Armed With Many Weapons, We Are Killing Our Oceans

I meet world-renowned undersea photojournalist Brian Skerry at Legal Seafoods, across from the New England Aquarium, where he's the explorer in residence.

He orders a chicken Caesar salad.

"I refrain from eating much seafood due to environmental concerns," he explains, before launching into a depressing litany of problems facing the world's marine ecosystems.

"I have to remain optimistic, because I do believe there's always hope," says Skerry, who spends more than half of every year underwater, diving with harp seals in the Gulf of Saint Lawrence and green sea turtles in Kiribati. "That said, it's very discouraging what I'm seeing."

What he's seeing are oceans in crisis, their health potentially at a tipping point: gratuitously destructive overfishing, endangered underwater "big game" (100 million sharks killed each year), dying coral reefs, and subtle but potentially catastrophic shifts that are almost certainly due to climate change.

It's not just ruthless whaling and foolhardy fishing practices that are plaguing the world's oceans. Underwater, things are bad all over — from the acidifying Atlantic to the Great Pacific Garbage Patch. A perfect storm of climate change, pollution, and rapacious global fishing practices has the potential to gravely imperil Earth's oceans and their intricate, highly sensitive ecosystems.

In Daniel Pauly's September New Republic cover story — title: "Aquacalypse Now"— the author, leader of the Sea Around Us Project at the University of British Columbia, reports that, in just the past half century, humans have "reduced the populations of large commercial fish . . . by a staggering 90 percent." He contends, consequently, that "eating a tuna roll at a sushi restaurant should be considered no more environmentally benign than driving a Hummer or harpooning a manatee."

The recent documentary End of the Line, meanwhile, delivers an alarming ultimatum: change the way we fish or the seas will be barren of seafood by 2048 — their empty waters patrolled only by the ghostly forms of ectoplasmic jellyfish.

That dire vision has been vehemently disputed. But there's little doubt that the seas have seen better days. What to do about it, however — especially in New England, the economy and culture of which have for centuries been inextricably tied to the water — is a complex and contentious issue. Different fisheries have different needs, prognoses, and environmental and economic prerogatives that must be balanced — a process made more difficult by extremists and pragmatists on both sides.

In the meantime, these issues are playing out in the midst of a severe recession, which has raised tensions in the fishing community. Earlier this summer, a lobsterman was charged with elevated aggravated assault after shooting a man in the neck following a territorial dispute on the remote Maine island of Matinicus. This past month, a couple hundred fishermen gathered in front of the National Marine Fisheries Service in Gloucester to protest a planned revision of regulatory rules; one worried angler held aloft an effigy of National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA) head Jane Lubchenco lynching a fisherman.

Against this backdrop of environmental doomsaying and economic calamity, the Obama administration is trying to wade its way through not just tricky fisheries-management concerns, but every other issue affecting America's waters — offshore wind energy and oil exploration, tidal power, shipping lanes, coastal erosion, aquaculture — as it works to enact a comprehensive new ecosystem-based Ocean Policy Task Force.

On the international front, the hugely anticipated United Nations Climate Change Conference in Copenhagen next month— even as pessimistic officials seek to tamp down expectations of any binding treaty — will make ocean protection a key component of discussions. There's also the question of whether the United States will finally sign on to the long-standing United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea, which would commit us to international standards for stewarding the ocean's natural resources.

But with so many other big issues competing for people's attention, where does the ocean rank on the political hierarchy? And is it too late to hone sensible, science-based policies that will balance environmental and economic concerns to preserve these vast waters for generations to come? Or will we have killed the oceans by then?

Lions and tigers of the sea
Skerry, an Uxbridge native who shoots primarily for National Geographic, doesn't enjoy being the bearer of bad news. Still, there's no getting around it: "I've seen a lot of degradation in the ocean over my 32-year diving career."

Things are worse now, he says, than he's ever seen them. Just a couple weeks ago, for instance, Skerry returned from an assignment in Mexico. "The reefs were anemic. They were highly overfished. They consisted of a lot of dead coral, from warming and bleaching. They'd also sustained heavy hurricane damage" — frequent and severe hurricanes being harbingers of climate change — "and because they're stressed already, they don't have the ability to be resilient and rebound."

New England isn't doing too well, either, he says. "I remember in the late '70s and early '80s, I'd dive off of Rockport or Gloucester and ... see these huge schools of herring and pollock. You don't see that today. You just don't see it."

Skerry recognizes the Herculean efforts being made by the American fishing industry to comport with this country's stringent stock-rebuilding rules. But he's dismayed by some of the excessive and destructive fishing practices he's seen across the world. Among the worst, he notes, are those for catching shrimp.

"You take a net, and you scrape it along the bottom to catch shrimp. In the process, everything else — all the little stuff that lives on the bottom, the sponges and the coral and all the habitat for baby animals — you wipe all that out. To catch one pound of shrimp, we might kill 12 pounds of other animals that get thrown back into the sea [dead] as by-catch.

"If we did that on land — to catch a single deer you go through the forest and kill all the raccoons and squirrels and skunks and everything that lives there — people would be outraged. Yet you can do it in the ocean and nobody cares."

The issue, says Skerry, "that people have never really wrapped their heads around, is that seafood is wildlife. There are animals like giant bluefin tuna that used to be very plentiful here in New England. These are animals that have no terrestrial counterpart: they continue to grow their entire life. If we weren't so good at catching them, there would be 30-year-old bluefin that weigh a ton."

Instead, "we're way too good at catching them. So their stocks have plummeted over 90 percent [globally] in just the last 30 years. They're on the verge of extinction. These are animals that cavemen painted on their walls, that Plato wrote about, wondering about their travels through the Earth's oceans. Yet we're wiping them out. We would never be allowed to kill all the lions and tigers and grizzly bears."

Globally, locally
Bluefin are in trouble all over the world, most notably in the European Union, but here in the northwestern Atlantic, too, where the Gulf of Maine bluefin has declined markedly in both quantity and condition. Luckily, there are a few success stories to offset those losses.

Often called "New England's own ocean," the Gulf of Maine is "widely regarded as being one of the 10 or 12 most productive marine ecosystems in the world," says John Annala, chief scientific officer at Portland's Gulf of Maine Research Institute (GMRI). "Because of the currents, the freshwater runoff, and relatively high nutrient loading, because the contrast in the water temperature is so great between winter and summer, then we get these really good phytoplankton blooms in the spring and the autumn that really drive the productivity."

Commercial fleets started taking full advantage of that fecundity in the mid-20th century, with advanced automated trawlers, radar, sonar, and GPS fish finders. Moreover, the waters were open to all comers. "When foreign boats were allowed to fish in US waters, through about 1976," says Annala, "... a number [of stocks] were severely depleted."

As such, the industry has been struggling in recent years to come to grips with a problem that festered for too long— severely curtailing fishing quotas and limiting time at sea in order to help replenish those decimated species.

Some have been rebuilt, says Annala. "Hake, monkfish, mackerel, herring, bluefish. There have been quite a few success stories." That said, "some of the slower-growing species are not scheduled to be rebuilt until 2025 or sometimes as late as 2050."
 

Those include halibut, redfish, and some of the longer-lived flounder species. Meanwhile, says Annala, Gulf of Maine cod stock is "on the road to recovery," yet still not scheduled to be rebuilt until 2015 or so, 10 years ahead of when cod stocks in Georges Bank (the undersea shelf running from Cape Cod to Nova Scotia) are hoped to reach sustainable levels.

In the interim, that means agita for New England fishermen, forced to pay for the sins of the past.

In his New Republic story, Pauly describes a global "fishing-industrial complex" of corporate-owned fleets and lobbyists, "hiding behind the romantic image of the small-scale, independent fisherman." For the past half-century, he argues, these fleets have relentlessly scoured the seas.

"As the bounty of coastal waters dropped, fisheries moved further offshore, to deeper waters," he writes. "And, finally, as the larger fish began to disappear, boats began to catch fish that were smaller and uglier — fish never before considered fit for human consumption. Many were renamed so that they could be marketed: the suspicious slimehead became the delicious orange roughy, while the worrisome Patagonian toothfish became the wholesome Chilean seabass."

(A recent Mother Jones article had a particularly piquant description of a run-in with another of those renamed species: one couple dined upon "escolar" — actually a type of bottom-feeding snake mackerel — and not long after their meal found themselves frantically googling "anal seepage.")

Pauly singles out these huge fishing fleets, from "vertically integrated conglomerates, such as Taiyo or the better-known Mitsubishi" in Japan, as the prime culprits in the decimation of the world's fish populations.

But, says Bob Vanasse, executive director of the Project to Save Seafood and Ocean Resources, if the oceans are indeed plied by "floating factor[ies] with underpaid workers who use technology that was developed to fight wars, high technology that is deployed in a war-like fashion against fish" (as Pauly described commercial boats to NPR's Terry Gross), "I don't think they're in New Bedford."

While there are corporate-owned vessels operating in the Gulf of Maine and Georges Bank — especially out of southern New England — Annala says the region's fleet is comprised primarily of "very small companies that might own one or two boats, where the owner is either an active fisherman or an ex-fisherman."

Yet even as America struggles to manage its depleted stocks — and those independent fishermen are subjected to ever more draconian regulations — corporate overfishing continues at alarming rates in places such as the European Union and Asia, with governments showing little inclination to rein it in.

Perversely, at the same time, "we're importing 80 percent of our fish," says Vanasse. "We're being extremely cautious and conservative in what we allow our fishermen to take out of the water, but then we supplement our consumption from countries that are known to be non-compliant. How is that a good thing?"

continued at:  http://thephoenix.com/Boston/News/93157-Were-killing-the-oceans/?page=4#TOPCONTENT

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