EVERY nation has its comfort food. In Britain, it is a large chunk of white
fish, battered and fried, with thick fried potatoes and a kind of sauce made of
green peas, all wrapped in paper. This cheap, delicious meal—the nearest
England gets to a national dish—should most definitely, say connoisseurs,
be made of cod. Unfortunately, the latest evidence suggests Britain’s favourite
fish is, after umpteen warnings, really on the road to oblivion.
“The stock is being harvested outside safe biological limits,” concludes the
latest annual report on North Sea cod (Gadus morhua) by the
Copenhagen-based International Council for the Exploration of the Sea (ICES),
released last November. Cod in neighbouring waters are in similar straits. Only
the northern cod population, fished by Norway, seems healthy—so far.
The crash of North Sea stocks has been spectacular. From a high of 277,000
tonnes in 1971, the spawning stock of cod has fallen steadily to 67,000 tonnes a
year ago and now to 59,000 according to the latest figures. This is well below
the level where the stock can survive continued fishing.
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Natural variation may have played a part in the decline, but the major
culprit is too much fishing, says Paul Hagel, head of the Netherlands Institute
for Fisheries Research in Ijmuiden. This week, EU fishing authorities gave cod
some protection by banning catches in spawning grounds from February to April
this year. But looming over their crisis meeting in Brussels was the spectre of
the Grand Banks of Newfoundland. They have been closed to cod fishing since 1992
(91av, 16 September 1995, p 24), yet the cod have not
returned. Some scientists warn that the same fate awaits the North Sea. Its cod
may already be on an irreversible path to extinction.
For decades, scientists have calculated how many fish there are in various
fisheries, and how many may safely be caught without driving down the spawning
stock that will produce the next generation. In the North Sea, ICES does the
calculating and recommends limits on the cod catch. Then, every December, the
European Union’s fisheries ministers decide what limits to impose. Though the
ministers are often accused of ignoring scientists’ advice, four times in recent
years they have actually set stricter limits than ICES recommended.
But this year, despite dire warnings, the limits were more lenient. ICES
calculated that only a total ban on cod fishing would restore the spawning stock
to anything like safe levels. Yet ministers cut the catch by a mere 40 per cent
from last year. The decision partly reflects a special difficulty of the North
Sea: its mixed fish stocks. A netful of haddock will also contain some cod. A
total ban on landing cod would mean it would have to be thrown overboard, and
simply go to waste, says Hagel.
Another real problem, according to Sarah Jones, a British-based
representative of the conservation group WWF, is that calculations of the size
of stocks is notoriously imprecise. For the past five years, fishing boats have
failed to catch their full allowance of cod, and the same goes for five of the
nine years from 1987 to 1995. This suggests, says Jones, that even the
scientists’ recommended catches were too high.
And there are other lessons scientists have failed to learn when setting
quotas. From 1997 to 1999, ICES overestimated the amount of cod in the North Sea
by repeating a mistake made by Canadian fisheries scientists just before the
Grand Banks collapsed. ICES wrongly assumed its estimates of fish numbers were
too low when it saw that catches were higher than the estimates suggested. But
this was because fishermen were concentrating their efforts where the few
remaining fish were huddled.
It was a serious mistake—the latest episode in what many scientists
suspect is a general failure of quotas to protect stocks. Even in 1997, Robin
Cook of the government’s Marine Laboratory in Aberdeen calculated that North Sea
cod had for several years been fished at a level that was likely to force it
into a downward spiral and crash.
Reserves such as the no-fishing area agreed this week in the EU cod recovery
plan are central to conservation strategies, says Dan Pauly of the University of
British Columbia in Vancouver. But “fisheries biologists don’t think like
conservationists”, Pauly says, and have rarely set up reserves for commercial
fish. “That must change,” he says.
Other scientists doubt whether this will work. “It might restore the
ecosystem in that area, and help other species,” says Hagel. “But it will have
no effect on fishing.” He cites the so-called plaice box, a region along the
Dutch and German coasts that has been closed to plaice fishing for a decade. “It
has had no positive effect on the plaice at all.” Hagel fears that a large
fisheries exclusion zone would simply encourage boats to redouble their efforts
elsewhere, and could even have a negative effect.
But Jeff Hutchings of Dalhousie University in Halifax, Nova Scotia, says
introducing reserves to ensure cod are not disturbed during spawning could help.
His research, under way now, suggests that the fish have unexpectedly
complicated rituals for mate selection. This implies it’s important to allow
them to reproduce undisturbed, he says.
Doug Beveridge of Britain’s National Federation of Fishermen’s Organisations
agrees that it’s important to identify the cod’s spawning grounds. But there
doesn’t seem to be much agreement on where they are. The European Commission
wants to close an area halfway between Norway and Scotland. Beveridge says a
scattering of smaller areas around the North Sea are where the cod are really
spawning (see Map).
Based on theoretical modelling studies in the North Sea, Pauly says that
closing 40 per cent of the sea to fishing maximises both the fish population and
profits to fishermen. But this only works if the number of fishing boats is also
cut by 40 per cent.
And that, says Beveridge, is the real problem: too many boats chasing too few
fish. He says the industry knows it has to contract to have any future at all.
“But small fisheries businesses cannot convert to something else, or just stop
fishing for a while, without financial help.” Such transitional support is
normal for farmers, but for fishermen it is not even being discussed in
Brussels, says Beveridge.
Finding the political will to scrap or lay up more than a third of the North
Sea fishing fleet, and close a third of its waters to fishing, is made even
harder by fears that any subsequent recovery could be a long time coming.
Hutchings tracked the recovery of 31 overfished stocks around the world of cod
and its relatives. “If a spawning stock had fallen 65 per cent or more within 15
years,” he says, “it was unlikely to have recovered even after another 15 years
of little or no fishing.” North Sea cod has fallen 50 per cent in the last 15
years—but nearly 80 per cent since 1971. It may recover within 15 years.
But there’s every chance it won’t.
A report by Britain’s House of Lords EU Committee last week summed up the
situation. The EU, it wrote, must “bring fishing activity down to sustainable
levels. This requires a degree of political courage which has so far been
lacking.” If that will isn’t found soon, it warns “the whole fishing industry
could disappear”. And with it will go Britain’s cod and chips.