Salmon vs. Salmon

The market for salmon in the U.S. and around the world is increasing despite drastic declines in run numbers. The economic value of wild Pacific salmon alone is enormous, but as noted in NOAA’s 2009 report to Congress “…the combined value of the West Coast (California, Oregon, and Washington) recreational and commercial ocean fisheries dropped 46 percent in 2007 to about $39 million, from the 2002–2006 annual average of $71 million.”  

Aquaculture operations take a species of salmon that does well in the crowded conditions (usually Atlantic salmon) and puts them in large stationary nets in the ocean. The fish are then fed until they reach a harvestable size, allowing producers to have a ready supply of easily-caught fish to meet market demand year round. Despite apparent economic advantages, this ocean aquaculture does present some problems for the environment and local salmon populations. For one, these “fish farms” cause significant water pollution because the fish waste and everything that goes into the fish pens (including antibiotics) is concentrated in one area of the ocean. Farmed fish are also more susceptible to disease and parasites, which then spread to the wild fisheries if they come into contact with each other.  Despite the intention to prevent fish escaping, some inevitably escape and intermingle with wild populations. Possible interbreeding between the two physically-similar groups will change the genetics and potentially the fitness of wild salmon which are already threatened by over fishing and habitat destruction. Additionally, although farmed fish are generally considered less genetically “fit” for surviving in the wild, the reality is that they often have a competitive advantage over wild populations because their growth rate has been accelerated artificially to the point that they compete for food and nesting sites.

Of course, many of the Pacific salmon populations in the United States are listed under the Endangered Species Act (ESA), which leads to interesting legal questions. Since these species are listed as endangered or threatened under the ESA, it is illegal to harm them in poarticular ways. There is no doubt that wild populations are being harmed by the aquaculture business. Since fish farms are private businesses, the consultation requirements of Section 7 in the ESA do not apply, but the Section 9 prohibition against “takes” of listed species does apply to private citizens. A “take” is defined broadly to prohibit both killing and more indirect harm to a listed species; because Pacific salmon are being killed by parasites like sea lice, or harmed by the impacts of escapees from the net pens, it seems clear that fish farms cause direct harm and are are therefore in violation of the ESA. 

Since at least some of the deleterious impacts on Pacific salmon are well-proved, aquaculture operations are required to obtain an “incidental take permit” pursuant to regulations promulgated under Section 10 of the ESA. These incidental take permits will protect the business from liability when their otherwise lawful activity might accidently kill or otherwise “take” a listed species. To be approved for a permit the business must create habitat conservation plans (HCPs) pursuant to in Section 10(a) of the ESA. The primary purpose of an HCP is to discuss any potential effects of the proposed taking and a plan on o those effects will be minimized or mitigated. These plans and their permits are enforceable through the ESA controls, meaning the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA), the State, or even citizens through Section 11(g), can bring suit against a non-complying permit holder. Monitoring is also one of the requirements of HCPs, with the Services being allowed to delegate that task to the State or another agency as long as they report their findings regularly.

Unfortunately the current system of regulation on Pacific aquaculture is too lax. Despite the creation of HCPs, scientific evidence shows us that aquaculture operations continue to have a deleterious impact on wild salmon. The ESA mandates control this problem, but without interest in the harm cause by fish farming, the overburdened Services are unlikely to act against the industry. With the realities of today’s political climate, the best move towards change would be to bring suit under the ESA against States who permit operations in their coastal zone and monitor aquaculture pursuant to HCPs. States have broad authority over their coastal waters through the Coastal Zone Management Act even without HCP monitoring being delegated to state agencies. Future pressure on States will hopefully lead to increased accountability among existing fish farms and more analysis stateside before new operations are permitted. Additionally, financial pressure on States could lead to them investing and permitting only the most environmentally sustainable technologies and operations.

The recent draft aquaculture policy speaks to the continuance of sustainable aquaculture, with NOAA defining “sustainable” to include economic, social and environmental concerns. While this policy draft acknowledges the problems aquaculture causes wild fish, it does not go far enough in developing a definite plan for conservation of wild fisheries and management of aquaculture operations. Despite this problem, there are many ways that the salmon aquaculture industry could become more sustainable with respect to wild stock without destroying their economic viability. Studies show that the only way to stop disease and parasite spread with confidence is to make sure water isn’t shared between the farmed and wild fish. Management practices like stocking and culling the farmed fish frequently or placing the net pens away from wild fish migration routes could also help. New technologies offer the most help – in particular, having closed containment pens would prevent the problem of water-sharing while containing localized pollution. There is concern among the industry that they will have increased costs if they have to deal directly with their fish waste because the closed pens will collect it, but there are sustainable options for that as well: using the salmon refuse as fertilizer, fuel or food for other aquatic species. The non-profit Ocean Conservancy encourages lucrative solutions to the pollution caused by the net pens by farming deposit feeders like lobster, suspension feeders and seaweed in conjunction with the fish farms. Practices like this, along with locating production nets away from wild fish migration routes to decrease the possibility disease and parasite passage to wild stock, will potentially keep the whole system healthy. Although genetically modified salmon are a heated topic, farming sterilized salmon and salmon that are unlikely to survive even a short time in the wild may be another solution.

Whatever route we choose in the future, states need to be held accountable for the choices they make when permitting aquaculture operations off their coasts. There are alternatives to the current practices that would not destroy the industry and further incentives to pursue new and better technologies will only help preserve threatened wild salmon as the ESA mandates.

Or, consumers could educate themselves and choose to eat wild salmon over farmed salmon, and let the market be the force of conservation. But I won't hold my breath in reliance on that anytime soon, despite the fact that wild salmon is far better for you and the environment. Assuming, of course, the wild stock you are getting the fish from is healthy and no in danger of being over-fished or cut off from necessary river habitat with dams! But that's a topic for another day.

Manifest destiny, my ass!

The title is proof that commas are valuable implements to be used wisely.

I woke up today with the “This Land is Your Land” song in my head. Things of this random nature happen to me sometimes. Okay, they happen to me all the time. I was singing it in the shower when I realized how utterly depressing this song is. It’s about manifest destiny – the idea that the land (in the States in particular) is “ours” through destiny. Through fate. Assigned to us by a superior being. “Made” for us to use and enjoy as we see fit.

Of course, there were many versions of the song, some of which were clearly politicized to show a disinterest in privatizing property. The idea that the land was something that belonged to everyone was a novel concept, perhaps, when the song was written. What about the novel idea that the land belongs to no one?

I read the song in two principal ways: either the land belongs to everyone, meaning that (1) no one can lay claim to particular resources because everyone has some kind of right to the resources, or, (2) since the land belongs to everybody, nobody can lay claim to those uses without universal consensus.

This is assuming of course that when you say this land belongs to “you and me” it’s referring to human-peoples rather than the plants and animals that live with the Earth rather than on it.

State history has usually (and predictably) followed version #1: if the land is not privately owned, then everyone has some kind of right to the resources within. Option #2 is laughable – when has humanity ever, as a species (or even a country) had the foresight to agree on land use options? Over-exploitation was the legacy of public land until fairly recently, and its roots still have a strangle hold in some areas. Take my beloved Oregon: in the southeast arid land of the State cattle grazers still think that the land there is appropriate for cattle even though over 30 years of scientific studies show that cattle destroy riparian habitat, seriously damage sage-steppe ecosystems by contributing to soil loss, and encourage the spread of invasive species that are not palatable to native grazers. Since this kind of practice is going on right now in what is typically considered a “green” state, it’s no surprise that this kind of folk song is celebrated in the States – land use and land exploration was one of the founding principles of the “American Spirit”. All the worse for us, I say. Manifest destiny cripples us because most people can’t move past the idea that conquering land, and people, and nature is a good thing. Destruction and overuse are nothing to be proud of. Why not conquer health-care problems, or education problems or cruelty to children and animals?

My guess is that those things don’t inspire the proper frontier spirit. I mean, dealing with such things means paperwork. And compromise. And lawyers. Are you shuddering? Most people do. But people don’t shudder when they think of a cowboy out on the range, or a farmer standing behind his plow. American Spirit has been, and still is, defined by sweat and blood and the spirit of exploration and overcoming the wilderness – whether that wilderness is actual or metaphorical!

Land users still have this perception that the land is there for them to use until it is used up, because if they don’t use it and capitalize on the resources, someone else will benefit. This is the Tragedy of the Commons, and it’s still very much alive today. And forget the famous field-and-cattle analogy – the Earth is the “commons” that we are all rushing to use for our immediate gain. Whoever gets there first and fastest has become whoever uses the most and fastest. Add on top of that unchecked human population growth and the tragedy of the commons is more than the tragedy of overuse: it’s resource-rape. The “Quiver-full” movement is a perfect example of the extreme side to the Tragedy of the Commons. In fact, I’ve had people tell me it’s a good idea to have children and fill up the Earth, because if you don’t do it first, someone else will take the resources meant for your cluster of cells. The essay is called a “tragedy” for a reason, folks. Garrett Hardin saw how open land use leads to exploitation. It’s never discussed directly in his essay, but there are underlying themes of human greed, inability to cooperate and lack of foresight. There is also Garrett Hardin’s perception that regulation is needed to control human activity on public land, which I think speaks to how ingrained the right for individual use and exploitation (for economic gain in particular) is in this country. I can’t speak for other countries, but I suspect this is a theme of human existence and land use everywhere.

Steens Mountain — public land in Oregon!

The problem with this is that “getting there first” creates a relationship with the land that is use-based. Use the resources and move on, manifest destiny tells us. Conquer the world. Back when the United States was young the Earth was a huge place. Or so they tell us in the history books that romanticize the frontier spirit. They did not have the foresight to realize that as human population exceeds our planet’s generously calculated carrying capacity, the Earth’s resources become slim. And I’m just talking about resources specifically for human consumption – forget “aesthetic” (oh how I loath that distinction) resources like wilderness. Goodbye, manifest destiny; there is nothing left for you to conquer.

In summary: humanity, you suck. Please find a way to destroy yourself without destroying the Earth as well. Seriously, I wish you all the luck in the universe to that end.

In the alternative, my second solution would be to support more government regulation. That is, until I remember the government is run by humans as well. This flaw is easy to see in the history of public land management: a history of overuse in the form of timber harvesting, mining and exploitative grazing. Even the Taylor Grazing Act of 1834 did not solve the problem, even though it was largely written to tighten the use of public lands to prevent overgrazing. Range lands throughout the United States are still overgrazed, damaged, and unsuitable for wildlife and native plants. In fact, ranchers receive a subsidy to graze their cattle on federal land. To this day, fences, reservoirs, dams and seeding the land with non-native grasses are called “improvements” in our land management statutes. More proof that the concept of manifest destiny is still very much alive in the very framework of our government.

Perhaps the best solution would be to bow down to a robot overlord. We have created robots who can teach themselves to shoot a bow and arrows, or adjust their flight path to changing conditions, or visit Europa, or play chess. We have also created machines that have outgrown and surpassed their parents — they even commit patricide.

Let’s create something worthwhile for a change: a super intelligent ecosystem manager robot. Something that can regulate population growth and make laws that would protect the land without being prone to political wrangling or damaging human concepts like manifest destiny or religious puffery. Any robot who uses science – or is at least is programmed to err on the side of ecosystem protection when the science is unclear – would do a better job of land management than the system we have now.

And it would have to have lasers of course.

Inside Law School dreams.

I hate writing personal statements. How can I explain what needs to be done in a blank-faced essay? There is no way to communicate some needs—they have always been voiceless and cramped in a chest longing to expand with clean air.

I can write about my desire to change things for the better without describing what I think ‘better’ is. It’s another ambiguous term that everyone puts a different face to. To me ‘better’ is described by the feeling I get as I look out on the green land. There are no roads to scar it—only rivers like life-veins to curl through it. There are deer in the meadow and the pug marks of a cougar in the mud. Humans have to be a part of this—the wilderness—before they can understand its sublimity. Once they understand it they will never want to give up on the wilderness. They won’t be able to forget the touch of an awareness like none they can get with their cell-phones and Big Macs. But humans will never be a part of the wilderness if they go about their lives, complacent in its destruction.

Why do I want to go to law school? It is a place where I can join a new fight, one for my own happiness and the growth of a belief that we can change. The cynic in me says that it’s a battle we will lose—but to complain about the plight of the environment without taking action is hypocritical. There’s nothing I hate more that a hypocrite. But “changing the world for the better” isn’t the only reason I consider law school. There are selfish reasons too; reasons that start with “I want…” and go on from there. What’s important is that I find fulfillment living this human life of mine. To do that I need an intellectual life surrounded by intellectual people. I would also like money. With money I can start a horse rescue and make a difference in the lives of individuals that have given so much to their humans. In particular I want to help the older animals: the ones who gave their young selves to work, only to be cast aside when their bodies couldn’t keep up any more. This kind of work gives me pleasure.

Law is appealing because it will make it possible for me to make a home for myself. Not just a physical home—though that is important too—but someplace inside as well. I’m dissatisfied with who I am; there is more to me than a B.A. graduate who works ceaselessly towards an end she hates. The monotonous work of an animal technician is not rewarding. Smiling at customers just because you want to eat and don’t actually care about the people standing in front of you is degrading. I want a job where I wake up with the fight in me alive and hungering for more because that’s the real me.

Law is a straight line to my family—boring, old, predictable—and they can’t see why it appeals. What a lawyer does is create the law, interpret the law, discover the law. They also do something more: they relate the law to what is real at the moment. Their perception of things has to be open to change while aware of the past. They can have a voice if they choose to, or they can work the change in a dusty basement room. People respect them for their knowledge, and listen to them beyond mere politeness. A lawyer deals with the paper version of human perspective. The paper-perspective is a comfortable one for me; words on a page are easy to interpret and advise. And because of this, I’d have the power to change my community through a medium that feels like an old friend.

Law isn’t all about straight lines. Law is about perspective and community, about relating the constructed grids to the tangled reality and weaving the two into a cohesive whole. It’s about knowing the world you live in. With knowledge comes the power to change the paper perspective, and from that the human perspective. If I could get people to stop thinking only in straight lines and see the gulp of a mosquito fish or the tracks a skunk left in the mud, I would be fulfilled—for a day. There are always battles to be fought. As a lawyer I wouldn’t have to filter my opinions through self-doubt. I would have the tools to be unashamed of the person I am.