Last Tuesday, I attended a meeting of New York’s Marine
Resources Advisory Council.
The meeting wasn’t particularly notable. A number of significant matters were
discussed, but most fell outside of my primary areas of interest and expertise,
and I think that the only time I might have spoken all afternoon was to make a
minor correction to the minutes of the previous meeting.
But as the meeting began to wind down, and reached that part
of the agenda where folks talk about things like upcoming meetings and pending
regulations, an interesting exchange took place that deserves a little thought.
About
a year and a half ago, after a couple of urban legislators tried to force New
York to shut down its horseshoe crab fishery, and Governor Hochul vetoed the
resulting legislation, the Department of Environmental Conservation lost its authority
to manage not only horseshoe crabs (which aren’t really crabs, despite their
name), but true crabs as well. In
response, the agency promulgated new regulations based on a theory of general
authority, rather than a clear legislative grant, a somewhat iffy approach that
might or might not have survived a court challenge.
The
legislature and governor later reached a compromise, which would see the
horseshoe crab fishery phased out over a few years, and again gave the DEC
explicit management authority over anything that might be called a crab. So, at the meeting, the DEC announced that
new regulations were adopted, at which point one of the commercial fishermen on
the MRAC panel asked whether the agency would continue to conduct horseshoe
crab surveys and do other research because,
“It seems like a waste of money,”
given that the fishermen wouldn’t be allowed to harvest them
in a few years.
The biologist’s response was that yes, the surveys would
continue, in part because the Atlantic States Marine Fisheries Commission’s
horseshoe crab management plan requires the states to provide certain data to
the Commission each year, but the fisherman still remained dubious.
That view of fisheries management—that management efforts should
be expended on fish and other lifeforms that yield an economic return—is something
that I’ve run across from time to time, and seems to suggest that economic
value is the only value that matters.
But there are other views.
At last Tuesday’s meeting, Martin Gary, the Director of the
DEC’s Marine Division, also addressed the room, and provided a very different
perspective on the issue.
He described a night earlier that summer, when he, a team of
DEC biologists, plus folks from academic institutions and environmental
organizations, along with some people just interested in helping out, joined
together under a full moon to survey and tag horseshoe crabs.
He described how the volunteers all helped to ease the DEC’s
burden, and most of all, how some of the children that were there were completely
enraptured by the activity, and asked good questions as they tried to learn
more. Some of the children, he noted,
seemed so fascinated by the process that he wouldn’t be surprised if they
became marine scientists somewhere down the road.
And that’s a value that we don’t think about often enough.
For while there’s no denying that some fish, crustacean, and
mollusk stocks are economically important, and generate many millions of
dollars—billions in some cases—through the commercial and recreational
fisheries that they support, it’s also important to note that those “valuable”
species aren’t in the ocean alone.
Close
to three-quarters of a century ago, pioneer ecologist Aldo Leopold observed that
“The last word in ignorance is the man who says of an animal
or plant, ‘What good is it?’ If the land
mechanism as a whole is good, then every part is good, whether we understand it
or not. If the biota, in the course of
aeons, has built something we like but do not understand, then who but a fool
would discard seemingly useless parts?
To keep every cog and wheel is the first precaution of intelligent
tinkering.”
While Leopold was describing a land ethic, it applies to the
ocean just as well.
While New York may shut down its commercial horseshoe crab fishery
in a few years, that doesn’t mean that the animals won’t play the same role in
the ecosystem that they played before—roles that they and their ancestors
have been playing in parts of the world’s oceans for at least the last quarter
of a billion years.
Whan an animal sticks around that long, there’s a good
chance that at least some of those ecosystem roles might be fairly important, and
that we might be well-advised to keep the stock healthy, just in case that it’s
demise might cause harm to a resource we value more.
So continuing horseshoe crab research might not be the “waste
of money” that some have suggested.
But the deeper value may well be the one that Mr. Gary
alluded to: Its ability to draw people,
particularly children, closer to the sea.
“What is less often studied is what impact the trend of
children staying indoors might have on the environmental consciousness of
future generations. Environmentalists
often point to youth as future stewards of the natural world. What will happen to their sense of
stewardship as our children become increasingly disconnected from nature?
“Researchers at Cornell University attempted to address this
question by examining the relationship between the time spent in nature as a
child and pro-environment attitudes and behaviors. They found that those individuals who
participated in activities such as camping, hunting, fishing, hiking, and
playing in natural areas before the age of 11 were more likely to demonstrate
pro-environment attitudes and behaviors as adults.”
So it may very well be that those humble, soon-to-be
economically worthless horseshoe crabs, or perhaps some other, seemingly
valueless member of the marine ecosystem, could inspire someone to take up a
career in fisheries conservation and management, and help to ensure that the “important”
fish stocks, and the fisheries that they support, will remain healthy and viable
throughout the foreseeable future.
And there is a value in that that far outweighs the costs of
a little research and monitoring.
Yet, so many times, I still come across people calling certain
fish “worthless.”
When I sat on the Mid-Atlantic Fishery Management Council a
couple of decades ago, there was always debate about why it should manage spiny
dogfish, instead of paying more attention to species that “were good for
something.”
“Starfish, drills (Urosalpinx cineria), periwinkle (Litorina)
and drum fish (Pogonias chromis) when taken shall not be returned alive to the
waters of the state.”
That
might make sense in the case of periwinkles, which are an invasive shellfish
from Europe, but otherwise relegates components of the state’s marine
ecosystem—starfish, oyster drills, and black drum—to being not only worthless, but
things of negative worth, to be wantonly destroyed, merely because they feed on
the same “valuable” shellfish that we do, and that bring dollars into the
pockets of shellfishermen and aquaculturists alike.
It seems more than disgraceful, kind of like the old
practice of killing off hawks because they killed the king’s grouse. Yet in this place and time, such thinking
persists, with no thought to whether such creatures may be critical cogs and
wheels, essential parts of the overall mechanism that is the sea.
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