One man's reflection about the seas and what it means to our lives.

A SEA OF CHANGE

At a recent visit to the famous Museum of Oceanography in Monaco I saw a small poster that, translated, said “Blue is the New Green.”

It was a charming, almost ironic, line displayed as it was in the world’s oldest oceanographic institution (on the verge of celebrating its 100th anniversary). An establishment that served as the seat of power for Jacques Cousteau, who ran the museum for 30-plus years, and the very place where SeaKeepers was launched nearly a dozen years ago. What struck me ironic is both how far we have come as a society in recognizing the challenges we face from our declining oceans and, paradoxically, how difficult it has been, and still is, to convince people that the threats to our oceans are a threat to ourselves and our prosperous way of life.

Oddly enough, the oceans are as much to blame for the failure to communicate the severity of the problems we face. We humans are a visual species; we believe what we see with our own eyes and, unfortunately, our inability to see what’s going on under the surface of the ocean is the biggest impediment to motivating us, individually and collectively, to take action. That’s why the strongest advocates for marine conservation traditionally have been divers who have seen the destruction of coral reefs and other critical habitats, fishermen who have witnessed the decline in size and numbers of their quarry, and yachtsmen – such as Prince Albert I who founded the Museum of Oceanography to house the collections gathered aboard his research yachts – who are on intimate terms with the pollution and deterioration of the sea.

It’s also understandable why people who aren’t as close to the sea as those named above can become confused about the severity of ocean issues. Besides not having the same, continual visual reinforcement about the ocean’s problems, they often get what appears to be conflicting information. A good example is here in the US Pacific Northwest, which this year is having one of the strongest coho and pink salmon runs in recent memory. Those who were concerned just a handful of years back by public discussions of putting many of these same runs on the threatened species list might justifiably be confused about the true extent of the decline in salmon populations, especially if they have forgotten reports that at the same time salmon are plentiful this year in Washington State, they have virtually disappeared in the seas and rivers of Southern Oregon and Northern California. And, that off the same Pacific shores, the alarming reports that for the last 4-5 years wild oysters have failed to spawn successfully.

Besides being a visual species, humans are problem-averse in an “if it ain’t broke then don’t fix it” kind of way. Given seemingly conflicting information, people will almost always believe in the version that requires the least action on their part, or the version that makes them least uncomfortable. That’s human nature.

Thus, those of us in the marine conservation information-and-education business always tread a fine line in how we communicate. Do we scare them with the facts or express concern about the future in a hopeful and optimistic way, even though that may not be how we actually feel?
Today, information and technology are so closely linked it’s often hard to tell them apart. And, like information, technology can also be a two-edged sword. On one hand, advances in marine electronics, monitoring and instrumentation have made humankind far more efficient and lethal harvesters of marine life with the ability, for example, to pinpoint seafood stocks with unprecedented accuracy. At the same time, advances in communication and data collection and sharing will make more and more people aware of the changes now taking place, mostly unseen, in the oceans. Perhaps the most powerful new technology will be Google Earth’s new ocean extension, which allows people to appreciate what’s happening in the oceans as never before. Images of ocean bottom ravaged by fish trawling will become just as real as the deforestation of vast tracks of rainforest or timberland. Water pollution will be as visible as air pollution is today. I can’t help but believe that when we are able to see the extent and the nature of the damage we are causing that we won’t become stronger and more effective managers of our ocean resources.

While we progress toward that day when people are just as moved by the loss of, say, giant tuna, sharks and herring as they are at the loss of terrestrial wildlife like the tiger, the elephant, and the condor, we must continue the work started by our forefathers, many of them yachtsmen and women, more than a century ago. And we must not forget in the ebb and flow of data, which on any given day may appear to be contradictory, that the ocean is mere, impoverished shadow of what is was when green and blue were just two colors in the rainbow.

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