Triple Bottom Line: Commercial fishing and marine pollution — debunking “Seaspiracy’s” conspiracies

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Last week, I watched the new environmental documentary on Netflix, “Seaspiracy.” And, as per usual, I have some thoughts. 

If you haven’t yet watched it, “Seaspiracy” details a British filmmaker’s investigation into the causes of marine plastic debris and overfishing occurring around the world. Ultimately, the argument is that commercial fisheries are at the heart of the decimation of marine ecosystems as we know them, and, to combat this, consumers must eat less fish. 

The documentarian, Ali Tabrizi, is totally correct in that commercial fishing practices have some huge issues that create a ripple effect across entire ecosystems. Overfishing for human consumption can disrupt the food chain, causing a trophic cascade as apex predators like sharks are left with nothing to eat. Trawling practices cause heavy equipment to be dragged across the seafloor, scraping up bottom-dwelling organisms and disrupting sediments, and decimating reefs, oysters and sponges that form habitats for other native species. Another problem, bycatch, is caused by using longline bait hooks or huge nets that unintentionally bring up other species, such as  turtles, birds, dolphins, manatees and sharks. More often than not, these animals either die or end up critically injured. Lastly, ghost fishing, or old fishing lines and lures floating around in the ocean, can ensnare fish and birds.

However, one of my biggest qualms with the claims in the documentary is the argument that we should all completely stop eating fish, which is largely ignorant; fish are critical for nutrition in vulnerable geographic areas around the world. Many coastal communities may not have a sustainable alternative in place or the privilege of even having a diet substitute for fish. Along with this, these seaside communities that rely on the ocean for sustenance don’t fall into the same categories as large-scale commercial fishing vessels, instead fishing for their families and their communities. Consequently, Tabrizi doesn’t discuss the link between larger fishing operations in international waters, stealing catch and potential revenues from local and often indigenous small-scale operations. 

The claim that anti-ocean plastic campaigns and marine nongovernmental organizations are conspiring with the capitalist greed of the fishing industry may be a bit much, but if you subtract the excessive pathos from the argument, it is incredibly important for conservation societies to further incorporate unsustainable fishing practices into their agenda. The exact percentage of plastic waste that ends up in the ocean as a result of fishing industries is debatable — Tabrizi states that it’s around 46% — but it’s a significant amount and makes the need for more responsible fishing methods clear. But what constitutes a sustainable fishing practice? 

Perhaps a good place to start with an issue this complex is to look at the global demand for fish. Fish account for about 40% of animals consumed worldwide. Species such as cod, pollock, halibut, salmon, tuna, seabass and shrimp are in high demand, with an estimated .97 to 2.7 trillion fish caught from the wild every year. This doesn’t even include farmed fish or larger species like sharks, whales, dolphins and turtles caught and killed as bycatch or for meat. Consequently, a third of global fish stocks would now be considered “overexploited,” that is, being caught at a rate that exceeds their ability to reproduce or replenish. There are simply fewer fish available in the ocean, and, for this reason, aquaculture practices are expanding. 

Aquaculture, or the cultivation of fish in a closed environment for human consumption, has high potential to keep up with the demand for seafood products. More effective fisheries management has the potential to reduce the burden on wild-fish catching and could alleviate stress on the marine ecosystem. Aquaculture has the lowest greenhouse gas emissions of any type of farming and could one day overtake commercial fishing practices on the high seas.

Tabrizi points to another incongruence in the relationship between corporations and consumers. We can easily go to the store, grab a can of certified dolphin-safe tuna, and pat ourselves on the back with our sustainable choice. However, these labels don’t necessarily guarantee anything; even the fisheries that are supposedly ‘certified’ can still harm dolphins in actuality. Many certifications aren’t much more than greenwashed, feel-good environmental movements for marketing purposes. Because of capitalist corruption, responsibility is placed in the hands of the consumers instead of big business. The label satisfies the buyer’s desire to make an ethical purchase without actually holding companies to any standards at all.

“Seaspiracy” relies on shock value, citing questionable big numbers and statistics and filming gory scenes of whales being killed off the coast of Japan and in the Faroe Islands, but isn’t necessarily the most informed about ocean ecosystems and the global food production system as a whole. Environmental protection is simply one element of an extremely complex system, which is oversimplified in the film. Many countries rely on fishing exports to boost their gross domestic product and local economies, not to mention feeding their families with the most convenient resource found. Additionally, lack of resources in some countries may mean that fishing vessels aren’t equipped to fish sustainably.

Scientific critics of the film contend that commercial fishing can be done responsibly. However, I would argue that the concept of ‘sustainability’ would do well to be redefined and specified. Oceans do have the capacity to replenish fish stocks if managed carefully as demand continues to grow. We’re at a crossroads: Can we invest in growing renewable aquaculture systems while also confronting our own subjection to capitalism? Providing economic alternatives to big-fishing nations is an uphill battle but perhaps worth it in the end. 

To be fair, it’s impossible to adequately cover all the intricacies of the ocean in a 1.5 hour long documentary, and the same holds true for this single article. Regardless, the lesson here is twofold. Firstly, the state of the world’s oceans is dire for a number of reasons, and malpractices in commercial fishing are only compounding existing problems. Second, when being presented with information about environmental issues, it’s key to analyze them with a critical eye. As we see in “Seaspiracy,” shocking facts thrown about casually may not be entirely correct, and many actors have ulterior, market-driven motives. Simply put, the reason these environmental issues are so difficult to solve is because of their multidimensionality — to understand the whole story, you need to look at the interests, needs and cultures of different groups around the world. 

Ultimately, “Seaspiracy” is just what its title implies — a conglomeration of loose scientific facts, carefully cropped interviews, accusations of conspiracy and a weak final argument. Instead of confronting the drastic systemic overhaul of food security and production and the much-needed revitalization of environmental valuation worldwide, “Seaspiracy” misses the mark. Tabrizi ignores the opportunity to confront the many shortcomings of capitalism head on, instead leaving us with the false claim that going vegan and altering our lifestyle choices will solve this global problem. 

It’s important to think critically about where our food is coming from and how ethically it was sourced and make changes wherever possible. But “Seaspiracy” only scratches the surface of a much harsher reality. Ultimately, capitalism determines our definition of sustainability and, consequently, the level of environmental degradation that society is willing to accept. 

Montana Denton is a junior writing about environmental issues, sustainability and society. Her column, “Triple Bottom Line,” runs every other Thursday.