Thursday, September 20, 2018

OF BLIND MEN, ELEPHANTS, AND FISHERIES ISSUES


One of the things that can strike a first-time attendee at a fisheries meeting is how much different people’s perceptions of the same set of facts can diverge.


Most people come to such meetings armed only with the limited information that they glean from their own experience, with few references to the state of a fish stock in other places or in other times.  Far too often, such limited experience is further circumscribed by firmly closed minds, which refuse to admit the possibility that other persons’ perceptions are, quite possibly, as valid as their own.


“We don’t care about your science.  Your science is bullcrap,”
before the presentation even really began.

Admittedly, it’s easy to understand why people say such things.  After you’ve taken the trouble to put together a mental construct that serves your own needs very well, have wrapped it up tightly in cobwebs and locked it up tight in a securely closed mind, you certainly don’t want to open that mind up to such corrosive and disruptive things as facts and other people’s ideas.

It’s far better to just believe that things that you want to be true.  Things that very well should be true, at least from where you are standing.

And it’s not just the ignorant and ill-mannered who take such self-centered positions.


“This question often comes up in discussions about the federal fisheries management process:  Why are people who profit from the harvest and sale of America’s marine resources allowed to sit on management bodies that make regulations governing those resources?”
The short and simple answer to that question is that the law requires it, with the Magnuson-Stevens Fishery Conservation and Management Act clearly stating that

“The Secretary, in making appointments [to such management bodies] under this section, shall, to the extent practicable, ensure a fair and balanced appointment, on a rotating or other basis, of the active participants (or their representatives) in the commercial and recreational fisheries under the jurisdiction of the [relevant regional fishery management] Council.”
But such a simple and honest answer wouldn’t do for rabble-rousing purposes, so the editorial goes on to complain that

“The most contentious issue in the Gulf of Mexico is privatization of the red snapper fishery in which millions of dollars’ worth of a private resource was gifted to select commercial operators to harvest for their own personal profit.  Gifted, for free.  Yet, someone who owns red snapper shares can sit on the Gulf Council and vote on every aspect of that fishery.  And one does.
“Over the past few years, certain members of the charter/for-hire sector have worked to launch a privatization program in which they, too, could own shares and use red snapper as their own.  Yet, on the Gulf Council, people who own charter businesses and stand to directly benefit from the program are never required to recuse themselves from votes on that program.
“In the South Atlantic, two commercial fishermen who are actually sitting members of the South Atlantic Fishery Management Council are actively promoting an exempted fishing permit to explore privatization of public marine resources for themselves and select other operators there.
“It seems incredible that these things are allowed to happen, particularly when NOAA guidelines state that ‘An affected individual is not permitted to vote on a Council decision that would have a significant and predictable effect on any financial interest held by that individual.’
That might even sound reasonable.  But here’s where perspective kicks in.


After all, it’s pretty obvious that a Mid-Atlantic Fishery Management Council decision severely restricting the recreational summer flounder, bluefish or black sea bass fisheries would have “a significant and predictable effect” on financial interests held by a charter boat captain who fished in that region, just as restrictions on various rockfish, salmon or halibut might affect a captain who operated a vessel on the Pacific coast.

Yet the Center for Sportfishing Policy expresses no reservations, such as it expressed in the Sport Fishing editorial, with respect to such appointments.  Yet the same concerns are just as real with respect those council members.  

Right now, the Mid-Atlantic Council is working on a Bluefish Allocation Amendment that has the potential to take quota away from anglers and award it to the commercial sector.

Has Angers, or anyone else from the Center, suggested that the charter boat captains who sit on that council should recuse themselves, since any such reallocation would have “a significant and predictable effect” on their financial interests?

Probably not, and if any such concerns were actually voiced, they remain deeply buried. 

But that’s not surprising.  The key phrase in Angers' editorial was "harvest and sale."  Sure, the appointed charter boat folks profit from the "harvest" of council-managed species, but since they don't sell they're fish, to the Center, they're "good guys."  They're "one of us," and thus can't do wrong.

But the folks that Angers singled out are, in some way, opposed to the Center’s policies and priorities.  Thus, their actions, whatever their objective worth, are perceived as wrong and somehow tainted.

In the end, it’s all a matter of whether the council member in question supports the home team, not about what they actually do.

The perception issue even pops up in the scientific sphere, as much as we like to think of researchers as having overcome that sort of bias.


One team, headed by a biologist with strong ties to the conservation community, determined that 55% of the world’s oceans hosted some sort of fishing activity, which implied a real need for conservation measures.  The other team was based at the University of Washington, which has well-established ties to the commercial fishing industry.  It found that only 4% of the ocean was fished, which suggests that large-scale fishing operations are a far less worrisome proposition than other folks might believe.

On the surface, the reason for the disparity was perfectly clear.  One team divided the ocean into a grid of squares that measured 30 nautical miles on a side; fishing any part of such 900 square mile expanse would place the relevant square in the “fished” category.  As a result, a lot of the ocean was to be “fished.”  

The other team divided the ocean into a grid of tiny squares, just six-tenths of a mile on each side.  By using such fine definition, that team could exclude a lot of water from the “fished” category.  Because such small scale allowed greater precision when defining “fished” water, the estimate of 4% seemed to be far more accurate.

But was it a better representation of fishing's impacts? 

The more conservation-oriented team argued that a boat’s mere footprint doesn’t define the fished area.  Miles-long longlines and drift gillnet gear not only extends over long distances, but moves as it fishes.  In addition, the pelagic species that such gear targets are wanderers, so it’s not unreasonable to suggest that such gear affects areas well beyond its immediate location.  On the other hand, that team didn't clearly explain why using a grid of 30-mile squares is the best way to capture fish and gear movements.

The University of Washington team rejected that argument, saying that longlines only impact fish close enough to be attracted to a baited hook.  Again, that sounds reasonable on first hearing, but it doesn’t take time into consideration.  Why shouldn’t the grid be large enough to include all of the fish that might reasonably come close enough to take a bait at any time during the hours when such gear is deployed?  

Personal perspectives—what some might deem bias—plays a role in answering those questions, too.

The bottom line is that we all come to the table prejudiced by our own experiences, our own opinions and our own personal philosophies of resource management.  But, even in today’s post-truth world, that doesn’t mean that everyone’s opinion is as valid as everyone else’s.


“When it comes to the moral of the Blind Men and the Elephant, it seems that today’s philosophers end their agenda too quickly.  Doesn’t the picture of the blind men and the elephant also point to something bigger—the elephant?  Indeed, each blind man has a limited perspective on the objective truth, but that doesn’t mean objective truth isn’t there.  In fact, truth isn’t relative at all…it’s there to discover in all its totality…if we know the Whole Elephant is out there, shouldn’t this drive us to open our eyes and seek every opportunity to experience more of [h]im?”
That thought shouldn’t be limited to elephants.  It should be applied to fisheries, too.




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