Caught Between Nets and Navies: Vietnam's Fishermen Face New Rules and Old Risks in the South China Sea

Caught Between Nets and Navies

On a rusting pier in the northern port city of Haiphong, where U.S. B-52s once dropped bombs for 12 straight days, 70-year-old fisherman Bui Quang Mong carefully repairs a frayed net. Half a century at sea has left his hands calloused and steady; each scar is a map of storms, clashes with other vessels and the relentless effort to eke out a living from the ocean.

Old Dangers, New Pressures

For Vietnam's small-scale fishers, the South China Sea has long been perilous: typhoons, detentions, confiscated catches and, increasingly, confrontations with Chinese maritime militia and naval vessels. Captain Dang Van Nhan, a third-generation skipper, says his wooden trawler was once rammed and sunk by a Chinese naval vessel. Sudden squalls and storms such as typhoon Kalmaegi have also taken lives and boats.

Brussels' Yellow Card—and a Deadline

More recently, regulatory pressure has arrived from afar. The European Commission's "yellow card" for illegal, unreported and unregulated (IUU) fishing now shapes daily conversations in coastal towns. Hanoi is racing to remove the warning before EU inspectors arrive at the end of 2025. If it fails, Brussels could escalate to a "red card," effectively blocking seafood exports valued at more than $500 million annually.

Washington Is Watching

Complicating the picture is a new U.S.–Vietnam tariff agreement hailed by both governments. U.S. trade officials are monitoring many of the same traceability and compliance indicators used by the EU. Analysts warn that if Vietnam still carries a yellow card in 2025, the United States could cite those findings to justify tighter tariffs or other trade actions on Vietnamese seafood and related exports.

What the Government Is Doing

To comply with international standards, Hanoi has rolled out a technical fishing-action plan: every vessel must be inventoried, re-registered and licensed; all catches must be digitally traceable; and port entries and exits must be logged. At many ports, boats now dock equipped with functioning tracking devices and electronic logs.

Authorities are also promoting high-tech aquaculture—replacing wooden structures with plastic rafts and cages—in scenic coastal areas such as Cat Ba Bay. Officials have designated two large marine reserves, Bach Long Vi and Cat Ba–Long Chau, which together exceed 35,000 hectares. They report releasing more than 2.1 million fish, shrimp, crabs and mollusks to help rebuild stocks.

The Human Cost

For fishers, these changes are not only administrative but existential. Many are now expected to operate digital logging systems, long after a lifetime at sea and sometimes with limited schooling. "I don't know Washington. I don't know Brussels," Mong says. "I only know if there is work." The technology and paperwork of compliance can feel remote compared with the immediate danger of a vessel bearing down in disputed waters.

"Much of the IUU problem is political, not simply technical," many fishers say privately. Chinese maritime activity often pushes Vietnamese boats into riskier waters even as foreign markets demand cleaner, traceable records.

Between Biology and Geopolitics

Coastal communities across Southeast Asia are squeezed between strategic competition for maritime control, climate pressures such as warming seas and stronger storms, and Western market demands for sustainability and traceability. The economic fate of the maritime poor is increasingly decided by digital dashboards, big-data servers and compliance spreadsheets.

Environmental restoration and alternative livelihoods take time to yield results; fishermen still need fuel each morning and reliable access to fishing grounds. For many, the immediate worry remains the day-to-day safety of going to sea.

Vietnam stands at a crossroads: it must demonstrate regulatory compliance to keep export markets open, while also addressing the political and security realities that push fishers into risky waters. Between those forces, a 70-year-old man continues to mend his net on a Haiphong pier.

James Borton is a non-resident senior fellow at the Johns Hopkins SAIS Foreign Policy Institute and the author of Harvesting the Waves: How Blue Parks Shape Policy, Politics, and Peacebuilding in the South China Sea.