Mapping the World, One Pixel at a Time

Credit: NMFS

We as humans have a natural tendency to describe our surroundings.  We need only look to historical accounts and museum artifacts to see that societies have been mapping the world since the dawn of exploration.  Today in the 21^st century, it would be easy to assume that everything has been mapped and that satellites have driven cartographers to obsoletion.  However, I would argue that some mystery and allure still remain.  Even though there are few coastlines that need to be redefined or underwater gorges that need be discovered, the art of mapping could unlock technological tools that integrate information across disciplines, inform management, and bring unimagined places into school classrooms. 

Bering Straight, courtesy of NASA

Modern mapping is arising as an incredible tool for overlaying knowledge from all kinds of different sources.  By combining everything from recreation, resource values, pollution hotspots, or construction projects, mappers can actually produce new pieces of interdisciplinary information that can be used for spatial planning now and into the future.  One of the regions where this is particularly true is in the U.S. Arctic, specifically the Bering Straight, which is emerging as one of the most contentious stretches of sea on the planet.  Some covet the Bering Strait for its shipping potential, others see an area with dangerously insufficient infrastructure, while still others fear for the countless species that depend on the narrow channel for transiting between foraging and mating grounds.  Russia and the U.S. share jurisdiction in these waters that span a mere 53 miles across, with the shared Diomede Islands directly in the middle.  When I first arrived in DC, I spent some time investigating existing mapping tools that might inform this conservation and management nightmare, and was surprised by the relative wealth of information that I found not only for the Alaskan arctic but for all our nation’s coastline.

Bowhead whale habitat use

As it turns out, NOAA is a leader in coastal mapping efforts, with the Multipurpose Marine Cadastre, OCRM In Your State, National Geophysical Data Center, and Shorezone, to name a few.  Not only are these maps helpful for managers and researchers, but the aesthetic quality would make any early cartographer proud.  I would go as far as arguing that the beauty of these maps is what makes them such effective educational tools.  NOAA is also not alone on this frontier: the Audubon Society recently partnered with Oceana to create the Arctic Marine Synthesis Atlas (scroll down to your favorite topic and check out the relevant maps!).  

Credit: NASA

All around the world, maps are being drawn and redrawn each year, with new and valuable information generated with each iteration.  With the increasing complexity of images and layers, it is likely impossible to depict the comprehensive realities of the natural and human landscapes in two dimensions.  In fact, with all these advanced and detailed tools, manipulating what a map conveys can be done in a few simple clicks.  In this way, while our experts rely on objective scientific data, we all still have the power to influence the range of truths that can be portrayed about our favorite city, beach, or watershed.  This ability to shape our realities has become even more accessible through the development of community-based GIS and it’s many applications such as stories and clips within Google Ocean.  If we can integrate personal accounts of ocean adventures with objective oceanography (bathymetry, paleochemistry, etc.), who knows what innovations will inspire us and help expose the mysteries of the deep.  Next time you sense that everything is known about a given place, think about all the infinite layers of information that could be combined to reveal new and unique insights from the past and into the future.

Book Review: Four Fish by Paul Greenberg

In his recent book, Four Fish: The Future of the Last Wild Food, Paul Greenberg presents readers with an enriching history of our dynamic relationship to the fish we domesticate.  I was pleasantly surprised that Four Fish does not mirror a typically dry historic tale nor does it in any way feel like an “environmental” book, as the title might suggest.  Instead, Greenberg gives readers an intriguing (and humorous) picture of the intentional choices and accidental moments that have brought specific seafood to our plates.  Similar to our dependence on four primary red meat and poultry animals, Greenberg traces the technological achievements from Canada to Greece that led to an increasingly presumptuous domestication of riverine salmon, coastal sea bass, offshore cod, and finally transnational tuna.  This journey shows us why we should strive to master the complexities of wild fish in addition to feeding the world by perfecting genetic modifications in tank systems (if we must). 

One interesting theme throughout the stories was how both global politics and fish biology have guided which fish came to international prominence.  Salmon were the first farmed fish not only due to population declines, but because their large eggs allowed for curious entrepreneurs and early geneticists to decode their spawning secrets decades ago in Norway, one of the birthplaces of aquaculture.  Another example of this biological selection is Vietnamese tra, which can withstand low oxygen conditions because it breathes air.  Similarly, the Australian barramundi has become popular not due to its tasty flesh, but because they are naturally docile, fertile, and disease-resistant.  (In fact, many of the fish aquaculturists promote around the world gain traction because they taste like nothing rather than tasting “fishy”).  

Important baby sea bass food!

If modern salmon were born in Norway, Greenberg argues that farmed sea bass got their start in Israel, of all places.  However, once Israel lost access to the coast, they lost their competitive edge to the Greeks.  Interestingly, the African tilapia (grown all over the world and now considered a pesky invasive species) was a convenient front for Columbian drug lords.  As can be seen, it is not always cultural traditions that generate demand (Japanese only acquired a taste for fatty Bluefin tuna after the Americans did post WWII!), but rather a convenient alignment of strange circumstances that lead to one fish (often farmed) replacing a wild fish in global markets.  

In the final chapter, Greenberg takes readers back to the early 20^th century to draw a comparison between tuna’s plight and that of another long-lived sea creature: the whale.  Whale populations owe their recovery not to the moratorium that was signed in the early 1980s, but more to the development of cheap whale oil substitutes and the anti-whaling sentiments that stirred the world throughout the 1960s and 70s.  First comes economics and values, then governance and management.  Greenberg argues that the moral evolution that turned whales from food into wildlife is entirely lacking for tuna.  Tuna is fish is food.  While there is nothing amoral about this logic, when people fail to recognize that the planet’s wild-life that we cherish is also the same wild-life that we eat, there is little support for conservation and management in the face of short-term economic gains. 

Aside from pointing toward the need for a greater appreciation of wildness within our fishing industry, Greenberg does note the importance of fish for feeding the growing global population.  He simply wants us to make smart aquaculture choices (rather than farming tuna at a 20:1 pound feed ratio or using surrogate fish moms – imagine!).  One challenge he admits is that science and political will can’t change the fact that consumers aren’t yet familiar with fish such as tra, barramundi, or the more recent kona kampachi from Hawaii.  So, in the meantime, Greenberg encourages the global fishing community to master the subtleties of fisheries science for wild predators and leave the fish farming to the vegetarian species that can have a smaller impact on surrounding ecosystems.  Overall, I highly recommend this book for a very engaging and thought-provoking read.  

Follow AquacultureWorld news for more information and come find me if you want to discuss!

Sharks! It's What's NOT for Dinner....

The planet's largest fish: the peaceful whale shark.

 Hold on to your hats folks, because Shark Week 2011 is on the horizon!  What started out as a series of highlights on the Discovery Channel has grown into an international celebration to showcase conservation efforts for what might be most misunderstood group of animals on the planet.  From Juliet Eilperin's Demonfish to stories in the news, everyone is talking about sharks.  This year, even singer Lady Gaga and SNL's Andy Samberg are teaming up to promote the event.  But, more significant than celebrity support is that these media-generated festivities can really create buzz that gives more meaning to scientific discovery, conservation triumphs, and even policy decisions in the eyes of the public.  Keep reading to learn more about some of the exciting shark news coming out this month.

The trouble of bycatch.

In a way, sharks really do have it tough.  Similar to many of our long-lived charismatic ocean creatures, their populations have declined globally due to ecosystem changes, direct harvest, bycatch, international management challenges, and pollution.  However, unlike dolphins and whales, for example, sharks have been demonized for decades AND eating them is not considered a moral taboo. More troubling, the global market for sharks is not driven by their meat but is motivated by the demand for only their fins, promoting over-exploitation and waste.  While none of this is new information, it deserves mention because as hard as shark-lovers try, it is difficult to convince the world that fewer sharks is actually a bad thing.

Despite this difficult situation, Chile and the Bahamas showed the world their appreciation for these apex predators by passing laws banning shark finning and making trade and possession of their precious fins illegal.  These two countries join a growing list of countries passing finning laws that includes Palau, Honduras, and the Maldives.  In many cases, these acts are not simply a national expression of compassion, but are evidence that the countries are acknowledging how valuable these animals are not just to their tropical ecosystems and food security, but mainly for the tourism industry. 

Sharks harvested for their fins.

Island nations are not the only countries working to protect sharks.  Aside from the large number of nonprofit organizations working on the issue in the U.S., NOAA also pursues research, conservation, outreach, and management.  These efforts largely amount to testing different fishing gear types to minimize bycatch, placing observers on fishing vessels, and developing international relationships.  However, not wanting to be left out of the digital social media age, NOAA jumped on the bandwagon and says, "wait, there's an app for that!"  That's right, NOAA released an android application so that anglers who release shortfin mako sharks can submit the timing and location of their catches with the touch of a few simple buttons.  Take a look at the data this tool has generated so far.

With technological advances and shifting international perceptions and moods, it seems that anything could be possible for these mysterious creatures.  Let's all think about ways that we can learn something new about them in honor of Shark Week!

Field Notes: Knauss in Nova Scotia

Two weeks ago, I went on an adventure to the Canadian Maritimes to attend a conference focused on community-based management entitled People in Places: Engaging Together for Integrated Resource Management.  Aside from wanting to learn more about a region that in many ways resembles our own northeastern coast, I am always looking for ways to nurture my own interdisciplinarity and was curious to explore how notions of “integrated” and “community-based” are realized on an international scale.  In addition to spending the week in Halifax, Nova Scotia’s biggest city, I met some inspiring people, learned about how our neighbors handle resource management conflicts, and was exposed to tangible successes around the world. 

First off, this conference was sponsored by what I now realize is essentially the Canadian equivalent to our Sea Grant program, where universities partner with community groups to build capacity and facilitate research projects.  This angle brought a refreshing mix of people representing First Nations, fishing communities, and academia (with government and conservation nonprofits largely absent) and showed me that Canadians struggle with many of the same problems of pollution, marginalization, environmental illiteracy, and overfishing that plague the U.S.   However, two differences were noticeable: (1) that Canadians might be even more disenchanted with their federal resource agencies and (2) that community-based management is more than a buzz word and could be emerging as a viable path for this province and in small countries around the world. 

  

Having limited experience with artisanal fishing, my eyes were opened to a new world after hearing local stories and learning the history of island and coastal villages along Newfoundland and the Bay of Fundy.  (For one thing, I now understand some of the controversies that NOAA faced in sharing it’s fisheries management review and catch share plans with the northeast region a month ago).  I also understand some of the key components of successful community-based management after listening to case studies from around the world, including climate adaptation in Mexico, mapping in the Grenadines, access rights in British Columbia, sea cucumbers in New Caledonia, and fishers in South Africa and Japan.  In all of these countries, people are working very hard to empower communities by integrating traditional and scientific knowledge.  New tools for conducting this work include community-access GIS, a modeling program called “Marxan” that will tell you the pros and cons of certain management choices, and even developing seafood traceability and community-supported fisheries (modeled after the popular CSA farm share model – check out Josh's CSF project and CSF network for more info!).     

Overall, this conference reminded me that the human element is critical and should not be overlooked.  Livlihoods, emotions, storytelling, bankruptcy, cooperation, public works, families, and art all contribute to social contracts and the economy, not to mention community well-being.  After meeting these people, hearing their stories, and cruising the subtly beautiful coastline with my Mom, I feel tied to their resource management efforts and will follow these projects with both intellectual curiosity and compassion.  Stop by my cube any time to chat about the details!

Among Giants... Inspiration over Lunch

Yesterday, Knauss fellows went to a brown bag seminar about a wonderful life (and career) of traveling the world in search of whales.  Who is lucky enough to land such a job, you might ask?  One Flip Nicklin has been doing this since the early 1960s, which is nearly the beginning of time as far as whale research is concerned.  Not only has he worked at the forefront of cetacean discovery since its birth, but he has seen it all through the lenses of his camera, both above and below the water.  That’s right folks, Flip not only participates in whale expeditions, but he’s been the National Geographic photographer responsible for some of the most iconic images that introduced whales to the world.

As with so many careers, this one also began fortuitously.  When Flip was a kid, his sea-faring father saw a whale close to their boat and simply jumped into the water to swim with it.  As if that wasn’t enough, Flip’s dad mounted it’s back and rode the whale long enough to get a quick photo snapped.  This image made him a sensation across the country and a whale expert overnight, and the rest has fallen into place ever since. 

This humble yet passionate man before us hasn’t just seen history, he’s been one of a select few that has written it, for whales that is.  In this era of the primacy of science, it is easy to forget that so little was known about whales even sixty years ago.  Through his work, Flip pioneered the use of new technologies such as photo ID and acoustic surveys to track “friendlies” and listen to “singers.”  Through decades of stunning images and experimental observation and science, Flip has shown society the nuances of different whale species.  He acknowledged that this hasn’t always been as easy as it sounds, because it is through this type of work that people define their perceptions of and relationships to these mysterious giants.  In a way, what we think toward so many animals, people, or geographic regions is completely governed by what we know or see, and it is important to remember that our knowledge is often a compilation of snapshots or partial-truths that inevitably engender bias.  Without realizing it, this bias determines our values, especially when it comes to conservation and resource management. 

Of course, I am not arguing for any particular set of values, just that we all think about the root of our own beliefs and truths.  Through his snapshots (or works of art, really), Flip shared many of his most heartfelt experiences with us.  His work has taken him around the world to the exotic landscapes of Sri Lanka and the frozen wonderland of the Arctic.  I can’t think of a better way to spend my lunch hour than learning about these gentle giants.  Thanks for the inspiring presentation, Flip!

Highlights from Capitol Hill Oceans Week

Two weeks ago, Knauss fellows gathered en masse to learn from research experts, authors, communicators, and decision-makers working in marine resource management and conservation across the country.  What was the occasion for such an intellectual feast?  In case you missed it, Capitol Hill Ocean Week spanned World Oceans Day and saw many smart people hoping to spread awareness into the center of our policy-driven D.C. world.  Presentations ranged from portside capacity to sharks and Shakespeare’s maritime writings.  Knauss fellows spilled in and out as the days progressed, made good contacts, and were reminded of the familiar challenges of global fisheries management and communicating science across disciplines. 

Navy Admiral on U.S. security

One thing that was made clear even after the first day was that it is important to remember that a situation is usually (if not always) more complex than it initially seems.  There is always another perspective or user group to consider when negotiating coastal resource management.  In some cases even within our own government, one party’s priorities may conflict with that of another.  This was evident after the discussion of ratifying the Law of the Sea, where it would make things a lot easier for the Navy and Coast Guard by clarifying U.S. jurisdiction (especially Arctic), but would in turn place a greater burden on litigators working within customary maritime law.  I do not pretend to fully grasp these issues, but it is a good reminder to tread lightly while we all navigate and gain confidence within these interconnected federal agencies. 

Dr. Lubchenco for the keynote

As I sat listening to various panelists, another thought began to take shape in my mind.  I have heard many people working within marine conservation and management express frustration about how often we hear repeated rhetoric and see the same frightening trends while nothing seems to change.  Many of my own mentors bemoan this same inertia on the scale of decades.  To those tending toward dissatisfaction or even downright depression, I tentatively offer some fuel for thought.  

First, everyone knows that repetition is a natural part of learning.  How many times do you have to listen to a song to know all the lyrics?  How many more times for Saturday night karaoke?  We might benefit from repetition as much as the general public in terms of keeping important issues at the forefront of our minds.  Second, to stave off frustration, we need only zoom out in time to gain a broader perspective.  In fifty years, we could look back on this era and remember it for halting ozone thinning, instituting marine spatial planning, commercialization of renewable energy, or fisheries quotas.  While efforts might be seen as “too little, too late” and will of course not resemble perfection, people in the 18^th century did not even believe in resource limitation.  Lastly, next time your eyes start glazing over at the sight of the latest powerpoint trend (one of the symptoms of oversaturation, along with indifference and severe drowsiness) challenge yourself to think about ways the information applies to your community or how you could best disseminate it.  See yourself as an active participant rather than a passive voice in the often-preached to choir.  

Taken together, repetition reminds us that we are part of slow change and that the country and global community have a diverse set of concerns in addition to conservation.  In saying these things and encouraging broader perspective and patience, I don’t mean to excuse some of the politics and greed that perpetuate bad subsidies, exporting pollution, or even climate inaction.  But those topics are outside the realm of Oceans Week and my expertise.  Needless to say, there were highlights of every CHOW session and lessons by all in attendance.  Big thanks to NOAA's Sanctuaries program for such a good show.  I welcome others to share their thoughts, highlights, or memories from favorite speakers.