Gratuitously gratuitous
Have you ever seen one of those high-budget crime flicks where a bunch of slick dudes go out and rob a bank?
It starts with a group of chiseled Hollywood 30-somethings cocooned in tailored suits, driving fancy cars and armed with enough sexy crime tech to make even the most jaded geek swoon. There’s the compulsory uber-coolness sequence where they’re slow-motion strutting out of a building, all wearing expensive shades and silk ties, oozing style. Then there’s the heist scene, a spitfire collage of action shots and staccato sound effects that raises your heart rate and stretches your eyelids up past your forehead. Finally, the smoke clears on an empty bank vault, with a bunch of bumbling police officers looking at one another in confusion, and their mustachioed, hard-boiled lieutenant staring into the middle distance, clenching his jaw in impotent fury.
Invariably, these smooth criminals now need to liquidate their ill-gotten gains so they can flee to some non-extradition paradise festooned with string bikinis and mai tai umbrellas. Problem is, the cash is easily traceable – so they go for something else.
Bearer bonds. Raw diamonds. Postage stamps. They find one of those funny ways to steal money that won’t get them reeled in by Interpol or by some twitchy, obsessive FBI agent that has willfully exceeded his jurisdiction in order to bring his better-looking, cooler, and smarter nemeses to justice. Finally, there’s the scene at the bar of the expensive resort in Montenegro or Caracas, where the government agent sidles up to the criminal and informs him that sure, he’s out of his jurisdiction, but he knows what’s going on and will make sure that so-and-so suffers for his misdeeds….
That's the stuff
… sorry, I’m digressing. I meant to stop at the point where I said “bearer bonds.”
The reason I’m bringing this up is because there’s a point of commonality here between this stamped cellulose lucre and much of the fish that one can find everyday at the local sushi bar. Both are, for the purposes of everyday commerce, untraceable.
Much of the seafood swirling about the sushi industry chain of custody is “black box” fish. It passes through so many hands, is processed and repackaged so many times, and languishes in the bellies of so many cargo planes that its history is lost. Discerning where the fish is actually from becomes an impossible task. When they’ve finally finished ricocheting around the planet, these poor animals have accumulated enough frequent flyer miles to upgrade to first class on that final trip to your dinner plate.
Living in the present
International labeling laws tend to make things even worse. Generally, a fish product is only required to list the last point at which there was value-addition (a change in formatting – repackaging, processing, cooking, etc.) This process wipes out and redrafts the history of the fish as if it were on etch-a-sketch in the hands of a kindergartener with ADHD.
Thus do we have fish landing on sushi counters without any indication of their checkered pasts. A good example is the ubiquitous tako, the mottled purple octopus whose severed tentacles adorn sushi bars across the planet.
This precise Japanese term for this species of octopus (Octopus vulgaris) is madako, or “true octopus.” This multi-limbed wonder is caught all over the world, but some of the most productive fishing is traditionally done off the coast of North Africa in Moroccan, Mauritanian, and Senegalese waters.
Swimming towards ignominy
The problem here (beyond the fact that this octopus is largely bottom trawled from flagging populations with little management) is that the world’s tako chain of custody bottlenecks in Japan. Octopus is not simply yanked out of the water to be immediately slapped down on a sushi bar, as is the case with numerous other fish. Rather, octopus has to be properly blanched, seasoned, and packaged for travel. This takes place in Japan, where there is an entire industry based around octopus processing. The world’s octopus trawl fleets capture the animals, kill them, and ship them off to Japan where they are all mixed together in enormous processing facilities. The octopus is prepared for use in sushi through a method that involves hot water, vinegar, and copious amounts of plastic. This process strips each octopus of its individuality, creating an amorphous melange of tentacles that is then re-exported and disseminated to sushi bars throughout the world, bearing stickers that read: “Product of Japan.”
But it’s not really from Japan, is it? And by the time it arrives in the United States, neither the broker who imported the octopus, the seafood distributor who trucked it to a restaurant, nor the chef who chopped it up for a salivating sushi fan is able to trace it to its source. Any knowledge of original home of the octopus has been lost, wiped from history as cleanly as a child’s carefree sand scrawls are erased by a rising tide.
Octopus Anonymous
So if we need to know the original source of the fish to determine stock status and management rigor, and we need to know about stocks and management to determine the sustainability of a given seafood option, how do we deal with tako and other black box products? How can we make educated choices to promote sustainable fisheries if we can’t even tell where the fish is from?
This is the curse of the black box. It is a general dearth of information at the final point of sale that is enabled by ineffective trade protocol and labeling laws. It is a black hole languishing in the center of the world of seafood, drawing shipping receipts, landing logs, and other data into its gravity well, engaged in a perpetual implosion that disposes of fact and history more efficiently than an armada of paper shredders set upon the National Archives.
It falls upon us to apply the precautionary principle in these situations. If we cannot adequately defend a hypothesis stating that the dish is a sustainable option, we must assume the opposite. A precautionary approach to our marine resources will allow us to protect our planet by giving our oceans, rather than the fishing industry, the benefit of the doubt. This is how we avenge the dodo.
Pandora's box
Below is a non-exhaustive list of sushi items that commonly fall into the black box:
Tako (Octopus)
Anago (Sea eel)
Unagi (Freshwater eel)
Tobiko (Flying fish roe)
Toro (Bluefin tuna belly)
Kanikama (Surimi)
Sazae (Conch)
Processing bottlenecks, weakness in labeling, and IUU (pirate) fishing all contribute to the strength and volume of the black box. Consumer patronage of black box seafood has an extremely detrimental impact on our oceans. Please exercise extreme caution when considering any of the above options at the sushi bar.
Tags: anago, bank robbery, bearer bonds, black, black box, bluefin, bottleneck, box, conch, conger eel, curse, eel, export, flick, flying fish, flying fish roe, freshwater eel, import, IUU, japan, kanikama, labeling, madako, mauritania, morocco, movie, ocean's eleven, octopus, pirate, precautionary principle, processing, sazae, sea eel, senegal, surimi, tako, tobiko, toro, traceability, tuna belly, unagi, untraceable
On Friday the 19th, I was invited to participate in a short Q&A session directly following the release of The End of the Line, a new documentary about the state of our oceans, at a movie theater in the East Village.
Even though Greenpeace has been engaging in rigorous cross-promotional efforts with the producers of this film, including campaigning against Nobu restaurant and taking to the water to expose the repugnant activities of bluefin tuna pirates, this was the first time I actually saw the movie in its entirety… and I’m now more convinced than ever that it merits our unconditional support.
The End of the Line is a masterful work that details one man’s crusade to save our world’s oceans. The author and subject of the documentary, Charles Clover, found his love of the ocean as many of us do: at the end of a line.
While fishing in Wales, Clover snagged a very lonely salmon – a salmon that turned out to be the last one ever caught in that river. Overfishing, rampant development, pollution, and habitat loss have combined forces to annihilate a population that once made annual pilgrimages to the Welsh highlands.
After witnessing the melancholy fade-out of this salmon run, Clover began to ask that simple question that so many of us are struggling so mightily to ignore: Why are our fish disappearing? His quest to find an answer became an odyssey that took him from Senegal to Tokyo and a thousand points in between.
You should see my older brother
The movie is replete with dazzling imagery; shots of Almadraba, a traditional bluefin tuna hunt undertaken by Spanish fishermen in the Strait of Gibraltar capture the true vitality and power of this regal animal. During the sequence, I overheard a woman in front of me convey her astonishment over the bluefin’s massive size to her companion in hushed expletives.
The irony is that the bluefin pictured in The End of the Line aren’t large at all… maybe 150 pounds. Just a short decade or two ago, there still were bluefin swimming about that had reached sizes closer to their true potential – upwards of 600 pounds. That’s three or four times larger than the “massive” fish in the movie.
Our baselines have shifted. Aside from the wrinkled old seadogs that haunt the docks of towns like Gloucester, MA, no one remembers a truly gargantuan bluefin. No one remembers that there used to be alligators in Chesapeake Bay. No one remembers the true nature of a healthy ocean.
"When I was your age..."
A number of aging fishermen appear throughout the film, underscoring this issue by weaving an old salts’s lament into the story. With their greybeard perspective and sun-stroked skin, these old men of the sea decry the waste and rapacity of the modern fishing industry, citing our rampant overfishing as a glaring example of today’s generation cutting its own throat in search of a quick dollar.
Near the conclusion of the film, an unnamed woman sums up the problem when she smiles into the camera and candidly delivers the line, “I like to eat fish. To me, fish are food.”
Fish food
Those who have read some of my previous articles and blog entries on this subject know that I do not necessarily dispute this statement. I don’t have a problem with the concept of a human being feeding on a fish. The problem arises with the strange assumption that once an animal is relegated to the status of “food,” it no longer merits any kind of respectful treatment. It does not deserve to be treated as a living thing; rather, it exists for the lone purpose of one day graduating to the status of fish finger, salmon burger, or 2-piece nigiri plate.
Speaking to this issue (albeit somewhat indirectly) is Dr. Daniel Pauly, a UBC professor who is prominently featured throughout the movie. Pauly is one of the most well-known fisheries scientists in the world. He speaks at conferences and symposia in cities across the globe. The particularities of his theories are often disputed within academia, but no one would deny the man’s brilliance and devotion to the planet.
At one point during the film, Pauly offers a frighteningly simple answer to Clover’s overarching question about the fate of the world’s fish. When Clover asks, “Where are the fish going?, Pauly responds, “We are eating them!”
- ALL YOUR FISH ARE BELONG TO US
Fish may be food to some, but that does not mean that they are not still fish first and foremost, living organisms with which humans have a delicate and complex relationship. This relationship is being abused to a terrifying extreme. Factory trawlers, dynamite fishers, bluefin tuna pirates, absurdly greedy corporations (et tu, Mitsubishi?) and corrupt politicians have stretched the ability of our oceans to nurture healthy fish populations to the breaking point.
I beseech all those who read this message to make a point of seeing The End of the Line as soon as possible. It depicts the reality of the state of our oceans better than this blog ever could.
Tags: almadraba, baseline, bluefin, charles, clover, end, end of the line, film, gibraltar, gloucester, greenpeace, line, mitsubishi, movie, nobu, ocean, overfishing, pauly, pirate, salmon, wales
Posted by Casson on Jun 15, 2009 in
Uncategorized 
Hail to the reefs
On Friday, June 12, 2009, President Barack Obama announced “National Oceans Month.” This was a powerful gesture, and will no doubt serve to increase awareness of our current plight. I applaud the President for making a public statement about this tremendously important issue. Quoting directly from the proclamation: “we celebrate these vast spaces and the myriad ways they sustain life. We also pledge to preserve them and commend all those who are engaged in efforts to meet this end.”
Hear, hear!
But, alas — I wouldn’t be a blogger if I didn’t use my little cyber-soapbox to pick, prod, and critique. So, in the spirit of constructive criticism, I’d like to point out a minor issue that I feel merits a bit of discussion:
There is no such thing as a “national ocean.”
What, this isn't good enough?
Now, I can already hear the whistling of the incoming artillery that my snarky little comment has invited. “It’s a month about national recognition for the oceans, not recognition for national oceans,” or “He’s only the President of one country, he can only make national statements.” I know, I know. But bear with me for a minute.
It’s not that I don’t feel that “National Oceans Month” is important. It is. I’m ecstatic that President Obama has taken the time to affix federal letterhead to his views on our planet’s seas. It is, as I opined earlier, a very good thing.
The problem is that oceans are not national. They are the very definition, in fact, of international. And national proclamations won’t fix them.
Blue ocean, red ocean
The reasons behind many of our ocean’s most imposing environmental challenges are international in nature. Ocean acidification, a creeping decrease in pH that spawns from climate change, pollution, and overfishing, is not the fault of any one country, nor can it be solved by any one government. Solving this problem will take the cooperative action of all the world’s nations.
Bluefin tuna, a favorite punching-bag subject of mine, is similar in nature. The bluefin is a migratory, pelagic species. It does not spend its entire life within the exclusive economic zone of any one country. International agreements that are in place to “manage” it continue to fail in any number of ways. For example, ICCAT (the International Commission for the Conservation of Atlantic Tunas) is a multi-state body tasked with managing bluefin tuna stocks in the Mediterranean and surrounding waters. Unfortunately, it has proven to be a toothless paper tiger whose enforcement prowess is somewhere between the Keystone Cops and the guy who sends you to jail in Monopoly.
Arrr! We've come fer yer orange roughy!
Pirate fishing in the Southern Ocean, across the South Pacific, and along the African coast is perpetrated by ships from dozens of countries, many flying flags of convenience. These illegal catches are taken from flagging fish stocks and are landed in backwater ports where many strangely well-off harbormasters have a curious amnesia when it comes to remembering to record landings in log books.
Addressing these types of issues through the instrument of national policy will land only a glancing blow at best. If President Obama truly wants to be a leader in the realm of ocean conservation (and I, for one, believe he does), he needs to approach these issues from an international perspective.
Ocean acidification? Get real on climate change. Go to Copenhagen in December willing to make a real commitment. Throw out the ineffectual Waxman-Markey Bill and actually work with the international community to reduce carbon emissions by a meaningful amount.
Put me down! I'm endangered!
Bluefin tuna? Sponsor its inclusion under CITES (the Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species). That will tighten our import regulations as well as give the patrols in the Atlantic and the Mediterranean the power and resources they need to save this animal from total extinction.
Pirate fishing? Push for international agreements that require chain-of-custody documentation for the seafood trade. Promote the development of international certification standards that require full transparency. Hold countries like Liberia, the Bahamas, and Panama responsible for the illegal actions of ships that are registered under their flags. And most importantly, lead an international effort to establish no-take zones in spawning grounds and environmentally sensitive areas throughout the world’s oceans.
It's an international ball game
It’s true, Obama can only speak for one country, not for the world. But addressing ocean conservation this way underscores the unfortunate tendency of the United States government to approach climate change and other mammoth (no pun intended) issues from a unilateral perspective. This indefensible promotion of environmental isolationism is precisely the perspective the White House was employing when Reagan dismissed UNCLOS, not to mention when Bush emasculated Kyoto.
Last time I checked, the United States still carried a pretty big stick in the international arena. If our government got serious about the idea that our globe is in fact global, we could make major changes… we might even be able to heal our oceans.
It’s great to have a National Oceans Month — it’s an important step, and it’s a whole lot better than nothing. But if we’re serious about this, it needs to be International… and it needs to be a Year.
Tags: acidification, barack, bluefin, change, climate, convenience, copenhagen, flag, ICCAT, kyoto, liberia, markey, month, national, obama, oceans, pirate, president, proclamation, UNCLOS, waxman, waxman-markey
