Published: 01:33 PM, 20 September 2025
China’s Island-Building Devastates South China Sea Reefs
Image courtesy of PSM
The Maldives, a nation intricately tied to its coral reefs for tourism, fisheries, and coastal protection, understands the complex balance between development and environmental preservation. Like many coastal nations, the Maldives has engaged in dredging and land reclamation to support infrastructure and economic growth, often with careful consideration of its ecological impact. Yet, in the South China Sea, a far larger and more destructive wave of reef devastation has unfolded, driven primarily by China’s unprecedented island-building and clam dredging. Since 2013, these activities have buried, blasted, or smothered some of the world’s most biodiverse coral systems, transforming low-tide elevations and reefs into militarised outposts. The ecological cost is staggering: thousands of acres of living reef flattened, lagoons choked with silt, and fisheries pushed closer to collapse. Beijing routinely cloaks these actions in the language of “civilian facilities” and “environmental management.” The data, imagery, and on-the-water records tell a different story.
Start with the most basic, measurable fact: scale. Satellite-based assessments by the Asia Maritime Transparency Initiative (AMTI) document that China created approximately 3,200 acres of new land in the Spratlys alone, largely by dredging and dumping reef material. Land reclamation is far from a neutral process: it buries reef foundations under tonnes of material and unleashes massive sediment plumes that block sunlight and physically damage living corals. According to AMTI, more than 6,200 acres of coral reef have been destroyed by island construction among various claimants—with China responsible for the bulk of that loss. Since 2013, China has buried approximately 4,600 to 4,700 acres of reef—equivalent to about eight times the size of Malé. These figures represent only the direct, observable destruction; the wider harm from suspended sediments spreads far beyond the footprint of the new artificial “islands.”
Peer-reviewed remote sensing reinforces this picture. A 2019 Scientific Reports study tracking construction at Mischief Reef quantified backscatter increases in surrounding waters and mapped sediment plumes exceeding 250 square kilometres during peak construction—evidence of widespread turbidity that compromises photosynthesis and smothers benthic life. The cumulative area impacted by dredging exceeded 1,200 square kilometres, dwarfing the reclaimed land itself and signalling a halo of damage that standard “acreage buried” metrics can miss. In other words, even if you set aside the military runways, radars, and hardened shelters, the process of creating them inflicted basin-scale ecological stress.
Those who defend this often resort to whataboutism: other claimants reclaim land, too. It’s true that Vietnam, the Philippines, and others have engaged in dredging and expansion—some of it accelerating in 2024–2025. But the history and magnitude matter. China industrialised reclamation first and at a scale and pace no one approached for years, inflicting “thousands of acres” of reef loss before others significantly ramped up. Even recent analyses that highlight new Vietnamese expansion still conclude that China remains the largest single driver of dredge-and-fill damage since 2013. This is not moral absolution for anyone else; it’s a reminder that the ecological baseline was already devastated by Beijing’s campaign.
If bulldozing reefs were not enough, the region has also suffered a second wave of devastation tied directly to fishing fleets: giant clam harvesting. For years, Chinese fishermen have used propeller-driven “chopping” and suction methods to dislodge and poach Tridacna clams. These techniques shatter coral frameworks into rubble, leaving sprawling “white scar” signatures visible from space. AMTI’s December 2023 synthesis estimates 16,353 acres of reef already damaged by these methods, with the true figure potentially far higher once lagoons at sites like Scarborough Shoal are fully assessed. Reporting and imagery from 2024–2025 continued to document widespread scarring and allegations of ongoing destructive practices. This is not traditional fishing; it is habitat liquidation.
Critically, this isn’t just an NGO talking point. When reefs are smothered or broken into rubble, new coral recruitment plummets. Sediment plumes further deplete coral cover and can drive reefs into algal-dominated states. Overfishing intensifies the damage by removing herbivores that would otherwise help reefs recover. Since at least 2016, scientists have warned that the combined pressures of construction, dredging, and heavy fishing were steering the South China Sea towards a fisheries collapse—even before the full scale of dredging and clam-harvesting scars was understood. Today’s stagnating catches, despite ever-increasing effort, are precisely the warning sign of an ecosystem pushed past its ecological limits.
Why be so blunt about responsibility? Because the mechanisms of harm align closely with state policy and protection. Large-scale dredging and reclamation required state-directed engineering assets and maritime cordons, not rogue actors. And the giant clam fleets operated for years under the watch of Chinese coastguard and maritime militia vessels that routinely exclude other nations from their own exclusive economic zones.
The ecological consequences are not abstract. Coral reefs are nurseries for regional fisheries that feed tens of millions. When reefs are buried or reduced to rubble, recruitment collapses. Sediment plumes reduce coral cover and can trigger phase shifts towards algal dominance. Overfishing compounds the damage, stripping herbivores that would otherwise help reefs recover. Scientists have warned since at least 2016 that the cumulative impacts—construction, dredging, and intensified fishing—push the South China Sea towards a fisheries crisis. That was before the biggest pulses of dredging and clam scarring were even tallied. Today’s flatlining catches despite rising effort are exactly the signal you would expect from a system pushed beyond its ecological limits.
Beijing occasionally points to restoration rhetoric—transplanted corals, environmental guidelines, or silt curtains—as evidence that it takes stewardship seriously. The record suggests these measures are cosmetic at best. Coral “transplantation” cannot resurrect multi-hectare frameworks pulverised by propellers or entombed under airstrips; it is gardening in a cemetery. And sediment controls are functionally meaningless when cutter-suction dredgers are liquefying entire reef flats. The mismatch between stated concern and observed practice is not a policy gap; it’s greenwashing.
Even more troubling, the destruction spreads far beyond the immediate sites. Remote sensing reveals that turbidity and suspended sediments can stretch hundreds to thousands of square kilometres from reclamation zones, reducing water clarity and hindering coral regrowth. At Mischief Reef, the detectable “halo” of damage was far larger than the artificial landmass itself. Coral reefs function as interconnected networks; suffocate one site and you cut off larval supply to many others. In the South China Sea, these metapopulation dynamics—already strained by warming and acidification—cannot withstand the loss of critical reef structures and still recover.
While China’s extensive activities in the South China Sea have caused significant environmental and strategic disruption, it is important to acknowledge that other claimants have also engaged in actions that contribute to the region’s degradation. Vietnam’s increased reclamation efforts in 2024–2025 raise environmental concerns, and both the Philippines and Malaysia have made their own impact. However, drawing false equivalence between these actors risks obscuring the scale and impact of China’s actions. Recognising the disproportionate damage is not an act of partisanship—it is a necessary step towards meaningful dialogue and collective efforts to prevent further harm to the region’s reefs and fisheries.
What should happen next? First, environmental harm must be treated as a core concern in regional diplomacy and legal strategy—not as a secondary issue. Manila’s exploration of a new environmental case, for example, should be viewed not as peripheral, but as a meaningful effort to account for ecological damage in the broader context of maritime disputes.
Second, enhance independent monitoring: deploy additional satellite resources, refine machine-learning tools to detect turbidity plumes and reef scarring, and conduct systematic lagoon surveys—including in areas currently under Chinese control—with international scientific collaboration.
Third, address the infrastructure that enables degradation: consider targeted measures against companies involved in operating cutter-suction dredgers, and strengthen enforcement against actors in the giant clam trade.
China often presents itself as a proponent of “ecological civilisation.” Yet in the South China Sea, that narrative is challenged by the realities on the ground. Reefs do not respond to rhetoric—they reflect the physical consequences of dredging, sedimentation, and habitat disruption. At present, the region is witnessing a transformation that prioritises strategic installations over vital ecosystems that support blue-carbon storage, coastal resilience, biodiversity, and food security.
The decisions being made are political. The consequences are tangible. Acknowledging this imbalance is essential to reversing the trajectory before critical thresholds are crossed.
>> Source: ETRUTH MV
Start with the most basic, measurable fact: scale. Satellite-based assessments by the Asia Maritime Transparency Initiative (AMTI) document that China created approximately 3,200 acres of new land in the Spratlys alone, largely by dredging and dumping reef material. Land reclamation is far from a neutral process: it buries reef foundations under tonnes of material and unleashes massive sediment plumes that block sunlight and physically damage living corals. According to AMTI, more than 6,200 acres of coral reef have been destroyed by island construction among various claimants—with China responsible for the bulk of that loss. Since 2013, China has buried approximately 4,600 to 4,700 acres of reef—equivalent to about eight times the size of Malé. These figures represent only the direct, observable destruction; the wider harm from suspended sediments spreads far beyond the footprint of the new artificial “islands.”
Peer-reviewed remote sensing reinforces this picture. A 2019 Scientific Reports study tracking construction at Mischief Reef quantified backscatter increases in surrounding waters and mapped sediment plumes exceeding 250 square kilometres during peak construction—evidence of widespread turbidity that compromises photosynthesis and smothers benthic life. The cumulative area impacted by dredging exceeded 1,200 square kilometres, dwarfing the reclaimed land itself and signalling a halo of damage that standard “acreage buried” metrics can miss. In other words, even if you set aside the military runways, radars, and hardened shelters, the process of creating them inflicted basin-scale ecological stress.
Those who defend this often resort to whataboutism: other claimants reclaim land, too. It’s true that Vietnam, the Philippines, and others have engaged in dredging and expansion—some of it accelerating in 2024–2025. But the history and magnitude matter. China industrialised reclamation first and at a scale and pace no one approached for years, inflicting “thousands of acres” of reef loss before others significantly ramped up. Even recent analyses that highlight new Vietnamese expansion still conclude that China remains the largest single driver of dredge-and-fill damage since 2013. This is not moral absolution for anyone else; it’s a reminder that the ecological baseline was already devastated by Beijing’s campaign.
If bulldozing reefs were not enough, the region has also suffered a second wave of devastation tied directly to fishing fleets: giant clam harvesting. For years, Chinese fishermen have used propeller-driven “chopping” and suction methods to dislodge and poach Tridacna clams. These techniques shatter coral frameworks into rubble, leaving sprawling “white scar” signatures visible from space. AMTI’s December 2023 synthesis estimates 16,353 acres of reef already damaged by these methods, with the true figure potentially far higher once lagoons at sites like Scarborough Shoal are fully assessed. Reporting and imagery from 2024–2025 continued to document widespread scarring and allegations of ongoing destructive practices. This is not traditional fishing; it is habitat liquidation.
Critically, this isn’t just an NGO talking point. When reefs are smothered or broken into rubble, new coral recruitment plummets. Sediment plumes further deplete coral cover and can drive reefs into algal-dominated states. Overfishing intensifies the damage by removing herbivores that would otherwise help reefs recover. Since at least 2016, scientists have warned that the combined pressures of construction, dredging, and heavy fishing were steering the South China Sea towards a fisheries collapse—even before the full scale of dredging and clam-harvesting scars was understood. Today’s stagnating catches, despite ever-increasing effort, are precisely the warning sign of an ecosystem pushed past its ecological limits.
Why be so blunt about responsibility? Because the mechanisms of harm align closely with state policy and protection. Large-scale dredging and reclamation required state-directed engineering assets and maritime cordons, not rogue actors. And the giant clam fleets operated for years under the watch of Chinese coastguard and maritime militia vessels that routinely exclude other nations from their own exclusive economic zones.
The ecological consequences are not abstract. Coral reefs are nurseries for regional fisheries that feed tens of millions. When reefs are buried or reduced to rubble, recruitment collapses. Sediment plumes reduce coral cover and can trigger phase shifts towards algal dominance. Overfishing compounds the damage, stripping herbivores that would otherwise help reefs recover. Scientists have warned since at least 2016 that the cumulative impacts—construction, dredging, and intensified fishing—push the South China Sea towards a fisheries crisis. That was before the biggest pulses of dredging and clam scarring were even tallied. Today’s flatlining catches despite rising effort are exactly the signal you would expect from a system pushed beyond its ecological limits.
Beijing occasionally points to restoration rhetoric—transplanted corals, environmental guidelines, or silt curtains—as evidence that it takes stewardship seriously. The record suggests these measures are cosmetic at best. Coral “transplantation” cannot resurrect multi-hectare frameworks pulverised by propellers or entombed under airstrips; it is gardening in a cemetery. And sediment controls are functionally meaningless when cutter-suction dredgers are liquefying entire reef flats. The mismatch between stated concern and observed practice is not a policy gap; it’s greenwashing.
Even more troubling, the destruction spreads far beyond the immediate sites. Remote sensing reveals that turbidity and suspended sediments can stretch hundreds to thousands of square kilometres from reclamation zones, reducing water clarity and hindering coral regrowth. At Mischief Reef, the detectable “halo” of damage was far larger than the artificial landmass itself. Coral reefs function as interconnected networks; suffocate one site and you cut off larval supply to many others. In the South China Sea, these metapopulation dynamics—already strained by warming and acidification—cannot withstand the loss of critical reef structures and still recover.
While China’s extensive activities in the South China Sea have caused significant environmental and strategic disruption, it is important to acknowledge that other claimants have also engaged in actions that contribute to the region’s degradation. Vietnam’s increased reclamation efforts in 2024–2025 raise environmental concerns, and both the Philippines and Malaysia have made their own impact. However, drawing false equivalence between these actors risks obscuring the scale and impact of China’s actions. Recognising the disproportionate damage is not an act of partisanship—it is a necessary step towards meaningful dialogue and collective efforts to prevent further harm to the region’s reefs and fisheries.
What should happen next? First, environmental harm must be treated as a core concern in regional diplomacy and legal strategy—not as a secondary issue. Manila’s exploration of a new environmental case, for example, should be viewed not as peripheral, but as a meaningful effort to account for ecological damage in the broader context of maritime disputes.
Second, enhance independent monitoring: deploy additional satellite resources, refine machine-learning tools to detect turbidity plumes and reef scarring, and conduct systematic lagoon surveys—including in areas currently under Chinese control—with international scientific collaboration.
Third, address the infrastructure that enables degradation: consider targeted measures against companies involved in operating cutter-suction dredgers, and strengthen enforcement against actors in the giant clam trade.
China often presents itself as a proponent of “ecological civilisation.” Yet in the South China Sea, that narrative is challenged by the realities on the ground. Reefs do not respond to rhetoric—they reflect the physical consequences of dredging, sedimentation, and habitat disruption. At present, the region is witnessing a transformation that prioritises strategic installations over vital ecosystems that support blue-carbon storage, coastal resilience, biodiversity, and food security.
The decisions being made are political. The consequences are tangible. Acknowledging this imbalance is essential to reversing the trajectory before critical thresholds are crossed.
>> Source: ETRUTH MV
