Demon Fish (42 page)

Toward the end of our conversation, Case and I chatted about how neither of us had traveled to the atoll. It was a rare moment in politics, he noted, when policy makers could agree to protect something without a specific payoff. Bush’s decision would not usher in a new era of ecotourism; the Northwest Hawaiian Islands would never become a catchy, picturesque symbol for America like the Grand Canyon or Yellowstone. It simply would exist, undamaged, with all of its wondrous creatures swimming below the surface.

“We are all going to have to take it on faith that it’s that special, because … most of us will never see it, and we never should see it,” he told me. “We’re just going to have to let it go.”

But even this doesn’t capture the full complexity of what we must do for the ocean. We are changing the natural world through our actions at such an unprecedented rate that we will have to recalibrate them in order to restore some sort of balance. The remedy Bush provided with Papahānaumokuāwakea was just a partial answer, after all, because on his eight-year watch America’s greenhouse gas emissions rose unchecked by any national limits. At the current rate we are increasing carbon concentrations in the atmosphere at a hundred times their historic rate, and the warmer and more acidic seas that come in the wake of these emissions may no longer be hospitable to coral reefs within a matter of decades. If these reefs disappear, so will the sharks and the other marine creatures that depend on them. And a team of scientists from Dalhousie University has calculated that warmer sea temperatures account for a 40 percent decline since 1950 in the microscopic marine algae known as phytoplankton. Since phytoplankton forms the basis of the ocean’s food chain, this climate-related trend has tremendous implications for both sharks and their prey.
¹⁰

Any significant environmental issue involving humans—climate change, habitat destruction, overfishing, name the problem—comes down to a question of choices. In almost every question, there’s a cost either way: you can produce cheap energy but simultaneously exacerbate global warming, and the rise of industrial fishing methods has caused fisheries across the globe to crash. Advocates on both sides of these issues often gloss over these questions to bolster their cause, by implying that pursuing a particular course is inevitable, rather than an act of will.

The best way to pierce through these skewed arguments is to look at the evidence, recognize that our actions have consequences, and weigh the costs and benefits of our current course of action versus an alternative path. While sometimes environmental trends are difficult to identify—the fact that fishery managers used to not count what shark species were landed on their shores complicates these estimates—researchers have become increasingly sophisticated about calculating the state of sharks today. And the fact is they’re in trouble. The average species exists on this planet for six million years. For millennia, sharks have outcompeted their rivals and defied these odds. Now their survival is uncertain.

Deciding to save them entails a choice, and it is not a pain-free option. For many in Asia, it means finding substitutes for a delicacy that allows them to impress their business partners, relatives, or friends. For some of the world’s poorest fishermen, whether they live in Baja or Indonesian Papua, it necessitates another source of income, be it ecotourism or a different, sustainable fishery. Curbing global warming—which could devastate both coral reefs and the sea’s smallest creatures in the decades to come—will entail putting a price on carbon, most likely, which will drive up energy prices in the near term, and perhaps for good. And for the men who head out on monster fishing tours with Mark the Shark, it translates into discovering some other sort of activity to bolster their sense of manhood.

Saving sharks, it turns out, requires that we both confront one of our most primordial fears and reevaluate the way we envision the world around us. This is not to say that we must become environmental extremists and place the fish that roam the sea above our own species. It is to recognize that sharks are among us, and while we are radically different creatures, we are about to decide whether we will coexist or not. Despite the occasional strike sharks launch at humans, the choice is ours, not theirs.

Acknowledgments

When I was young, my father suspected I had a secret life as a fish.

While I learned to swim at an early age under my grandmother’s watchful eye, I never really mastered the proper strokes as other children did. Instead, I dived as deep as I could into whatever body of water I found myself in, only surfacing when I was nearly out of air. The simple act of swimming always paled in comparison to what I could find beneath the surface, whether it was a tadpole in Maine’s Kezar Lake or a sea star in the Atlantic.

For whatever reason, I found myself spending less time swimming in—and thinking about—the ocean as I grew older. Four people changed that once I started covering the environment for
The Washington Post
in the spring of 2004. Roger Rufe, who headed the Ocean Conservancy at the time, told me I’d better hurry up and take a refresher scuba-diving class if I wanted to interview him about marine issues. Ellen Pikitch, who now directs the Institute for Ocean Conservation Science at Stony Brook University, persuaded me to ignore my better judgment and jump into a sea teeming with sharks off the coast of Bimini. Joshua Reichert, the Pew Environment Group’s managing director, convinced me that the ocean ranks as one of the most compelling environmental stories of our time. And the
Post
’s former science editor Nils Bruzelius, a skilled sailor, helped show me how I could cover marine life in a rigorous and thoughtful way for a daily newspaper. I’m grateful to all of them.

It took the dogged persistence of my agent, Brettne Bloom, to convince me I should write a second book, and her willingness to listen patiently to my ideas (over ice cream and cocktails, depending on the locale and time of day) helped me realize that I should choose sharks as my subject matter. Andrew Miller, my editor at Pantheon, had faith in this project from the outset and pushed me to write a better book. His colleague Andrew Carlson provided helpful suggestions toward the end of the writing process, for which I am grateful, and Josefine Kals started promoting it with enthusiasm before it ever hit the shelves.

The institutions that provided travel grants for the book, the American Littoral Society and Stanford University’s Bill Lane Center for the American West, deserve my profound thanks. The Lane Center’s executive director, Jon Christensen, has been unfailingly supportive over the years—meeting him in Big Sky, Montana, years ago counts as one of my lucky breaks.

I would also like to thank my current and former
Post
colleagues who gave me the time and freedom to pursue this book, as well as guidance and support in my day job: Don Graham, Marcus Brauchli, Liz Spayd, Kevin Merida, Marilyn Thompson, Len Downie, Phil Bennett, Susan Glasser, Rajiv Chandrasekaran, Frances Sellers, Kathryn Tolbert, and the entire science pod, especially Marc Kaufman and David Fahrenthold, who cared enough about environmental news to cover it when I had to duck out of the newsroom. A few of the paper’s amazing researchers were willing to pitch in at critical moments, including Lucy Shackelford, Magda Jean-Louis, Eddy Palanzo, Alice Crites, and Madonna Lebling, and did so with aplomb.

More than any other single group, the Pew Marine Fellows have helped educate me about the ocean. My thanks go to all of them, as well as to the program’s manager, Polita Glynn, and the Pew Environment Group’s director of marine science, Rebecca Goldburg. I would like to single out the Pew fellows whom I harassed most frequently for this book: Barbara Block, Wen Bo, Mark Erdmann, Sarah Fowler, Les Kaufman, Jane Lubchenco, Tim McClanahan, Elliott Norse, Stephen R. Palumbi, Daniel Pauly, Yvonne Sadovy, Carl Safina, Enric Sala, and Greg Stone. Nancy Baron deserves the credit for introducing me to these scientists, along with other talented marine biologists such as Boris Worm and Andrew Rosenberg. Moreover, Nancy has done more to bridge the chasm between journalists and scientists than anyone else I know, and I can’t imagine how I would have covered the environment if we hadn’t met in 2004. Boris Worm was even willing to read over key parts of this manuscript, and they emerged sharper as a result. I would also like to thank Mahmood Shivji, a rare scientist who is both brilliant and unafraid of the media, for sharing his shark expertise with me.

It was during my first Pew fellows session that I had the privilege of meeting the late Ransom Myers. His work profoundly influenced this book, and it is one of my great regrets that I cannot hand him a copy of it now that it’s done. I am also sorry that Peter Benchley will not read this book, but I cannot thank his widow, Wendy Benchley, enough for the generosity she displayed in discussing her husband’s legacy with me.

Since I traveled far and wide to research this book, I would like to thank the people who helped me overseas by location. In Baja California, Mexico, I relied on John O’Sullivan, Michael Sutton, and Ken Peterson from the Monterey Bay Aquarium to introduce me to scientists working on the ground in Baja and guide me through the scientific literature once I returned; once I arrived, Paul Ahuja and Arturo Elizalde of Iemanya Oceanica served as invaluable guides. On Mexico’s other coast, I had a team of researchers who helped me see whale sharks up close off Isla Holbox, including Mote Marine Laboratory’s Robert Hueter and John Tyminski, Rafael de la Parra from Proyecto Dominó, University of South Florida’s Phil Motta and Kyle Mara, and David Santucci from the Georgia Aquarium. Nadine Slimak in Mote’s communication department—and later Hayley Rutger—lent a helping hand from Florida, along with Eugenie Clark. Liza Boyd served as a fantastic traveling partner in the Yucatán. In Belize, Ellen Pikitch was on hand to teach me, as well as Vera Agostini, Beth Babcock, Demian Chapman, Archie Carr III, and Norlan Lamb. The Wildlife Conservation Society’s Stephen Sautner provided help from his perch at the Bronx Zoo, and Rachel Graham was willing to talk about Belize’s sharks with me days after giving birth to her second son, for which I’m grateful. In Hong Kong, Yvonne Sadovy not only shared her knowledge with me but lent me three of her most talented students—Vivian Yan Yan Lam, Allen Wai Lun To, and Shadow Ying Tung Sin—to serve as my translators. I appreciate how Charlie Lim afforded me access to the world of shark fin trading, and both Candice To and Paul Hilton helped provide me with an excellent lay of the land. Two Papua New Guineans living in the States initially helped introduce me to their amazing country: the UN ambassador Robert Aisi and Papua New Guinea’s former U.S. ambassador Meg Taylor. I’m grateful to both of them for their advice and friendship. Once I got there, several Papua New Guinea residents provided me with help, including Paul Vatlom and Ange and Dietmar Amon. Laura “Tiny Fins” Berger provided critical moral support and companionship in both Papua New Guinea and Indonesia. In Indonesia, Mark Erdmann, Max Ammer, and the entire staff of Papua Diving did their best to help me navigate Raja Ampat, both underwater and through muck-filled swamps, while Eva Claudio and Bruno Fortin provided me with an idyllic respite at their home in Bali. I also want to thank Conservation International’s CEO, Peter Seligmann, and CI’s former spokesman Marshall Maher for helping educate me on the region, to say nothing of letting me slip into the most glamorous fish auction I have ever attended, in Monaco. Later, CI’s Katrin Olson and Kim McCabe were happy to pitch in from the group’s headquarters. In South Africa a cadre of researchers from the Save Our Seas Foundation helped educate me, including Cheryl-Samantha Owen, Alison Kock, and Lesley Rochat. The indomitable Shark Lady, Kim Maclean, and her staff made it possible for me to witness great whites in their native habitat, while Gregg Oelofse, Peter Chadwick, and Markus Burgener shared key insights with me based on their experience studying sharks. My Japan journey would never have happened without the support of Japan’s ambassador to the United States, Ichiro Fujisaki, as well as his amazing career staff: Izumi Yamanaka, Hideo Fukushima, and Tomofumi Nishinaga. Once I arrived in Tokyo, Sumiyo Terai served as an enthusiastic translator and guide to her country’s fishing traditions. Both Kasumasa Murata and Shigeo Sugie generously shared their knowledge of the shark trade with me, and the Ministry of Foreign Affairs’ Yutaka Aoki and Hiroshi Yamasaki also made time for me in the midst of their busy schedules.

In Shanghai, Professor Xu Hongfa and his two students, Xie Zhigang and Xu Xun, helped me navigate the city’s shark fin trade. And I never would have made it to the city in the first place without the inspiration of the Institute for Education’s CEO Kathy Kemper.

In Florida, Mark Quartiano hosted me on his fishing boat twice, even after I told him I would be scrutinizing the impacts of recreational shark fishing.

In Washington, the staff of Oceana and the Ocean Conservancy were always on hand to answer my questions. Dianne Saenz and Dustin Cranor—and, before them, Bianca DeLille—tapped into Oceana’s considerable international network to keep me informed, while the group’s senior scientist, Michael Hirshfield, freely shared his thoughts and personal contacts to help further my research. Not only did the Ocean Conservancy’s press team, Tom McCann and Kelly Ricaurte, help me out, but the group’s president, Vikki Spruill, never tired of talking about the sea with me. A team of folks at the Pew Environment Group, including Matt Rand, Dave Bard, Jo Knight, Gerry Leape, Sue Lieberman, Dan Klotz, and Karen Sack, have provided me with invaluable assistance on all things fish related, including shark research, for years. Shark Advocates International’s president, Sonja Fordham, peppered me with updates whether she was in Brussels, London, or a fisheries management meeting in the Seychelles. Jim Toomey, the creator of the cartoon strip
Sherman’s Lagoon
, and the Nature Conservancy’s M. A. Sanjayan also shared important insights with me. At the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, Justin Kenney, Connie Barclay, Monica Allen, and Teri Frady all helped connect me with key NOAA officials, researchers, and resources. Susan Povenmire at the State Department helped me regardless of what political party occupied the White House, proving that shark policy might actually transcend partisan politics. While I thought I had mastered American electoral politics with my first book, Milan Vaishnav proved me wrong by showing me that politicians pay a political price for shark attacks. The staff at the Library of Congress’s Science, Technology, and Business Division were always willing to help me track down ancient ship logs and obscure books, providing invaluable sources of information. I am also grateful to three Washington wise men who have weighed in on international environmental issues for years—Thomas E. Lovejoy, Roger Sant, and Timothy E. Wirth—for sharing their insights and connections with me. And through his own example, Chuck Savitt of Island Press has shown me how publishing fine environmental writing can make an impact.