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

OF HERRING AND MEN

My first act of environmental activism was a series of articles I wrote in the mid- 1970s as a weekly newspaper reporter on Cape Cod, MA. The series highlighted the shortsightedness of the National Seashore in allowing several herring runs to silt in, under the National Park Service’s “handsoff” policy regarding “natural” processes. These herring runs, which made their way from the broad estuary of Wellfleet’s Herring River over a half-dozen miles to a cluster of sandy kettle lakes linked by tiny little seep-streams, were just wide and deep enough to allow adult herring passage into their spawning beds.

The earliest European settlers, continuing a practice originally established by the original Native American residents, periodically cleaned the narrow runs of sand and forest debris. In colonial times, the entire town of Wellfleet would gather each May to harvest the spawning herring, which were pickled in barrels and shipped to Boston. For almost two centuries, the proceeds of the herring sales financed the town’s educational system. Maintaining the runs later became a school project and, later still, an annual program of the local Boy Scouts.

Considering the successful 1,000-yearold collaboration between man and herring in Wellfleet, what struck me then, and continues to intrigue me today, is how silly it is to make such an arbitrary and scientifically inaccurate distinction between “man” and “nature.” Recently, a major study presented at a recent American Assoc. for the Advancement of Science conference concluded that only four percent of the world’s oceans remain pristine and almost half has already been seriously impacted by man from over-fishing, pollution and seawater warming. At sea, just as on land, there is no place left that is “natural.” In fact, I would argue in the broadest terms that since nature is constantly changing, adapting, and reacting, man is just another factor – different only in scope from carpenter ants or beavers – in the constantly evolving formula that describes life on the planet.

Certainly man has had a preponderant and disproportional impact compared to other life forms. But even in terms of  largescale processes, such as climate change, man’s impact pales by comparison to past“natural” events, such as meteor strikes and supervolcano eruptions, which have resulted in massive die-offs and global changes. Our inclination to think of ourselves as separate from, and thus superior to nature is what has allowed us to get into our existing difficulties. This simple, short-sighted, selfcentered attitude is what fueled our ability to rationalize draining wetlands, damming rivers, relying too much on fossil fuels, polluting our rivers and oceans, overbuilding the capacity of our water supplies, depleting the fish in the ocean – to name but a few of our past follies – without understanding the full impact of our actions.

On a macro level, the herring run and the man-versus-nature dichotomy illustrates what I think is a fundamental problem in addressing the real issues we face as we continue to alter the world around us. As long as we think of ourselves as somehow different from nature, and place so much of our environmental effort and focus on “saving” everything from individual species to  entire ecosystems such as oceans or rainforests, we put ourselves in a virtual no-win position. First, only by seeing ourselves as full participants in natural processes can we truly establish harmony with our environment. Second, with Earth’s population at 6.7 billion today and projected to top 12 billion by mid-century, even preserving the status quo is wishful thinking. Equally important, drawing this hypothetical line between man and nature fuels social and political  divisiveness and in the process dispels much of the energy we need to deal effectively with the critical issues of our time. It results in labeling some people as “tree-huggers” or “conservationists” and others as “polluters” and “developers” when, in fact, every one of us is all these things to one degree or another. The long-standing debate about whether climate change is “natural” or “man-made” is another example of unproductive thinking. It’s the modern-day version of arguing how many angels dance on the head of a pin. The fact is, even if everyone goes off the grid tomorrow and drives their cars, trucks, planes and boats to the nearest recycling center, the climate will continue to change with dramatic consequences that will impact nearly every living thing in the coming years.

The International SeaKeepers Society, I believe, is the best expression of an emerging environmental paradigm that the only way to understand ourselves, our impact and its consequences is by gathering and sharing more data. What is truly unique about SeaKeepers is that of the hundreds of wonderful organizations concerned about the quality and quantity of life in the sea, we are the only one whose mission is providing information and supporting the scientific understanding that is absolutely critical to successfully mitigating the extraordinary challenges global change poses to us and our fellow species. SeaKeepers’ mission is about gathering and sharing facts about the oceans and our planet to make the best possible decisions and choices in the years ahead. This data and the lessons of the past – such as the example our forefathers taught us about the benefits of living with nature, rather than standing apart from it –will teach us that, ultimately, what is good for the planet by definition is also what’s best for us. SeaKeepers is leading the way in defining ourselves as an integral part of the natural world, and if you haven’t done so already, we invite you to join us on this exciting adventure.

Reading stories about the early visitors to the Galapagos brought home the reality that we gauge the world from the bias of our extremely limited perspectives. Our version of environmental “reality” is based mostly on comparing the quantity and quality of fish, or reefs, or birdlife we experienced in our youth or what our parents or grandparents might have told us. Looking at the photos of the early Pacific explorers, I realize that, even 150 years ago the Galapagos had already been significantly degraded, and what we witness now in every ocean is but a pale and vanishing ghost of the life the seas once held.

At 60, I am enough of a realist to know we will never return to the good ol’ days. Like it or not, we are part of nature, too, with the capacity to do both damage and good. Still, as I remember that magical week, I am joyful for the beauty I witnessed and grateful for sharing these experiences with family and friends. And while nothing in nature remains fixed – certainly this is the most lasting legacy left by the Galapagos’ most famous visitor, Charles Darwin – the continuing ability of these islands to enchant and enthrall us serves as a vivid reminder of the precious gifts we have been entrusted. Even diminished, our seas can be a paradise with the ability to nurture both our bodies and our spirit. The choice, of course, is up to us.

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