Cod| The Norway Way & NL's Way Forward

It's Cod almighty  in Norway, but it wasn't always that way.

In October 1989, it was revealed that Cod Stocks in Norway were the lowest in 100 years.

By June 1990, Norway imposed a full moratorium on its winter Cod fishery.  A revolt erupted amongst Norwegians, but emergency funds were issued to soften the blow of the Cod hitting historic low levels.

The Cod crisis forced the Norwegians to take prompt action. For the first time, vessel quotas were set up which later changed to TACs. It also banned all fishing on its spawning grounds as soon as the stocks were known to be in trouble. Further, Norway took steps to stop foreign overfishing; and any foreigner who was caught fishing in the area had their home country charged and a huge fine imposed.

By the following year, in 1991, Cod populations were regaining in number.

While Norway's stocks were not in a collapsed state, they took decisive action. We started to see a decline in our fisheries in the early 1970s, but a moratorium was not imposed until 1992.

In 1992, just as the big Cod bomb hit in NL, the spawning biomass of the Barent Sea Cod was bigger than it had been in 25 years. Still, Oslo resisted a dramatic increase in quotas.

Norway also spent a great deal of money to close the knowledge gap in science. They realised they had been overfishing Cod stocks for over 30 years and wisely used their lucrative oil money to save their fishery.

Norway's Cod bonanza has also benefited from climate change;  but they are also reaping the reward of human intervention with far-sighted fisheries management.

It is also noteworthy that 80-90 percent of Norway's Cod is shared with other countries, including Russia- and the two have a  Joint Fisheries Commission deciding fishery quotas on scientific evidence which not only ensures sustainable harvesting, but productivity and profit.   For the most part, industry, fleet and fishermen all back this approach as it is working.  (Incidentally, the 2017 Cod quota for the Arctic Barent Seas is 890,000 tonnes.)

Yes, Norway & Russia have international joint management,

but NL and Ottawa in the same country have not been able to achieve this much needed fishery arrangement if we are ever to regain some say in the management of our traditional natural resources. 

Today, Norway has the world's largest Cod stock, and 25 years later our Cod Stocks are still struggling to rebound -  apparently, only at about 30 per cent of the historic biomasss in 1968.  

Even worst our federal government does not have a proper rebuilding plan in place, as confirmed by the Auditor General's Office earlier this fall.

It's time NL lay out our own  "Cod Manifesto" on what we want from Ottawa and time lines to achieve OUR Goals - including a full rebuilding of our stocks with annual assessments (not just on Cod but Cod's prime food - caplin); increased science and joint management.

The Ottawa folks have proven that they do not have the Cod balls in their jeans or genes. They are too land-lock to know what is good for our province and people when it comes to our fishery and our heritage. 

Our future depends on us defining what is it that we want from our Cod resource in a formal document-  and going after it like it's life or death.  

We do not need to reinvent the wheel, but a wheel needs to be put on the vehicle so we can drive our fisheries as other successful countries like Norway are doing.

#InCodWeStillTrust    #CodManifesto

Ancient Artificial Outports

Let's skip ahead, my lovelies, to a time in the future ...

Here in our fair land

Here in the Land of the Fish

‎Our Island is swarming with tourists.

Lured here by those charming and legendry ads (they were such a hit, they are now an Act of the Legislature)

that continue  still to dazzle travellers with our colourful cultural palette.

The year is 2066

Much has changed in the world

But the Isle of the Cod remains ‎untouched.

553 years of an enduring culture ‎that has withstood the 

hands of time,

the unending crashing Atlantic waves upon its shores.

Folks still cling to the rocks and still dance a jig on the wharves

Fishing Boats can be seen bobbing the waves offshore

The majestic and massive iceberg sculptures don the glistening waters.

Harp, there's a whale breaching the unspoiled Atlantic ocean.

‎Oh, look, there's the puffins, such remarkable and colourful creatures.

Yes, let me take you out on the water for a jig of our famous Cod.

After all, the‎ once-nearly extinct fish  is again teeming in these waters.

No need for a hook folks,  I tell the enthusiastic touristy lot.

"Do it the John Cabot style!" and I hand them baskets

Yes, us Newfoundlanders still have their sense of humor.

The tourists appreciate that; and the fact that we can now fish any day of the year, as the Cod are so darn plentiful.

The tourist are in their glee - thanking the gods that the authentic and the traditional have survived in this world where everything has changed.

I walk with them up a path to the local B&B and there's a scoff waiting for us .

Traditional food is served - Jiggs Dinner, fried Cod and scrunchions, fish cakes and bakeapples picked off the marsh this morning.

We still have it ALL here in Newfoundland - still Canada's youngest province after all these years  -

The beautiful outports, the friendly people, scrumptious food and oh, the crayon colours of this place have not even faded...

After supper we stroll down to the beach and light up a fire and roast some caplin as the golden sunset rays splay across the bay.

Musically inclined folks sing "Let me fish off Cape St, Marys"

Story tellers tell of ghosts and fairies.

The tourist are gobsmacked - "like being at being in the middle of a Newfoundland tourist ad", they gleefully  shout as they take endless selfies.

Each of them share with  me  their favourite colours like it was the name of their first-born.

The time has come for them to leave. They are all weepy eye and promised to come back again next year

to the "Land of the Colours and the Cod", as they like to call us now. 

So much colour, so much Cod, it's no wonder they love us so much.  

They love the outports - those special sacred places created by the Creator himself on the day he was supposed to have rested 

Then they wave their final forlorn goodbyes ... like a baby leaving the womb. 

Then the bright lights come on.

As they exit, I caution them to be careful

and to leave their 3-D Headset in the bin.

Their comments all bespeak of their love  for  "The Outport Movie "

- felt like they were right there!

The 3-D virtual reality  experience at the Babylyon  Mall  in St. John's is not the same as the  real thing,

but we try our best to give the tourists a taste of how it was back then ... 

Some have questions - What happened? What went down? Who allowed this?

I  tell them all the outports waned and fizzled and then totally collapsed 50 years ago

Federal governments closed down the fisheries entirely - a permanent moratorium due to extinction of the Cod and other species.

Provincial governments were positively passive and accepting - most of them St. John's elites or outport millionaires

The townies  finally got their way - too expensive to keep the outports going they had cried for decades and decades

Ferries were shut down, schools  and libraries closed, post offices barred up and every boat and stage and flake burned.

The feds offered the Last Resettlement Package out of rural Newfoundland and Labarador...   

As I flick off the lights and close the door to the theatre,  I felt a bit nostalgic but then I forced myself to look on the positive side 

I guess it's not that bad ...

I mean,  the outports are still "alive and well"  - at least in the 3D world.

Still ...  things sure ant like it used to be ...

be some nice now to feel and smell the real deal again - of bays, bights, harbours  and coves...  

and what I wouldn't give for a feed of that cherished Cod....  

Respectable, though, that the St. Johns lot at least immortalized our famous fish 

- by remaking the entire front of the old Confederation Building

to look like a Cod ... on a large altar.

Cod bless their compassionate and evolved souls.

Falling Away from the Cod

It used to be that Cod was in our DNA.

Not anymore.

The 1992 Cod bomb blew away nearly every last strand of the fish DNA in our collective body.

Not only did that seismic catastrophe  drained us of 80,000 of our kinfolk, we lost their offspring born on the mainland; and likely now, that 24 years have passed, we can count the loss of their grandkids.

The children born in NL after 1992 fared no better. They no longer have an affinity for anything related to the fishery. They are the first Codless generation since Commander Cabot came unto our shores back in 1497.

If anyone doubts that the fall-out from the Cod bomb has stabilised, one only has to read the CBC articles this week by Terry Roberts  of the demographic crisis unfolding on the Great Northern Pennisula.   The population is expected to decline by 40 percent in 20 years.

The youth, faced with no job prospects - and worst yet - no hope, have their suitcases already packed ready to leap from what was once the Isle of the Cod to another Codless world.  

We are indeed falling away from the Cod.

And when we say Cod we mean more than fish.

Cod is an icon of all that is NL. It is our culture, our language, our settlement patterns, our psyche  - or it once was. It defined us like no other force in our lives.  It was our reason to be, our currency even.

The truth is that even the kids that remain are not just not fishing – they are no longer getting in boats. That is a profound shift in our evolution as a people and a place.

Kimberly Orren of Fishing for Success is a non-profit shining a bright light in Petty Harbour. She and her partners are on a mission to stop the tidal wave sweeping our culture where we are no longer people of the sea, where our children do know the rise of the ocean swell or taste the brine on their lips. They are not just being visionary, but proactive in their efforts to rework the Cod DNA back into our collective form.

Generally, you need a reason to get in a boat...you don't just wander around.  So, if we don't make an effort to get our kids fishing, they won't be near the water, on the water, or in boats.

Orren relays a story when  she was at the Marine Institute obtaining her fishing license, of a Capt Parsons who developed the marine management program.  He made the point of remarking that his students USED to be Newfoundlanders and Labradorians. But now they are mostly mainlanders.  He says our kids are not growing up with their butts in a punt anymore. So a career on the water, not even on their radar - and I'm not even talking about fishing - I'm just talking about marine management.

We have a real serious problem, Commander Cabot.  

If you google the word Cod, the odds are that you will get reams of websites related to a popular virtual war game called “Call of Duty.” And as Orren laments, that's the kind of COD our youth will  be celebrating!

Orren believes that we need to broaden our definition of fishing to engage more youth.    Is NL trying to position itself to be the gate to the Arctic? With whom? Why aren't we preparing our kids for this future? 

Fishing for Success  went looking for a Youth Cod Quota this year to get kids and tourists out on the water, catching fish, bringing it back to the wharf, preparing, cooking and serving it to the community.  Yes, a bunch of entrepreneurial youth down at the wharf again! Just like old times!  Good stuff right?

DFO would have none of that progressive thinking and action-oriented solutions to our beleaguered fishery and communities.   They are now keepers of the Cod DNA and their golden rule is that it shall never be passed onto future generations.  The request for a Youth quota was not granted.

No wonder we are falling away from the Cod…

Fishing for Success are doing their darnest to be innovative and sustainable in their Cod quest.  They contacted the Centre for new Immigrants to invite their folks to Island Rooms in Petty Harbour to learn about NL culture, go fishing and share some fish. The response, according to Orren:   He almost started crying ... He said he had been in NL for 10 years and no one had offered to do that for his clients! Leo and I used our own personal fish we had put up for winter for the fish stew. If we had a licence...

The Cod Bomb may have done its damage some 25 years ago and the fall-out is still immensely hurting our economy and culture,  but groups like Fishing for Success proves there is still hope of re-injecting the Cod DNA back into our veins. 

This non-profit is trying to create a stronger synergy between the fishery and tourism as an anti-dote to the unfamiliar and jarring feeling of a 500-year-old fishing nation falling away from its life source - the Cod.

Let’s hope they succeed for the sake of us all and our future.

It is a shortsighted society that forgets its past  and in the case of NL, the fishery is the light forward.

Light and Dark of Halloween

(Oct 31, 2015)

Halloween Night - that division between light and darkness - an't complete without "the boys"
You know, that bunch of older teenage boys that show up late on your door steps.
...

Right on cue they knocked tonight, sometime after 9 pm, carrying massive bags of treats.
After I handed the collective 6 that landed on my front steps the usual portion, I decided to offloaded all that was left. They were like savages - sweet savages mind you, but those sweet treats were like gold. A whole months of sugary stock danced in their heads.

After I closed the door, I thought about them - how this would likely be their last Halloween gig. How tonight they were out and about on this cold and windy dark night trying to capture the last taste of their youth. This year, the Halloween trek was perhaps the cool dare; next year, it won't be cool for those boys to be seen out with prowling the streets with the young ones. Perhaps that is why they come knocking so late?

It got me thinking about my Halloween nights back in my rural cove a few decades ago - ok, many decades ago.

I can't remember when I Halloweened it last, but one thing I know Halloween back then didn't quick resemble the extravaganta of today.

First of all, there was the swag that carried the load - we were hip - we used only the "Pillowcase" brand - rarely brandished today. Whatever worn-out old pillowcase your mother could sacrifice, that was it.

Costumes didn't come from the store - we knitted creativity with whatever clothing we could find. We couldn't google or order a costume idea. We made do.

Then there were the treats - there weren't many, really. Apples were the main hit as I recall. Those miniature bars and chips were a generation away. 

And our clothing didn't keep us as warm as the high tech clothing of today. We endured many frigid fall-cold Halloween nights in northern Newfoundland.

But all in all, though it wasn't the big orchestrated event, we kept the Halloween spirit alive just as they do much more easily (and with better loot!) today.

Still, I do remember even back then, us "Halloween boys" did the last trick-or-treating of our lives right up until the last division between light and dark - i.e youth and adulthood.
Some things never change, thankfully.

The Stamp of the Cod

A bounty of giant Codfish has been swimming in waters off NL for thousands of years.

No wonder this fish has had such a defining place in this province's rich past.  

So much so, that Cod, in its salty state, was once the currency of this place.

The majesty of Cod - as a fish and its role as economic and cultural shaper - was recognized as early as 1865, when it was honoured with a pictorial on a postage stamp.

Newfoundland was a self-governing Dominion of the British Empire from 1855-1933.  From 1857-1947, Newfoundland issued over 300 postage stamps.   This 90-year period, according to Terranovapub.com,  ...  spanned five monarchs and two world wars, that saw the conquest of the North Atlantic by air, the change from sail to steam, and the invention of radio, the airplane, and the light bulb.   http://www.terranovapub.com/newfoundland-stamp-designs.html    

A review of some of the literature on Newfoundland’s old postage stamps reveal they are renowned for their beauty, history and high collector value. They also are unique in the world as nearly every aspect of the early development of the Newfoundland nation is depicted upon them:    A study of Newfoundland postage stamps is a study of Newfoundland history, politics, natural resources and geography. Many parents educated their children using Newfoundland postage stamps as valuable reference material, prior to union with Canada on March 31, 1949. http://visitnewfoundland.ca/briefstamp.html     

While the first Newfoundland postal stamp was issued in 1857, it was not until 1865 that a pictorial was released which celebrated the Codfish -  the mainstay of the Newfoundland economy and the major commodity which formed trade networks and cross-cultural exchanges. Newfoundland is known as the first country to show a fish on its adhesive stamps.  The green stamp, with a Codfish depicted swimming to the left, would be criticised by Albert Perlin (1937) for its design flaw – omitting the split in the Codfish’s tail.   

It would not be the last time that King Cod would be featured on a postal stamp in the Colony of Newfoundland.   The blog spot "Big Blue" provides the following information on the issuing of Cod stamps:   "Between 1880-1896, three stamps with  a new Codfish  design were released. The 2c yellow green, and the 2c green were issued in 1880 and 1896 respectively, while the 2c red orange was produced in 1887."   http://bigblue1840-1940.blogspot.ca/2014/05/newfoundland-pictorials.html 

In 1932, two varieties of the 1 Cent stamp were issued - with the first  one printed in green (Jan).   By August 1932,  the colour was changed to grey.   These stamps were part of the “First Resource Issue”.  One paid tribute to Cod as currency in the Newfoundland nation; and was based on a photograph by renowned photographer Robert Holloway. 

Although described by Albert Perlin as “possibly the ugliest stamp Newfoundland had ever issued” (1959:128), NFLDStamps.com offers this perspective,  "The stamp realistically portrays a catch of fresh cod. The caption could be a painful reminder to inshore fishermen that they were rarely if every paid in cash by fish merchants and therefore had to pay their debts literally in ‘fish’ (the generic term that applied specifically to cod). http://www.nfldstamps.com/userfiles/files/2.%20History%20of%20Newfoundland%20Stamps.pdf

In 1937 King Cod was featured on a postal stamp with a member of the Royal  family - King George VI.    This is the  first stamp of the Long Coronation Issue of Newfoundland and it shows a Codfish to the left of the King's  oval portrait.

The Cod fishery would also be spotlighted in two other postage stamps according to Professor Thomas Nemec. Former secretary of the St. Johns’s Philatelic Society:
1)  8¢.  “Fishing, One of the Colony's Resources.” A crew of inshore fishermen in two boats is depicted ‘hauling’ or unloading fish from a codtrap. The design may have been based on a contemporary photo. The Colony’s fisheries were its economic mainstay.

2)   Leaving For The Banks.” Ten two-masted schooners in full sail are also depicted sailing through  the Narrows. Since their crews fished offshore on the Grand Banks the vessels were called ‘bankers’.    Historically, some storms were famous for having caused the deaths of hundreds of fishermen.   http://www.nfldstamps.com/userfiles/files/2.%20History%20of%20Newfoundland%20Stamps.pdf

By June 23, 1947, Newfoundland issued its final stamp. These stamps were used for letter, parcel and airmail until April 01, 1949, when they were replaced by Canadian stamps.

Postal stamps, predating Newfoundland’s entry into Confederation, remain valid for mail posted anywhere within Canada - if you can find one; or have a friend who is kind enough to share these special gems.

-30-
|KP

Caboto's Diary

Written 20 years ago for a CBC Radio Contest...

                                                      CABOTO’S DIARY

June 10, 1497

My dear King will not believe the strange and fantastical dream that I and my crew experienced last dawn as the sun sank upon this ocean blue.  I call it a dream because I lack any other word to term it ... no, perhaps it was not a dream, perhaps we did indeed slip through the cracks of time.  Perhaps we did see the future? Was it possible?

While I record these words with all my senses intact, my mind still does not yet comprehend the incredible events of last evening - 20 days into our voyage westward.

At approximately 8:15 p.m., the clear still evening  suddenly turned nasty and ominous.  Many of our crew became frightened and visibly upset. While used to inclement and strong weather, the swiftness with which this storm descended upon us caused even me to become alarmed.  I alerted my men to tie themselves on to the boat.   The darkness engulfed us suddenly and after much trashing about of our bodies and our ship, the flashing of lightening and a strange sensation of  having moved at mind-boggling speed, all returned to normal ... or so we thought.

Seemingly, we were still in the same spot but the ocean looked different. No longer was it clear and inviting.  Darkness hid among its waves and much flotsam and jetsam bounced  about.  An oily black substance glistened off  the water’s surface.  Despite many hours of trying, we could not catch nary a fish.  This left us quite puzzled for earlier in the day, the waters had been teaming with cod and other fat fish. One seaman commented that the air did not smell right. We all agreed that the evening breeze felt denser and its acidity bit at our nostrils. 

Suddenly a voice from crow’s nest shouted land. We quivered with excitement at the approaching land and as we neared we saw that it was already inhabited.  Houses on top on houses sat next to each other and tall, tall buildings occupied the skyline and shut out the sun.  Hastily, we went ashore at our landfall.  Astounded and slack-jawed we walked the streets and stared at the people - they did not look happy.  As we spoke to them, they talked only of their misery - unemployment, the depletion of their resources, environmental destruction and many social ills. On and on they spoke of the negative forces which had engulfed their human lives.  They cursed a man who discovered the place 500 years previous and the coming celebrations which would mark this milestone.

My crew and I were taken back by the pessimism which hung in the air like thick, black smoke from a faulty lantern. We returned to our vessel, The Matthew, which looked so puny next to the large and unique ships anchored in the bustling harbour.  None spoke of our encounter as we slipped into sleep.  When we awoke we found ourselves back into another violent storm, which closed quickly.  Our bearings revealed we were  in the same position as before the storm of last evening.  As the crew mumbled breathlessly about the “dream” they all shared, I spoke not and retreated to my cabin to began the day’s entry in my log...

As I write my intuitions tell me that what we experienced was real and that the life we saw was not yet realized, only glimpsed.  I wonder if the man they spoke of and cursed  was me,  Giovanni Caboto  - will I be the one to discover this new found land ? 

My dear King, I am so shakened by what I have forseen that I am inclined to turn around and retreat back to your shores so I do not doom this sacred land.  I do not want to have your name, nor mine, scorned by the mouths by future citizens for generations to come. I pray for an easy resolution to my dilemma.

Later that Day

Fear not my King, after much contemplation my mind is strong - I will continue navigating westward and I will find the land in my dreams and I will start it right from the beginning.  I will call it the Happy Province and I will be the purveyor of optimism and goodwill.  I will send every curmudgeon back to the East and the people who persevere in this land will be known for their smiles and hospitality.  We will have lots of laughter, song  and merriment to hold the negativism at bay.  This isle’s inhabitants will be taught that happiness lies within and that they alone are the navigators of their own fortunes.  Yes, we will be a blessed lot and despite what falls around us,  our noble hearts will not forget the majesty and uniqueness of this new isle with all its natural beauty,  seasons and all its promise. 

I call upon you once again to invoke your greatest blessings upon our voyage and our renewed faith as we head westward to the land that awaits us, to the isle that surely will be the greatest place under the creator.

Vacating the Castle

Once upon a time,  closing in on 30 years ago, I got to live (aka work) in a beautiful castle.

With Cinderella work ethics I, together with my work folks at the Castle, toiled and toiled.  

During that time I got to go to a ball every now and then and have a wonderful experience, chatted with a few fairy godmothers, made friends with some wonderful servants, avoided the basement creatures, had a few encounters with wicked stepmothers,  bore witness to some skulduggery and at times, sweet magical moments appeared out of no where;  but mostly  I just worked.
Most  of the  work I  loved; and well, like others, you made peace with cleaning the soot off the floor when it was needed.

All in all it has been a most wondrous three decades hold up each day inside the walls of that Castle of grandeur that sits atop of Confederation Hill.  The castle was built by King Joey back in the ancient time of the sixties fresh off the  time of the Confederation revolution when brave knights fought for union with the Land of Canada, while other honorable revolutionaries took up arms for the right to remain independent. Overlooking the Capital of St. Jean, the Castle is a splendid place to view the urban setting, but t'is rare you can spy beyond the  overpass.

The castle has so many floors and chambers, it was impossible to get to them all but I managed to work on most levels.  Each floor had its redemptions and new and engaging work; sometimes it was just reward enough to be in the medieval castle, no matter where I was dispatched. For it was the special and kindred peasants that inhabited the varied nooks and crannies of the Castle, including the Tower, that mattered the most and who fortified me through the years. Many were pure people of the land  working hard and driven by a desire to make magic happen, others were lost souls unable to found their way out of the dark basement of their hearts.  Sometimes, knights in shining amour showed up and a few times, black knights stomped through the hallways, rattling swords and instilling fear rather than hope, reminding everyone of their lot in life. 

Especially pleasing, when one had the rare privilege to visit ,  was the exalted chamber, with its  vaulted ceiling containing the Newfoundland and Labrador Coat of Arms in stained glass  and ringed by portraits of former Speakers of the Assembly; and when in session the Chamber could be a bit rambunctious, but oh so exiting as it was the seat of the dear people of our strong and proud land. 

This week, fate has intervened and I  am  assigned to  a new work experience, and therefore,  am exiting the Castle. I am filled with much trepidation and  nostalgia.    At my age, of course it is only fitting that I consider new tasks and new digs. And afterall, who needs the largesse and opulence of such a  large Castle when the ways of youth have passed you by.

The decree has come for me to downsize to the West Block Condominiums, built in the times of Knight Peckford.  Not the same splendor appearance, I do admit;  but I am confident I will encounter creative and kind spirits who will work well and kindly for the Kingdom of Newfoundland and Labrador.  Notwithstanding the rough times that have beset our Kingdom of late, there is an earnest desire by a majority of servants for the New Found Lande to flourish and to become the grand kingdom that we were fated to be since the Italian  Prince Caboto landed on our shores ‎many moons ago.

Still, this Cinderella public servant will always gaze wistfully  at the Confederation Castle that kept her "clothed " and warm, physically and emotionally, for close to 30  years. She will remember the many  Grand  Kings she worked for, the friends made (some lifelong ones); and the magnificent  moments that were woven through her heart and soul as she danced  within the walls of that special Castle on the Hill in the Grand Land of Newfoundland. 

#SpecialPlace  #SpecialTimes

The Cod Conundrum| "A Wicked Problem"

The Atlantic Cod has become a double-sided icon. 

In the glory days of the traditional Newfoundland fishery, it was preeminent badge of our economy and culture as  we shared our  world-famous salt Cod around the globe. There was a reason the good fish was called "King Cod" - it reigned the fisheries' throne for centuries - no other fish came close to toppling this royal piscine species.

Unfortunately, since the 1992 ban on commercially fishing Cod, it has become an icon for something else .... something terribly bad.  Cod researcher George Rose stated it succinctly when he remarked back  in 2003:  "The northern Cod has become an icon for federal mismanagement in the world."  http://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/report-recommends-virtual-shutdown-of-northern-cod-fishery-1.357998

While the Cod has rebounded somewhat in the past quarter century since the moratorium, the fact is there is still a long ways to go before there is a rich abundance of our most precious resource.   The latest DFO report (2015 data) states that it has only reached 26%  of  historic levels; and there seems to be no concerted and strategic effort to power it back to its full plentitude.

This is what some researchers call "A wicked problem".  According to http://environment.geog.ubc.ca/in-cod-we-trust-cod-in-atlantic-canada/ 
The term wicked problem was coined by Rittel and Webber (1973) and was used to describe difficult planning in social policy and later related to the environment and resource management. Roberts (2000) stated that defining the problem in the beginning is a problem within itself, with disagreement from stakeholders the main reason with solutions creating further complications. Within the fields of resource management and environmental issues, wicked problems are highlighted by their scientific uncertainty and lack of technological solutions (Gunderson, 1999).

The Cod biomass is certainly a wicked problem given the complexity of issues ranging from lack of solid scientific data about the stock, political interference in fishery management, lack of a strategic recovery mission, land-locked decision-makers, multiple stakeholders from highly-paid lobbyists to lowly-paid harvesters,lack of community engagement and leadership vision, foreign overfishing on straddling stocks, as well as cultural impacts; and there are the multiple solutions that have been advanced to improve the fishery, with most ignored.

According to the authors of "In Cod We Trust - Cod in Atlantic Canada" (2015) ... "The persistence of the problem is contributing to the instability of the social, economic, and environmental aspects." 

In 2003, the federal and provincial governments did get together to form a Cod Recovery Action Team, but there is little evidence  there was any strategic work or advancements on the report and recommendations which followed.   Still, the Cod stocks amble along the road to recovery, aided primarily and ironically, it seems, by  Cod's good Samaritan  - climate change which has created more favourable ocean conditions like warmer waters.

Long-time NL fisheries advocate, Gus Etchegary - who entered the fishery three years before Confederation in 1949 - has continuously stressed that the rebuilding of not just the Cod stock but every other species is the most important goal of our province and country; yet, he feels his message falls on deaf ears:

"Decision-makers do not understand that fish, like every other resource oil, minerals  etc., has to be available in volume and quality. The fishermen cannot earn a living, the processors on the assembly line cannot make a good living and the industry operator cannot make a sufficient profit to pay the harvester nor the processor.  Unless the industry responds to market demands with the variety of quality products required they cannot get the returns from the market or compete with well-managed industries in advanced fishing nations."

So, while the Cod stocks are slowing coming back to our waters, the road ahead is still a long one - and a challenging one, including how to  achieve the 3 Rs - Rebuild, Rebuild, Rebuild.  

This is underscored by the stats in the 2014 John Sackton report  which reveals that the 2014 Cod landings in Newfoundland and Labrador amounted to just over 11,000 tonnes — less than .005 per cent of total Atlantic cod that year, which totalled 1.3 million tonnes.  And DFO's most recent assessment of Northern Cod states that the iconic fish is still in "the critical zone".   The fact that it is still only at 26% of its LFP(Limited Reference Point) 25 years later signals that "the stock is considered to have suffered serious harm and the ability to produce good recruitment is seriously impaired."   

In the meantime, we have to keep an eye on the all-important quality assurance factor  that will ensure our markets; and then there is the infrastructure that will be required to be kept in place and advanced to process Cod as it goes through the various stages of recovery.

Authors of "In Cod We Trust" (Ben Watkins, Alexandre Schoch, Michael Webb, Timothy Wong)  state that - With the many stakeholders and potential economic benefits/losses, the next steps taken are very important ones. There are strategies that have been implemented previously, both for cod and other fish species that have experienced over exploitation. Popular methods include, Marine Protected Areas (MPA), seasonal regulations and quotas.

Still, we have a wicked problem a quarter of a century in, after a near collapse of the stock- to elevate King Cod back to its historic throne as a global powerhouse.  

To do so will require wickedly good collaborative solutions - sooner rather than later;
and in the end, it needs to start with an abundance of Cod.

Codspeed to all of us on this important mission-possible.

-30-

“People of the Sea” and the "Sacred Link"

“People of the Sea”

| A 1997 BBC Independent Wildlife Film Production & National Geographic

Written and produced close to 20 years ago, this poignant film is called “People of the Sea”, but it ought to have been more aptly named  “Capelin – the Sacred Link”.

Narrated by our own international wildlife expert Shane Mahoney, this film explores the timeline from our existence as a mystical “Garden of Eden”, to the arrival of the Europeans upon our shores when we “swam in a sea of fish”, to our eventual settlement when Cod became our currency, culture and pride, onwards through to the 20^th century and all the challenges modern times have brought to our fishing society and culture.

If there is one significant message of our emergence as “People of the Sea” over the past of 500 years, it is that it has shown our oceans are more fragile than we imagined; but the overriding take-away from this magnificent film is about the importance of the most important fish in the Atlantic Ocean – no, not the Northern Cod – the silver fish we know as Caplin.

Mahoney communicates it best in the film when he says “Our history was founded on Cod, but indirectly it was because of Caplin – the lifeblood of the ocean that we were blessed with such riches. So focused on Cod, we’ve taken for granted how we need to understand the life of this little fish.”

Caplin plays a vital role in sustaining the life cycle of all marine life and many land animals. Hence, why scientists like Mahoney would question whether there should indeed be a Caplin fishery -   “Given the imperiled state of our Cod stocks, shouldn’t we be protecting Caplin; and yet, look at what we do to this scared link?”

This national and international award-winning film may have been produced back in 1997,  five years post-moratorium, but it is still a film with a powerful message that resonates today. Just in the past month, we have had a renowned scientist at MUN, Professor Bill Montevechi, calling for the closure of the Caplin fishery given that it is the “life blood” - the most important prey for all marine life; and according to Mahoney “absolutely the most important critical food for one marine hunter – the Northern Cod.”  There is no doubting that the Caplin is the secret for the Northern Cod’s recovery.

Using breath-taking underwater cinematography, this production describes a phenomenon which every Newfoundlander and Labradorian knows in their inner compass, “Once a year vast schools of Caplin emerge from the deep and race towards our beaches, driven by the urge to spawn.”

As they “blacken our waters “,  these precious fish (and the thousands of eggs  they spawn) face numerous threats from humpback whales coming from the Caribbean to feed on them, from gannets diving for a meal, from chasing Cod - and from  gulls and osprey attacking looking for food for themselves or for their chicks.

Mahoney describes Caplin time with a poetic and pragmatic infusion:  “The Caplin season is a brief, but magical time …I see it as a hinge upon which swings the entire rhythm of life, both of man and all other hunters of the sea.”

Even back in 1997, Mahoney was confident that the collapsed Northern Cod would survive despite the low historic biomass and the Cod Moratorium;  but his message was just as critical then as it is now – that we need research on these precious fish given they are a shadow of their former self.  “Like Cod, Caplin took a hammer” as millions of tonnes were used for fertiliser and for food.

Mahoney’s question to us as a people and as leaders of this province is “Do we know enough to make the best decisions?”    Food for thought nearly a quarter of a century later … because one of the basic law of nature is that when we deplete natural resources we do so at the greatest risk to  ourselves.  In the end, the film offers a message of hope for the future. Why? … because Mahoney believes first, in the resilience of nature; and secondly, in the incredible spirit of man.

As we near the 25^th milestone of the Cod Moratorium, we are haunted with the despair that our youth will not follow in the footsteps of our seafaring ancestors.   We have to finally fall on bended knees and acknowledge, as Mahoney calls upon us to do, that we are not masters of nature but must live in harmony with it.

And if we want our spirit fish, the Northern Cod, to return in full abundance and rebuild this invaluable, renewable resource for generations to come, then Mahoney proposes we to bow down at the altar of the Sacred Link – the Caplin.   “The future of the Cod, the future of us, the whales and the seabirds depends on this little silver fish. If we can safeguard Caplin, then we have the foundation for an ocean as magical as it was 500-years ago.”

Mahoney was clear in his concluding message in this film: “Throughout our history. We’ve given many things to the world, but I think the biggest gift we can give is how NOT to treat natural resources. Like people everywhere we were just trying to make a living, but we suffered the consequences of our mistakes. We hope the world will learn from our sacrifices.”

This dream to bring back an ocean fill with fish has now been passed to us, a new generation of  “People of the Sea”, for we have an everlasting and intimate connection with our surrounding ocean and its many creatures, including the sacred fish called the Caplin.    

-30-

 

Calling Adele

(Piece written Feb 2016)

The celebrity crowd is starting to notice our province.
Robert Redford, eternal hunk even at near-80, called us a "special place" .
Some lesser known celeb recently tweeted enunciation hints on the eternal pronunciation mess-up of "Newfoundland".

Criss-crossing the island recently, singer and songwriter Adele kept me company for most of the trip. As I listened to her newest CD from Clarenville to Corner Brook & back (yes, tad bit obsessed), I am convinced some of her lyrics were inspired by our precious place here on the planet.

It’s not hard to believe adorable Adele was talking about our awesome culture, language and Newfoundland jig dance when she sings:

"Everybody loves the things you do
From the way you talk
To the way you move..."

From the same song "When we were Young", I imagine these words were written after she was gobsmacked by our award-winning tourism commercials:

"You look like a movie
You sound like a song ...
Everybody here is watching you
'Cause you feel like home
You're like a dream come true …""

Adele was surely lamenting the loss of our cultural heritage when she penned the following:

"Let me photograph you in this light
In case it is the last time
That we might be exactly like we were…"

Of course, her top single "Hello" was her special way of saying hi to us here in Terra Neuve
"Hello from the other side”.  How obvious is that given the star lives in London? From the other side - of the Atlantic Ocean - is what she meant, right?

Hmmm…. we just might have to correct her gently on that one" just the same. "It's not Hello" girlfriend! It's "Howse ya getting on over there...? "

She's clearly up to speed on some of our provincial issues, like the warnings to conserve electricity, when she pleads "Don't let the lights go out..."

Adele knows all about our Cod moratorium woes as well. She pays tribute to it with these lyrics:

"They say that time's supposed to heal, yeah
But I ain't done much healing …"

In fact, I'm so convinced Adele Adkins was so moved by this ecological and cultural crime, she named her album "25" as a special way to commemorate the upcoming 25th anniversary of the Cod Moratorium.

Come to think of it, I think Adele has Newfoundland roots. Just listen to these lyrics she belts out on one of her tracks. "It's in my roots! It's in my veins! and in my blood!" Now, doesn't that sound like a home-sick Newfoundlander after being away for too long?

Senior heart-trob Redford apparently plans to come to NL and that’s grand; but for me, I’m Cod-damned stoked for when Adele visits our fair province. Listen, that gal doesn't just have big vocals, she has super powers. In her last album "21" she revealed how she "set fire to the rain".

Jaysus, think about all the fun she would have sitting fire to the rain, drizzle & fog we often get blessed with in "marvelous terrible place".

I also think Adele was thinking about Newfoundland and Labrador when she named one of her tunes "Sweetest Devotion". But if we want to keep her devoted to this land of fish, we’ll have to lure her here during the spring and summer. We can't chance another winter Dark NL while she's here - even though she wails in one song that "All of my life, I have been frozen". No, this London lass gives us fair warning about her fickle affection when she sings

"I can’t love you in the dark...."

Imagine Adele in our next tourism videos - what a marketing score that would be!? Then we could getting bragging rights to the "Colour Adele" and add it to the next edition of our unique dictionary of Newfoundland and Labrador language.

Funny, I called her a thousand times on that idea for our province, but she just never seems to be home! Just when you have a superstar idea, no one seems to pick up. Hello! What's with that?

|KP

Celebrating our Cod Scars

Twenty-four years ago this coming Saturday, 
a huge tsunami hit the province.

For the first time in 500 years, Cod haulers were shipwrecked upon Codless shores.

The unimaginable, the unthinkable had happened.

Cod, our faithful friend, once our currency, our reason to be, our cultural buddy, our spirit fish  was ripped from our lives, our communities, our heart and our souls. 

An arrow in the heart of outport Newfoundland is how Rex Murphy described the catastrophic event.

Then Premier Clyde Wells lamented that it was the worst thing that could have happened to our province.

Richard Cashin, then FFAW president, called it  a catastrophe on a biblical scale, a great destruction. 

....

The 1992 Cod ban was supposed to be temporary, two years; but the death sentence haunts us to this day - July 2, 2016 - our Cod 24.

14 years ago, on the 10th anniversary of the Cod Moratorium, a plaque was erected on Confederation Hill by then Premier Roger Grimes. It reads:

"For nearly 500 years the fishery sustained, employed and defined the people of Newfoundland and Labrador.  Generations of coastal people built a fishing society along thousands of kilometers of rugged coastlines. On July 2, 1992, five centuries of fishing activity was abruptly halted . The Northern Cod moratorium altered the fabric of our province - economically, socially and culturally.  Yet the people of our province endured. We honour their strength, determination and preserverance."

Our collective soul still smarts from the indignities of it all; and 24 years on, we need more than plaques.   We lost a way of life and a whole generation of people attached to the fisheries.  The stats are disturbing:

40,000 fishers and plant workers from over 400 coastal communities were laid off - the single biggest industrial layoff in Canadian history.  Boats were tied up and small communities left adrift.  Our people received paltry compensation for their 500 year dedication to the fishery ranging from $225 to $382 a week.  It led to outmigration of over 80,00 people, businesses closed and services lost.

Bodies lived, but souls died...

...

Our outports and our people, especially our Cod fishermen,  still struggle with PTCBS - Post-Traumatic Cod Ban Syndrome.

At Cod 24, we are still People of the Cod shackled to Codless waters even after all these years.   Next year, 2017, will be Cod 25.  Perhaps then we will formally mark the milestone of the Cod tsunami upheaval. But how do you face this wretched anniversary?

First, our province needs a public forum  and an acknowledgment on what we sacrificed as a people and a province; and we need to reflect and vent about how the July 1992 experience rattled us to the core.

Then we must move forward with a full Cod recovery plan with the federal government, including  an action plan and a time line -  and then we celebrate.

Celebrate? Yes!  Because while it is easy to have the Codfish blues, the time is ripe to pick up the pieces. After all, it is a quarter of a century.  

Cod 24 should be a countdown to Cod 25 when we celebrate the famous fish that kick-started our province, our country and the entire North America.    We should be planning to ‎make our province Cod fish-proud, just as Portugal does. Cod is their grand friend and they celebrate this special force through an annual festival, a tourism Cod Route around the country, as well as an Aquarium. 

We need to get in the Cod Celebratory game - celebrating Cod 25 with festivals, food, songs, plays, contests, community events - and with our youth, so they can regain a sense of being daughters and sons of the Cod.

It's also an innovative way for government and communities to diversify the fishery, tourism, our outports and to brand ourselves and our world-famous fish to the world.

Cod 25 is our opportunity to  get the Cod back in the ocean and to dance upon wharves once again.  

Our past should be our new starting point.  It's time to rejig the Codfish Blues, while never forgetting the scars.  

Our Cod scars are a testament to what we lost, but they should point the way forward to healing. 

After all, we are survivors. So, let's prepare to celebrate our formidable selves and our Cod force! 

|KP