News Desk
SPRATLY ISLANDS, South China Sea — The South China Sea used to shimmer with life—coral reefs teeming with fish, waters so clear you could see the bottom. Not anymore. On Feb. 18, a Chinese helicopter buzzing a Philippine plane over Scarborough Shoal grabbed headlines, a near miss that underscored Beijing’s territorial flexing. But beneath the waves, a quieter disaster’s been unfolding for years—one that’s harder to see but just as devastating. China’s relentless push to reshape this sea is killing it, and the fallout’s hitting harder than any military standoff.
It starts with the islands. Since 2013, China’s dredged up sand and coral from the seabed, piling it onto reefs in the Spratlys and Paracels to create artificial outposts—nearly 3,000 acres of them by 2015, and more since.
Satellite photos from last year show runways and radar towers on places like Fiery Cross Reef, militarized dots in a sea they don’t fully own. The Philippines, Vietnam, Malaysia—all have claims here, backed by a 2016 tribunal that China ignored. But Beijing’s not just building bases; it’s burying ecosystems.
Take the coral. Reefs in the Spratlys once stretched across miles, nurseries for fish that fed millions. Now, more than a fifth are gone, smothered under dredged sand or blasted apart to make way for concrete. A 2024 study from the University of Queensland found the damage “catastrophic”—biodiversity crashing, species vanishing. “It’s like paving over a rainforest,” said Dr. Elena Martinez, a marine biologist who worked on the report. “You don’t get it back.”
The Feb. 18 incident at Scarborough Shoal fits the pattern. That rocky triangle, 120 miles off Luzon, isn’t an artificial island—yet—but China’s presence has choked its waters. Filipino fishermen say the fish are scarcer now, driven off by overfishing from Chinese fleets and the constant hum of patrol boats. “It’s not the same sea,” said Lito Cruz, a 60-year-old fisherman from Palawan. “The life’s draining out of it.”
Overfishing’s the other punch. China’s fleets—some of the world’s largest—trawl these waters with little restraint, pulling in hauls that dwarf what locals can catch. A 2022 report from the Asia Maritime Transparency Initiative pegged Chinese vessels as the biggest culprits in depleting stocks, with species like tuna and grouper on the brink. Add climate change—warmer waters, acidifying seas—and the South China Sea’s facing a collapse that could leave coastal communities starving.
The economic stakes are huge. Fish from these waters feed 300 million people across Southeast Asia, supporting a $3 billion industry. In the Philippines, fishing’s a lifeline for towns like Masinloc, near Scarborough. Vietnam’s not far behind, its Mekong Delta relying on the sea’s bounty. When China blocks access—water cannons on boats, helicopters overhead—it’s not just a security play. It’s a slow strangling of food and jobs.
Beijing’s line is that it’s protecting its territory, but the environmental cost undercuts that claim. Dredging doesn’t just kill reefs; it stirs up sediment that clouds the water, choking what’s left of the marine life.
On Mischief Reef, where China’s built one of its biggest outposts, divers report a “dead zone” stretching miles—no fish, no coral, just a gray wasteland. “They’re turning a living sea into a fortress,” Martinez said. “And they don’t seem to care.”
The Philippines has tried to fight back. After the shoal flyby, officials lodged another protest, pointing to the 2016 ruling that China’s claims don’t hold water—legally or morally. They’ve pushed for international help, teaming up with the U.S., Japan, and Australia for naval drills. But on the environmental front, it’s tougher. ASEAN’s talked about a code of conduct for years, something to rein in China’s excesses, but Beijing drags its feet. “They know time’s on their side,” said Nguyen Thi Lan, a Vietnamese policy analyst. “The longer they build, the less there is to save.”
Locals feel it most. In Palawan, fishermen like Lito are watching their catches shrink—smaller fish, fewer of them. “My father taught me these waters,” he said, mending a net on his boat. “Now I don’t know what to teach my kids.” Some have switched to tourism, ferrying visitors to still-pristine spots, but even those are fading as pollution and overfishing creep in.
The global angle’s grim too. The South China Sea’s not just a regional breadbasket; its health ripples out. Disrupted fisheries could spike food prices worldwide, while dying reefs weaken a natural barrier against storms—bad news as climate change ramps up. Scientists warn that if China keeps going, the damage could take centuries to heal, if it ever does.
China’s not stopping. Its foreign ministry shrugged off the shoal incident, calling it “routine patrol.” More islands are in the works—satellite shots from December showed fresh dredging near Triton Island. The U.S. sails through, flexing muscle, but it can’t undo what’s already lost. For now, the sea’s fate hangs in the balance, a casualty of ambition that no one’s rushing to mourn.
