Written by Jerry Fraser
July 20, 2016
It is almost axiomatic that legislation produces outcomes opposite to its stated intention. Think not? Consider the “Fisheries Conservation and Management Act.”
This phenomenon has been described by commentator Chris Matthews, among others, as “conceding on principle.” Tell the citizenry you’re giving them what they’ve asked for then give them the shaft.
Internalizing this dodge brings true enlightenment. If Congress passes “An Act to Protect Widows from Greedy Landlords,” you’ll have the spare bedroom ready when Granny arrives on your doorstep with a suitcase.
The latest example of this is the so-called GMO labeling bill, a lobby-inspired congressional effort to dupe American consumers into believing they have the right to know if what they’re eating contains or was produced using genetically modified organisms. Rather than cultivate informed consumers, the law, which trumps more progressive state legislation, promotes labeling designed to deflect efforts to learn whether a product is genetically engineered.
Go figure: Chain restaurants will soon be compelled to post calorie counts for menu items as well as “succinct statement[s] about suggested daily caloric intake,” as if there is anyone on the face of the Earth who’s unaware of the dietary implications of double-cheeseburger meals, but we can sell test-tube salmon without so much as a by-your-leave.
Not for nothing has the GMO labeling bill been dubbed “the DARK Act,” as in, “Deny Americans the right to know.” Under the legislation, which the White House has indicated the president will sign, producers of genetically engineered foods will (two years hence) be required to employ one of three labels: a symbol; a written statement noting the presence of GE ingredients; or a QR code for smartphones to scan. Call me a cynic but I’m betting most Frankenfish producers will go with the QR code.
Who cares? There are no penalties for non-compliance.
Wild salmon harvesters are not happy about the legislation. GMO salmon “poses a serious threat to the livelihoods of our fishermen,” U.S. Sen. Lisa Murkowski (R-Alaska) said prior to the vote. Her fear is that consumers will take a pass on salmon rather than risk eating what they regard as a less desirable product. “That's not something that I'm willing to take a risk, that I'm willing to take a gamble on,” she said.
There is also the issue of potential commingling of stocks.
Uproar over the bill is not limited to salmon fishermen. Consumer groups and many organic growers, among others, object to the bill, and an e-petition signed by upward of 200,000 opponents of the bill was sent to the White House Friday.
Congress is not the only place where common sense seems to have failed us. Scientists who support the DARK Act say it’s important to steer consumers away from the GMO issue.
In an op-ed piece in The Hill, David Just and Harry Kaiser of Cornell University assert that informed consumers cannot be trusted to make rational decisions about what to eat. “Mandatory labeling is not an appropriate policy response — and, indeed, can convey misinformation if interpreted as a warning.” Better, they say, to maintain “incentives for agricultural companies to invest in science and new product development.”
Just and Kaiser say they’re focused on achieving societal benefits through QR codes. “Labeling of food processes in this way can help people know more about what they eat while ensuring that conditions are ripe to help the environment and feed the poor in the generations ahead.”
Not exactly a concession of principle, but they’ve obviously learned from politicians.
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Written by Jerry Fraser
June 22, 2016
Small wonder the Brits may decide to exit the European Union. The EU suffers from an unassisted financial suicide impulse, reflected recently in Sweden’s call to ban imports of North American (Maine) lobsters to the union’s 28 member states, which comprise Western Europe (excepting Iceland, Switzerland and Norway), Bulgaria, Cyprus, the Czech Republic, Estonia, Hungary, Latvia, Lithuania, Poland, Romania, and Slovakia.
The Swedes have found 32 examples of Homarus americanus off their west coast, an invasion they assert puts their stocks at risk.
They should be so lucky!
Homarus americanus is regarded as eminently more delectable than its wizened Euro-cousin; indeed, some Swedish restaurants display their North American lobsters in tanks in full view of patrons. When was the last time you heard anyone trying to order a Swedish lobster in an American restaurant? More likely, anyone serving one would be brought up on labeling charges.
For that matter, when was the last time you heard of a Swede ordering a Swedish lobster? Swedes are said to consume nine pounds of U.S. lobster for every pound of their own, a ratio that suggests they did not get the memo on community-supported fisheries.
More to the point, Europe imports 13,000 metric tons of American lobsters annually. Classifying them as an invasive species, which seems a bit of a leap, given the data – 32 lobsters over the course of eight years – would cost the U.S. lobster industry about $150 million per year, according to the Portland (Maine) Press Herald. It would also impose an unjustified economic burden on seafood distributors throughout Europe.
U.S. Rep. Chellie Pingree (D-Maine) will have none of it. “The idea that somehow lobsters are going to jump out of their tanks and crawl into the sea and survive just doesn’t make sense,” she said in a statement. “Some reports have suggested that it’s actually consumers who have bought lobsters and thrown them in the ocean.”
Hoping they’ll take root, no doubt.Add a comment
Written by Ashley Herriman
May 26, 2016
I have to say, the trailer for “Saving New England Fisheries” gave me pause.
“We haven’t killed the goose that laid the golden egg yet,” a voice gravely warns as twine spills into the ocean from a gillnetter, “but if we don’t do something pretty soon it’s going to hang it up and give us jellyfish instead.”
The 57-minute documentary debuted last week on PBS stations. It might have been better titled, “Saving New England’s Cod Fishery,” but that’s not a knock on the production.
The notion of jellyfish as deep-sea cockroaches doesn’t do much for me; nor does the idea that we’re headed in that direction. In fact, it’s clear we are not. Fortunately, the documentary does not deliver on this gloomy conceit.
Not that things are peachy. Low quotas for cod, uber-consolidation resulting from catch-share mismanagement, fears about warming seawater and the productivity of the Gulf of Maine, and the specter of $700-a-day observers all loom over New England’s coastal communities.
These contingencies are not lost on the film’s producers, who put their hour to work piecing the entire troubling business together. They even found time to take us to Newfoundland, if only to underscore the historic nature of cod fishing off North America and its importance in fishing communities.
Forever, it seems, Newfoundland was cod heaven – or more correctly, cod fishermen’s heaven – and by the 1960s, nearly a millennium after Leif Erikson and his cohort first caught cod off Labrador, the Newfies were landing upward of 800,000 tons a year. It all came to an end in the early 1990s, with a crash that made headlines around the world.
“Total abuse,” says Newfoundlander Tom Best, who has fished cod since his youth. “We made a mess of it.”
Stocks flatlined, or near about, for the next 20 years. But Newfoundland may have turned the corner, if only just. “Well, the fishery is not coming back yet, but the stocks are coming back,” says George Rose, Ph.D, of Memorial University in St. John’s, Newfoundland.
Whether Newfoundlanders believed all along that cod would come back, I cannot say. New Englanders have seen haddock and redfish rebuild, and most believe cod will as well. And we know that environmental conditions – for example, water temperature, forage availability, and predator abundance – must align with conservation efforts before that wondrous day will be at hand.
Most of this comes through in “Saving New England Fisheries,” and as a result, the documentary is a praiseworthy effort. In addition to pointing out the components of abundance, the producers grasp the nature and extent of the groundfish fishery’s ongoing mismanagement, crystallized most recently in NOAA’s plan to have fishermen pay for $700-a-day observers.
If you’re so inclined, you can find fault with the film — particularly if you’re a fisherman. Bear in mind, though, that the documentary’s intended audience consists of folks we’d like to see better informed about fishing. “Saving New England Fisheries” answers the bell.
If you can’t find it on public television, watch it here:
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Written by Jerry Fraser
April 27, 2016
Did the Environmental Protection Agency stack the deck to put the kibosh to the Pebble Mine Project in Alaska?
Congress will resume its inquiries at a hearing tomorrow of the House Science, Space and Technology Committee, which will take testimony from Donald McClerran, the regional administrator for the EPA with Alaska oversight.
It seems clear Phillip North, an ecologist with the agency based in Soldotna, worked with the tribes in opposition to the project. Indeed, the inspector general says North used personal emails to carry out his mission – two years’ worth of which have turned up missing – and that this may have been illegal.
Opponents of the mine, however, argue that it is unreasonable to think that a relatively low-level EPA employee working out of his home office in Alaska could have singlehandedly torpedoed a project of the scope of Pebble.
If the project goes forward, miners would likely unearth several hundred billion dollars’ worth of copper, gold and molybdenum, but the ecological risks to the region and the Bristol Bay watershed are no less significant.
What the hearing will accomplish is uncertain. If it seems clear that the agency was predisposed to block the project, it is silly to lay this at the feet of a single scientist. For his part, North retired and departed to Australia (he has since returned), heightening the intrigue.
Meanwhile, Pebble and the EPA are withholding documents the other is seeking. And for all the lucre at stake, mine developers are running short of money.
Ultimately, this is a clash of an irresistible force – upward of $300 billion – and an immovable object – an intransigent federal agency. I don’t have a crystal ball, but my guess is that if the Pebble project ever goes forward, it will be with encumbrances that reduce profitability yet fail to protect the region from environmental calamity.
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Written by Jerry Fraser
March 17, 2016
I have a theory that great fishing fortunes are founded on cheap fish because, my thinking goes, there are a lot of them around. A corollary, however, is that not all cheap fish beget fortunes. In my experience, this corollary was exemplified by whiting (among others), which I fished for in my deckhand days in the early 1970s.
Nonetheless, I found riches in the images and traditions of the fishery, which today speak to a way of life that is yielding to technology, politics, and other misguided forces.
If the magic of the fishery is lost to the ages, its value endures, and today’s whiting fishermen are trying to get some small-mesh areas in the Gulf of Maine open earlier in the year.
Even if they are successful, it will not be as I remember it.
In the summer of 1973, the Portland, Maine, waterfront was a forest of orange-masted side draggers, and dozens of them cast off mornings long before dawn and steamed for 90 minutes or so to bottom known as Richmond Island, for the nearby island off Cape Elizabeth.
The skippers arranged their boats around the tow and waited for the sun to rise and send the whiting to the bottom while they watched on their fish finders. Such was the camaraderie in those days that no one set out until all the fish had settled. This was a one-tow-a-day fishery; the fleet broke up the schools and sent the fish up the water column, safely out of reach of our two-seam Yankee nets. You got ’em first set or you didn’t get ’em.
On the Minkette, which I fished with the implacable Lester Orcutt, the sideband AM radio would crackle to life and someone would say, “They’re still up over here.” Everyone recognized the voice and could see the speaker’s boat. Lester might nod in some direction and say. “Tut says they haven’t settled yet.”
A minute or two later Lester would come out on deck and we’d throw the belly rollers over. The rest of the net was already in the water. He’d go back in the wheelhouse and I’d run the net off the winch. Around us, 30 or 40 eastern-rig draggers would be in clockwise turns as the ground tackle spooled off the starboard side. Then we’d hook up the trawl doors and away we’d go; us and everybody else. Any way you turned, doors were flying off circling draggers and black smoke was pouring out of stacks. It was tight quarters, one boat passing another’s bow while a third one crossed the first one’s stern. The ocean was a maelstrom of prop wash.
Somehow it all worked, and in two hours or we’d spot someone side-to, hauling back. In an instant, it seemed, everyone was hauling back, and the race to the dock was on. The limit was 10,000 pounds per boat – set by the fish house, not the federales, because it was all they could handle with so many boats. If we were near the front of the line we were unloaded by noon; if we had gear problems or otherwise got screwed up and were among the last boats in it might be 6 or even 7 p.m. before I got home. I learned to play cribbage sitting around the dock on summer afternoons with other deckhands waiting to unload.
We got a nickel for the whiting, of which the lumpers who unloaded us split a penny, so the boat got $400 or so a trip. Lester didn’t take a captain’s share, so I was making about $100 a day, which in 1973 was indeed a fortune to a 20-year-old knucklehead. The 10,000-pound sets that characterized our days were the most automatic fishing I’ve ever seen. One time we came up short – as I recall, the bull rope had gotten around the twine setting out, and we lost a bag. As luck would have it, Carl Smith on the Li Lo had an extra bag. He steamed over and we took it aboard.
We let him beat us to the dock.Add a comment
Written by Jerry Fraser
February 10, 2016
It’s common for people who get heartburn from time to time to rely on over-the-counter drugs for relief. Doctors seem to be OK with this because chronic heartburn can lead to health problems down the road that cannot be treated with antacids.
In recent days, however, reports have emerged of research that suggests there may be an elevated risk of chronic kidney disease associated with heartburn palliatives known as PPIs.
As a result, folks who suffer from indigestion find themselves in a damned-if-you-do, damned-if-you-don’t scenario.
Welcome to the club! Fishermen produce protein, often at a low cost in dollars, that feeds people the world over, yet there is little tolerance in this country for any impacts from fishing, and it is the policy of our government to eliminate fishermen.
Along these same lines, researchers are now starting to look at the carbon footprint of fishing. And if you’re inclined to respond “Seriously?” given the comparatively measly tonnage of the world’s motorized fishing fleet, you’re missing the point: Researchers think in terms of the amount of fuel it takes to produce a ton of fish.
For example, Science two years ago declared Peruvian anchovies the least fuel-intensive industrial fishery, at 2.1 gallons of fuel per ton of fish. Less credible is the journal’s assertion that it takes 746 gallons of fuel to produce a ton of sole.
Is cleaner fuel the answer? Perhaps. But it’s not that simple. Last week, Science reported that Elliott Campbell and Brandi McKuin, researchers at the University of California, Merced, had determined that the impacts of so-called short-term pollutants emitted by diesel engines (as opposed to carbon dioxide, whose impacts are long term) had not been entirely understood.
To wit, the warming effects of black carbon – soot – had been underestimated by an order of magnitude. Fortunately, one is tempted to say, the impacts of black carbon are mitigated by sulfur dioxide emissions.
But wouldn’t you know it? Sulfur dioxide poses numerous risks to human health and is a component of acid rain, even as it tends to cool the atmosphere.
The International Maritime Organization has imposed limits on sulfur emissions along the coasts of North America, among other places. As a result, the nominally cleaner fuel we burn or will be required to burn will contribute to global warming.
Science noted that “in areas where sulfur-rich fuels are regulated, the researchers find a significant extra warming effect over 20 years. They find that fishing for large pelagic animals — species like tuna or swordfish — warms the climate, pound for pound, as much as raising pork.”
It’s enough to give a fella heartburn.Add a comment
Written by Jerry Fraser
January 13, 2016
It’s clear, cold and windy today. Winter is on us in Maine. What a pain in the neck – the world’s biggest inconvenience. I don’t own a snowmobile and I don’t ski or skate, and every time I make plans for the weekend, it snows.
I didn’t always feel this way.
When I was fishing, I loved winter. Inshore dragging typically was slow in the fall, although some years migrating cod (you could tell by their white bellies that they weren’t locals) would come along to feed on herring spawn in Wells Bay, and occasionally we’d have some luck with them.
The gannets found the cod for us. They’d ride their six-foot wings and circle high over the ocean off Bald Head Cliff, as much as 100 feet high, looking for the herring. They’d tuck their wings in and down they’d go, great white falling swords. The herring would be down 15 fathoms or more – the water was about 17 fathoms deep – no problem for these birds. By and by the cod would move along, and we’d go back to trying to scratch up a few flounders on the open bottom further outside, waiting for winter.
The cold water typically brought flounders northeast of Boon Island. Cod and haddock passed through as they saw fit, as well as Maine shrimp (more correctly known as northern shrimp, or Pandalus borealis), according to their cycle.
Maine shrimp show up for a few years, then they don’t. It’s been that way since the 1950s that I know of, and probably much longer. Needless to say, many a crocodile tear has been shed fretting over the health of shrimp in the Gulf of Maine, but I haven’t used up too many tissues, myself. I believe northern shrimp hereabouts are driven by water temperature and by their abundance in the larger biomass of them far to the north.
Many Maine fishermen, including some of my mentors, love catching shrimp and do well at it. It is an affinity I never shared. My own career as a shrimper began on deck long before the invention of the bycatch (and deckhand)-liberating Nordmore grate. My peers and I spent endless hours on deck picking baby flounders, cigarette whiting and brittle stars out of the shrimp. It was, someone observed, like picking fly turds out of black pepper.
Winter also meant lots of wind, and as a result, high prices. We couldn’t get out as often or stay as long as we did in the good weather, but most trips were worth it. I carried two nets, even on my little lobster boat dragger Hard Times, one for hard bottom and one for soft. When we got bored grinding around for flounders we’d put the roller net on and chase cod in hopes of a bag so full it would pop out of the ocean.
This was before four-seam nets were widely used. The cod we stalked haunted very bony bottom, so rim-racks were not uncommon, and eventually mending nets in the frigid weather would nibble away at our patience and good nature and we’d go back fishing for flounder on kindlier bottom.
Fishing kept us engaged in those days because there was always something to look forward to. We didn’t get rich, but we got to go fishing.Add a comment
Written by Jerry Fraser
November 11, 2015
Legend has it that when the Pilgrims arrived here in 1620, the cod were so thick off Massachusetts they had to swim with their backs out of water. The point being, of course, that greedy white men showed up and wrecked it for everybody.
Common sense is somewhat at odds with this notion, given that the Atlantic Ocean had been around for 130 million years by the time Mayflower arrived on Massachusetts Bay –enough time, one would otherwise think, to render the ocean so full of fish as to be unnavigable.
Evidence implicit in the modern recovery of cod stocks, to say nothing of the fullness of time, confirms that cod, like other fish, cycle up and down depending on environmental conditions. Indeed, if the Pilgrims had arrived 100 or 200 years earlier it is entirely possible, if not likely, that they would not have found a single cod within 100 miles of Plymouth, Mass.
Recently I referenced the tremendous recovery of cod and haddock in the Barents Sea, off Russia and Norway. We now hear that the recovery of Newfoundland’s iconic northern cod, whose stocks “crashed” in 1994 (never to recover, the doomsayers told us), is under way and explosive.
Research published Oct. 27 in the Canadian Journal of Fisheries and Aquatic Sciences by Dr. George Rose of the Center for Fisheries Ecosystems Research at Memorial University of Newfoundland documents the stock’s rebound over the last 10 years from “a biomass of a few percent of its former size to several hundred thousand tons and growing” and calls it “arguably the most important comeback of any fish stock worldwide.”
I would not argue the point.
Rose documented the recovery in size, abundance, and fish condition first in one region and then in two more and noted a wide size range of fish, as well as strong recruitment from all three regions. “We are now at the third and final step,” of rebuilding, he wrote: “the production of widespread and strong recruitment.”
Rose cited a couple of key factors in the recovery. One is the increase in stocks of capelin, a forage fish of the smelt family about which we’ve heard little for decades (so left for dead were they). The increase has paralleled warming seawater temperatures. He also emphasized the importance of reduced fishing effort.
“The important take-away from this study is that with favorable environmental conditions, in this case the increase in capelin as a key food for this stock, and a severe reduction of fishing, even the most decimated fish stocks have the potential to recover.” As Rose has noted, there is no doubt that human behavior is an environmental condition that can be modified to benefit stocks. But just as his work makes clear that fishing practices modify the trajectory of marine biomasses, it also points out that at either extreme, the abundance of a fish stock is beyond our jurisdiction.Add a comment
Written by Jerry Fraser
October 14, 2015
You don’t have to attend too many council meetings before you’ll hear commercial fishing described as the world’s oldest profession.
A more land-bound view bestows that distinction on prostitution. An online sage recently suggested this compromise: fishing is the world’s oldest profession, but prostitution is women’s oldest profession.
I’ll leave advancement of that argument to others.
What I will say is that part of the appeal of fishing is that it is a nexus of old and new. We can say with certainty that it is among the oldest professions. The hooks, nets, and traps we use have existed since the dawn of time and in their elements have changed little since.
And yet we would be out of business without modern technology. It enhances our ability to find and catch fish at the same time it nourishes our understanding of marine life and the ecosystems that support it.
For example, Phys.org reported Tuesday that researchers using what they describe as a surface and under-ice trawl found juvenile polar cod in vast abundance directly under the ice throughout the Eurasian Basin. The thicker the ice, the more fish they caught.
According to the journal Polar Biology, which published the study in August, polar cod, upon which numerous Arctic species depend for sustenance, were known to reside under the ice. What was not known was the extent of juvenile abundance and its correlation with the thickness of the ice. And while the abstract described the fish as in “good condition and well fed,” looming over the report are the consequences of a diminishing ice pack.
All this thanks to a one-off net the size of an automobile designed to float along the bottom of the ice.
Scientists from the Alfred Wegener Institute, the Helmholtz Center for Polar and Marine Research, the University of Hamburg and the Dutch research institute IMARES used satellite data and computer models to determine where to set the trawl.
For a scientist on deck aboard a research icebreaker churning across the Arctic, it is difficult, I should think, to contemplate much beyond the timelessness of the sea and sky before you. Yet the reason you are there, of course, is that there is nothing timeless about the view.Add a comment
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It’s no secret that fraud is a problem in the seafood industry. Oceana repeatedly touts a mislabeling epidemic. While their method has been criticized, the perception of rampant fraud has been established.Read more ...
The Center for Coastal Studies recently announced that Owen Nichols, Director of the Center for Coastal Studies’ Marine Fisheries Research Program, has been selected as this year’s recipient of the John Annala Fishery Leadership Award by the Gulf of Maine Research Institute.Read more ...