to implement changes.
"Reminders of these abuses can be important and powerful," Tung says. "Though some countries have made improvements, there is still a long way to go. I hope these images can serve as a reminder of the lengths to which governments and commercial companies still need to improve."
Looking toward the future, Tung hopes to continue pursuing stories that address climate change, environmental justice, and the human cost of ecological collapse. Though she has spent years working in war zones, this project has opened new avenues for her documentary work. The Carmignac-supported investigation, she feels, has only scratched the surface of what remains to be uncovered in this vast and complex industry.
"I hope I can continue this project in some capacity at some point," Tung explains. "There is so much more to explore in this dark and opaque industry that far too often disregards the fact that the catch in the sea is not infinite."
As Southeast Asia's waters grow ever more contested, the balance between human livelihoods and ecological survival becomes increasingly urgent. For Nicole Tung, photography serves not only as a means of bearing witness but also as a tool for ensuring that the hidden costs of everyday consumption are brought into public view. Her nine-month investigation stands as a testament to the power of long-form photojournalism to illuminate the interconnected crises facing our oceans and the people who depend on them.
