China's Shadow Fleet Is Coming To The Indian Ocean, And India Has No Counter

When Xi Jinping, freshly anointed as China’s president in 2013, urged the nation’s fisherfolk to “build bigger ships, venture farther into the oceans and catch bigger fish,” it was clear he wasn’t just envisioning larger seafood dishes. A decade later, the true import of his words is unfolding with the kind of precision you would expect from someone who has every intention of fishing for much more than just fish.

After all, when China talks about catching "bigger fish", it rarely means the ones swimming in the ocean.

Meanwhile, in Delhi last week, Finance Minister Nirmala Sitharaman spoke of tapping into the unclaimed wealth of India’s Exclusive Economic Zone and, with even bolder ambition, the high seas—uncharted waters for most Indian fishermen.

But even as she delivered those words in Parliament, two of China’s largest fisheries research vessels—Lan Hai 101 and 201—were already lurking in the Arabian Sea, not very far from the Lakshadweep Islands, trawling the depts of the Ocean to harvest invaluable data that would fuel Beijing’s distant-water fishing machine—one that moves with the discipline of an empire and the appetite of a leviathan.

The Logic Behind The Push

The oceans of the world are carved into distinct zones based on territorial rights and resource control. Territorial waters extend 12 nautical miles from a nation’s coastline, where it exercises full sovereignty.

Beyond this stretch lies the EEZ, reaching up to 200 nautical miles, granting exclusive rights to exploit marine resources.

The deep sea, defined as ocean depths beyond 200 meters, may fall within the EEZ or stretch into the high seas—international waters beyond national jurisdiction, where no single country holds sovereignty.

Despite its vast maritime expanse, India’s deep-sea and high-seas fishing sectors remain largely underdeveloped. The country’s fishing activities are overwhelmingly concentrated within the territorial waters. This is largely because fishing in India is still a small-scale, livelihood-driven activity.

Historically, Indian fishers have followed traditional practices, focusing on subsistence fishing.

According to the Marine Fisheries Census of 2016, only about 25 per cent of India’s fishing fleet is mechanised. The total marine fishing fleet consists of roughly 1,70,000 vessels, of which 16 per cent are traditional, non-motorised crafts—catamarans, dhonis, machwas, masula boats, dugout canoes, and plank-built boats.

Around 59 per cent are motorised traditional vessels, while mechanised boats—though fewer in number—contribute a staggering 80 per cent of India’s marine fish production.

This has resulted in a fishing industry that is almost entirely dependent on coastal waters, with up to 90 per cent of the catch coming from depths of 50 meters or less.

Most fishing activity remains concentrated in waters up to 70-80 meters deep, intensifying pressure on near-shore fish stocks and leading to overexploitation.

Take Tamil Nadu, for instance.

Tamil Nadu’s fisherfolk routinely risk arrest, the confiscation of their boats, and harsh penalties as they venture into Sri Lankan waters across the narrow Palk Bay, the strip of sea separating the two nations.

At the heart of this desperate push lies an undeniable reality—Indian waters are running dry.

Decades of relentless overfishing, exacerbated by the indiscriminate practice of bottom trawling, have stripped once-thriving fishing grounds bare. Bottom trawling involves dragging massive, weighted nets across the seafloor, indiscriminately sweeping up marine life while ravaging fragile seabed ecosystems.

The result? Shrinking catches and livelihoods on the brink.

The repeated arrests of Tamil fishermen and the seizure of their boats have turned into a chronic diplomatic flashpoint between India and Sri Lanka, with no resolution in sight. By December 2024, the crisis had deepened further—nearly 500 Tamil fisherfolk were in detention, despite periodic repatriations.

This is where deep-sea and high-seas fishing emerge as a crucial alternative, presenting an untapped frontier that could relieve the strain on coastal fisheries.

India’s EEZ alone holds enormous, unrealised potential for the country’s fishing industry. While the current harvest from the EEZ stands at around 4 million tonnes, estimates suggest it could yield up to 7.1 million tonnes.

This means deep-sea fishing in the EEZ alone could add an additional 2 to 3 million tonnes to India’s total catch, with plenty of potential beyond the EEZ, with the high-seas offering more reserves.

But the Chinese are chipping away at these resources.

Chinese Distant-Water Fishing Fleet

China boasts the world's largest Distant-Water Fishing Fleet, a maritime juggernaut hauling in an estimated 3-4 million tonnes of seafood annually—contributing significantly to the country's total marine catch of 14-16 million tonnes.

The actual size of China’s distant water fleet (DWF) remains, conveniently, a matter of debate.

Beijing, in its characteristic 'precision', reported exactly 2,551 distant-water vessels in 2022, including 1,498 high-seas fishing ships—numbers that, one might suspect, are as carefully managed as the fleet itself.

Its fisheries law, ever so selectively worded, excludes the South China Sea, East China Sea, and Yellow Sea from the definition of distant waters, since Beijing prefers to consider these regions its own, regardless of competing claims from the Philippines, Vietnam, Japan, South Kore and others.

However, many of the vessels operating in these conveniently redefined waters should still count as part of the distant-water fleet. If China applied the same standards as the rest of the world, its fleet would be significantly larger.

But even if one goes by China's official numbers, India’s deep-sea fishing capability pales in comparison, with just 95 vessels—a mere 3.6 per cent of China's fleet.

While many countries have DWFs of varying sizes in different parts of the world, including in the Indian Ocean, the Chinese fishing fleet stands out from other nations due to not just it's size, but also its behaviour, and the military and geopolitical purpose that it serves for the Chinese Communist Party.

The Maritime Militia

China’s DWF and the China Maritime Militia (CMM) are closely intertwined.

The CMM is a branch of China’s national militia, distinct from the People’s Liberation Army (PLA) and the People’s Armed Police, yet directly commanded by the PLA’s local commands.

The CMM doubles as an arm of the state, blurring the line between commercial enterprise and military force. Nowhere is this more evident than in the South China Sea, where thousands of Chinese fishing vessels operate as part of the CMM, a state-backed force that plays a direct role in asserting Beijing’s territorial claims.

Unlike a typical militia, the CMM isn’t a ragtag force—it’s a highly organised operation. At its core, the CMM is a mix of fishermen and mariners, dubbed “little blue men”, trained and funded by the state to carry out militia duties alongside their civilian work.

But Beijing has gone further, commissioning entire state-owned fleets equipped with reinforced hulls, high-powered water cannons, and even ammunition storage—hardly the gear of a typical fishing vessel. The crews of these ships are not ordinary fishermen but military veterans, drawing government salaries and training, despite lacking any real commercial fishing role.

Keeping this operation afloat is a staggering system of state subsidies. Without them, much of China’s distant-water fleet would struggle to survive.

Estimates put China’s fishing subsidies at $6–7 billion annually, averaging $347,000 per vessel—far outpacing the European Union’s $23,000 per vessel.

Beyond merely sustaining the fleet, these funds drive its expansion and modernisation. Special incentives apply to vessels operating in contested waters where China has territorial disputes—such as the Spratlys and Scarborough Shoal—where China provides double fuel subsidies.

Larger ships, at least 55 meters long with 1,200 kW engines, receive a special daily fuel subsidy of around $3,743 per vessel. On top of that, an annual one-time bonus sweetens the deal, with reports indicating payments of $5,419 per ship in 2011. The subsidy is deliberately tied to vessel size, ensuring that when deployed for a mission, these ships are formidable enough to intimidate adversaries.

Catching 'Bigger Fish'

China’s DWF vessels are often not fishing at all—they are fishing in troubled waters.

These vessels spend days or even weeks at sea without casting nets or deploying gear, making no effort to catch fish. Instead, they loiter in large clusters, frequently “rafting up”—tying themselves together in tightly packed lines for stability and easier communication, appearing like a barrier in the sea. This curious behaviour, conveniently unfolding in the most hotly contested parts of the South China Sea, has no commercial logic whatsoever. If these were actual fishing boats, they would be haemorrhaging money by the minute.

Take the Spratly Islands, for instance. If these vessels were truly just fishing boats, they would have stripped the waters bare by now.

A single 550-ton light falling net vessel—the kind that dominates China’s so-called fishing fleet in the region—can haul in around 12 metric tons of fish per day.

With over 270 of them clustered around Subi and Mischief Reefs (parts of the Spratly Islands in the South China Sea) in August 2018, their combined catch would amount to 3,240 metric tons daily, or nearly 1.2 million metric tons a year. That’s anywhere from half to the entirety of the estimated annual catch for the entire Spratly Islands.

If they were genuinely fishing at that scale, there wouldn’t be much left to fish.

But they’re not there to fish. These vessels are there to hold ground, assert presence, and reinforce China’s territorial ambitions under the guise of civilian activity.

These grey zone tactics allow China to tighten its grip on disputed areas without open confrontation.

For instance, in September 2023, during a Philippine resupply mission to the Second Thomas Shoal, Chinese maritime militia vessels brazenly operated alongside the China Coast Guard to help sabotage the operation.

The Second Thomas Shoal is a submerged reef within the Philippines' EEZ, yet China lays claim to it as part of its dubious "nine-dash line" in the South China Sea.

To maintain its territorial hold, the Philippines deliberately grounded a World War II-era ship on the reef in 1999, turning it into an outpost for a small contingent of Marines.

Since then, China has repeatedly sought to blockade resupply missions to the outpost, using not just the coast guard but also its maritime militia to make operations as dangerous and difficult for the Philippines as possible.

Over the years, the CMM has been used effectively to assert and enforce Beijing’s claims in the South China Sea. It has been deployed to block foreign vessels, both military and civilian—belonging to other claimants like Vietnam—, harass US Navy vessels, and help defend Chinese infrastructure, such as oil rigs, in contested waters.

China's 'Little Blue Men' In The Indian Ocean

China’s distant-water fishing fleet is far too big for the South China Sea alone, and it has long since spilled into oceans across the globe—from the South Pacific to the North Atlantic. The Indian Ocean is no exception.

Since 2015, Indian authorities believe that nearly 600 Chinese fishing vessels have been making their way into the Indian Ocean Region every year.

While they typically steer clear of India’s EEZ, an incident in 2019 sparked concerns when a fleet of ten was discovered poaching in Maharashtra’s waters. And if the accounts of Indian fisherfolk are to be believed, such incursions are not an anomaly but a recurring reality.

Yet, unlike in the South China Sea, where China’s actions are tied to territorial claims, the game here could be different.

Under the guise of commercial fishing, China’s fleet in the Indian Ocean could engage in intelligence gathering. These vessels, equipped with satellite navigation and communication systems, could serve as long-range intelligence, surveillance, and reconnaissance (ISR) assets for the PLAN.

If outfitted with basic surveillance and electronic intelligence equipment, they could be quietly tracking the movement of naval assets, feeding real-time intelligence to the PLAN. Their civilian status grants Beijing plausible deniability, allowing them to operate as an unofficial extension of China’s military.

These vessels could serve as launch pads for platforms like undersea drones. Positioned at the edge of the EEZ, they can release drones that navigate toward naval installations, enabling surveillance in ways conventional military ships cannot without drawing immediate attention and risking significant escalation.

Further complicating matters, many of these vessels do not keep their Automatic Identification System transponders active, despite international law requiring them to do so. This deliberate opacity only fuels suspicions about their true purpose.

China’s own military writings provide insight into this strategy.

A 2021 report by the US Navy's Naval Intelligence Office points out that two 2018 PLA journal articles suggested that while China’s distant-water fishing fleet operating beyond its near seas was not yet fully integrated into its maritime militia’s intelligence, surveillance, and reconnaissance (ISR) network, "steps should be taken to fully integrate commercial and DWF vessels operating globally into China’s ISR system."

"In the Cold War, ISR was the predominant way in which Soviet fishing vessels served national interests," the report points out.

But China isn’t just interested in watching—it’s looking for ways to assert itself in the Indian Ocean.

India’s defence agreements with Sri Lanka, Mauritius, the Maldives, and Seychelles allow it to help patrol their exclusive economic zones, but a surge of Chinese fishing vessels, some backed by the maritime militia, could disrupt these arrangements.

Smaller Indian Ocean littoral states, aware that Beijing’s fishing fleets may have state backing, might be reluctant to challenge these vessels for fear of provoking a response and could increasingly feel compelled to concede space to them.

China is also using its Belt and Road Initiative to secure access for its DWF in the Indian Ocean. By investing billions in ports, processing facilities, and infrastructure in East African nations like Mozambique, Beijing has created logistical hubs that directly support its fleet.

But beyond infrastructure, these investments give China leverage—coastal nations reliant on Chinese funding often “feel obligated” to cooperate, effectively giving China access to the region and ensuring continued presence of its vessels.

In Mozambique, for instance, China has effectively taken control of the Beira Port, doubling its capacity to host over 100 trawlers. The expansion was funded through a $120 million loan from China, and the contract was awarded to a Chinese company.

In a separate, murky deal—one that reportedly sidestepped Mozambique’s own fishing minister—China secured rights for 100 of its vessels to fish in Mozambique's EEZ. The terms of the deal remain a closely guarded secret.

Given Beijing’s track record of leveraging BRI investments for access to resources, the loan itself may have been a quid pro quo, with fishing rights granted in return.

With the third-longest coastline in the Indian Ocean, Mozambique sits in a key spot along the Mozambican Channel, a crucial shipping route and a maritime chokepoint between the island of Madagascar and the African mainland.

Interestingly, the Western Indian Ocean, where China is investing in a string of new and existing ports and crowding the waters with its DWF fleet, is also where India has established its first foreign military base on Mauritius' Agalega Island.

Over time, this creeping Chinese presence would repeatedly test India’s credibility as the region’s leading security player, nudging these nations to rethink their strategic ties. While such a shift may not be imminent, subtle shifts in the Indian Ocean’s geopolitical landscape suggest it is no longer beyond the realm of possibility.

China has already found openings in several Indian Ocean nations. Nowhere is this more evident than in the Maldives.

Last year, President Mohamed Muizzu chose not to renew a hydrographic survey agreement with India—a decision that was more than just a bureaucratic adjustment. It was a statement. Under Muizzu, the Maldives has steadily opened its waters to greater Chinese presence, a shift that became glaringly clear when a Chinese research vessel docked in Male a year ago despite India’s displeasure.

Just weeks later, the Maldives formally declined to renew the agreement. The timing was no coincidence—the Maldives also signed a new defence agreement with China around the same time, with little to no details publicly available.

The growing presence of China’s DWF fleet in the Indian Ocean is reinforced by its expanding military footprint in the region, with Beijing now maintaining bases on both the western and eastern edges of the Indian Ocean—Djibouti in Africa's east coast and Ream in Cambodia. It also maintains a near-constant presence of its dual-use "research vessels" in the region, collecting data on topography, currents, thermoclines, salinity, and other oceanographic factors crucial to the operations of the PLAN, especially for the safe deployment of its submarines in these distant waters.

China has already shown how its DWF fleet could be weaponised—as seen in the South China Sea, where it has been used to harass, provoke, and coerce weaker littoral states. For the PLA, these seemingly civilian vessels have become a potent tool for operating in the grey zone, escalating tensions without crossing the threshold of open conflict.

By gradually expanding the operations of its DWF fleet in the Indian Ocean, China will methodically test and stretch the boundaries of what is considered acceptable behaviour in the region, steadily normalising its presence in ways that would challenge India’s long-held strategic advantage in these waters.