How mass tourism is killing Malaysia’s coral paradise

On any given day during peak season, more than 100 boats illegally ferry tourists to the postcard-perfect island of Redang, according to marine conservationist Muhaimin Hou. That’s 1,000 people flooding a fragile ecosystem off Malaysia’s eastern state of Terengganu, bringing with them a wave of destruction: coral damage caused by careless boat operators, piles of rubbish left on pristine beaches and an unchecked strain on the island’s natural resources. “The problem with day trippers is that their boatmen and guides are not from Redang,” said Muhaimin, an assistant programme manager with the conservation group Reef Check Malaysia. “They don’t know where to put down anchor … they don’t even know that you can’t feed the turtles.” And then there’s the trash. “Day trippers will gather at Teluk Dalam Beach to have their pre-packed lunches. After they eat, they just leave their waste there. We are facing an overload of waste,” he said. A paradise in peril Redang is one of Malaysia’s crown jewels, a haven for marine biodiversity that draws tens of thousands of visitors each year. From swimming with turtles in Tioman to diving with hammerhead sharks in Sipadan, the country’s coral reefs are a magnet for ecotourism. Tourism accounts for about 15 per cent of Malaysia’s annual revenue, and the country welcomed just over 25 million visitors in 2024 – a 24 per cent increase from the previous year, according to the tourism ministry. While the total revenue for the year has not yet been disclosed, earlier projections estimated earnings of 102.7 billion ringgit (US$23 billion). But Redang’s reefs are on life support. The island’s corals were among the hardest hit by a global coral bleaching event over the past year, which exposed 77 per cent of the world’s reefs to dangerously high sea temperatures. Around Pulau Lima, a small islet east of Redang, more than 90 per cent of the corals are already considered dead. Bleached corals can recover when ocean temperatures cool, but Redang hasn’t been so lucky. “Most of the places did not get a chance to recover,” said Muhaimin of Reef Check Malaysia. A survey by Reef Check Malaysia last year painted a dire picture: 63 per cent of the 315 islands and areas it studied showed a decline in live coral cover, a key indicator of reef health. Without thriving coral ecosystems, the ripple effects cascade – fewer fish, vulnerable coastlines, and a tourism industry that risks cannibalising its own lifeblood. Coral reefs are more than just pretty underwater landscapes. They support about one-quarter of all marine life, including fish like groupers and snappers that are staples of family dinners across Asia. They also act as natural breakwaters, shielding coastlines from storm surges, and work in tandem with mangroves to prevent erosion and replenish fish stocks. Globally, the United Nations Environment Programme estimates that coral reefs contribute a staggering US$2.7 trillion annually to the world economy. But they are also harbingers of climate catastrophe. “Scientists predict that even if global warming is maintained at 1.5 degrees Celsius, (2.7 degrees Fahrenheit) up to 90 per cent of coral reefs might disappear by 2050 due to prolonged ocean heatwaves,” the UN agency has warned. Profit vs conservation Closer to home, Redang’s reefs face a double-edged threat: climate change and human negligence. Discarded fishing nets, reckless anchoring and destructive tourism practices have damaged an estimated 83 per cent of Malaysia’s reefs, according to Reef Check Malaysia’s latest report. The story is no different across the South China Sea in Sabah, a Malaysian state on Borneo known for its breathtaking marine biodiversity. There, destructive fishing practices like fish bombing – where explosives are used to kill fish en masse – have left scars on up to 70 per cent of the state’s coral reefs. “We can’t manage the natural impacts like coral bleaching, but we can reduce physical damage [from human activity] so our reefs are more resilient to fight warmer waters,” said Adzmin Fatta, Reef Check Malaysia’s programme manager for the Semporna conservation project in Sabah. Adzmin likened the struggle to an unfair fight. “A very simple analogy is someone would lose in a one versus five fight,” he said. “But if it’s one on one, the chances of survival are 50 per cent. That’s the same for our coral reefs.” The resurgence of tourism post-pandemic has exacerbated the problem. Figures from Reef Check Malaysia show that live coral cover made modest recoveries during the Covid-19 lockdowns of 2021 and 2022, when human activity was curtailed. But since 2023, the trend has reversed, with the relentless focus on mass tourism threatening to destroy the very ecosystems that draw visitors in the first place. ‘What will happen?’ It’s not all doom and gloom. Conservationists say there are signs of hope, with local communities and government agencies stepping up to protect Malaysia’s marine treasures. Licensing and training programmes for tour operators, grass-roots awareness campaigns and volunteer patrols are just some of the measures gaining traction. Shahir Yaman, who heads Reef Check Malaysia’s project in Tioman, 350km (218 miles) south of Redang, believes that awareness is growing. “My late father was a fisherman and didn’t care about the coral reefs,” he said. “Now they are more aware that their source of income comes from the reefs, that tourists come because they want to see coral reefs in Tioman.” But Shahir, like others in his field, understands that the fight is far from over. “Big businesses come to make money and then they go away when there is nothing left. This is the conflict between demand and conservation,” he said. For Malaysia’s corals, it’s a race against time – and nothing less than the nation’s culinary staple of seafood is at risk. Sabah state provides one-quarter of Malaysia’s total fisheries output. In 2022, the state exported nearly 174 million ringgit (US$39 million) worth of seafood to China, one of the region’s largest marine produce consumers. “What will happen?” Adzmin asked. “We will not have fish to eat. Losing our seafood is like losing something very meaningful for Sabah. Imagine in the future we can’t talk about our fish, our lobsters, reefs … all these things associated with seafood. We are losing the value of Sabah that we take so much pride in.”

How mass tourism is killing Malaysia’s coral paradise

Beneath Redang’s turquoise waters lies a growing crisis of coral bleaching, trash and human negligence

A paradise in peril