But those jobs are becoming harder and harder to find.

Malaysia’s artisanal fishermen suffer net losses as climate change bites

Surrounded by resource-rich waters, Malaysia has a long, proud maritime history. But it has waned recently as fishing communities lose sea access and incomes; red tape ties up where shipping crews can work; and the domestic shipping industry endures a crunch as exports remain soft.

Still, its fisheries are worth 15 billion ringgit (US$3.3 billion) and there are an estimated 35,000 seafarers, many of whom are out of work and ready to pay agents a cut of their salaries to get back out to sea.

The money used to be so good that Janting left his marketing job in Kuala Lumpur a decade ago to retrain as a sailor in Sarawak.

Thirty days at sea could fetch Janting more than four times the median monthly salary of 2,250 ringgit in Malaysia, where wages have generally stagnated for more than a decade.

“I’ve been on land since December, I have not seen a single cent,” he added.

Hired on a contractual basis, seafarers are not paid during their downtime on land, an industry quirk offset by the large pay cheque they get while at sea. That means Janting, whose contract ended without a new one being lined up, has been forced to find work at a oil-palm plantation to get by.

He is not alone. Some of his seafaring friends are also back in their hometowns, planting pineapples and black pepper to earn money while waiting for their next posting.

Before the pandemic, many maritime companies were already struggling to cope with low demand for oil that led to shipping lines cancelling their bookings.

Where jobs are available, an onerous layer of bureaucracy gets in the way of securing them, with Sabah and Sarawak requiring work permits for employees from other Malaysian regions.

In Sibu, marine radio operator Steward Linang says he contemplated paying kantau to crewing agents for a place on a ship after being stuck on shore with no work prospects.

“Kantau is when the agents take a cut from your pay in return for putting your name on the list,” Steward said. “As long as you keep getting a pay cheque, they continue getting a cut.”

Steward, from Sarawak, requires a work permit to work in Sabah’s waters, a process that could sometimes take two months to complete, he said.

Turning 30 in a few months, he said he was envious of his friends with stable jobs who were able to settle down to start families and buy houses.

“Public perception is we have a lot of money, but there is no stability,” Steward said.

Water, water everywhere

The South China Sea is fiercely contested, with China’s nine-dash line extending to what they call Nankang Ansha – Malaysia’s Beting Patinggi Ali – just 84 nautical miles (156km) off the shores of Sarawak.

“It gets scary,” said radio operator Steward, recounting times his ship was warned off by Chinese coastguard vessels. “Sometimes they are close enough that we can see them with our own eyes.”

Historically, sea-bound trade once drove Malaysia’s economy. But the country’s fortunes shifted to land with the discovery of tin by the British during the colonial era. That led to the opening of mines in what were then considered hinterlands.

The subsequent introduction of rubber plants and later oil palms also convinced administrators to focus on a land-based economy, agriculture and natural resources.

Yet sea access still provides over 50 per cent of the country’s gross domestic product through foreign trade and the fishing industry, according to former Transport Minister Wee Ka Siong in 2022.

“Oil and gas all rely on shipping. So does all crude palm oil,” said Nungsari Radhi, an economist and former lawmaker.

Yet the health of the shipping sector corresponds with the size of Malaysia’s trade flows, he said. First-quarter GDP for 2023 showed exports were sluggish, recording a decline of 3.3 per cent.

Maritime trade slipped to 1.61 billion ringgit in 2021, a drop of 85.5 per cent from the year before.

Fewer vessels means intense competition for a place on one of them, says Aziz Abdullah, secretary general of the Association of Malaysia’s Maritime Professionals, who is concerned about the long-term damage caused by the lack of ships to train new crew on.

“Unless the cadet is undergoing training sponsored by the shipping company, it will be very difficult for him to continue his career,” he said at a maritime conference in April.

Indonesian pride

Experts panned the plan as half-baked and half-hearted, but it still resulted in the construction of at least 19 new ports in the country and gave Indonesians cause to ponder the possibilities that lie in the oceans surrounding them.

Malaysia’s transport minister Anthony Loke appears to have picked up the cues, saying he is looking at maritime opportunities from a security and economic perspective.

“We have to see ourselves as a maritime nation that can tap into the maritime economy,” Loke said. “We can develop and provide more job opportunities for Malaysians.”

Esham Salam, a former lieutenant commander with the Royal Malaysian Navy, said Malaysian society’s relationship with the ocean had changed into one of fear instead of seeing opportunities.

“Don’t go to the sea, it’s dangerous!” he quipped. “That’s the kind of mindset. Our maritime culture has disappeared.”

Esham said he had been able to rise quickly through the navy’s ranks since joining in 1979, but Malaysia hasn’t had a leader seriously interested in rebuilding the maritime sector and the current lack of career progression in the industry reflected that.

Tanah air

The importance of the sea is recorded in the Malay word for homeland: tanah air – literally, land and water. For many, the 15th-century maritime trading empire of the Malacca sultanate marked the golden age of Malay culture, before its downfall to European colonisation in 1511.

The sultanate’s name lives on in the Strait of Malacca, one of the most important chokepoints in global maritime shipping and trade between the Pacific and Indian oceans through which more than 90,000 vessels pass every year.

Despite its proud seafaring past, however, these days many of Malaysia’s states and territories are instead looking to reclaim more land from the sea at the expense of fish and other marine life along the coast – and the people whose livelihoods depend on them.

China-backed projects have repeatedly reclaimed land from the Malacca Strait, with some areas extending more than 3km out into the sea.

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The Penang state government, meanwhile, is creating more than 1,800 hectares (4,500 acres) of dry land from the sea for an ambitious public transit programme. Sabah, a state that’s roughly the size of the Czech Republic, is also planning to reclaim more than 40 hectares (100 acres) of land at its popular Tanjung Aru beach.

Fishermen in Parit Jawa, Johor, are also contemplating a bleak future, after news that a reclamation project bordering the Malacca Strait would reduce the area available to fish before they hit the international border with Indonesia, just 25km away.

“It will affect our livelihoods,” said Samad Safar, 63, one of more than a thousand fishermen along the coast who will be affected. “Our catches are already small.”

Back on the oil-palm plantation in Mukah, however, Janting says all is not lost.

“I am a sailor. I still believe that the sea will provide.”

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