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.
Thus, it’s not hard to recall performances such as the
one that occurred at an Atlantic States Marine Fisheries Commission tautog
hearing in New York a little over a year ago, when a party boat captain interrupted
the start of the proceedings to announce
“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.
On
June 28 of this year, the same Center for Sportfishing Policy that Angers heads
issued a press release praising the appointment of a number of people to
various regional fishery management councils.
Among the appointments praised were no less than five charter boat
operators, who would thus have a financial interest in how the decisions of
the various councils that they sit on will affect recreational fisheries.
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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