All the Fish in the Sea: Maximum Sustainable Yield and the Failure of Fisheries Management 9780226249681

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All the Fish in the Sea

All the Fish in the Sea Maximum Sustainable Yield and the Failure of Fisheries Management

CARMEL FINLEY

The University of Chicago Press  Chicago and London

C A R M E L F I N L E Y teaches in the Department of History at Oregon State University. She is coeditor of Two Paths toward Sustainable Forests: Public Values in Canada and the United States. The University of Chicago Press, Chicago 60637 The University of Chicago Press, Ltd., London © 2011 by The University of Chicago All rights reserved. Published 2011. Printed in the United States of America 20  19  18  17  16  15  14  13  12  11   1  2  3  4  5 ISBN-13: 978-0-226-24966-7 (cloth) ISBN-10: 0-226-24966-2 (cloth) Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Finley, Carmel.   All the fish in the sea: Maximum sustainable yield and the failure of fisheries management / Carmel Finley.     p. cm.   Includes bibliographical references and index.   ISBN-13: 978-0-226-24966-7 (cloth: alk. paper)   ISBN-10: 0-226-24966-2 (cloth: alk. paper)  1. Fishery management— United States—History—20th century.  2. Fishery policy—United States.  3. Fisheries—Research—United States—History—20th century.  4. Fishery management—Japan—History—20th century.  5. Fishery management, International—History—20th century.  I. Title.   SH221.F56 2011   333.95'60973—dc22

2010048816

a This paper meets the requirements of ANSI/NISO Z39.48-1992 (Permanence of Paper).

In memory of my father, Howard Patrick MacDougall, and my niece, Ella Delau MacDougall

Contents Abbreviations  ix Acknowledgments  xi Introduction  1 1

The Quest for Rational Fishing  11

2

The Confrontation at Bristol Bay  27

3

The Pacific Fisheries Frontier  45

4

The Fish War with Japan  67

5

Shaping Fisheries Science  82

6

The Line in the Water  100

7

The Road to Rome  117

8

The Meeting in Rome  134 Conclusion: Fishing “Up” to MSY  154

Notes  169   Index  197

Abbreviations ATA BA CFR CPUE CRMM CRPA EPL FAO GATT IATTC ICES ICNAF

American Tuna Association British Archives Commercial Fisheries Review catch per unit effort Columbia River Maritime Museum Columbia River Packers Association Eisenhower Presidential Library Food and Agriculture Organization of the United Nations General Agreement on Tariffs and Trade Inter-American Tropical Tuna Commission International Council for the Exploration of the Sea International Commission for the Northwest Atlantic Fisheries ILC International Law Commission INPFC International North Pacific Fisheries Commission IPHC International Pacific Halibut Commission IPSFC International Pacific Salmon Fisheries Commission IWC International Whaling Commission MFR Marine Fisheries Review MSY maximum sustained yield mt metric ton NARA National Archives Record Administration NYT New York Times PF Pacific Fisherman POFI Pacific Oceanic Fisheries Investigations RFC Restoration Finance Corporation RG record group SCAP Supreme Commander Allied Powers SIO Scripps Institution of Oceanography TPL Truman Presidential Library UCB University of California, Berkeley UWSC University of Washington Special Collections

Acknowledgments During the 1980s, I wrote many newspaper articles about the economic benefits that would come with the development of West Coast groundfish species. One of the last stories I covered as I started graduate school was about a series of new stock assessments, showing that eight fish species had been drastically overfished, setting off a chain reaction that hit every sport and commercial fishery off the coasts of Washington, Oregon, and California. During a seminar in fall of 1996 at Oregon State University with Ron Doel, I started to look at the science behind the crash of the groundfish stocks, maximum sustained yield. I found the last paper written by British biologist Raymond Beverton, published in 1995, after his death. He wrote that the adoption of MSY at a conference in Rome in 1955 was essentially a political decision, not a scientific one. That seminar was the start of this book, the political history of MSY. An enormous number of people have generously given their time and thoughts. Hans Radke, Jim Foster, Ron Doel, Kristine Harper, Patricia Lindsey, Bill Robbins, and Tom and Jeanie Senior were there from the beginning. Many scientists shared their insights, including Sidney Holt, Jergen Westrheim, J. Richard Dunn, Tim Smith, Jim Lichatowich, Dan Bottom, Peter Lawson, William Pearcy, Bob Buckman, and Karen Alexander. Discussions with historians of science Paul Farber, Helen Rozwadowski, Kristine Harper, Jennifer Hubbard, Ron Rainger, Sara Tjossem, Katey Anderson, Matt McKenzie and Vera Schwach helped me greatly. J. Richard Dunn, Sidney Holt, Jim Lichatowich, Patricia Lindsey, Jeanie Senior, Bill Robbins, and Ron Doel all read, commented, xi

A c k n o w le d g men t s

and improved on the text. Naomi Oreskes maintained a clear view of the ocean while I struggled to set a course through the fish. Much of this work has been funded by California Sea Grant, R/MS-44. I appreciate the friendship and support of Xan Augerot, Renee and Rhea Bez, Mary Elizabeth Braun, Dorothy and Howard Chiger, Willa Mae Gird, Laura Harkewicz, Peggy and Carl Harris, Skip Harrison, Carol Larkin, Angela Andre and John Cooney, Karin Radtke, Mindy Soules, Roberta Ulrich, Janet Webster, Kevin Walsh, and Delores Marie Wesson. Grace Gardner did my maps, and Doug Schultz helped with the final production. I also appreciate the support of my brother and sister-in-law, Peter and Nancy MacDougall, and John, Katy, and Solon MacDougall. Thanks also to Tony Koslow, as well as to Christie Henry and Erin DeWitt at the Press. Many fishermen also took the time to help me understand their industry, especially the late Larry Schock of Newport, captain of the Pioneer. Ralph Brown, Dave Duncan, Joe Easley, and Pete Leipzig helped me understand trawling. Captain Dick Stevenson shared his vast knowledge of tuna fishing, and August Felando, the last director of the American Tuna Association, helped me with the association’s files. These files are now part of the collection at the Scripps Institute of Oceanography, where archivist Deborah Day generously shared her extensive knowledge with me. Giuliano Fregoli guided me through the Food and Agriculture Organization of the United Nations archives in Rome. Dr. Harry Scheiber and William Benemann at the University of California, Berkeley, School of Law, generously provided access to the William Herrington Papers, while Marcus Duke at the University of Washington helped with photographs. Mike Smith at the Columbia River Maritime Museum generously offered access to their Columbia River Packers Collection. The staff of the Truman, Eisenhower, and Johnson presidential libraries offered assistance, and the Truman library gave a travel grant. I also owe special thanks to my husband, Carl. Without his deep knowledge of the fishing industry and willingness to read multiple drafts, there would be far more errors. Despite his diligence, the mistakes that remain are my own.

xii

INTRODUCTION

The trail of fishery science is strewn with the opinions of those who, while partly right, were wholly wrong. 

MICHAEL GRAHAM1

By the time World War II ended in 1945, the United States had acquired enormous military and political power. Historians, journalists, writers, and artists have all looked at how this power has been deployed in shaping the postwar world.2 There is growing attention to the role the United States played in the creation of international management agencies designed for conservation and in the shaping of the science used by these agencies. After 1945 the federal government increasingly sought the advice and services of scientists, greatly expanding their role within government.3 Science became a tool of the State Department, deployed to promote the transfer of Western knowledge and technol­ogy to other countries and used to create institutional structures that benefited American interests. This political patronage had a powerful impact on the development of many postwar sciences, but especially on the sciences of oceanography and the science that is the foundation for the harvest of whales and fish.4 Both disciplines were shaped by the foreign-policy imperative to uphold the freedom of the seas, for American merchant marine, naval vessels, research ships, submarines— and also for American fishing boats. Many ocean scientists are writing critically of their discipline and its failure to prevent the depletion of marine fish and whale species. There is enormous concern about the impact of human activities on the productivity of the oceans themselves. Scientists believe the growing concentrations of 

INTRODUCTION

man-made greenhouse gases are driving irreversible changes in the ways the oceans function. The oceans produce half the oxygen we breathe and absorb a third of the carbon gases we produce.5 The waters are more polluted and more acidic, and dead zones are spreading. Fishing has fundamentally changed the structure of most fish populations, weakening their ability to reproduce when favorable spawning conditions occur—and favorable spawning conditions can be years or even decades apart for some species. After more than one hundred years of study, scientists now understand the impact of harvest on fish stocks. Yet the policy for fisheries and whaling management were locked into place by 1958, at a time when scientists were enormously confident about their discipline and its ability to not only understand ocean processes, but to also control them to achieve human ends.6 Just as settlers to the American West believed that rain would follow the plow, some scientists after World War II believed that fishing had a positive impact on fish, removing older, slow-growing fish to free food supplies to support large numbers of faster-growing young fish. They believed they could estimate how many fish could safely be harvested. When the International Whaling Commission (IWC) was established in 1946, its convention promised that scientific management would result in an increase in the number of whales, allowing greater harvest in the future.7 Postwar American policy for both whaling and fishing was built on a foundation that saw man as playing a positive role in harvest and believed that populations had surplus production that could be harvested. Fishing could be sustained at high levels into perpetuity. Whales and fish were managed to attain the maximum sustainable yield (MSY), defined as making “possible the maximum production of food from the sea on a sustained basis year after year.”8 MSY became part of American foreign and domestic policy in 1949, when it was formally adopted by the State Department as the goal of American fisheries policy. It had actually been deployed earlier, in the management of Japanese fisheries during the American Occupation of Japan and again in 1946 with the creation of the International Whaling Commission. Between 1949 and 1958, American diplomats pushed to have MSY adopted internationally as the goal of fisheries science. MSY is the basis for many of the international fisheries agreements signed during the 1950s, and it was formally recognized as a legal concept during the Law of the Sea negotiations in 1958. Its importance was reemphasized when the United States expanded its territorial waters to 200 nautical miles in 1976. While it was modified in 1996 with passage of the Sustained Fisheries Act, it is still at the heart of modern American 

INTRODUCTION

fisheries management. It is an apparently simple and elegant intellectual construction—that stocks will be managed so they can be sustained, in perpetuity. As MSY came to be implemented, it has meant that fishing or whaling could not be restricted until there was scientific evidence that stocks had been overfished; then measures could be taken to slow or halt the catch. In the meantime, fishing could develop as rapidly as boats could be built and fish stocks could be found—and that turned out to be very rapidly, indeed. There is an enormous amount of critical literature about why MSY has failed to sustain fish stocks, including an obituary written in 1977.9 The vast volume of criticism by scientists and economists has tended to look at how MSY could be “fixed,” rather than examining the political context in which the science was shaped in the first place.10 Scientists might assume that MSY was about fish, but for the State Department in 1949, it was about much more than fish. The Cold War was deepening and so were concerns about American security. It was imperative that American ships and planes have free passage through the world’s oceans and its skies.11 Restrictions on where an American fishing boat could fish had the potential to establish a precedent that could be used against other American vessels. For hundreds of years, a line of fishing boats has represented a terri­ torial claim. Both fishing and whaling were vehicles for imperialism, systematically transferring ocean resources from periphery areas to a variety of cores, from Amsterdam to London.12 During the eighteenth century, Japan and Russia had both used fishing to establish their claims to the rich waters off Kamchatka.13 In the 1880s, steam engines allowed Europeans to take cod (Gadus morhua) off Iceland and Norway, drawing complaints of overfishing. With the end of World War I, the Japanese had taken control of German colonies on Pacific islands. They had developed a lucrative tuna fishery in the equatorial Pacific in waters around the Mandated Islands, now controlled by the Americans. A line of American fishing boats threading the waters off the Marshall, Marianas, and Caroline islands was seen as cementing the American claim to the region. A fleet of illegal whaling ships, owned by Aristotle Onassis, appeared in Peruvian waters in 1954, challenging Peru’s attempt to control activity in its own waters. With the advances in marine refrigeration during the 1930s, boats could fish farther from home and stay longer at sea. As fishing expanded, it created a snarl of territorial conflicts, spreading from Europe to Iceland, Japan to Alaska, and from Southern California to Latin America. Japanese boats expanded into a fishery for salmon in the international waters off 

INTRODUCTION

Alaska in 1937, to the horror of the West Coast salmon industry. The industry did not want Japanese boats back in Alaska waters when a peace treaty was finally signed. But American tuna boats were increasingly fishing off Mexico, Chile, Peru, and Ecuador. With the collapse of California sardines (Sardinops sagax caerulea) after World War II, more tuna boats headed south.14 Latin American countries had all declared their intention to expand their territorial waters, to control foreign fishing. The United States championed open seas and the tradition that fish belonged to whoever caught them. At the same time, it wanted to enclose its own waters to prevent the boats from other nations—especially Japan—from catching salmon off Alaska. Any restriction against the Japanese would be used by Latin America to protest the presence of American tuna boats taking baitfish in their near-shore waters. In 1949, as Japan and the United States tried to move toward a peace treaty to end World War II and the American Occupation of Japan, the question of where Japan was going to be allowed to fish threatened to derail any possibility of a treaty. The U.S. Policy on High Seas Fisheries of 1949 was designed to address both sets of problems. The architect of the new policy was a thirty-nine-year-old ichthyologist from the state of Washington, Wilbert McLeod Chapman. Chapman was an ardent advocate for expanding American fishing for tuna into the Pacific. Nobody knew how big the high-seas tuna resource was going to be, but Chapman saw the equatorial Pacific as the equivalent of the Great Plains, with tuna as plentiful as buffalo.15 He tirelessly campaigned for federal investment in oceanography and in the expansion of the American fishing industry into the Pacific, from the Philippines to the Americas, and from the Galapagos Islands on the south to Vancouver Island on the north.16 The American fishing industry, at the height of its domestic power, pushed for greater representation in the State Department. An undersecretary position was created in 1948, and Chapman was named to fill it. He announced the fisheries policy on December 2, 1948, in a speech to the San Francisco Chamber of Commerce. The policy was sold as scientifically sound, and while the science was scant, the political benefits were exceptional. It held the Japanese from entering American waters to fish, but it allowed American boats to fish without restrictions off Latin America for baitfish and tuna. MSY, pushed by the U.S. State Department, made the world safe for distant-water fishing to continue for another two decades, before countries would mobilize to expand their territorial seas and control fishing in their waters. Southern Hemisphere countries are still trying to control whaling and fishing in the southern ocean.



INTRODUCTION

The ink on the high-seas policy was scarcely dry when a fisheries treaty was signed with Mexico on January 25, 1949. An agreement with eleven European countries was signed three days later, to regulate fishing in the North Atlantic. On May 31, 1949, a convention was signed with Costa Rica, creating the Inter-American Tropical Tuna Commission. Chapman also circulated two sets of proposals for an eventual fishing treaty with Japan. All of the new treaties and the two commissions they created included the policy that fisheries would be managed to produce maximum sustained yield. Chapman called the policy extremely simple and commented that “it is doubtful there will be any objection to it from any quarter.”17 Chapman was right that the policy was simple, and who could object to a goal that would conserve fish stocks so they could be harvested forever? The policy may have been simple, but the science that flowed from it was not.

Fish are different from every other animal on earth. Their life processes have more in common with plants, insects, and amphibians—communities where populations can surge and then decline, in response to a range of environmental interactions. Fish are highly flexible, and they will eat whatever comes along, including their own species. They begin life as eggs, larvae, or live young, tiny components in a complex plankton community, where they have to compete for food and where they can wind up as a mouthful in a larger fish. As they get larger (and they continue to grow throughout their lives), they prey upon smaller fish, even from within their own species.18 This interaction makes their food webs highly complex. Adult salmon eat herring, and herring eat young salmon, a relationship that has few counterparts among carnivores. “Lions eat zebras, but zebras do not eat lion cubs” is the way one zoologist put it.19 Fish live in the most dynamic ecosystem on the planet. We talk about five oceans, but there is really just one ocean, partly divided by landmasses. This world ocean has vast and continuous currents that disperse fish throughout the water. Long-distance migrations and movement into new ecological niches and territories are common. Many fish in different parts of the oceans are related to each other. Stocks fluctuate, disperse, and aggregate, and it is these shifts that make it so difficult to estimate how many fish can be caught—and how many need to be left to spawn.20 Biological oceanographer Alan Longhurst points out that marine ecosystems can change with great rapidity, “equivalent of a change between



INTRODUCTION

boreal forest and tundra.”21 The tundra can be transformed back into boreal forest, sometimes within less than a decade. Fisheries science was organized to understand the decline of fish stocks. As steam engines increased the ability of trawlers to catch fish during the 1880s, fish landings steadily plummeted. Governments were so concerned, they organized the International Council for the Exploration of the Sea (ICES), headquartered at Copenhagen, in 1902. One of the goals was to learn why fish populations fluctuated so dramatically.22 Like many biologists, Chapman believed that heavy fishing pressure actually created the conditions that allowed fish populations to respond with large year-classes of young. Fishing was part of the natural mortality that fish faced, and culling older animals freed up resources to allow younger fish to grow more quickly.23 Chapman had enormous faith in the ability of scientists to provide sound technical advice, in the best Progressive sense. Scientists were armed with new tools, mathematical models, statistics, and population dynamics. Fishery scientists embraced them with a religious enthusiasm.24 But the biological complexity around the reproduction of fish stocks in the oceans has been a much more confounding puzzle than early bi­ ologists suspected. Once the policy was established that the goal of management was to predict how many fish could be caught, the science was pushed into ever-more complex mathematical models, increasingly divorced from the real world of what was happening in the water. The fishery management process focused on one fish species at a time, trying to estimate how many could be caught so it could decide how they would be allocated among competing user groups. And since entry into many fisheries could not be restricted until there were signs of overfishing in the stocks, the modern fishery management process became a continuous battle to allocate shrinking numbers of fish among too many fishermen. Management is often contentious and inadequate, and it is always extremely expensive. MSY is usually described as a step forward in fisheries conservation, recognition that harvest must be managed if stocks are to survive. But MSY was a political and an economic construction before it was a scientific one, and the policy and legal implications have acted as a straitjacket on the ability of scientists to incorporate new scientific understandings into management. As MSY has become institutionalized, it has become more rigid. Instead of a step forward in protecting fish stocks, MSY created a false sense of security, a belief that scientists could successfully and correctly estimate stock size to allow fishing—but also to protect the spawning population. The adoption of MSY halted the efforts of small countries 

INTRODUCTION

like Iceland, Peru, Chile, and Ecuador to control fishing in their waters. It halted any discussion of international management of fish stocks. For the next two decades, it set off an explosion of investment (much of it from governments) into a free-for-all to catch the world’s fish stocks. It took another two decades for countries to expand their territorial waters. It was not until 2003, when two researchers at Dalhousie University in Halifax began to look past the case studies of individual instances of fish decline to what was happening more broadly throughout the oceans. Instead of a single case study of one fish, Ransom Myers and Boris Worm looked at dozens of fisheries, plotting the escalating harvest throughout the world’s oceans, changing the scale from the individual to the global. They argued that the development of industrial fishing after World War II was responsible for removing up to 90 percent of the largest fish in the oceans.25 From the tropical Atlantic to the temperate Pacific and the subtropical Indian oceans, across four sections of the continental shelf and through nine ocean systems, fish populations have been dramatically reduced and their food web simplified, sometimes in less than two decades. Especially hard hit had been slow-growing, long-lived species, such as orange roughy (Hoplostethus atlanticus) and West Coast rockfish (Sebastes) that live in the deep ocean.26 Seabed mapping, global positioning systems, fish-finding electronics, and lighter, stronger nets have all allowed fishing to penetrate the deepest marine canyons. Fishermen and scientists both thought that heavy trawl gear plowed the ocean floor like a tractor in a field, stirring up nutrients. Now, underwater video demonstrates the destruction of complex, slow-growing seafloor communities.27 We have always used agricultural metaphors to understand the sea, and sometimes they have been stunningly inaccurate. We have seen the ocean as capable of being harvested like the land. All the fish in the sea are renewable, with enormous regenerative powers. The twenty-first century needs a new story about all the fish in the sea, a story that emphasizes their fragility. Modern fishing is seldom economic. A recent study by the World Bank estimated the lost economic benefits of global fisheries mismanagement at $50 billion annually. Over the last three decades, the losses between the potential and actual net benefits from global marine fisheries amount to $2 trillion.28 The technological capacity to catch fish is so great that high catches can be obtained from stocks nearing collapse. Despite the vast number of studies about how dysfunctional modern fisheries management is and how disastrous it has been for fish stocks, there is little consensus on how to remedy the problems. 

INTRODUCTION

Some fishery scientists suggest that an entirely new perspective is needed for fisheries management in the twenty-first century. Biologist Daniel Pauly has called the failure of fisheries science an intellectual crisis for the profession.29 Economist Giulio Pontecorvo argued that fisheries science failed, as did its associated disciplines (including economics), because members did not recognize just how complex the ocean environment could be.30 While MSY encouraged a focus on a single species of fish, scientists now believe that the focus should be on assemblages of fish species and what population structure is needed to ensure they survive the constant changes in the dynamic ocean environment.31 Others argue that MSY should be reinterpreted as a management limit, not a target for individual fisheries.32 The failure of fisheries management is usually cited as an example of the “tragedy of the commons.”33 The 1968 essay by Garrett Hardin does not mention fishing, but fishing has come to be the ultimate example of what happens when individuals fail to control their own behavior. But the modern fishing industry was created by the deliberate policies of postwar governments, policies that ranged from the creation of lowinterest loans to build fishing and processing plants, to tariffs on fish imports, and to support for a range of research activities into finding new fish to catch and new methods to process and market fish that consumers had spurned. The world’s leading fishing countries sold their fishing and processing technologies to smaller countries, setting off a blue revolution that transformed subsistence fisheries in poor countries into smaller versions of their Northern Hemisphere fishing operations. Much of the fish caught in the southern oceans was shipped north to consumers in Europe and the United States. Most of the herring and anchovies caught in the southern oceans were turned into fish meal and fed to chickens and cattle. This modernization process has left many fishermen in a precarious state, with a large investment in boats and equipment, but few fish to catch.34 It has also resulted in the creation of a global, industrial fishing system, with enormous catching capacity, far in excess of the ability of fish stocks to reproduce. To argue that fisheries have collapsed because individual fishermen failed to control their behavior is to whitewash the role of governments and scientists in establishing policies that encouraged the building of the ultimate industrial capitalist system, the global fishing industry. This is the story of the emergence of that industry. It is a Cold War story, yet the primary battle was between Japan and the United States, not the United States and the Soviet Union.35 It is a story of imperialism, and the struggle by the United States, Japan, and Europe to maintain ac

INTRODUCTION

cess to the fish stocks of the Southern Hemisphere. It is a story of development in the Pacific, but Atlantic countries played important roles. It is a story about politics and economics, but it is, at its heart, a story about the intersection of science and policy. Three countries played especially pivotal roles—Great Britain, near the end of its three centuries’ rule over the world’s oceans; the United States, the emerging power in the postwar world; and Japan, the world’s premier fishing power during the 1930s. Faced with the decline of the North Sea fisheries after 1930, British scientists pushed for a conservative regime that would restrict fishing as fisheries developed, to study the interactions between the fish and the gear. American scientists, imbued with optimism about the tuna harvest in the Pacific, saw restrictions on fishing as having the potential to set a precedent that would limit access by other American boats, especially military vessels, to areas of the ocean. And Japanese scientists, who had integrated the study of fish into a comprehensive oceanographic program aimed at maximizing the economics of fishing, struggled for acknowledgment of their achievements, as American scientists involved in the Occupation denounced their methods. These disparate objectives came together at a meeting in Rome in 1955. Britain’s foremost fisheries scientist, Michael Graham, had hypothesized during the 1940s that if restrictions were introduced as fisheries developed, scientists could study the impact of gear changes on fish populations. That data could be used to develop gear that only targeted larger fish, thus earning fishermen more money and allowing smaller fish to put on weight. By 1949 two of his scientists, Raymond Beverton and Sidney Holt, had amassed enough evidence to conclude that Graham’s hypothesis was correct. But while Graham saw a biological and social problem, policy makers saw a political one, of how to restrict fishing without jeopardizing the territorial claims that were inherent in expansion of high-seas fishing. The three weeks in Rome was billed as a scientific meeting, but the key decisions were made by policy makers, concerned that if small nations like Iceland and Ecuador were allowed to restrict fishing in their waters, other nations would soon be obstructing passage of other vessels from the industrialized world. By a one-vote margin, MSY was recognized as the goal of international fisheries management. Britain and the United States grounded their self-interest in the rhetoric of the freedom of the seas. While many countries shared in the development of fisheries in the Atlantic and the North Sea, Japan and the United States were the dominant fishing nations in the Pacific. The two countries have jousted for 

INTRODUCTION

economic, political, and cultural leadership in the Pacific since 1854, when Admiral Perry’s armada demanded that Japan open itself to trade with the West. One of the most acrimonious struggles has been over the shape of the science used to manage ocean resources. MSY was imposed on the Japanese during the American Occupation of Japan, when Western scientists routinely disparaged Japanese science. I contend that the legacy of this scientific racism is at the heart of the conflict today between Japanese and Western scientists over what constitutes good whaling science. The Japanese insist there is valuable information to be gained by studying the stomach contents of dead whales; Western scientists and environmentalists argue that the information is not useful in managing whale populations. There is widespread agreement that the postwar IWC is dysfunctional, but there is no agreement on how management can be improved. It is an appropriate time to examine the political history of maximum sustained yield and the role it has played in the management of harvest from the oceans. MSY is, and always has been, policy disguised as science.

10

ONE

The Quest for Rational Fishing The world does not stand still while scientists put their minds in order.  MICHAEL GRAHAM1

It was not until the 1930s that fishery scientists in Europe and the United States were actually able to prove statistically what should have been obvious, that fishing had the potential to reduce fish populations, sometimes to the point of harm. Some fishermen might have suspected it, and some scientists had certainly thought it for at least five decades. The evidence became clearer after European countries embraced steam engines in the 1880s, substantially increasing their catches—until the catches declined precipitously. By 1902 governments were concerned enough to create the International Council for the Exploration of the Sea (ICES), to bring scientists together in hopes that a coordinated scientific plan could be developed to restore the catch. It was not just European stocks that were declining; fisheries started just decades earlier on the West Coast of North America were showing sharp fluctuations. Scientists suspected the fluctuations meant that too many fish were being taken. The idea was violently rejected in California by the powerful sardine canning industry and in the Pacific Northwest and Alaska by the equally powerful salmon industry. But by 1923 the declines in the catch of Pacific halibut (Hippoglossus stenolepis) were so steep that, after a decade of bickering over which country was responsible,

11

C h a p te r one

Canada and the United States signed an agreement to manage the catch. The first thing the new International Fisheries Commission did was to close fishing in the winter, igniting a debate over how much the closure would hurt fishermen and whether it would even help the halibut at all. The closure, like most early attempts to manage fishing, was ineffectual because boats were allowed to continue to enter the fishery; if there is a hallmark of American fisheries management, it is the reluctance of managers to limit the number of boats. The total halibut catch continued to decline until the treaty was renegotiated in 1932. This time the commission had the authority to close many halibut nursery areas and to put a cap on the total catch. The commission and its director, William F. Thompson (1888–1965), made history in 1934 when they issued “Report No. 8,” proving that fishing successively depleted fish stocks—but that declines could be reversed by scientific management. In order to keep catches high, fishermen had to continually pioneer new grounds or new stocks of fish. The halibut catch had originally come from 500 miles of ocean; now its fishermen stretched over 2,000 miles of ocean, from Oregon to the Bering Sea.2 The size and weight of the fish had declined, forcing fishermen to fish harder and travel farther. And the banks that had been fished first, in Puget Sound, were more depleted than those in Hecate Strait—which, in turn, were more depleted than the most recently fished banks in the Gulf of Alaska.3 The pattern of progressive decline was clear. And so was the pattern of recovery once regulations were put in place: individual catches were higher, and the catch had stopped declining.4 The report showed that fishing caused major changes in the halibut stocks. A female halibut did not mature sexually until age twelve to fifteen years. When fishing was intense, too many immature fish were killed before they could spawn. If fishing could be regulated, the small immature fish could grow; fishermen would ultimately land larger fish—and make more money. Not to regulate the fishery is “sheer economic waste,” the commission’s board of directors stoutly noted in their foreword to the report.5 If the commission did not act, Pacific halibut would be destroyed, just as halibut stocks on the eastern coast of North America had been. The publication of “Report No. 8” made the scientific reputation of both Thompson and the commission. Just a decade after its formation, the commission had found the key to managing fish and fishing. It was the first time an international agency had voted to restrict fishing, and the data proved it was successful.6 The Smithsonian published a paper by Thompson the following year, summarizing the commission’s findings. 12

T h e q u e s t f o r r a t i on a l f i s h i n g

There was a favorable review on “Report No. 8” in the ICES journal. Thompson was on his way to becoming one of the most widely known and respected fishery scientists in North America.7 He was forty-six when the report was published in 1934. Four years earlier, Stanford University awarded him his doctorate and the University of Washington appointed him director of its then Department of Fisheries. The Halibut Commission was a part-time appointment that paid $2,000 a year, a reflection of the difficult times of the Depression, when markets for fish collapsed.8 Halibut are among the largest fish in the sea. Most are twenty-five to thirty-five pounds, but they can grow much larger, and the historical record is full of landings of fish weighing several hundred pounds. Halibut are found on the continental shelf of the North Pacific Ocean and the Bering Sea, from mid-California to Alaska, and west along the Asiatic coast to Hokkaido, Japan. The largest concentrations are on the northwest coast of North America, in the international waters between Canada and the United States.9 Halibut dwell near the bottom of the continental shelf and are caught by fishermen laying long lines of baited hooks on the ocean floor. The fishery began in the 1880s, as the transcontinental railroads opened eastern markets to Pacific goods. The collapse of the Atlantic hal­ ibut fishery opened a market niche for the snowy white, firm-textured Pacific fish. The fishery began in Seattle but quickly expanded outward, from the waters of Puget Sound north. At the same time, British Columbia fishermen were laying gear in the Inside Passage; fishermen from both countries pressed north into the Gulf of Alaska. It was a long way from home, storms were frequent, and at first boats fished year-round, using large schooners to carry a fleet of small dories to the fishing grounds. It was very similar to the way European fishermen had fished for Atlantic cod for hundreds of years on the Grand Banks of Newfoundland. The early technology may have been rudimentary, but it was an industrial fishery in every sense of the word, capable of depleting the stocks on the near-shore banks. Boats could fish intensely in one area; when catches dropped off, the schooner could sail to a new location and repeat the process. As the fishery expanded, small gas engines replaced the clumsy sails on the dories. The schooners installed more powerful winches and twelve-volt generating systems to power deck lights for night fishing. The first sign of biological concern came as early as 1899, from British Columbia, which was resentful of the way Seattle boats harvested fish in their waters.10 In 1911 the province went to Stanford University, the West Coast’s preeminent 13

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school of zoology, and hired the department’s chair, Charles Gilbert, to mount a scientific investigation into halibut. Gilbert hired one of his students, William F. Thompson, to begin the grueling work of establishing the basic facts of halibut biology. Gilbert (1859–1928) is considered by many biologists to be the intellectual father of American fisheries science. But it is Thompson who is considered the master practitioner, the man who designed the practical ways to compile and analyze fisheries statistics.11 The work of both Gilbert and Thompson substantially shaped American fisheries science—and so did the singular fish they began to study. Born in St. Cloud, Minnesota, in 1888, Thompson and his family moved to Everett, Washington, in 1903. He majored in zoology at the University of Washington from 1903 to 1906 and came to the attention of the leading American ichthyologist, David Starr Jordan (1851– 1931). Jordan, noted educator and peace activist, was president of Leland Stanford Jr. University in Palo Alto, California. He offered Thompson a scholarship and a position as his research assistant. Thompson transferred to Stanford and graduated in 1911 with a B.A. degree in zoology. He published ten papers on the taxonomy of marine fishes during 1910– 14, mainly as a junior author with Jordan. Gilbert arranged summer jobs for him with the California Department of Fish and Game Commission (1911) and with the British Columbia Provincial Fisheries Department of Canada (1912–13). Thompson conducted an intensive study of halibut for the province between 1914 and 1917, and published seven landmark papers. The first halibut research cruises were onboard fishing schooners. It was slow, difficult, and dangerous work. “The decks were always so slippery and slimy that it was necessary to lash the fish down ‘fore and aft’ to guard against the rolling movements of the vessels as they lay in the trough of the seas,” Thompson wrote.12 As the halibut study wound down in 1917, Thompson was hired as director of research for the California Department of Fish and Game Commission. He would preside over one of the largest and most tumultuous fisheries in the world. He was twenty-nine. Thompson’s focus of study was sardines and what we would now call the ecological implications of the catch of Sardinops sagax caerulea. The fishery was growing exponentially, and California struggled to get a handle on how many fish were being caught. Production was 75,000 cases in 1915, but propelled by the demands for protein during World War I, it soared to 1.4 million cases, making sardines the largest commercial fishery in the United States.13

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1

William F. Thompson was a graduate student in this 1915 photograph, showing him measuring halibut on the back deck of a schooner. Declines in the fishery were so precipitous that the Province of British Columbia hired Charles Gilbert, chair of the Department of Zoology at Stanford University, to investigate. Thompson was Gilbert’s best student. Courtesy of the Archives, School of Aquatic and Fisheries Sciences, University of Washington.

A tsunami of data poured into the laboratory at Long Beach, where Thompson set up a system to gather information about the catch, the size and age of the sardines, the kind of gear that had caught it, and where the fish had been taken. This was augmented by samples taken by scientists at the docks each day, providing additional data about the length, weight, and sex. Writing in 1920, Thompson called it a system without parallel in any country.14 Like many fish populations, sardine numbers are always fluctuating. When survival conditions are good, there are lots of sardines. But the population can drop drastically when conditions are poor. Sorting out the various year-classes in the catch, based on samples, was difficult because the sizes of the year-classes were so variable. Thompson’s solution was more research and more samples, so biologists could develop a system of weighting the statistics to correct for the sampling errors. At the same time, he and other biologists continued their work in the basic biology of the fish.15 Thompson was well aware that in Europe fisheries biology was moving toward large-scale, cooperative, international investigations, such as those sponsored by ICES. While detailed hydrographic and plankton work was clearly of value, it was more detail than scientists needed to

15

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estimate how many fish could safely be harvested. He thought it was impossible for a small, developing state like California, with its fledgling scientific program, to undertake such an expansive study of the sea. And he thought that such a detailed study might not be necessary. Expansive studies, wrote Thompson in 1922, “would have been tunneling the mountain by removing it in its entirety.”16 The state had to limit its resources to what was most important, measuring the variances in abundance and the effects of fishing. Fisheries science had to be efficient, focusing on the most practical problems. A critical distinction for Thompson between his work and the work undertaken by European scientists was that he was dealing with fishing on virgin stocks. It was easy to mistake natural fluctuations in catch as declines, and managers needed to be wary of imposing “arbitrary and reckless restrictions.”17 Managers were as reluctant as fishermen to restrict fishing. When the Halibut Commission was finally created in 1923, Thompson was the logical and prestigious choice for director. Canada and the United States had squabbled for more than a decade before halibut stocks had declined enough to make some sort of action mandatory. Aggregate landings were still going up—but so was the catch of small and immature fish, the seed corn of the future harvest.18 And when the catch from each area was broken down, it was clear that the landings were kept high by catches in recently pioneered waters. It was a critical piece of information about the impact of fishing on fish stocks. Thompson’s findings found special resonance among European scientists because they replicated a pattern that had been found as fishing expanded across the North Sea—declines on the home banks continually pushed boats to pioneer new waters in order to keep catches high. As early as 1891, poor catches at home drove British fishing boats deep into the Atlantic, to the waters off Iceland, a journey made with every spare inch of the boats stuffed with coal. Icelandic waters were the extreme end of the range for the steam trawlers, a journey that could only be made in summer, since the winter fogs were too hazardous and the boats not large and powerful enough for the North Atlantic winter storms.19 Boats with the added expenses of steam engines and coal to power them could not make a living on the fish they could catch in their home waters. Steam engines had revolutionized fishing. Men no longer had to use their bodies to haul heavy, wet nets from the sea or to rely on sails to maneuver. Fishing remained a hard and dangerous life; boats frequently sank, and fishermen did not make much money. A big steam trawler 16

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could catch eight times what a smaller boat could, and the newly completed railroad lines took cheap fish to the ready markets in the growing industrial cities. The small-boat fishermen complained, but fishermen always complained when new and more efficient gear was introduced. In 1863 a British Royal Commission had scraped regulations restricting fishing because they had not resulted in an improvement in the catch. A better answer was for the big new boats to find more fish.20 Just eight years after the British trawlers arrived in Icelandic waters, the small-boat fishermen were complaining as bitterly as the small British boats back home about the decline in the local catch.21 But the British boats were fishing more than three miles from shore and under international law—a law backed by the might of the British navy—that was the high seas, and the fish became the property of whomever caught them. The development of the British fishery in Iceland asserted a territorial claim that was beyond fish, and the British government was loath to discard the claim. British boats expanded into the Barents Sea in 1904 and the waters of Newfoundland and Greenland by 1914. With the creation of ICES in 1902, scientists soon turned to the question of overfishing. In 1905 H. M. Kyle identified the two main problems in the study of fisheries, the declines in the catch and what he called “irrational fishing.” The first was a scientific problem that could be solved, but the second was a practical and economic problem—and one that threatened to negate the impacts of good science.22 If scientists did not find a solution, the health of the most commercially important fishery, for plaice (Pleuronectes platessa)—a flatfish that occurs on the sandy bottoms of the European shelf from the Barents Sea to the Mediterranean—was at risk. The fish were getting smaller and harder to find. ICES created the Plaice Committee in 1907 to investigate what should be done. After six years of study, the committee reported that since its knowledge was imperfect, there should be an experiment to test the introduction of a minimum size limit. The report acknowledged that size limits could have a substantial impact on individual fishermen—and, more importantly, that regulations would not be spread evenly among the fishermen of different countries, since different fishermen caught different types and sizes of fish for different markets. Introducing regulations that would have different impacts was obviously a difficult problem politically.23 The solution was unexpected. Archduke Franz Ferdinand of Austria was shot during the summer of 1914, setting off World War I. If war is good for anything, it is often good for fish. Some 672 British trawlers and drifters were sunk, and 416 lives were lost through enemy action while 17

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fishing during the war. By 1918 the Royal Navy had taken some 3,000 fishing craft into service, and fewer than 14,000 men were left fishing from ports in England and Wales.24 But the fighting had given the scientists their Great Fishing Experiment. When the much-reduced British steam-trawler fleet resumed fishing in 1919, cautiously moving through uncharted shipwrecks and trying to avoid leftover mines, they landed 22 percent more plaice, by weight, than the entire fleet had landed in 1913. They worked less and they landed more fish, just as the Plaice Committee had predicted they would.25 Fishing less, on larger fish, meant more money for fishermen. But it was not clear to all scientists. Some argued that the results with plaice couldn’t be transferred to other species.26 And there was still the sticky political problem of how restrictions could be introduced. When ICES met again in 1921 and considered a size limit for plaice, fishing was booming and there was no agreement on how to restrict the catch. Fishermen were pouring back into the industry; new boats were being built. “Men of little or no experience bought trawlers at absurd prices; and all with one accord set to work to loot the replenished fishing grounds,” wrote British scientist Henry Maurice.27 But even more quickly than the stocks had recovered, the catches were soon showing declines, boats were spending more days at sea, and the size of the catch was once again on the wane. The ICES scientists may have been daunted by the politics of restricting the catch, but they were invigorated by the emerging science of ecology. E. S. Russell (1887–1954), who headed the Lowestoft fisheries research laboratory, was one of the most influential philosophers of biology during the early twentieth century.28 He edited the ICES Journal du Conseil, and in 1926 he published the English translation of an Italian paper by mathematician Vito Volterra. Volterra had been stimulated by the work of his son-in-law, Umberto D’Ancona, who had studied the fisheries of the Adriatic Sea during the war and come up with very similar results as the ICES scientists. Volterra outlined broad laws that he thought described the fluctuations of a simple population of predators and prey.29 It was a relationship with obvious application to fish populations. In 1931 Russell published one of the foundation documents in fishery science, a paper on fishery research and its contributions to ecology. He recognized that the fluctuations of fish stocks were an ecological problem and that environmental causes could explain many of the unanswered questions about fishing. He thought the focus of fishery science should

18

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be to discover the general principles “about which there can be no reasonable doubt.”30 If scientists could agree on the elementary principles, Russell believed they would be well on the way to understanding rational exploitation of the fisheries. To Russell, the key to preventing overfishing was to reduce the size of the fleet. Also formative was the work of the great Norwegian biologist Johan Hjort in 1933.31 It described the application of the logistic population growth curve, developed by the Belgian mathematician Pierre-François Verhulst in 1838. The S-shaped curve is used to describe the growth of pop­ ulations. The initial growth is exponential: as the population saturates its environment, growth slows until the population is mature and growth stops. Verhulst thought the curve could be used to estimate the number of fin whales in the Antarctic. When whale stocks had been reduced to about one-half of their original number, that would correspond to the turning point (or the inflection point) of the curve as population growth slows.32 Hjort’s analysis, and his inflection point, was then applied to fisheries science. The relationship described by the population curve is at the heart of estimating the size of fish populations. One of Russell’s key insights was that he did not see human fishing as part of the natural predation on fish stocks. Fish face “a special kind of mortality . . . exploitation by man.”33 As Russell saw it, fish stocks had recovered during World War I, but scientists had failed to restrict fishing and stocks were being depleted. The gains from the Great Fishing Experiment had been squandered, catches were once again in freefall, and fishermen were leaving the industry because they could no longer make money. But this time ICES had documented what was happening with the fishery, and they had a theory: that it would pay to give the fish a chance to grow.34 It was one thing for Russell and the other ICES scientists to come to such a conclusion in the North Sea, where fishing had taken place for hundreds of years, but when Thompson provided the data on the halibut fishery in the Pacific, ICES scientists eagerly embraced his work. Michael Graham, who would later succeed Russell as director of research at the Lowestoft laboratory, reviewed “Report No. 8”: “The result was nothing that was new, strictly speaking,” Graham breezily wrote.35 Thompson’s work was still too theoretical, and further research was warranted—and would be improved by citing the work of European scientists and American theorists such as Raymond Pearl. The recognition of the commission’s work by European scientists was extremely gratifying. Thompson wrote to his commissioners in 1936,

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pointing out that Graham himself thought that the conclusions of “Report No. 8” were applicable to the North Sea. This acceptance by British scientists “places beyond any doubt the soundness of our scientific procedure.”36 The commission’s fame for its successful management of halibut stocks had an unintended consequence. A British company, operating a freezer boat—the SS Thorland, registered in Norway—asked for permission to enter the halibut fishery. The company promised to faithfully follow all of the commission’s regulations, but Thompson was unnerved at the thought of more effort fishing on the stocks. The Japanese were planning to enter the rich salmon fishery in Alaska’s Bristol Bay; would the next step be to send its boats into the halibut fishery? The commission asked the Canadian government to discourage the Thorland plan, and the government did so. It was increasingly clear that fishing was a global activity and that high catches of valuable stocks could attract boats from different nations. Where did the high seas begin—and where did they end, and who had the right to fish the waters in between?

The sea has always been of enormous importance to Japan. It is a source of food, but it has also been a platform for imperialism, going back to at least the seventeenth century. Fishing was so important, it was imbedded into government policy and the educational system to a degree unmatched in any other country, save perhaps Iceland after 1945. Since feudal times, fishing was an integral part of the economy of most small villages, and an elaborate social system controlled who fished and where fishing was allowed. While the American government has always been reluctant to regulate fishing, fishing was so important to the overall economy of Japan that it was regulated at the community level. While Japanese imperialism has been well studied, very little attention has been paid to the expansion of Japanese fishing. Between 1895 and 1941, Japan greatly expanded its empire. Japan decisively won its war against China in 1895 and took its first colony, the island of Formosa (now Taiwan). Japanese boats began to fish in the waters off China and Taiwan, supplying the daily protein needs at home and dominating local fisheries in the region.37 Japan prevailed in its war against Russia in 1905, giving it a foothold in Manchuria and later Korea, and winning substantial and valuable fishing concessions in Kamchatka and on the island of Sakhalin, one of the world’s most productive marine ecosystems. The territorial gains of the war were cemented by importing Western 20

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technology to develop new fisheries in the waters off Korea, Manchuria, Russia, and the Philippines. Samurai went sent to Britain and Germany to study fishing techniques, and in 1908 the government imported a British trawler that was quickly copied. Just as in Britain during the 1880s, the introduction of steam trawlers drew immediate complaints about falling catches from inshore fishermen. The Japanese government reacted as the British had done, pushing the bigger boats out of the inshore waters and into the East China Sea.38 With the end of World War I, Japan claimed the German colonies in the Pacific, the Marshall, Caroline, and Mariana Islands. During the 1920s, they developed a tuna fishery in the region. They also aggressively expanded their fisheries throughout the Pacific Ocean during the 1930s, most decisively with the move into pelagic whaling in 1934. The Japanese had long been involved in coastal whaling, but this was its first expansion into industrial-scale whaling using the European model of floating processing ships. The industrial conglomerate Nippon Suisan bought a Norwegian whaler and sent it to Antarctica. A new ship was built for the 1936 season, followed by five more by 1939.39 Nippon Suisan owned the fleet, and whaling quickly became an important source of foreign currency, as well as a food supply for the Japanese armed forces.40 The 1938 harvest was a record 7,500 whales that produced some 80,000 tons of oil, sold in London and Hamburg.41 Japan entered whaling despite the objections of Britain and Norway, which had historically dominated the industry. And while the boats of other countries at least paid lip service to recommendations that females and calves not be hunted, Japan included them in its catch. As the 1930s progressed, Japanese boats expanded into the Sea of Okhotsk, the Yellow Sea, the China Sea, the South China Sea, and the Gulf of Tonkin. They held a virtual monopoly on all aspects of fishing in Southeast Asia, from catching to marketing, supplying 40 percent of the fish consumed in Malaya and half the catch in Singapore.42 Exploratory fishing operations were launched in Mexico and Argentina by 1933, while expeditions sought fish off the coast of northern Australia and into the Indian Ocean. It was the most sophisticated and successful fishing system in the world, and fisheries research was at its heart. Japan consolidated its hold on fishing by establishing a large network of fishery research facilities, which focused on studying local waters and increasing catches. There was a central government fisheries research institution in Korea with eleven provincial branches, as well as research facilities in Formosa, three facilities in Manchuria, and several in Sakhalin and Kamchatka by the 1930s.43 21

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Fishing showcased Japan’s industrialism and its modernity. It was proof of Japan’s exceptionalism, part of the belief that Japan had a heaven-granted mandate to assume the leadership of eastern Asia.44 The fisheries policy was discussed in those terms. “In fact, the Japanese flag is floating high on the masts of fishing craft on high seas in all directions,” wrote the Japan Times & Mail in 1939. “The Japanese people indeed regard it their inevitable fate or even a sacred mission to develop riches hidden in the sea.”45 The Japanese fleet of fishing ships—with diesel engines and onboard salting, canning, and refrigeration plants—were able to work up to 3,000 miles from their home base. Japanese fishing was heavily subsidized by the government, especially as operations developed in the waters of other countries. A series of subsidies in 1923 encouraged the construction of refrigerators, refrigerated boats, and ice-making systems, allowing Japanese boats to carry their fish to other countries.46 Japan was now the world’s largest fishing nation, followed by the United States. From 1931 to 1938, when fishing was at its peak, Japan’s aggregate annual production ranged from 3.5 million metric tons of fish to 4.5 million metric tons. The U.S. catch, pushed upward by the Alaska salmon component, was less than 2.5 million metric tons a year.47 But while Japan aggressively pushed its fishing fleets deep into the Pacific, it was running out of new water to pioneer. During 1934 its northern deep-sea fishing fleet, operating off Kamchatka, took 8.5 million salmon, valued at more than 12 million yen. It was a sharp increase over the catch of the previous year, but the fish had been taken before they could return to the inshore waters and it almost bankrupted the coastal fisheries, also operated by Japan under concessions won from Russia after the 1905 war. The Japanese Diet decided in 1935 that the high-seas fleet would be cut by 30 percent. At the same time, it ordered the consolidation of the three fishing companies operating in northern waters into Taiheiyo Gyogyo Kaisha, Ltd., a subsidiary of Nichiro.48 Japanese fishing companies were able to achieve their dominance because they paid such low wages to fishermen and processing workers. The 20,000 workers in the North Ocean fleet mostly came from fishing and farming villages in the northern district of Honshu. They worked from May to September on the big ships, earning 200 yen a season, at a time when a typical peasant family had an income of little over 500 yen a year.49 Conditions on board the mother ships were dismal, with 21-hour workdays, poor food, and bad sanitary conditions.50 One ship became so notorious that in 1929, Takiji Kobayashi, the most important writer in the Proletariat school, wrote The Factory Ship, exposing conditions on a 22

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ship poaching crab in Russian waters. “We’re on our way to hell, mate!” is one of the opening lines.51 The fishing corporations used the plight of the displaced workers to pressure the Diet into finding new fishing opportunities to the east, into the salmon-rich waters of Alaska’s Bristol Bay. The Japanese already fished in British Bay, for king crab (Paralithodes camtshaticus) and bottom fish, and a Japanese training ship visited the bay each year to do research. The Diet did not act in 1935, but the following year it allocated 90,000 yen for a three-year scientific investigation into the salmon resources of Alaska’s Bristol Bay.52 There was an immediate uproar in Alaska, British Columbia, and Washington. Some in the fishing industry had always thought Japan wanted to take over West Coast fishing. Miller Freeman—the publisher of the Seattle-based Pacific Fisherman, established in 1902—believed that the Japanese were invading Bristol Bay and had to be stopped. The United States purchased Alaska from Russia in 1867. Buying it might have been considered a folly, but by 1880 the territory’s rich salmon runs began to draw fishermen and canners. By 1890 more than twenty canneries operated in Alaska, and the pack approached 800,000 cases. By 1900 it was more than 2 million cases valued at nearly $10 million. Salmon was the backbone of the economy through World War I, and most of the activity came during three short summer months, when ships from San Francisco, Astoria, or Seattle arrived with fishermen, processing crews, and the objective of catching and canning as much fish as possible.53 The American companies increasingly relied on Chinese workers for the processing crew, just as the Japanese mother ships exploited poor farmers from the island of Hokkaido.54 Cheap fish has always depended on cheap labor. The fishery grew exponentially, initially under the auspices of the U.S. Treasury, then under the U.S. Fish Commission after 1903. As early as the 1890s, there was concern about how many fish were being taken. From Alaska south to the Fraser River in British Columbia, to the Columbia River in Washington and Oregon, and to the Sacramento in northern California, salmon catches were tumbling. The solution, as far as the Fish Commission and most members of Congress were concerned, was to build hatcheries to replenish the runs. Salmon return to their home streams to spawn; it was easy to collect the eggs and fertilize them. It seemed obvious that a systematic approach to fertilize more eggs would yield more fish. From its start, the Fish Commission was interested in finding ways to create more fish, rather than to embark on the difficult problem of restricting where and how fishermen could fish.55 23

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Regulations in 1900 required Alaskan canneries to establish suitable hatcheries and to allow a percentage of the sockeye run to spawn. But there was very little enforcement. Until 1910 only one agent and an assistant, based in Washington, D.C., traveled to Alaska each year to supervise the fishery. There was also very little scientific investigation; it was assumed that hatcheries would work. When the Alaska Organic Act was passed in 1912, providing limited self-government, a provision specifically prohibited the new territorial government from passing laws to amend or repeal federal control of the fisheries.56 The number of inspectors increased to four men in 1913, but the effort was negligible in terms of the scale of the industry. Between 1906 and 1915, Congress spent $4,564 on Alaskan fisheries enforcement, less than $500 a year. The budget shrank again during the Depression, when Congress allocated $16,500 for biological investigations in Alaska, when the agency had estimated that at least $115,000 was needed.57 Fishing was a primary front in the struggle between the small resident Alaska population and the outside interests that controlled so much of the economy. The Alaskan fishery was headquartered in Seattle, and the canners hired a permanent legal staff in Washington, D.C., to represent them and lobby against tax increases or shifting any authority to the territorial government.58 The Bureau of Commercial Fisheries “made common cause with the canners in the face of efforts by the territorial government to restrict fishing,” wrote Ernest Gruening (1887–1974), who was appointed Alaska territorial governor by President Franklin Roosevelt in 1939.59 This early triangulation of power, with the federal government supporting the fishing industry as it attempted to avoid regulation, was repeated in California during the 1930s. The California Fish and Game biologists tried to restrict the sardine catch, while the federal biologists supported the powerful canners.60 This ideological division between the interests of state and federal scientists was an important factor in inhibiting the development of American fisheries science. Congress periodically held hearings on the Alaskan fisheries, to hear complaints from residents about the lack of enforcement. The hearings were generally in Washington, D.C., where the active lobbying of the canning industry, backed by congressional representatives and senators (especially representatives from Washington and Oregon), made restrictions difficult to pass. When they were passed, there was little money spent on enforcement. Much of the catch was taken in traps that had the ability to catch all the fish that were headed up rivers and streams to spawn. Companies owned the traps, and Congress found it impossible to police 24

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the numbers and how they were operated. While resident fishermen and Native representatives warned of the dangers of depleting the runs, the canneries prevented Congress from acting to provide more enforcement. The canners argued that if the traps were banned, it would be unprofitable for them to operate in Alaska. Three-quarters of the territorial revenue came from the tax on cases of packed salmon, and the canners bitterly fought any tax increases and operating restrictions.61 Very little was known about Pacific salmon. It was a popular belief that the runs declined because many eggs failed to hatch and because of predation by other fish on the young smolts. The canning industry and Pacific Fisherman strongly supported hatcheries.62 Famed American ichthyologist David Starr Jordan believed hatcheries were effective.63 Hatcheries were the obvious solution to the need for more fish. The canners had gone from taking just Chinook and sockeye to canning all the fish they could catch. The efficient fish traps spread across the landscape, steadily intensifying the harvest to every stock, every year, in every stream. Despite the building of hatcheries, salmon catches were plummeting, on the entire West Coast, not just in Alaska. Biologists warned in 1919, and again in 1928, that too many fish were being taken in Alaska, but the catch continued to grow, especially after Puget Sound canners who had gone bankrupt sold their processing equipment to Alaskan companies.64 If the catches were constantly increasing, how could salmon be overfished? The 1936 catch was the largest in history, a record pack of 8.4 million cases, nearly a million more than had been produced by the previous record year of 1934. There were 117 canneries operating in Alaska by 1937, with a total capital investment of $98 million and industry profits of $3 million annually.65 The possible arrival of Japanese boats instilled instant agreement that additional fishing would doom the Bristol Bay runs. Politicians introduced bills to ban the Japanese from fishing in Alaskan waters. But fishing was changing quickly. The days when small boats fished local waters and salted the fish were going or gone. The industry was moving toward concentration, larger boats that required more facilities in large harbors, with good transportation links. As the capacity of the fleet increased, there was growing concern that fish stocks needed protection. But there was no agreement on how to do it. The League of Nations held a conference in 1930 to see if there was any consensus on resolving fishing conflicts. The conference created the grandly named Committee of Experts for the Progressive Codification of International Law, which issued a questionnaire to get more detailed information on the positions of the various nations. Great Britain, the 25

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United States, and Japan were opposed to any regulation. Their boats were already fishing throughout the Atlantic and the Pacific. Norway and Iceland were unhappy about British boats in their waters. Mexico, Peru, Chile, and Ecuador were uneasy about the growing number of American tuna boats seeking bait fish in their inshore waters. The Japanese and Russians had been squabbling over fishing rights since the 1905 war. “In fisheries all over the world the home banks have proved entirely inadequate to supply the demand and have been injured by overfishing,” Seattle attorney Edward Allen, who represented a number of cannery companies, warned the State Department in 1937.66 There was a showdown coming over the escalating presence of foreign boats in home waters. It would come when the Japanese entered Bristol Bay, the world’s most lucrative fishery for sockeye salmon.

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TWO

The Confrontation at Bristol Bay It is true they don’t carry the American flag on their backs to command our protection. But they were born in our waters. Our taxpayers spend their money conserving them. Our fishermen each year have sacrificed immediate profits in order to conserve them. We should no more be willing to submit to their destruction than we should be willing to submit to foreign destruction of any other of our property. 

WASHINGTON STATE SENATOR LEWIS B. SCHWELLENBACH (1938)1

Salmon and tuna could not be more different. The fish are related but separated by almost 100 million years of evolution.2 They live in different realms within the ocean, separated by temperature. The five species of Pacific salmon are found in the cold waters of the North Pacific, from California north to Alaska, across the Bering Strait to Russia and south to Japan. While salmon return to their home streams to spawn, the fourteen species that make up the tuna family have no home and swim endlessly through the warmer midlatitudes of the Pacific, Atlantic, and Indian oceans. Salmon and tuna are alike in that they are both caught and canned, making them one of the ubiquitous cheap foods of the postwar world. The development of canning technology in the 1880s turned salmon from a regional staple that had sustained Northwest Indian tribes for thousands of years into a global commodity with unlimited demand.3 Canneries spread from the Sacramento River in California north to the Columbia, to the Fraser, through British Columbia, and into Alaska. Canning spread from the Columbia River to Hokkaido

27

chApTer TWO

120°

140°

160°

180°

160°

140°

120°

70°

60° Bristol Bay

Gulf of Alaska

50° ! !

40° ! !

Ocean Salmon Distribution

30°

Inland Salmon Distribution 2

salmon ocean and inland distribution. The freshwater spawning grounds for salmon extend from california northward to Alaska, around the north American Arctic coast to the Mackenzie river, and along the Aleutian chain. On the Asian coast, they extend from the Arctic Ocean to the Amur river, sakhalin Island, and the northern parts of Japan. There are five species of salmon found throughout the entire pacific basin, while two additional species are found only in Asia. not all species of salmon are found in all watersheds. A 1972 estimate, which was considered conservative, suggested there were 10,000 stocks of salmon on both sides of the pacific.

in 1878.4 The Japanese pioneered canning at sea, for king crab in 1914 and salmon in 1927.5 Salmon and tuna are both intimately connected with the exploration and development in the Pacific by both Japan and the United States. From the day that Admiral Perry sailed into Tokyo Bay in 1854, the two countries have struggled for leadership and influence in the Pacific. Japan was intent on creating a new political order that would challenge American imperialism in the Pacific.6 Between 1895 and 1941, Japan had greatly expanded its empire. It decisively won its war against China in 1895 and took its first colony, the island of Formosa (now Taiwan). It prevailed against Russia in 1905, giving it a foothold in Manchuria and later Korea. Both campaigns gained Japan access to fish stocks. Japan took over Manchuria in 1931 and invaded China, where the United States had substantial interests, in 1937. It had also aggressively expanded trade throughout the Pacific during the 1930s, and the development of a highseas fishing industry was a way to secure access to a vital component of the nation’s food supply. The Soviet Union, the Philippines, and Aus28

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tralia all complained about Japanese fishing during the 1930s. Japan became the world’s leading fishing nation in 1935. Fishing symbolized the empire’s industrialization and modernization. It was especially proud of the reputation its scientists garnered for their pioneering work in marine science and oceanography, showcased at the Sixth Pacific Science Association meeting at Berkeley in 1939. The United States also had imperial ambitions in the Pacific. Relations between the two countries were increasingly tense as the 1930s went on, and some historians consider the 1931 invasion of Manchuria by Japan to be the start of World War II. For both sides, fish were a means to achieve political, economic, and strategic objectives. The Japanese government had integrated fishing firmly into its domestic and foreign policy. The United States had not. Fishing was not a nationally important industry in the United States, and there was little coordination of fisheries policy within the federal government. The pivotal decisions were made within

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yellowfin and albacore tuna migration and distribution across areas of fishing. A spanish cleric in 1757 first noted that tuna have no home; he called them the wandering fish. Today we call them pelagic, and we know that they never stop swimming, endlessly crossing and recrossing the temperate belts in the Atlantic, pacific, and Indian oceans, where the water is warmed by the wind and waves. Over half of the world’s tuna are caught in the central and western pacific Ocean.

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the Department of State, where the complexity of fishing would cause internal strife for the next two decades. The needs of the salmon and tuna industries are diametrically opposite. Salmon profits could only be maintained if other fishermen (especially Japanese fishermen) could be kept from conducting a legal fishery in the high seas. The United States had purchased Alaska, but it was not yet a state, and the waters of Bristol Bay were outside the three-mile territorial sea. In terms of international law, the Japanese had every right to insist on entering the Bristol Bay fishery. This was the rationale American tuna fishermen used to justify their fishing off the coasts of Mexico, Costa Rica, and Ecuador—as well as sending their cod fishermen off Nova Scotia and Newfoundland, and their salmon and halibut fishermen off British Columbia. The Americans and the Japanese sent their fishing boats to the waters of more countries than any other nation. The fish war between the two countries was fought on multiple fronts, from Alaska’s Bristol Bay, to Midwest grocery store shelves after 1931, when the Japanese began to undermine the American tuna fishery with imports of cheaper canned tuna. The U.S. fishing industry was deeply suspicious about the intentions of the Japanese. For some, this went back to 1906, when Japanese poachers landed on the Bering Sea island of Saint Paul and raided a fur seal (Callorhinus ursinus) rookery, an event that was widely publicized. Japan was also criticized for its reluctance to enter into an international treaty with Canada and Russia to protect fur seals. The negotiations dragged on until 1911, as the number of fur seal plummeted.7 California and Washington fishermen were also suspicious about competing with the Japanese in their own waters. Congress passed a bill prohibiting commercial fishing by aliens in the territorial waters of Alaska. Washington and Oregon passed similar laws. The laws were aimed at the Japanese. Anti-Japanese sentiment was also prevalent in British Columbia. While the federal government wanted to increase trade with Japan during the early part of the century, the British Columbia legislature passed a series of restrictive acts excluding the Japanese from many occupations.8 When the lieutenant governor vetoed one of the restrictions in September 1907, there was rioting in Vancouver. A mob estimated at 1,000 men attacked East Indians, Chinese, and Japanese residents.9 Despite restrictions on boat ownership, the Japanese who moved to the United States and entered American fisheries were among the most successful fishermen on the coast. By 1918 the Japanese had surpassed the Italians as the largest ethnic group within the California fishing industry, making up 28 percent of the fleet. A 1920 investigation by the State Board 30

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of Control of California questioned if it was good public policy to have an important food like fish “monopolized by peoples of an alien race?” Fishermen had “an intimate knowledge of the coast line, valuable to an enemy,” and the boats were a convenient means of illegal entry into the country.10 There were strong suspicions about a link between the Japanese navy and the fishing fleet. Nobody kept a closer eye on the Japanese issue than Miller Freeman, the Seattle publisher who owned Pacific Fisherman. Over the next five decades, Freeman warned about the dangers of uncontrolled immigration and the threat that the Japanese posed to American fisheries. “If Pacific Fisherman had not for the last twenty years vigorously opposed the introduction of Japanese in the American fisheries, this industry on the entire Pacific Coast would long ago have fallen into their hands,” ran one story in 1921, when the International Packing Company opposed a bill that would have excluded the Japanese from the California fishing industry.11 While fishermen railed against the competition, the processing companies depended on cheap Asian labor. There are many similarities between the expansion of the American fishery into Alaska and the Japanese expansion into the eastern North Pacific. Large corporations dominated both industries, and their profits depended on paying low wages to fishermen and processing crews. Industry in both countries lobbied their governments to avoid restrictions and create opportunities to expand fishing. The chief difference was that the Japanese industry expanded as part of government policy, with subsidies that encouraged the construction of boats and processing and refrigeration facilities. The Japanese government regulated its highseas fisheries, but it was to make sure they made money. When profits were down, it did not hesitate to remove licenses from its mother-ship fleet. When inshore fishermen complained in 1934 that salmon were being taken on the high seas off Kamchatka before they could return to the coastal waters, the government cut the number of high-seas licenses. But the government was still subject to pressure from its unemployed fishermen, especially those in the northern villages, where poor farmers depended on the seasonal wages they made on the factory ships. The American salmon industry was overcapitalized by the 1890s, with too many canneries competing for a dwindling number of fish. A wave of consolidations created a number of large corporations, headquartered in Seattle; Astoria, Oregon; and San Francisco. The corporations could afford to lobby in Washington, D.C., against any restrictions on their operations, and they did. The American government was not as directly involved in fishing policy. It supplied services to the fishing fleets. The 31

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U.S. Bureau of Fisheries did research on innovations in fishing gear, extensive research on the best ways to preserve catches and to turn fish waste into a meal or flour that could be used in commercial fertilizer and livestock feed. The agency also worked to improve marketing of seafood, essentially turning itself into a trade organization for the industry.12 After 1924 the Alaskan salmon industry was managed by the Secretary of Commerce in Washington, D.C. The opening and closing of the seasons were set in advance and not based on any systematic analysis of when runs returned to the rivers. The regulations tended to favor the large corporations and the fish traps they used to take much of the catch. The traps could take most of the fish returning to a river or stream to spawn. The canners also had access to Congress through their West Coast senators and representatives, while resident Alaskans had a single congressional delegate who had no vote. Coupled with this was confusion over exactly what the role of the U.S. Bureau of Fisheries was supposed to be—to promote and develop the industry, or to protect the stocks. It was easier to promote the industry, and federal officials sided with the powerful canning industry when states sought to limit catches. The Alaska canners had little real interest in the resource; their objective was to maintain profit and dividends for investors. They opposed any funding for enforcement or science and loudly affirmed that the fishery was well managed by federal scientists and not in need of regulation.13 It was a message the federal scientists enjoyed hearing. While the industry was interested in profits, there were some lines that could not be crossed, and these included working with the Japanese. The Japanese had several times suggested a joint venture company in Alaskan waters, and in 1937 they tried again, sending a representative to Seattle for talks. A joint venture could lower costs by using Japanese labor and intercepting salmon offshore, bringing large profits to the investors. It was a business model the Japanese had used successfully off Kamchatka, much to the unhappiness of the Russians and the inshore fisheries.14 While the Japanese thought it would be possible to negotiate with the Americans over salmon, Americans were absolutely opposed to negotiating anything because the Japanese were not entitled to any fish. What was needed “was a firm declaration that the fish are American property,” Pacific Fisherman editorialized in September 1937. The Seattle fishing industry came together to form the joint Committee for the Protection of the Pacific Fisheries, with publisher Freeman as chairman.15 The committee complained loudly and often to the State Department, but it could not prod the department to take strong action. The committee warned that Japanese fishing would lead to the “complete and 32

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permanent destruction” of Alaska salmon, adding that the U.S. Navy had recently become aware that “perhaps 90 percent” of the personnel on the Japanese ships were naval reservists.16 If the Japanese were allowed to fish off Alaska, they would move on south, threatening the salmon fisheries from British Columbia to California, destroying the resource as they went.17 In June 1937 a fleet of Japanese vessels appeared in Bristol Bay, ostensibly to fish for crab, as they had done since 1930. American fishermen claimed the fleet was larger than usual, and although the vessels were operating outside of American territorial waters, the industry demanded the State Department do something to protect American salmon. The State Department pointed out that the salmon runs had not yet started, so it must be assumed the Japanese were legally fishing for king crab. The American Embassy at Tokyo reported that the Japanese government did not issue any licenses for salmon fishing in Bristol Bay. The rising political pressure prompted the Bureau of Fisheries to send a representative to Bristol Bay to study the situation. The bureau’s representative observed (from Juneau) that the Japanese couldn’t operate floating canneries off Bristol Bay because there was no supply of fresh water and the whole controversy was making a mountain out of a molehill. “No doubt this was a scheme to frighten the Bureau into relaxing the fishing regulations in that district so the large corporations could start packing earlier in the season than the Department regulations now permit,” wrote U.S. Fish Commissioner Frank T. Bell to Washington Rep. Homer T. Bone on June 18, 1937. “I am getting so used to these bugaboos that I refuse to get excited until creditable information is received.”18 Publisher Freeman made sure the words would come back to haunt Frank Bell. Bone responded by making an appointment to meet with Secretary of State Cordell Hull; Alaska delegate Anthony Diamond and Warren Magnuson, then a Washington state representative, attended. The “creditable information” was secured on July 8, 1937, by “a party of practical salmon men,” as Pacific Fisherman put it. “They used the obvious, direct method of ascertaining the facts, flying over the Japanese vessels—a method the Bureau of Fisheries has not seen fit to employ in exercise of its duty to protect the fisheries of Alaska.” The flight found four Japanese fishing boats off Ugashik. The plane dropped to 100 feet, and the observers clearly saw salmon on deck. “Fishing extremely poor; in opinion of fishermen cause of same being Japanese invasion of our fishing grounds at Bristol Bay,” reported Harry Stuhr of the Alaska Fishermen’s Union.19 Also present on the flight was a man identified as Arthur C. Farlow of the J. Walter Thompson advertising agency of New York. 33

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It was no doubt due to Farlow that a picture of the Japanese mother ship, helpfully labeled, showed up on the front page of the Washington Tribune. The story received a great deal of attention. The New York Times had been covering Japanese fishing disputes for three years, reporting on conflicts off the Mexican, Australian, Panamanian, Russian, and East Indian waters. The Columbia Broadcasting System (CBS) also had several radio programs throughout 1938 on fishing issues.20 Writer (and future Oregon senator) Richard L. Neuberger, a correspondent for the New York Times, railed against the Japanese in Our Promised Land, published in 1938, blaming them for the decline in the salmon runs. “Just as the Nipponese military juggernaut rolls across China without regard for the amenities of civilization, so do these fishing vessels from Tokyo completely overlook conservation rules and principles in their quest for the finny wealth of the ocean,” Neuberger wrote.21 The Bureau of Fisheries sent a second representative to Alaska, and based on his report, the State Department issued a statement on November 22, 1937, saying it believed the reports of Japanese activity in Bristol Bay to be “reliable and authentic.” The American government had a “right or obligation” to protect the Alaskan salmon fishery.22 Hull’s response is one of the most critical events in the history of modern fisheries management, because he fused American policy with science, creating an extremely powerful linkage that continues to this day. Hull declared that Americans conserved their resources and that management was based on scientific research. Hull used “conservation” in the sense that the early twentieth-century Progressives would have used the term, meaning that the resource was utilized and managed so that it could be sustained. Hull claimed the runs were scientifically managed, but there was no systematic program to determine exactly what needed to be done to sustain the stocks. Hull also argued that the Americans had invested money in hatcheries and fishermen had endured restrictions on the catch, which gave them “a special claim in the ocean areas beyond three miles where the fishery was centered.”23 Hull did not claim U.S. sovereign “ownership” of the fish, as the salmon industry demanded. He did argue, however, that the salmon deserved special protection in the course of migrations from the sea back to the streams where they spawned. Hull wrote to Miller Freeman on March 25, 1938, saying that the Japanese government was withdrawing its scientific investigation and that no additional fishing licenses would be issued for Bristol Bay. If the boats fishing for crab had accidentally taken salmon, it was without the knowl-

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edge of the Japanese government, a distinction that was lost on Freeman and the Seattle processors.24 Legislation was introduced in both the Congress and the Senate to extend the jurisdiction of the United States to protect salmon. In the spring of 1938, when the Japanese vessels appeared as usual in the Bering Sea to fish for king crab and bottom fish, as they had done since 1930, there were exaggerated reports such as the widely publicized telegram from Captain John E. Shields of the Sophie Christenson in June 1938: bering sea covered by japanese fishing boats and nets north of black hills . no cutters around . we have god - given instinct to shoot straight . please ship a dozen high - powered rifles plenty ammunition . duplicate for charles r . wilson . 25

An investigation proved that Japanese boats were not in Bristol Bay during 1938, but the agitation continued until it was engulfed in other tensions that led to December 7, 1941, and the Japanese bombing of Pearl Harbor. Both countries couched their actions in terms of science. The Japanese said they were attempting to conduct a “scientific investigation” into Bristol Bay salmon, although they actually meant an economic investigation, to determine if it would be profitable to enter the fishery. Left unsaid in Hull’s formulation was that while Americans conserved their resources, the Japanese did not. It was a powerful construction that placed the two countries in adversarial positions, creating tensions over science that continue to be significant even now, seventy years later. The American political position was that it managed its fisheries successfully, despite concerns by scientists about the fluctuating catches of salmon and sardines. If anyone wanted proof, there was the International Fisheries Commission and its introduction of regulation that had restored halibut catches. Hopes were high that a new salmon fisheries commission, created by Canada and the United States in 1937, would halt the decline of Fraser River sockeye stocks. As with halibut, the two countries fought bitterly for two decades while the stocks fluctuated wildly, before they agreed on joint management.26 The success of the Halibut Commission also reaffirmed what people believed about fish, that they were endlessly resilient, capable of sustaining high harvests, then recovering strength after harvest was backed off. Fishing was like any other rational activity. When fishermen stopped making money, they stopped fishing. This was articulated in a widely circled article in 1930 by a former Bureau of Fisheries employee, Harden F.

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Taylor, who argued that regulations weren’t necessary because the business of fishing regulated itself. “You cannot fish at a loss and stay in business,” Harden wrote. “It acts as an automatic control.”27 It was a popular opinion, and managers were as reluctant to impose regulations as fishermen were to follow them. The salmon, sardine, and halibut landings had all been fluctuating, and scientists expressed concern that the instability was a sign of overharvest. But the catch would rise the next year, making it difficult for the scientists to argue for regulation. The halibut fishery was the only one where substantial regulation had been implemented. In California the state pushed to have restrictions on the sardine catch, but federal biologists supported the canning industry and argued that there was no need for regulation. There were regulations in Alaska designed to allow more salmon to spawn, but the enforcement was weak and the main emphasis for restoring runs was to build hatcheries, although there was no study to see if hatcheries were effective (and early hatcheries certainly were not). The beginning of a systematic exploration of what was needed to scientifically manage salmon stocks was a decade away. None of this was reflected in the State Department position, which was that American fishermen restrained their harvest so that runs could be perpetuated. This would be worthless if another group of fishermen were allowed to join the fishery. It was widely accepted that Americans successfully managed their fisheries. Kathleen Barnes—a researcher with the Far Eastern Survey, a fortnightly publication of the American Council and the Institute of Pacific Relations, based in New York City—wrote frequently about the fishing conflicts in the North Pacific. In a 1936 article, Barnes wrote that salmon conservation had “been raised to a fine art.”28 L. Larry Leonard’s dissertation in political science at Columbia University in 1944, an excellent account of the international regulation of fisheries, declared, “The fisheries have reached optimum production and are now in perfect balance as a result of the conservation program of the government.”29 Even modern writers, such as legal scholar Harry Scheiber, accepted that Americans conserved their Bristol Bay stocks.30 But was the claim true? Were Americans actually conserving salmon stocks? Historical evidence suggests otherwise. There is a solid record of biological concern about the amount of fishing pressure on Alaskan salmon stocks. Charles Gilbert and Henry O’Malley questioned in 1919 if the fluctuating catch meant the runs were being overfished.31 Willis Rich and Edward Ball asked in 1928 if the Bristol Bay runs had reached their maximum productivity.32 There was 36

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ample evidence that the so-called “conservation” measures were neither adequate nor enforced. The Americans had indeed implemented restrictions to regulate the catch, but the restrictions were limited and there was little enforcement, especially of the fish traps owned by the canning companies. The costs of West Coast salmon conservation was estimated at $16 million between 1927 and 1936, with $5 million having been spent in Alaska. But while the figures were quoted, exactly what the conservation costs included was not spelled out.33 A budget of $5 million over nine years was not much to spend for research or enforcement, let alone both, in a territory as large as Alaska. Others also questioned the effectiveness of Bristol Bay conservation. In 1933 the Department of the Interior hired Michigan ichthyologist Carl Hubbs to investigate possible malfeasance in the U.S. Fish and Wildlife administration.34 After an extensive series of interviews throughout Alaska, Hubbs concluded that the technical staff was inadequate and more money needed to be allocated for research on Alaska salmon. Hubbs declared that despite the frequent statements by federal officials that the Alaskan fisheries were well managed, only “blind self-satisfaction, ignorance or selfish self-interest can lie behind the naïve optimism of such claims.”35 In July 1939 a subcommittee from the Merchant Marine and Fisheries Committee held hearings throughout Alaska. They found that four employees, based in Seattle, represented the entire scientific field force for the Alaska coastline. There was no information about the life and habits of salmon at sea.36 Even if staffing had been sufficient to enforce conservation, there was no analysis of how many fish needed to spawn to ensure escapement. Hull’s formulation created two perceptions: that the United States was among world leaders in the conservation of resources, and that the Japanese were not—and both perceptions were false. The conception of Japan as not being interested in conservation had a long history, stretching back to the more than two decades of conflict before the fur seal treaty was signed in 1911. The fur seal issue continued to fester, especially after Japan’s 1926 decision to increase the harvest on fur seals. The Japanese argued that the seals were entering Japanese seas and eating fishing stocks, seriously damaging the Japanese fishing industry.37 The American press covered the conflict between Japan and Russia over fishing leases in Kamchatka and how the Japanese at-sea harvest decreased the fish returning to the inshore fishery. Once Japan began high-seas whaling in 1935, it refused to comply with the voluntary regulations of not harvesting right whales, nursing females, and calves.38 All these events contributed to the 37

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American perception that the Japanese were concerned only with catching as many fish as they could, regardless of potential negative impacts on the stocks—especially the stocks of other nations, such as Russia, and now the United States. In reality, Japan exercised a much greater control over its inshore fishing fleet than did the Americans. Because so many villages were dependent on their local grounds for food, fishing had been strictly regulated since feudal times to maximize food. Closures were frequent and boats were licensed. Boats could not move into new fishing waters (unless they were offshore) because they could not get licenses. The large mother-ship operations were also regulated by the national government, which established how many fleets there would be and where they would operate. Operations were often curtailed for economic reasons, rather than for fish conservation. If catches were not high enough, such as an Indian Ocean expedition for tuna in the 1930s, expeditions were not allowed to continue. When the high-seas salmon fleet faced declining revenues in 1935, the government curtailed the number of licenses. It is logical to assume that if the scientific investigation in Bristol Bay had been completed, Japan would not have mounted the fishery unless it would be profitable. The Japanese government regulated its home waters—but it was also the most aggressive nation when it came to expanding its distant-water fleet to other countries. And in aggressively expanding its fleet, it was not alone. European boats were increasingly fishing off Iceland and Newfoundland. American boats increased their catch of tuna off Mexico, Peru, Costa Rica, and Ecuador, drawing complaints that they were depleting bait stocks. The salmon crisis had drawn the State Department into negotiations over fishing, but California tuna boats were negotiating their own agreements with foreign nations, licensing their boats to fish in local waters and paying a variety of fees. During the 1930s, as sardine catches wildly fluctuated off Southern California, more fishermen were turning to high-seas tuna, setting the stage for the second front in the fish war between Japan and the United States.

There are fourteen species of Thunnini within the family of Scombridae. Tuna live in tropical and temperate latitudes of the Atlantic, Pacific, and the Indian oceans. The large family includes billfish, bonitos, swordfish, and mackerel. The largest species are marlins and bluefin tuna. While there are numerous species of tuna, the principle market fish, or tuna of commerce (as the industry called them), are skipjack (Katsuwonus pe38

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lamis), yellowfin (Thunnus albacares), bigeye (T. obesus), northern and southern bluefin (T. maccoyii), and albacore (T. alalunga). Tuna wander the open seas, mostly in the upper layers, where the water is warmed by waves driven by the wind.39 The Spanish cleric Fray Martin Sarmiento dubbed tuna “the wandering fish” in 1757.40 The fish have a high metabolic rate, and they must move constantly to keep their gills supplied with oxygenated water.41 Tuna are biologically very advanced, with circulatory and respiratory systems that are unique among fish. The circulatory system is designed to conserve or to dissipate heat as needed. Tuna usually maintain a body temperature that is higher than the temperature of the water in which they swim, and their circulatory system is designed to dissipate heat. Biologists call them energy speculators, because they are able to invest large amounts of energy based on a payoff when they capture food. When they need it, tuna have the capacity for increased levels of oxygen uptake, delivery, utilization, and, consequently work, allowing them to carry out many metabolic functions faster than other fish.42 Yellowfin reproduce throughout the year, and their evolution makes them an ideal species for sustainable management.43 It was not until the twentieth century that people developed the skills and technologies to follow tuna through the oceans. Maritime countries had always taken a few tuna in local fisheries, but they lacked the boats and fishing gear to follow the great fish as they migrated through the oceans. The Japanese pioneered the study of tuna. Kamakichi Kishinouye began studying tuna in 1911.44 His work was published in English by the College of Agriculture at the Imperial University in Tokyo in 1923. The Japanese Research Council also began publishing data on oceanography, in English, in 1928.45 The Japanese were proud of their pioneering work in fisheries and oceanography and sought to publicize it. As the Japanese increased their immigration to the United States—first to Hawaii, then to California—they brought their tuna techniques with them, using long, slender bamboo poles with baited hooks.46 The Americans used purse set nets in the open ocean, but the heavy, wet, cotton nets were extremely awkward to handle and dangerous in rough seas. It took until 1920 for Captain M. O. Medina on the Peerless to give the poles a try.47 He found that two or three fishermen handling a single pole could land the largest of fish. The fishing industry in California began when the first cannery for sardines opened in Monterey in 1896. By World War I, the sardine fishery was the largest commercial fishery in the United States.48 But sardines fluctuated; in 1903 the fish suddenly disappeared, leaving the canners 39

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with nothing to pack. They decided to give albacore tuna a try, and the first tuna cannery was built in San Diego in 1911. It was a boom year for tuna; by 1917 there were 26 canneries strung along the Southern California coast, canning the catch of 400 boats and 1,200 fishermen. Japanese fishermen made up half the work force, but they caught 86 percent of the fish.49 During the spring of 1926, the albacore disappeared from the waters off San Diego. One of the boats that headed south to search for tuna was the new 102-foot Atlantic. It had cost M. O. Medina $55,000, and critics said he would never make it pay. But it could carry 110 tons of fish in its cork-lined holds, and when it returned to San Diego stuffed with tuna caught near Cocos Island, 300 miles off Costa Rica, its success set off a building spree. Between 1926 and 1945, 140 tuna clippers entered the U.S. tuna fishery.50 Within five years of the Cocos Island catches, fishing had expanded some 3,500 miles from San Diego, into the eastern tropical Pacific. Captain Guy Silva of the Emma R. S. bought a small plane to scout for tuna in 1931, flashing the location of the fish to the clipper by radiophone.51 Newspapers wrote stories about how much a tuna crew could earn. Americans appeared to have a bottomless appetite for tuna fish, and the canning companies developed novel advertising ideas, such as publishing recipes, complete with a black-and-white drawing of the finished dish. The ads stressed the health properties of tuna. Pictures of fish disappeared from some fish labels. One California cannery official said the public wasn’t interested in pictures of fish, “but is intrigued by a picture of a dainty salad, or a tempting casserole, which presents tuna in a most appealing way.”52 The expansion of the tuna fishery came to a screeching halt in the early 1930s, as the Depression deepened and tuna imported from Japan undercut their product in American supermarkets. Japanese tuna sold for $3.55 a case while American tuna cost $5.08 to produce.53 President Roosevelt increased the tariff on Japanese tuna from 30 to 35 percent ad valorem in 1933, but it was not enough to rescue the American market.54 A few pennies on a can of tuna did not offset the enormous advantage the Japanese had because they paid their workers so little, 20 to 60 cents a day. California workers were unionized and paid $3 to $6 a day. The Japanese tuna arrived in New York, courtesy of new subsidized freighters, which shipped the cans for a few cents more than it cost the Southern California tuna to be shipped east.55 With the Depression, fish markets collapsed just as the costs of catching tuna were sharply increasing. After 1930, when the Mexican govern40

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4

One night’s fishing in Coos Bay, Oregon. The fluctuating California sardine catch during the 1930s sent four Monterey processors and a fleet of seventy-five purse-seine boats to Coos Bay, Oregon, to pioneer an Oregon fishery on the sardine stocks. The boats found initial good catches in 1935, but the fishery was over by 1949. With the establishment of fisheries in Oregon and Washington, sardines were fished throughout their range, from Southern California north to British Columbia. Most of the catch was being turned into fish meal and fish oil for animal feed. Courtesy of the Coos Historical & Maritime Museum, 000-D14.1 1935.

ment increased the fees it charged to catch baitfish, boats were forced to search for tuna farther south, in the warm waters off Costa Rica. The first load of tuna into Honolulu came two years later, then a trip to the Philippines and to the waters of the Galapagos Islands, off Ecuador. But Costa Rica and Ecuador were soon increasing the fees fishermen had to pay for baitfish in their waters. At the same time, the sardine population was collapsing off California. Arthur McEvoy, in his history of the California fishery, said the sardine fishery was probably the most intensive the world had ever seen. The Japanese fishery was larger—but it was spread over a greater area and it harvested five species of sardines. The California fishermen harvested one kind of sardine.56 A factor in pushing the boats into Latin American waters was the fluctuations in the sardine catch, which scientists argued was a sign of overfishing. The tuna price dropped in 1932, and the industry collapsed into chaos. The uncertainties in the sardine catch drove four processors from Monterey, along with 75 purse-seine vessels, north to Coos Bay, Oregon, during the winter of 1935.57 Oregon and Washington began harvesting 41

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sardines (or pilchards), but the catches were limited and ended in 1949, when less favorable ocean conditions became established. With Oregon and Washington boats added to the harvest, sardines faced fishing pressure through their entire range, from the time they spawned off Southern California, through their migrations north to the waters off British Columbia.58 For both sardines and salmon, fishing intensified during the war. The federal government took over management of both fisheries. Harold Ickes, secretary of the interior between 1933 and 1946, appointed himself director of the Office of the Coordinator of Fisheries and appealed to the fishing industry to make a maximum effort to increase the protein supply.59 In March 1943 Ickes and his office assumed total control of the Alaskan salmon industry, allocating manpower and supplies to operate certain canneries. Conservation regulations were relaxed, but the regulations allegedly would act “at the same time to preserve the capital stock of the resource.”60 Despite the claim of conservation, there was little evidence of it. The federal government controlled the Alaskan fishing industry for three years, deciding which canneries would operate, how much labor they would be allowed, and how much canned salmon would be produced. Fishermen were given draft deferments, and government contracts boosted prices for the catch.61 Before World War II, the California sardine fishery had been one of the most lucrative in the world. One-quarter of all the fish landed in the United States were sardines, supporting an extremely large and powerful fishing and processing industry. Some sardines were canned and eaten, but the bulk of the catch was turned into fishmeal, used for fertilizer and animal food, while the oils were extracted for industrial purposes. By 1939 the industry employed 40,000 people and generated revenues of $600 million a year.62 By 1943 there were 206 seiners fishing sardines for 75 plants, yet the War Food Administration ordered that the harvest be increased by one-third, to 4 million cases, with 100 percent of the catch going to the military.63 The California sardine fishery, after landing a near-record catch of 614,045 tons in 1944–45, dropped to 130,121 tons by 1948.64 The federal government also ordered the removal of the Japanese fishermen and cannery workers. The 1946 season was a disaster.65 The war also took a heavy toll on the Southern California tuna fleet. The navy commandeered many of the larger boats. August Felando, the last manager of the American Tuna Association, estimated that by 1942 some 70 percent of the fleet’s tonnage was in military service. The fleet had a remarkable war record, towing to safety eleven damaged warships, shelling enemy positions, shooting Japanese planes, and rescuing survi42

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vors of sunken ships. When President Franklin Roosevelt ordered frozen turkeys for the troops on Guadalcanal Island as a holiday treat, Captain Edward X. Madruga on board the Paramount made the delivery.66 The California tuna clipper fleet came out of the war akin to heroes, deeply admired for their beautiful boats and the long and profitable voyages they made to bring tuna home to San Diego and San Pedro, building a multimillion-dollar tuna industry. Ickes’s office authorized the construction of 877 new fishing boats during 1945, bringing the entire U.S. fleet back up to prewar levels. When the war ended, the government provided incentives for veterans to go fishing, including money for boats and fishing equipment.67 The new vessels included about fifty boats intended for use by the U.S. Navy in the Pacific, which were offered to fishermen when the war ended. The new boats had bigger engines, allowing them to operate further offshore and making it practical to purse seine in the ocean. Brine refrigeration systems were installed, allowing the tuna to be held for a longer period of time. Pacific Fisherman reported that American fishing capacity had been restored to prewar levels during 1946.68 The restrictions on harvesting Alaskan salmon were relaxed during the war, but the stocks were already in decline. The pack was 6.9 million cases in 1940, and production dropped sharply as the decade went on. The 1946 pack was 3.9 million cases, a disaster for Alaska. The pack hit 2.9 million cases in 1953 and continued to drop until 1959, when the harvest was 1.6 million cases.69 In 1945 the declining catch sent the Bristol Bay canners to William F. Thompson at the School of Fisheries at the University of Washington, seeking advice on how to restore the runs. By 1953 President Dwight G. Eisenhower had to send federal food relief to the territory, and the federal mismanagement of the salmon runs became a potent argument for statehood. To many in the salmon industry, including Pacific Fisherman publisher Freeman, the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor had been “tragic verification” of Japan’s intent to infiltrate and take over the American fishing industry.70 During the war, Freeman peppered Secretary of State Cordell Hull with letters and advice, passing on rumors about Japanese fishermen who doubled as spies, and continually pointing out that a solution would be needed to the Bristol Bay problem as soon as the war ended. The American fishing industry was chagrined that the Japanese had caught and exported over $27 million worth of Bristol Bay king crab to the United States between 1931 and 1940. The industry was certainly capable of catching this crab themselves—but the Japanese fished from huge mother ships, and only the federal government could afford an 43

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investment of that scale. Private money could be mobilized, but only after it was clear that it would be profitable. Congress authorized a preliminary investigation into the Alaska crab resource in 1940 and again in 1941, using a floating cannery Tondeleyo and three fishing boats. A U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service report in 1942 concluded that there was an “outstanding opportunity for a large-scale king crab enterprise in Bering Sea, and probably only a large-scale operation could be successfully conducted there.”71 At the same time as Congress was spending money on fishery development, the Department of Agriculture suggested that the need for protein was so great that the federal government should invest in a large fishing and processing vessel. A World War I freighter, the 423foot SS Mormacrey, was to be turned into the world’s largest fishing boat. In a 1944 joint resolution, Congress directed Fish and Wildlife to survey the extent and condition of all marine and freshwater fishery resources, including the “high seas resources in which the U.S. may have interests or rights.”72 A year earlier the U.S. military had decided on a Pacific strategy that depended on the building of military bases, some of them in the Mandated Islands, the former Japanese territories that came under U.S. control in 1946.73 The Japanese had established a rich fishery there during the 1930s. A string of American fishing boats would strengthen claims to the islands and their tuna resources. With the coming of peace, the stage was set for the United States and Japan to engage in the battle over which country could provide the cheapest canned fish to American and European consumers.

44

THREE

The Pacific Fisheries Frontier Tomorrow the Marianas. 

PACIFIC FISHERMAN, SEPTEMBER 1945

In the last half of the 19th Century the American economy was largely based upon the development of the Great Plains. The Pacific Ocean is the Great Plains of the last half of the 20th Century. 

WILBERT MCLEOD CHAPMAN1

President Harry Truman arrived in Seattle on June 21, 1945, to go salmon fishing with his old Senate friend Monrad C. Walgren, now governor of Washington. He’d only been president for a few weeks, since the shocking death of Franklin Delano Roosevelt on April 12, 1945. The United States was winning the war, although the decision to drop the atomic bomb on Japan was still several weeks away. The press and the country were fascinated by their new president, and when he stepped into a rowboat to head out into Puget Sound to catch a salmon, photographers eagerly snapped pictures. Truman, clad in a rustic sweater, did not catch a salmon. There is no record of the conversation in the rowboat, but Walgren certainly would have urged Truman to assist with the vexing problem of preventing the Japanese from returning to Bristol Bay. The man rowing the presidential rowboat, Nick Bez—a Croatian immigrant who owned several salmon canneries, two gold mines, and Alaska Southern Airways— certainly would have assured Truman of the great promise awaiting for the United States if they could claim the rich fisheries the Japanese had started: king crab in Bristol Bay and tuna in the Marshall, Caroline, and Mariana Islands. 45

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5

President Harry Truman visited Seattle on June 21, 1945, and went salmon fishing. With him in the boat is a secret service agent, Seattle processor Nick Bez, and his old friend former Washington senator Monrad C. Walgren. The fifth man was identified as a Seattle chef. Rowing the presidential rowboat made Bez famous. Two days after Truman’s visit, Senator Warren Magnuson announced a federal loan to Bez to operate the world’s largest fishing boat, the 423-foot Pacific Explorer. Associated Press, AP 450628036.

Two days after the fishing trip, Senator Warren Magnuson of Washington announced that the Defense Plant Corporation would make a $2 million loan to the newly formed Pacific Exploration Company, headed by Bez, to engage in exploratory deep-sea fishing on the continental shelf off the coast of Alaska. A wartime project designed to increase the supply of fish was being reconfigured for peace. The project called for a 423-foot World War I–era freighter, the SS Mormacrey, to be turned into a giant fishing boat. With the coming of peace, the freighter was renamed the Pacific Explorer and given a new mission: to establish American fishing rights off Alaska—a critical first step in making it possible for Truman at some later date to extend the three-mile limit and protect Americans from “fishing by other nationalities.”2 Between rowing the presidential rowboat and owning the world’s largest fishing boat, Nick Bez became a national figure, a poor immigrant boy who was now a millionaire. In Magnuson’s office files when he made the announcement was a four-page letter from a California scientist, Wilbert McLeod Chapman, 46

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just back from an eighteen-month tour of duty in the Pacific, where he had scouted for fish stocks to feed American troops. “From New Caledonia up through the New Hebrides and Solomons to Green Island and back to Guadalcanal I traveled by small fishing craft, trolling all the way,” Chapman wrote. The locations may have been exotic, but the fish weren’t: Chapman had seen what he knew were commercial quantities of tuna. The United States had no time to lose in staking a claim, “while the international matters in the Pacific are in a state of flux and while the United States has bargaining power.”3 Magnuson’s copy of the letter is heavily underlined, with comments and questions scribbled in the margins. Chapman laid out a powerful vision: tuna, in commercial quantities. The U.S. Navy was planning a series of bases for the Marshall, Caroline, and Mariana Islands, which the United States had seized from the Japanese. Chapman saw the California tuna fleet expanding to the Marquesas and French Oceania, while the Hawaiian fleet would expand into the former Japanese fishing territory, where the Japanese had harvested an estimated 160,000 metric tons of

6

Senator Warren Magnuson (right ) with Senator Henry M. Jackson. Magnuson, who began his career as a representative, was deeply involved in West Coast fishing politics for more than six decades. Courtesy of the University of Washington Libraries, Special Collections, UW 19599.

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tuna each year, worth 25 million yen.4 It might take twenty-five years for the vision to be fully realized, but Chapman urged that the groundwork be done immediately. “Foresight now will secure to us a rich resource in the future.”5 Just two months after Truman’s salmon fishing trip, on September 28, 1945, the United States flexed that bargaining power with what came to be called the Truman Proclamations. Both proclamations were left over from the last days of the Roosevelt administration. The first dealt with the discovery of new offshore oil deposits that created jurisdictional problems between the federal government and the states. Exploration in the shallow Gulf of Mexico showed oil in portions of the Bahama Banks, well beyond the three-mile limit. Technically a foreign company could set up a drilling operation—or decide to go fishing. The second proclamation dealt with fish. It declared that the United States had the right to establish conservation zones to protect fish in the high seas contiguous to the United States, where fishing activities were fully developed. The declaration said that if the Americans had developed a fishery, the government had the authority to limit fishing to American boats, in the interests of “conservation.” In other words, the proclamation reflected the lobbying that the West Coast salmon industry had been engaged in against the Japanese since 1936—although the proclamation did not go far enough to suit the industry, since it didn’t explicitly ban the Japanese from fishing in American waters. But the proclamation was explicit enough to be a disaster for the tuna industry. The tuna fishery was poised for enormous growth after the war—but it needed baitfish, and baitfish came from the shallow, inshore waters off Mexico, Costa Rica, Ecuador, and Peru. Barely a month later, Mexico adopted a 200-mile territorial zone. Argentina followed a year later, in October 1946. Chile acted on June 23, 1947, and Peru six weeks later on August 1.6 Iceland acted in 1945, and Costa Rica on November 2, 1949. As American tuna boats steadily expanded fishing off Latin and South America, the governments were seizing boats and accusing them of overfishing bait stocks and harming the local fisheries. It was an embarrassing series of developments for a country that boldly proclaimed that it managed its fish stocks scientifically for conservation and sustainability to be accused of fishing illegally and endangering stocks. Scholars have been extremely critical of the fisheries proclamation. Harry Scheiber—who has written extensively on the development of American fisheries, oceanography, and ocean law during this period—

48

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called it an unmitigated diplomatic disaster.7 Ann Hollick, an attorney involved in the early Law of the Sea process, claimed that the United States had to spend the next thirty years trying to undo the mischief it caused.8 British historian Donald Cameron Watt called it economic nationalism, “inspired by American self-interest and anti-Japanese feeling in the Northwest salmon fishery.”9 All agree that the proclamation was contrary to the policies the State Department was promoting, of liberalizing economic and financial practices, eliminating tariffs, and allowing equal access to raw materials. Scheiber and Hollick say the State Department did not conduct adequate high-level consultations before the proclamation was announced. The British were concerned about the precedent that the proclamation set; Norway and Iceland, long unhappy about European boats in their waters, might use it to create their own conservation zones. They were also concerned that if the cod stocks they were currently catching off Iceland were to fail, then British trawlers would want to expand into the cod-rich waters off New England. If the United States set up a conservation zone to protect its cod, British boats would be unable to fish. They protested, but the Americans refused to alter the language.10 The messy proclamation reflected the impasse within the State Department about what to do over fishing. The Department had far more important issues to deal with than a bunch of salmon in Alaska. If the Japanese economy was to be rebuilt as quickly as possible, a key component would be the re-creation of the world’s most successful fishing fleet. But the Seattle salmon industry and its influential publisher, Miller Freeman, would be certain to oppose any hint that the Japanese might be allowed back in Bristol Bay. It is hard to know exactly what motivated the proclamation, since it is so unimportant that it does not rate a mention in the memoirs of those most involved in its issuance, including secretaries of state Cordell Hull, Edward R. Stettinius, or James F. Byrnes. There is nothing about it in any of the memoirs of the major figures of the Roosevelt and Truman administrations.11 But there are two clues to be found in an examination of the fishing industry during this time. The first is an account by Edward Allen, a prominent Seattle attorney who represented several of the canning companies, and a member of the International Pacific Salmon Fisheries Commission (IPSFC). He had close ties with the state’s Democratic leadership, including Magnuson, and he was concerned that Japanese boats might not only be allowed back into Alaskan waters, but perhaps into the waters of Washington State as well.

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This undated photograph shows Edward Allen in his law library. During his career as a Seattle attorney, Allen represented a number of fishing companies and served as a director on several commissions. He represented the salmon industry as an adviser at the 1955 meeting of the International Technical Conference for the Conservation of the Living Resources of the Sea. Courtesy of the University of Washington Libraries, Special Collections, UW 29019.

In an undated affidavit, Allen wrote that Cordell Hull had told Allen and Senator Lewis Schwellenbach of Washington that “he would see that something was done to stop this intrusion.”12 The second is to be found within the role of Harold Ickes, Roosevelt’s powerful secretary of the interior between 1933 and 1946. After war was declared, Ickes appointed himself director of the Office of the Coordinator of Fisheries. Three months after he assumed control of the Alaskan salmon industry, he wrote to Roosevelt, drawing his attention to the continental shelf as a “storehouse of natural resources,” which ought to be investigated. Ickes suggested that the shelf was a source of great riches, 50

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from fish to oil, as well as a place to hide submarines. It might be necessary to “evolve new concepts of maritime territorial limits beyond three miles.”13 Roosevelt forwarded the letter to Hull, with a recommendation that the old three-mile limit could be superseded “by a rule of common sense,” else European countries might wind up drilling for oil in the Gulf of Mexico.14 Hollick also thought the origin of the fisheries proclamation lay in Roosevelt’s willingness to extend U.S. coastal jurisdiction. He was sympathetic to the West Coast fishing industry in its salmon dispute with Japan. But he spent little time on the issue and apparently did not see any problems with how such unilateral actions might be interpreted.15 Ickes published an article in the February 1946 issue of Collier’s called “Underwater Wealth.” The focus was mainly oil, but he proposed that ten surplus victory ships be turned into research vessels to conduct magnetic surveys of the continental shelf, and that bases be established in the South Pacific to supply the fishing fleet. “In this way and at comparatively little cost to the United States, we could inventory the riches that we have acquired,” Ickes wrote.16 The war had been a chaotic time for the State Department. The War Department conducted its own foreign affairs, and Roosevelt often under­ took policies without consulting with Cordell Hull, who left in late 1944. Roosevelt died in 1945, and during an eight-month period, there were three secretaries. Clearly, matters in Washington were muddled, and nobody was too concerned about fish, until the territorial claims from Latin America started rolling in. Under a reorganization of the State Department initiated under Edward Stettinius during his months as secretary of state in 1944, fisheries were relegated to the commodity division of the economics branch, along with other “resources, businesses, and trade.”17 Seattle’s Allen was horrified. He immediately began to organize opposition to the decision, arguing that fisheries must have a greater voice within the State Department. Fishing involved diplomacy and international law; it was not a commodity like wheat.18 The disregard for fisheries, as far as Allen was concerned, was part of a larger complaint at how the State Department men are “not Westerners and I fear still concentrate their gaze on the Atlantic even if it is now only a puddle in international importance compared with the Pacific.”19 Fisheries reflected the wider tension between two opposing views on American foreign policy. The internationalists supported the idea that all countries should have free access to the world’s resources. The “realpolitik” faction, led by a cadre of legal scholars and backed by the fishing industry, argued that the United States had to act in its own best interests to preserve the fish, regardless of the international implications.20 51

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For the internationalists, the three-mile limit and the freedom of the seas were a cornerstone of equality among nations, with all countries having free access to world resources. This was reflected in the Atlantic Charter of 1941 and reiterated in many other declarations, including the Potsdam Declaration of 1945, which set the terms for the surrender of Germany and Japan. One of the thirteen terms governing the treatment of Japan was that it was to have access to raw materials it had utilized before the war, and that obviously included the right to fish in the international waters off Alaska.21 This group supported the Supreme Commander Allied Powers (SCAP) in seeking to restore Japan’s fishing status to prewar levels. They opposed the fisheries proclamation, because it was a significant departure from other policies and it could lead to “misunderstanding, suspicions and opposition” from many nations.22 The leading exponent of this view in the State Department was Willard Thorp, a former economist at Columbia University who headed the International Trade Policy Division in 1944. Thorp argued against the Truman Proclamations because they were inconsistent with international economic goals of eliminating trade restrictions. Expanding territorial claims to protect one industry had the potential to do even more harm to other industries, such as offshore oil.23 Thorp suggested it would be more appropriate for the United States to work with the new Food and Agriculture Organization of the United Nations (FAO), which the United States had been pivotal in organizing in 1944. The organization could work to secure international consent for policies that would conserve the world’s food resources.24 The realpolitik group argued that the United States had to look out for its own self-interest. This group included individuals who were suspicious about ceding rights to international organizations and a wide variety of senators and congressional representatives concerned about how postwar trade policies were destabilizing home industries.25 There was also philosophical opposition from a cadre of legal scholars, who had called throughout the 1930s for changes in international law to protect fishery resources from unlimited exploitation. They argued that unless international law was changed, it would be impossible to conserve fish stocks because the fish could be taken by others. Conservation of ocean resources demanded that countries, including the United States, extend their territorial claims to protect fish populations. In this view, conservation demanded enclosure of the stocks, and the freedom of the seas was outdated because it could result in the extermination of fish stocks.26 The tension between the two groups within the department was reflected in the country as a whole. With the end of the war, Americans 52

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embraced an internationalist policy that called for reducing tariffs and opening their markets to foreign goods. But in industry after industry, cheaper goods from abroad began to erode American jobs. The fishing industry—especially in New England, but also in Southern California—was among the first domestic industries to be hurt by these new policies. For decades New England fishermen had struggled against low-cost fish coming in from Canada, where fishermen were paid less. Now a cadre of diplomats was arguing that more cheap fish had to be imported from Iceland and Norway. The United States had established an air base in Iceland early in the war, with the promise that the Americans would leave voluntarily when the war ended. The war was over, but the Americans wished to stay. Cod that was sold to the United States could not be sold to the Soviet Union, weakening trade ties between Iceland and the USSR. The industry began pushing its senators and representatives for a tariff to protect their fish.27 There was also discontent in Southern California. The territorial claims from Latin America were ominous, and so was the way Mexico, Costa Rica, and Ecuador were steadily increasing the fees for Americans to fish in their waters, while accusing the Americans of depleting the baitfish. The Americans countered that there was no scientific evidence that baitfish were being depleted and accused the Latin Americans of demanding “tribute.”28 The tuna industry watched uneasily as the American Occupation began rebuilding the Japanese fishing fleet. How long would it take for Japanese tuna to once again flood into American supermarkets? In September 1946 the territorial problems with Mexico spread from the Pacific to the Atlantic, when Mexico seized shrimp vessels in the Gulf of Mexico. If the American fishing industry was to survive, it needed a voice within the State Department, protecting it from these multiple threats. Without intervention at the highest levels, the State Department would deeply harm the industry. Fisheries leaders were aghast that anyone would suggest it be sacrificed for other interests, even something as important as oil. It was especially galling to the Seattle salmon industry. If the Japanese were allowed to return to waters they had fished before the war, they would be back in Bristol Bay, and the destruction of the entire salmon resource in the Pacific Northwest would follow. In January 1946 Edward Allen and Miller Freeman brought the salmon and tuna industries together at a meeting in Los Angeles to consider the proclamation and what the industry should do about it.29 They created the Pacific Fisheries Congress to push for a greater voice at the State Department and the implementation of a conservation zone for salmon in the ocean off Alaska. It was a rare moment of unity for two industries 53

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that did not know much about each other and did not yet understand how divergent their interests really were. Lost in all the political confusion was that West Coast fish landings continued to fluctuate. The 1945 Bristol Bay salmon catch was so poor that the canners asked William F. Thompson to undertake a study of what they needed to do to restore the runs. The California sardine fishery, after landing a near-record catch of 614,045 tons in 1944 and 1945, dropped to 130,121 tons by 1948.30 Sardine fishing was so unstable that despite the territorial claims and escalating costs, Southern California boats continued to enter the tuna fishery, exacerbating the tensions with Latin America over baitfish. But nobody was interested in the problems of the traditional fisheries, when there were so many new resources to develop, like king crab and bottom fish in Alaska. Most important of all, there was high-seas tuna.

The war transformed the West. Until 1940 most of the West, including California, had an essentially colonial economy, extracting raw materials that were sent east for processing. The West emerged from the war with a more diversified and developed economy, with its own manufacturing capabilities, as well as new industries like aeronautics, shipbuilding, electronics, and atomic energy. “The American Dream of unlimited opportunity in the West—muted during the Great Depression—was revitalized by World War II,” writes historian Gerald D. Nash.31 This was especially true for the American fishing industry, and if one man was responsible for the vision of what the industry could be, it was thirty-eight-year-old Wilbert McLeod Chapman, the curator of fishes at the California Academy of Sciences in San Francisco. A physically imposing man, topping six feet three inches, Chapman was a “great, gruff bear of a man, with a resonant bass voice and a glowing personality.”32 He was enormously energetic, with a deep passion for and understanding of the immensely complex fishing industry. After the initial letter to Magnuson and other West Coast officials, Chapman wrote more letters, to politicians, scientists, cannery owners, and to fishing and labor groups. His letters, always long and sent to multiple recipients, helped propel Chapman to national prominence, making him a central figure in the development of postwar American fisheries. He was the acknowledged expert on tuna in the Pacific, a man with the credentials to back his views and the energy to promote them. The United States had to act quickly to develop a claim to the fish re54

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8

Though undated, this picture of Wilbert McLeod Chapman was probably taken in 1948, when Chapman was named director of the School of Fisheries at the University of Washington. He was director for less than a year when he was appointed to the State Department as the special fisheries attaché. Courtesy of the University of Washington Libraries, Special Collections, UW 22108.

sources in the Western Pacific, while the powerful Japanese fishing industry was confined to its local waters. The Soviets had begun a massive expansion of fishing capacity and would be entering the tuna fishery. If the United States was to establish itself in the new Trust Territories, there was no time to waste.

Wilbert McLeod Chapman was born in 1910 in Kalama, Washington, on the Kalama River, which flows into the Columbia. In a biographical 55

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sketch prepared for Pacific Fisherman in 1948, he wrote that his father, whom he did not name, was a foreman of Doty Fisheries, associated with the Columbia River Packers Association, headquartered in Astoria, Oregon, and the largest fishing company on the West Coast. “He has never been able to entirely escape from the effects of this early association with the commercial fisheries, or stray very far from the fish business,” he wrote of himself.33 However, according to records from the Lewis County Historical Society, his father was an elementary teacher, Albert B. Chapman, who died in 1943. Wilbert Chapman left Kalama to finish high school in Seattle, where he lived with an uncle and attended the prestigious Roosevelt High School.34 The School of Fisheries at the University of Washington granted him a bachelor of science degree in 1932 and a master’s degree in 1933. William F. Thompson signed off on his doctoral dissertation, “Oceanic Fishes from the Northeastern Pacific Ocean Collected by the International Fisheries Commission,” in 1937.35 Chapman was an ichthyologist, trained in the identification of fish. It is hard to know what Thompson made of Chapman, his most successful and renowned student, who helped bring national attention to Thompson and his success at the halibut and salmon commissions—but while Chapman repeatedly cited Thompson’s work, he systematically misrepresented its meaning. The two men maintained a brisk correspondence. Thompson sent Chapman money for specimen bottles while he was in the South Pacific, and Chapman named a fish after his mentor.36 It was not the only important relationship Chapman made at the University of Washington. He also met a fellow science student, Mary Elizabeth Swaney of Aberdeen, Washington. Chapman and Maisie were married on March 23, 1935, in Seattle. By the time he was hired to work at the Academy of Sciences in San Francisco in early 1943, they had four children. He also became good friends with Milner Baily (“Benny”) Schaefer (1912–1970), perhaps Thompson’s best student. With Chapman’s backing, Schaefer would become the first director of the Inter-American Tropical Tuna Commission (IATTC). One of the most respected scientists of his time, Schaefer was appointed director of the Marine Resources Institute at the Scripps Institution of Oceanography in 1962 and served as science advisor to Secretary of the Interior Stewart Udall from 1967–69. Benny Schaefer was born in Cheyenne, Wyoming, the son of Heinrich Gottlieb Schaefer and Kate Ross Baily Schaefer. He received his bachelor of science degree in fisheries at the University of Washington in 1935, winning the President’s Medal for scholastic excellence.37 He began work on his doctorate (which he would not complete until 1950) by working 56

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for Thompson, who by now had been named director of the new International Pacific Salmon Fisheries Commission, headquartered in New Westminster, British Columbia, Canada. Schaefer enlisted in the navy in 1942 and was commissioned a lieutenant, much to Chapman’s chagrin, as he was turned down for service because he was blind in one eye. In 1943 Chapman was offered the job of curator of fishes at the California Academy of Sciences in San Francisco. Almost immediately, the Office of Economic Warfare asked him to survey tropical Pacific fish resources and to develop a fishery to feed American troops. It was up to Maisie to pack up the children, find a house in Palo Alto, and get the family settled. “She was also somewhat worn down by having to locate and buy a house and move all by herself, but she is a very capable girl and did a good job all around,” Chapman confided to Thompson.38 Chapman had Lt. Schaefer added to the fishery project, but Schaefer almost immediately contracted rheumatic fever, was invalided home, and spent fourteen months recovering in naval hospitals. One of the other five scientists Chapman worked with in the Pacific, Robert T. Smith, died “of ailments aggravated by his experiences in the South Pacific.”39 Chapman spent eighteen months in the Pacific, enough time to collect more than 10,000 specimens of fish that he intended to sort and categorize.40 He also returned with a messianic zeal to develop American fishing interests in the equatorial Pacific, especially the former tuna grounds in the Mandated Islands, the Caroline, Marshall, and Marianas. In the tropical Pacific we have won an empire of tremendous size. It is an empire of great riches, where the land is as nothing and the sea is everything—an empire in which the native people are small in number and restricted to small points in its vastness; an empire which no other nation save the Japanese covets and which no other nation save theirs and ours can cultivate and make produce.41

If the United States did not act, Chapman charged that the Soviet Union and Japan would, because they knew that fishery development was vitally important.42 He explicitly linked fish to national defense, to have “an American industry strongly developed across the tropical Pacific.”43 The expansion of the fishing industry would serve national and military goals, and it would follow the Japanese model, incorporating what we would now call biological oceanography as an integral part of fishery development. Chapman linked Japan’s successful fishing to its seagoing research ships. If conservation zones were to be created in the ocean, they had to be based on the geographic range of the fish populations, something the Americans had not attempted to study. The State 57

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Department needed fisheries science.44 In Chapman’s vision of the Pacific fisheries frontier, American science forged an alliance with fishermen, teaming up to pioneer the settlement of a new West. In a 1944 joint resolution, Congress had directed the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service to survey the extent and condition of all marine and freshwater fishery resources, including the “high seas resources in which the U.S. may have interests or rights.”45 Rep. Joseph R. Farrington of Hawaii introduced a bill to provide for the investigation and development of fisheries in Hawaii in 1945. Japanese fishermen had historically supplied fresh fish to Hawaii. Their vessels had been lost during the war, and now the state demanded federal assistance in developing Hawaiian fishery resources. The bill requested $350,000 for onshore facilities, $500,000 for a full-scale oceanographic research vessel, and $175,000 for an experimental fishing vessel—figures that were astonishingly high compared to the tiny amounts that had been spent on ocean research during the 1930s.46 Chapman enthusiastically supported the Farrington bill. When it failed to pass in 1946, Chapman and Schaefer, along with U.S. Fish and Wildlife biologist Oscar Sette, helped rewrite the legislation. Their enthusiasm over a research program for tuna in the Pacific drew a stern scolding from their old teacher. Thompson warned that it was impossible to set up a research program and get quick results. Speaking from the vantage point of almost four decades of research, Thompson told his former students they should be frank in making it clear that it would be a long time before research in the Pacific paid off: I am very skeptical of the ability of scientific expeditions to determine the abundance of species in different parts of their range. . . . Consequently, I hope that the tremendous enthusiasm with which you and your friends face the South Pacific will not lead you to neglect the sound approach. There will be many years of exploration, accumulation of background data, and expansion of the commercial fisheries before some of the great problems which are now so light-heartedly listed for attack can be approached.

Thompson ended the letter on a plaintive note, a reminder of how much there was to learn in the home waters. “I cannot help feeling a little bewildered by the tremendous enthusiasm which it is possible to work up for problems still remote. I think our frontier is just as much in Alaska as it is in the waters of the Philippines.”47 It is doubtful that Chapman gave much thought to Thompson’s sober warning. He was doing more than creating a scientific research program; he was trying to prod the United States into staking a claim to the fish 58

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resources of an area where American fishermen had never fished. It was an exciting time—meetings with congressmen and senators, speaking to scientists, being quoted in the press as the acknowledged expert on fishing in the Pacific. Chapman published “The Wealth of the Oceans” in the Scientific Monthly in March 1947, and mail flooded into his office. “The work of my department is simply going to hell because I spend so much time on fisheries propaganda,” he confided.48 Chapman was a godsend to the Pacific Fisheries Congress as it sought to make the case for expanding fisheries within the State Department. Through 1947, citing Chapman’s expertise, they lobbied for greater representation for the fishing industry. The School of Fisheries at the University of Washington offered him the job of director in 1948. Thompson was leaving to work on the newly formed Fisheries Research Institute, funded by the canning industry and devoted to restoring the salmon runs in Alaska. The Seattle offer was quickly followed by a Guggenheim fellowship, giving Chapman the opportunity to spend a summer in Europe. Chapman visited European fishery science facilities, while he planned the changes he wanted to make in the school curriculum. He visited the centers of European fisheries science, including Copenhagen and Lowestoft, but he did not look to the European model of science when he did his planning; he looked to Japan. Writing to Miller Freeman from Amsterdam in August 1947, Chapman laid out ambitious plans to make the fishing industry a working part of the School of Fisheries, so it could produce young men capable of setting into “all phases of this new program of exploitation of the resources of the Pacific.”49 He concluded the letter on a personal note. Maisie was house hunting in Seattle with the children, “and she has not had much encouragement so far. Traveling with four children has rather worn her out.” When General George C. Marshall was appointed secretary of state in 1947, the fishing industry finally found a sympathetic ear. Senator Magnuson laid out the problem for him in an April 1, 1947, letter: the United States had given the Russians a fishing fleet through the Lend-Lease Program but had not spent any money to help American fishermen. “My best information now is that Russia is about to invade American North Pacific fishing grounds with the ships which we gave them and catch fish to sell in the American market,” Magnuson wrote.50 In April Marshall agreed to create a temporary position of special assistant to handle fishery matters.51 The April issue of Tuna Fisherman Magazine reported that the post had been established at a salary of $9,995, “thereby assuring the industry a top hand in Washington.” The department wanted an attorney. Chapman’s appointment was announced in Seattle in June. Two 59

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days later Chapman was on his way to Washington, D.C., via San Diego, where he intended to meet with industry representatives “to get their slant on international fishery problems.”52 Leaving Maisie to once again pack up the house and family, Chapman headed for Washington, D.C.

While there was enormous enthusiasm for the Pacific fisheries frontier, things were not going smoothly with the flagship enterprise, the 423foot Pacific Explorer. Rowing the presidential rowboat and owning the world’s biggest fishing boat had catapulted Nick Bez into the national spotlight, and his rags-to-riches immigrant story kept him there. Nikola Bezmalinovic was born in 1895 on the island of Brac in the Adriatic Sea. He borrowed $50 from his father when he was fifteen and booked passage to New York. He worked in a restaurant to earn the train fare to go west to Tacoma, where there was a community of Dalmatian fishing families. From there he went to Alaska as a deckhand on a towboat and earned enough to buy a rowboat, then a gas boat, and by 1914 his first seiner. In 1922 he was appointed the superintendent of an Alaskan cannery. He saved his money and bought an abandoned cannery on Peril Strait, near Sitka. He paid $5,000 for the plant and went into debt to buy $150,000 worth of canning machinery. The first year he paid the bills; the second year he netted $175,000.53 Bez started Alaska Southern Airways in 1934 and sent the first planes from Seattle to Juneau, Cordova, and Ketchikan.54 By 1939 Bez owned three of the largest canneries in Alaska and two gold mines.55 He also owned the Alaska Southern Packing Company, which operated a floating cannery called La Merced. He created a new company, the Intercoastal Packing Company, and bought a 390-foot steamer called the Orgontz, which he converted to a floating cannery to operate in Alaska. The Orgontz was equipped with two Continental Can Company high-speed machines, two “Iron Chinks” (which gutted and took the heads off the fish, replacing the need for Chinese labor), and four retorts, and fished with a company of gillnet boats in Bristol Bay.56 If any man knew about canning fish at sea, it was Nick Bez. The conversion of the World War I freighter to floating cannery took much longer than expected, and costs almost doubled. Bez did not take possession of the ship until late in 1946, and there was no time to get it ready for an Alaskan season. Bez decided to make a shakedown cruise to Costa Rica, to get some tuna.

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Nick Bez and the Pacific Explorer. Two days after Truman’s visit to Seattle, Senator Warren Magnuson of Washington announced that the Defense Plant Corporation would make a $2 million loan to the newly formed Pacific Exploration Company, headed by Bez. The money would transform a 423-foot World War 1–era freighter into the world’s largest fishing boat, the Pacific Explorer. Its mission was to establish American fishing rights off Alaska, then international waters. A similar mission to the former Japanese tuna grounds of the Mandated Islands never took place. The Pacific Explorer made two trips before it was mothballed. The giant ship was set up to can at sea when the rest of the world’s fishing industry was focused on catching and freezing at sea. Courtesy of the Columbia River Maritime Museum, Columbia River Packers Collection, 85.55.1394.922. Photo taken by Ned Thorndike on December 22, 1946.

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“The West had had blustering barons by the barrel, but Nick Bez, the lord-high-everything of the salmon industry and friend of Presidents, tops them all for color,” wrote Richard J. Neuberger, who made a virtual career out of selling the Bez story to a variety of national magazines and newspapers. Neuberger was a correspondent for the New York Times between 1939 and 1954, when he was elected to represent Oregon in the Senate. Bez very much fit the image of Neuberger’s heroic vision of the development of the West.57 The Pacific Explorer project drew national attention. “GovernmentBacked Firm in Seattle Outfits Floating Cannery to Wrest Crabmeat Monopoly from Japs in Alaskan Waters,” ran the headline in Business Week on August 18, 1945. Time magazine called Bez “The Baron of the Brine” and bragged that the modern American ship would soon replace the Japanese fleet, which caught two-thirds of the world’s tuna.58 The ship was an affirmation of American science and technology, and it represented the power of the American fishing industry and all that it had learned during six decades of catching and processing salmon in Alaska. From the start, the Pacific Explorer carried big expectations. In early 1946 W. L. Thompson, the longtime chairman of the West Coast’s largest cannery, the Columbia River Packers Association (CRPA), sold his shares in the company to Bez and Transamerica Corporation of San Francisco, the investment affiliate of Amadeo P. Giannini’s California banking kingdom.59 The CRPA was headquartered in Astoria, Oregon, at the mouth of the Columbia River, but since the 1890s, it had operated canneries in Alaska, as well as throughout the West Coast. Sales during 1945 were $8.6 million.60 Albacore tuna had moved to the waters off Washington and Oregon during the 1920s, and the small salmon boats trolling in the ocean found they could catch the sleek tuna on their gear. The CRPA was quick to see an opportunity and expanded its cannery, making room for equipment to cook and can tuna. After Bez acquired the company, he also bought two 326-foot ex-military landing craft and converted them into refrigerated mother ships, each capable of carrying 1,000 tons of frozen tuna from the South Pacific back to Astoria for processing.61 The vessels were renamed the Tinian and the Saipan. With the Pacific Explorer, the Tinian, and the Saipan, the Columbia River Packers Association, already a West Coast and Alaskan powerhouse, was poised to enter the tuna fishery off Latin America. There was no obvious reason why the model of catching and canning salmon in Alaska would not work to harvest tuna off Latin America. The most significant difference was that the company would buy the tuna from its purse-seine 62

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fleet, freeze them, then transport the fish back to Astoria for canning. It really ought to have been simpler than catching and canning salmon in Alaska and shipping them back to Astoria to market. But it wasn’t. The Pacific Explorer carried a great deal of political baggage. Bez’s extensive experience in operating floating canneries made him an obvious choice to run the ship. But bids were never issued, and from the start there were questions about the contract. Rowing the boat when Harry Truman went fishing made Nick Bez famous, but the Pacific Explorer couldn’t shake the taint of political cronyism. By the time the conversion was finished, it was late 1946 and the price tag had crept from a $2 million loan from the Defense Plant Corporation to nearly $5 million, guaranteed by the Restoration Finance Corporation (RFC). Bez leased the ship and operated it, and he was to pay the RFC $50,000 a year, or 55 percent of the profits, whichever was greater. Plans called for building five new steel purse-seine boats to fish for the processing ship, but as costs increased, the auxiliary fleet was scaled back to four boats: the Alaska, the Washington, the Oregon, and the California. The expedition included an airplane to spot schools of tuna. The purse seiners would catch the tuna and transfer them to the mother ship, where a crew of “skilled cold storage men” had been recruited from the Astoria plant. The ship had the capacity to freeze and transport 3,800 tons of tuna.62 In a burst of efficiency and American ingenuity, when the Pacific Explorer was not buying and freezing tuna, it would conduct oceanographic research. A biologist and a fisheries technician were assigned to the crew and would “study the ocean life and currents and temperatures.”63 The biologist was Milner B. Schaefer, now recovered from his long bout of rheumatic fever and working for the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service out of Honolulu. The Pacific Explorer left Astoria in January 1947, accompanied by twelve large trawlers rigged for purse-seine fishing. The fleet sailed to Costa Rica and straight into a big political fish fight—or several fights, the most bitter of which was between two groups of American fishermen, the purse-seine fleet from San Pedro and the tuna clippers of San Diego. Portuguese immigrants developed the San Diego bait-boat fleet. Their tuna clippers were some of the largest and most beautiful fishing boats ever built, capable of running 2,000 miles at sea to catch tuna. The crew threw live bait into the water to attract the tuna; the fish went into a feeding frenzy and snapped at lures on bamboo poles, allowing two or three men to land the large tuna. It was a successful fishing technique—if you had the bait, but since the 1930s bait had been getting harder to find in California waters.64 63

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In nearby San Pedro, the industry was dominated by the descendants of Yugoslavia. They had brought the beach seines of the Adriatic Sea to the New World. These fishermen used open skiffs to set nets in large circles. The bottom of the nets could be drawn up at both ends, creating a purse and preventing the fish from escaping out of the bottom of the net. With the development of gasoline engines, fishermen connected the net to a winch, making it easier to haul the heavy cotton nets. It was the same technique Nick Bez used to catch salmon in Puget Sound and Alaska, and now he was going to deploy it in Costa Rica. The 1946 tuna pack was a record 4.3 million cases, and the industry could have sold more. The U.S. Navy had commandeered the largest San Diego tuna boats during the war; now that the war had ended, the tuna men eagerly bought the surplus navy boats and resumed pioneering new waters off Latin and South America. They were bitterly unhappy when San Pedro purse-seine boats appeared in the tuna fishery off Mexico. They claimed the seiners killed large numbers of porpoises and that they frequently took more fish than they could accommodate in their holds, wasting fish. The Mexican government was also unhappy about the new seine boats, which didn’t need the bait that the government sold to the tuna clippers. In 1933 the government prohibited seining in its waters. The ban was soon lifted, but there was lingering tension. The Mexican licensing fees were steadily increasing and included an export tariff of $20 a ton, a yearly head tax on fishermen of 55 cents each, monthly fishing licenses based on the size of the boat, as well as licenses for the boat and the anchor. The Americans were dependent on the Mexicans to fish, but the rising fees chafed. The Mexican government chafed as well. In 1935 Mexico issued a decree claiming sovereignty over territorial waters of nine miles, based on an interpretation of the 1848 Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo, which set the boundary between Mexico and the United States. A month after the Truman Proclamations, in October 1945, Mexico announced ownership of its continental shelf, interrupting bilateral fishing talks that had been under way between the two countries for some time. Mexico then banned seining by American boats. Under pressure from the tuna industry, the State Department told Mexico it would only recognize the territorial claim if Mexico recognized the established interests of American fishermen.65 The federal government now found itself in the business of guaranteeing the right of American boats to fish in foreign waters. More and more American boats were claiming that right. Before World War II, the California sardine fishery had been one of the most lucrative in the world. Sardines made up one-quarter of all the fish landed in the 64

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United States, supporting an extremely large and powerful fishing and processing industry. Some sardines were canned and eaten, but the bulk of the catch was turned into fishmeal, used for fertilizer and animal food, while the oils were extracted for industrial purposes. By 1939 the industry employed 40,000 people and generated revenues of $600 million a year.66 By 1943 there were 206 seiners fishing sardines for 75 plants, yet the War Food Administration ordered that the harvest be increased by one-third, to 4 million cases, with 100 percent of the catch going to the military.67 For almost two decades, scientists at the California Department of Fish and Game had argued that the extreme fluctuations in the sardine catch were evidence that too many fish were being harvested.68 The 1945 and 1946 harvest was only 121,341 tons, a sixth of the historic high.69 The collapse of sardines left many of the San Pedro purse-seine fleet with few options. Many of them turned to tuna and joined the San Diego bait boats off Mexico and Costa Rica. The Pacific Explorer sailed into this nest of tensions. It was the world’s largest fishing boat and was accompanied by a fleet of twelve seiners, all between 80 and 100 feet in length. It represented prodigious fishing capacity that alarmed not only the American bait boats, but also the Costa Rican government. Costa Rica had banned purse seining, but soon there were reports that the Pacific Explorer would be buying tuna and paying $20 more a ton than the local canneries. By early March, Bez had soothed the government by promising to pay a tax of $2 to the government for every ton of tuna he bought. Costa Rica promulgated a new law, allowing purse seiners to enter its waters.70 The American Tuna Association (ATA), which represented the bait boats, was furious. It put pressure on its congressional delegation, calling for an investigation into the contract between the Restoration Finance Corporation and Bez. “It is the prettiest little deal you have ever seen, and there are ramifications of this that go way back, and they smack of political patronage,” was the way that California Rep. Charles K. Fletcher put it at the well-publicized hearings of the House Merchant Marine and Fisheries Committee.71 In the meantime, the costs of running the world’s largest fishing boat were mounting. The negotiations with Costa Rica had taken time. It was expensive to maintain the onboard ice plant in the warm tropical waters. By June Sam H. Husbands of Transamerica Corporation sent a telegram to the RFC, saying that Bez estimated the losses through June at approximately $75,000, while Husbands placed the loss closer to $200,000.72 By the end of the month, the RFC ordered the ship back to Astoria. It arrived with 2,272 tons of frozen yellowtail tuna and a score of Costa Ricans 65

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who had been hired to replace the Astoria crewmen who had quit as the vessel waited for permission to buy fish. The RFC issued a new set of orders: the Pacific Explorer and one of its four government-owned trawlers were sent to Alaska to fish and process crab. There would be a further tuna trip, this time to the Mandated Islands, where the Americans would have a clearer shot at establishing a beachhead for the Pacific fisheries frontier. The Pacific Explorer was not the only large ship to expand into Latin American waters. In the spring of 1947, the British firm of Christian Salvesen announced that when the Antarctic whaling season closed, it planned to take sperm whales off the coast of Peru.73 On June 23, 1947, Chile increased its sovereign waters, and on August 1, 1947, Peru extended sovereignty to the limits of her continental shelf, or 200 miles, whichever was farther.74 The situation in Latin America was increasingly tense, as the tuna industry representatives Chapman consulted on his way to Washington, D.C., surely told him.

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FOUR

The Fish War with Japan It is no exaggeration to state that the marine industry symbolizes the spirit of the Rising Sun. 

YONEMATSU MITSU, JAPAN’S FISHERIES INDUSTRY 19391

Hunger was a global crisis during and immediately after the war. The Bengal famine in India began in 1943, the same year Mexico was rocked by food shortages that threatened to develop into famine. The Southeast Asian economy had been severely disrupted by the Japanese Occupation. An estimated 1 million people died of starvation in Vietnam in 1945. Starvation and malnutrition were widespread in China after the retreating Japanese blew up key dikes on the Yellow River, flooding 3 million acres of fertile farmland.2 The food situation was especially dire in Japan, where food rationing had been imposed in 1942 and rice rations had been progressively cut as the war went on.3 Many cities had been destroyed by the American strategic bombing campaign. Two weeks after General Douglas MacArthur landed in Japan, typhoons swept across southeast Japan, flooding rice fields and damaging the crop—one of a series of disasters that jeopardized the global food harvest in the wake of the war.4 The winter of 1947 was one of the worst in history, slowing agricultural recovery across Europe and the Soviet Union.5 Ocean warfare had disrupted marine commerce and the transport of food. In Great Britain and Germany, where there had been thriving fishing industries before the war, boats had been commandeered for the war effort. The fishing boats that remained had neither fuel nor cotton to make nets. The memory of European famine after World War I loomed large in many minds. 67

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Hunger was an immediate humanitarian concern, but it was also a political problem. Hunger could lead to social unrest that would make governments less stable, creating opportunities for malcontents. Alleviating hunger could be a major step toward world peace. “Americans believed that economic instability and poverty bred political chaos, revolutionary behavior, totalitarianism, violence, aggression, and war,” wrote historian Thomas Paterson. “It was assumed that these conditions were attractive to political extremists like Communists, who always preyed on weaknesses and dislocations.”6 The solution lay in transferring Western technology and ideology to underdeveloped countries, which would then follow the American progression toward capitalism and democracy.7 Science and technology offered policy makers new weapons in the ancient war to conquer hunger. President Roosevelt directed the creation of the Food and Agriculture Organization (FAO) of the United Nations in 1944. The FAO explicitly linked the emerging science of nutrition and health with agriculture. Its goal was to raise the nutritional level and standards of living for the people of its member countries. Its focus was a pure Progressive vision of how modern science would work: problems would be researched, practices would be analyzed, everything would be made more efficient. The government would facilitate by adopting regulations and help with the financing.8 Before the war, the practice of research and development had been relatively haphazard. But after 1945, the enormous government investment into science and industry created “a formidable and growing capacity—a system—for targeting human ingenuity toward the rapid expanse of knowledge and the production of new technologies designed to serve perceived or speculative needs.”9 This industrialization of the food supply, centered in the First World nations and radiating outward, solidified the role of agriculture in the national political economy of industrialized countries. Industrialization depended on scientific inputs, especially fertilizers and pesticides. The chemical industry, the university research community, and farmers were increasingly intertwined with government, creating a powerful iron triangle that delivered a rich stream of campaign contributions, votes, and research grants. It was inevitable that the launch of the Green Revolution, with all of its hopes for increasing the food supply, also resulted in a much less successful Blue Revolution. We have always talked and thought of the ocean in land metaphors, especially agricultural ones. Fishing is akin to farming; fish are a crop that can be renewed; the ocean is endlessly productive,

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not only filled with fish, but rich with other resources that could also be profitably harvested. The end of the war unleashed a free-for-all on the world’s fish stocks. An unprecedented amount of money was poured into commercial fishing. Developed nations with distant-water fleets greatly expanded their range and share of the catch, while selling new engines, larger boats, and fishing gear to smaller nations wanting to develop their own fisheries. Bigger boats fished deeper water, as the sonar and radar technologies developed during the war were rapidly transferred to private industry. Fishing fleets were rebuilt with staggering speed and far greater capacity than ever before. The rebuilding and expansion was rooted in crisis and a humanitarian desire to increase the protein from the sea. But it was also rooted in a fundamental misunderstanding of how much protein the seas could provide. As Canadian journalist Michael Harris wrote, “Like a Sorcerer’s apprentice, we were on the verge of using the black magic of technology to make a desert of the sea.”10

Two weeks before the end of the Second World War, Harry Truman, Winston Churchill, and Joseph Stalin met in Berlin on July 26, 1945, and set the policies that would shape the postwar world. The Allies were far more concerned over what to do with Germany and Stalin’s territorial claims in Eastern Europe than they were with Japan. Eleven nations had declared war on Japan, but the Big Three would set the terms for what would follow. The Potsdam policy laid out thirteen terms. One of the most significant for Japan was that it would be allowed the industries it needed to sustain its economy, and that it would be allowed access to raw materials it had utilized before the war.11 The Allied leaders were still in Potsdam on August 2, 1945, when they demanded that Japan surrender unconditionally. General Douglas A. Mac­ Arthur issued his first commands from Manila. All fishing boats had to cease operations, remain in port, and await instructions.12 The American Occupation of Japan began when MacArthur landed at the Atsugi Airfield on August 30 and established his headquarters at Yokahama. The formal surrender on board the battleship Missouri came on September 2.13 The Supreme Commander Allied Powers—or SCAP, as the title is used to refer both to MacArthur and to the military occupation—set about dealing with the immediate crisis of feeding a starving people. One of MacArthur’s first acts was to set up U.S. Army kitchens and

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seize some of the 3.5 million tons of food the American army had stockpiled in the Pacific, to feed the Japanese through the first winter.14 “We fed the Japanese but we didn’t intend to feed them forever,” MacArthur wrote. “I directed my staff to work out the plans we needed to make Japan self-sufficient as soon as it was humanly possible.”15 An obvious first step was to get fishing boats working again, providing desperately needed protein to the Japanese people. MacArthur opened a tight portion of the waters around Japan for fishing and allocated a large share of the available fuel and material to the industry, a policy that was so successful, the fleet was back at prewar capacity by early 1947. “SCAP was not so much ‘supreme’ as a major player on a national chessboard, sometimes the queen, but more often merely a pawn,” wrote political scientist Chalmers Johnson in his study of postwar Japanese industrial policy.16 This was certainly true of the tangled relationship between the Occupation and the powerful Japanese fishing industry. Rebuilding the Japanese fishing and whaling fleets was an Occupation success story, but the still-powerful fishing industry proved difficult for SCAP to control.

The Americans began planning for the Occupation of Japan in 1942, starting with a research division in the State Department, and they arrived with a series of policies designed to completely transform Japanese life.17 Japan was to be demilitarized and disarmed. The economy was to be transformed, the large industrial and banking combines dissolved, and the educational system modernized. Society was to be transformed from feudal and authoritarian to democratic, labor unions encouraged, and women given the right to vote, hold property, enter higher education, and run for public office. Four million acres of land was bought and sold cheaply to farmers.18 The Americans established nine special sections to provide advice on a range of policies, from public health to education to statistical reports. The Natural Resources sector included agriculture, forestry, fishing, and mining, and was headed by a paleontologist, Col. Hubert G. Schenck of Stanford University. One of the most powerful weapons that SCAP brought to bear on Japan after the war was American science. The development and deployment of atomic weapons certainly signaled America’s superior scientific, technological, and organizational capabilities. When Prince Higashikuni was named prime minister on August 16, 1945, he declared that the biggest shortcoming Japan faced was the lack of science and technology. 70

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The next day the minister of education announced an “emphasis on basic science” in the postwar school system. Two days after the surrender in Tokyo Bay, the Ministry of Education established a new bureau of scientific education. “ ‘Science’ soon became almost everyone’s favorite concept for explaining both why the war was lost and where the future lay,” wrote historian John Dower.19 Since the Meiji Restoration, Japan had imported Western science and technology. After the isolation of the war years, many Japanese scientists wanted to expose themselves to Western ideas.20 If the tattered Japanese economy was to be rebuilt, Western science and technology had important roles to play. SCAP invited a cadre of leading American scientists to Japan to add their expertise to the recovery. SCAP’s scientists conducted an extensive inventory of all the major natural resources of Japan. The detailed surveys were reduced to a long series of charts, graphs, and statistics, all documenting the upward trajectory of increased output under SCAP’s modern scientific direction. SCAP produced the charts despite frequent concerns about the accuracy of Japanese data, which were seen as less reliable than American or Western European data.21 The Natural Resource analysis critiqued Japanese government research programs because they were not founded on modern ecology. The soil science was outdated, handicapping all agricultural research and planning. Forest research did not show evidence of “the effects of the present coppice system and fire field cultivation.”22 Fisheries research did not include population studies. The Japanese were years behind in applied physical sciences, compared to the United States, Great Britain, Germany, and Russia. The study recommended a carefully planned and coordinated research program in natural resources.23 Japanese scientists, engineers, and technicians were “inherently capable” but handicapped by not knowing enough of recent scientific and technical developments. Japan should solicit the best available foreign scientists and engineers it could find and should continue to send its students abroad for training. SCAP documents continually disparaged Japanese science in comparison with American science, part of a campaign to improve Japanese self-sufficiency by transferring American values and processes. The new, democratic Japan was expected to be the economic center of Asia, a bulwark against Chinese and Soviet communism. “Japanese culture was interesting and strong, but it was also viewed as malleable,” wrote historian Walter LaFeber. “It could be put into the service of the American worldview. Japan was less an end in itself than the means, in Washington’s eyes, for achieving the larger regional and global purposes of U.S. foreign policy.”24 71

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Col. Hubert G. Schenck believed that since Japan would never be self-sufficient in terms of food, American scientists needed to help with land-reclamation projects, soil classification, control of insect and plant diseases, and development of grains with improved yields. There was an extensive network of 666 national and prefectural agricultural experiment stations and private laboratories, but they lacked central guidance and coordination. Programs were duplicated and much work was of little scientific or practical value. Japanese forests suffered from overharvest and insufficient replanting. American foresters supervised the development of a five-year program to place timber production on a sustained yield basis, while mining engineers advised on a program to increase coal production. It was clear that Japanese science and technology was based on European and American foundations, but “the liaison between them has been poor,” and Japan suffered from a lack of national-scale planning.25 Japanese science would be reformed in a thoroughly Progressive way, with an emphasis on planning and efficiency, based on the use of statistics. Informed experts would make policy recommendations, based on science. There would be a special effort to remake Japanese fisheries science into an American model.

The war destroyed the Japanese empire. “Once stretching a sixth of the way around the globe from northern Manchuria to the eastern extremities of the Marshalls, the Japanese Empire has been reduced to a thin sliver, scarcely one-eighth of its former width and less than half its former length,” wrote historian Edwin Reischauer, who lived in Japan after the war.26 The fishing industry had been an integral part of the Japanese Occupation in all these areas, and fishing had been profitable. Now the high-seas salmon fishery off Kamchatka was gone, along with the bottom fish and king crab off Bristol Bay, herring and salmon off Sakhalin, tuna from the Marshall, Caroline, and Mariana Islands, and the catches off Korea and China, which had provided so much of the daily food supply. The profitable Antarctic whaling industry was also suspended. For the Japanese fishing industry, the loss of the war looked like ruin, indeed. Under the Potsdam Declaration terms, Japan was to have access to resources it had been dependent on before the war. This looked generous, but it constrained the industries that Japan would be allowed to develop, just as the unequal treaties that had been imposed in the 1850s by the British, Americans, and Russians. Industries making aircraft, synthetic oil, and synthetic rubber were banned; there were limits on the steel, 72

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chemical, and machine tool industries.27 The Occupation did not allow Japan to use import tariffs on foreign goods, a classic way to protect a fledgling domestic industry from foreign competition. In 1945 Japan was forbidden from investing in heavy industry, and it was forced to specialize in areas where it had a niche advantage. Foreign competition also created a climate of extremely low wages. Both of these factors affected the formation of the Japanese combines, the zaibatsu, and would have a great impact on two important postwar industries, shipbuilding and fishing.28 The Allied bombing of Japan and the sinking of supply ships destroyed much of the Japanese navy and the merchant marine, but a surprising amount of the fishing fleet was intact. Up to one-quarter of the fish that fed Japan had been caught by Japanese fishermen working in the coastal waters off Korea, Formosa, and China, and many of the larger boats were in those waters when the war ended. Some of those boats were claimed by Korea and China, but many of them returned home to fish. Many of the boats in smaller Japanese ports survived the bombing, albeit with various degrees of damage. They were often small, made of wood, powered by sail or small engines, but they could fish and they did. SCAP estimated that only 40 percent of fishing capacity had been lost. The 1939 fleet had consisted of some 366,000 boats and other vessels, of which about 62,000 had engines.29 Japan’s enormous shipbuilding capacity, estimated at its peak in 1944 when 1.5 million gross tons of shipping was constructed, was turned to building fishing boats.30 There were other impediments to a return to fishing. Fuel was scarce and so was material for nets. The initial allocation of fuel to Japan was small, but a substantial portion was set aside for fishing. Some military boats were turned over to the industry. The Occupation had established price controls that soon led to the creation of a black market, where fish could be sold for prices much greater than the Occupation set. Historian Reischauer wrote that while city dwellers were destitute and starving after the war, peasants with food to sell were relatively well-off.31 It must have been the same for families with small boats, and there was a ready market for whatever they could catch. It took a year for SCAP to authorize what was called the MacArthur fishing zone, formally established in June 1946, which confined the fleet to a fishing area that was about 30 percent of what it had been before the war.32 The initial MacArthur Zone extended eastward to longitude 165° east and southward to latitude 24° north. SCAP embarked on three successive large-scale programs to rebuild the fleet. The restoration was so successful that on June 16, 1947, SCAP announced that no further large-scale boat construction programs would be 73

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10°

10 Japanese fishing zones, Supreme Commander Allied Powers. One of General Douglas

MacArthur’s first acts as Supreme Commander Allied Powers was to issue an order halting Japanese fishing. The command was soon followed by creating the first MacArthur zone, opening a limited area around Japan for fishing to provide badly needed protein. As SCAP policies successfully rebuilt the Japanese fishing industry, there was enormous political pressure to expand the zone. The zone was expanded several times, until the Japanese were fishing again in the waters around the Mandated Islands, where they had pioneered a tuna fishery during the 1920s.

authorized. A more limited program was allowed to replace unserviceable and obsolete vessels.33 But once fishing-boat production was established, it was difficult to interrupt. From the start, there was pressure to enlarge the area where Japanese boats were allowed to fish. The rapidly growing fleet placed enormous strain on the fish in the East China Sea, and the frequent violations of what came to be called the MacArthur Zone re­

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ignited fishing tensions in the region and delayed the signing of a peace treaty with other countries. One of the first expansions of the MacArthur Zone was the reauthorization of whaling in the vicinity of the Bonin and Kasan Islands in November 1945. A far more controversial SCAP decision came on August 6, 1946, when whaling expanded to include Antarctic waters. The Japanese had not begun pelagic whaling in Antarctica until the 1934–35 season, when they had purchased a modern whaling mother ship from Norway; by 1939 they had six factory whaling operations in Antarctic waters. In the 1930s the League of Nations recommended international standards, including not killing pregnant females and calves or endangered right whales—standards that the Japanese ignored.34 The Far Eastern Commission, composed of representatives from the eleven nations that had declared war on Japan, objected vehemently to the resumption of whaling. MacArthur ignored the protests.35 In an attempt to defuse the criticism, the State Department announced that the Japanese would comply with further regulations set by the International Whaling Commission, which had been established at a conference in Washington, D.C., in 1946. American observers would be on board to ensure compliance with all regulations. What SCAP overlooked in its zeal to rebuild fishing capacity was that the prewar Japanese fleet had been far too big for local fish resources to support. Since the introduction of trawl technology from the West in the early 1900s, Japan dealt with its excess capacity by moving boats into waters farther and farther from Japan. The pattern that E. S. Russell, Michael Graham, and William F. Thompson had detected—that fishermen had to fish more and more water to maintain high catch levels—had also been true of Japanese fisheries. Under SCAP, the fishing fleet was rapidly restored, but there were soon too many boats fishing too little water and catches were falling. By 1948 SCAP estimated that there were at least 30 percent more vessels than needed to harvest the stocks available in the MacArthur Zone. The zone had to be expanded, and quickly. The limited fishing zone and the falling catches prompted fishermen to move outside the zone to fish, drawing criticism that the Japanese fishermen were little better than pirates, refusing to recognize boundaries set by other countries. The Soviet Union, Communist China, and Korea resisted SCAP’s attempts to increase the MacArthur Zone, and so did fishermen in the United States. When William C. Herrington (1903–1991) arrived in Japan in February 1947, he found a memo from the acting head of the fisheries sector

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warning that it might be dangerous to allow too many boats to be built for fishing in such limited waters.36 It was a warning that Herrington certainly understood, since he was intimately aware of the problems that came from having too many boats in too little water. Before moving to Japan, Herrington completed a major study of the impact of low-cost fish fillets from Canada, Iceland, and Norway on the New England industry. Herrington found the industry to be completely demoralized and warned that low-cost imports had the ability to affect the entire American fishing industry.37 Herrington was another of the long line of scientists who had been influenced by William F. Thompson. They met while Thompson was working for the California Department of Fish and Game. Thompson realized he needed to improve his calculus and found a summer tutor, a secondyear electrical engineering student at the California Institute of Technology. Under Thompson’s influence, Herrington transferred to Stanford to study with Thompson’s mentor, Charles Gilbert. He graduated in 1927 with a degree in zoology.38 Herrington worked for Thompson on salmon research before being hired by the U.S. Bureau of Commercial Fisheries, where he had extensive experience, working on sardines in California and on groundfish in New England. During the final years of the Occupation, Herrington worked closely with Chapman, whom he would replace at the State Department. One of Herrington’s most important functions was to oversee the restructuring of Japanese fisheries research, which was considered unsatisfactory. Since it was accepted by the Americans that Japan would always be dependent on food from the sea, it was necessary to imbue Japanese fisheries science with the spirit of American fisheries conservation. The Diet was about to establish a Japanese Fisheries Board with an eye to making research more efficient and coordinated.39 SCAP, in its usual thorough fashion, compiled a list of what fisheries research was being done throughout Japan and how many articles were being published. It also had a short list of fisheries professors that it considered competent. Japan had been far ahead of the West when it came to the resources it devoted to fisheries. The government set national goals for the industry and supported it with a series of subsidies. Starting around 1900, Japan transformed its fishing industry by importing the best Western science and technology, trawl techniques from Britain, and engines from Germany. The Imperial Fisheries School, outside of Tokyo, was considered the most advanced in the world, with a curriculum that covered the range of fishing activities, from marine biology to navigation, fishing and processing technology, and the most extensive research program on 76

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marine biology and oceanography in the world.40 Its students went to sea in a training ship, where they tested experimental gear and technologies, and gathered information about the potential for new fisheries. When the University of Washington decided to create a School of Fisheries in 1919, its model was the Imperial Fisheries School.41 The Japanese research during the 1930s was impressive. The scale of Japanese marine and oceanographic work was on display at the Sixth Pacific Science Congress of the Pacific Science Association, which met at the University of California, Berkeley, from July 24 to August 12, 1939. The United States devoted virtually no resources to at-sea research on basic ocean science. The Texas Game, Fish, and Oyster Commission wrote to SCAP in 1950, asking for any documents about a 1936 Japanese survey of the Gulf of Mexico. “If you can unearth this material, it would probably advance our work in the Gulf very rapidly,” wrote the commission.42 A 1947 SCAP analysis of the fishery research organization found 112 government-supported fisheries and marine products research stations and branch stations. Of the 47 prefectures, 43 had research and experimental stations doing biological and technological research in fisheries. A dozen marine biological stations were associated with universities, and others were operated privately.43 SCAP also found that Korea had a central governmental fisheries institution at Fusan, with two branch stations and eleven provincial branches. Formosa had a central government station with one branch and four provincial stations. Karafuto and Palau each had a biological station, with three stations in Manchuria and at Dairen in Kwantung. And the Japanese wanted to establish more stations!44 The arrangement of the Japanese marine biology stations is an element of Japanese imperialism, according to historian Bruce Cummings. The Western model of imperialism, practiced by Europeans and Americans with their colonies, was to use cheap local labor to export raw materials from the periphery to the European core. But Japan did it differently, sending industry and workers to the periphery, to extract the raw materials themselves, for transport back to Japan.45 In a country that could not feed itself, reaching out to control access to important food sources was imperative. The Japanese invested in science facilities as part of its national strategy to maximize the capital it was spending. If a fishery investigation did not show sufficient promise, it was canceled.46 The Occupation staff disparaged Japanese fishery research, but they wasted no time in finding and translating material for the United States and other allies. A steady stream of translated fishery and oceanography information soon appeared in American government journals such as the 77

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Commercial Fisheries Review. Australians were also interested in Japanese technology in general and fisheries in particular. Within a few weeks of the surrender, an advance team of Australians arrived in Tokyo, looking for information on industrial processes that might be helpful to the Australian economy.47 When the first Antarctic whaling expedition left in 1947, it carried Australian and American observers. Despite the enormous resources the Japanese had devoted to fisheries research, SCAP warned that just looking at the scale of the effort was misleading. Much of the research was focused on locating fish for commercial fishermen, training students in how to fish, and testing gear. There was much duplication, and many scientists were not familiar with the work of others or with the work of foreign scientists. “However, the chief difficulty seems to be that the modern ideas of fisheries conservation and management are not understood or accepted by the Japanese research workers or administrators.”48 Western science was a proxy for Western democracy. “Japanese scientists are not accustomed to the free exchange of ideas Western scientists take for granted,” wrote a SCAP researcher, adding that modern fisheries research was “unlike the old research problems with which they are familiar.”49 The Americans systematically belittled Japanese fisheries science, part of what historian Robert Harvey called a pattern of assumptions about the superiority of Western culture. “Like their colonial predecessors, the victors were imbued with the mission of civilizing their subjects. They bore the burden (in their own eyes) of their, race, creed, and culture. They swaggered, and were enviously free of self-doubt.”50 In fact, there was a great deal of similarity between American fisheries policy and SCAP’s initial fisheries policy, laid out on February 18, 1946, which included the goal of “ensuring the maximum production of seafood products consistent with security requirements.”51 During the war Secretary of the Interior Harold Ickes ordered American fisheries production to have a maximum harvest in the name of societal good. Yet SCAP systematically disparaged Japanese fisheries science, saying it was only interested in exploiting fish populations, not in developing fisheries so that stocks could be conserved, as the Americans were doing—or at least as the Americans said they were doing. SCAP required Japanese fishing companies to apologize for their behavior during the 1930s. Japan had flouted local fishing regulations. It had to become more like an American fishery, managed scientifically and objectively, by trained scientists, so that the stocks could be conserved— but again, it is useful to remember that in 1945 the focus of conservation was more on utilization than on conserving stocks as we understand the 78

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use of the term today. In particular, Japan had to accept American fishery conservation goals, loosely embodied as taking no more fish than stocks could withstand, a standard that was backed by absolutely no comprehensive effort to discover what that level of fishing actually was. SCAP sent Japanese scientists to the United States to show Japan how to adopt “more enlightened fisheries conservation policies.”52 A subsequent memo warned that the great number of projects, scientists, and research facilities “should not be allowed to give the impression that this country is extremely advanced in fisheries research and education.” Accurate research applied in a “modern, scientific manner has not yet become part of the Japanese way of thinking.”53 The MacArthur fishing zone had been established, but since there was virtually no maritime enforcement, Japanese boats frequently violated the zone, drawing a constant stream of complaints. By the end of 1948, SCAP compiled a long list of seventy-eight reports about various Japanese fishing violations outside the authorized area. The Japanese government proposed to build eleven vessels for a fisheries patrol but had been slow to allocate the money.54 Herrington had to persuade the industry to obey the territorial restrictions, at least long enough for SCAP to once again expand the MacArthur Zone. He frequently scolded the industry, warning that its prewar reputation was poor. Japan had disregarded the League of Nations recommendations not to kill pregnant females and calves. Japan notified the United States, Britain, and Russia in 1940 that she was abrogating the fur seal treaty the following year, because the seals had multiplied so greatly in the North Pacific that they were damaging Japanese fishing.55 Before the war, Japan had systematically disregarded conservation measures established by other countries. Bristol Bay was not forgotten; clandestine Japanese fishing had endangered salmon runs that the Americans maintained through extensive research and regulation. Fishing violations destroyed the international goodwill the supreme commander was helping the Japanese fishermen to develop.56 It was up to the industry to come up with a plan to obey the fishing regulations before the zone could be expanded. “The people of other countries can have no confidence that you will observe any other limitations on your operation if you do not now observe present regulations,” Herrington scolded the West Japan Trawlers Association meeting in early 1949. “Furthermore, no country wishes to have Japanese fishermen operating along their shores, exhausting their resources, as Japanese trawlers are now destroying the fishery resources of the East China Sea.”57 Colonel Schenck was blunt at a June meeting with government fishery officials; the government only had words, not direct 79

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action, to control the growing number of fishing violations.58 The continued seizures fueled the perception that the Japanese refused to obey regulations, arousing suspicions about the role of Japanese fishing in the region once a peace treaty was signed. If the Japanese refused to obey the SCAP fishing boundaries, what would happen when a treaty was signed and there were no restrictions on where they could fish? The disparagement of Japanese fishing culture was an extension of the argument that Secretary of State Cordell Hull made in 1936, as the United States protested the Japanese scientific investigation of sockeye in Bristol Bay. Hull structured his argument on the premise that the United States acted for conservation reasons and the Japanese did not. It was an essentially political construction and was applied to Japanese science during the Occupation. Western science was morally superior to Japanese science. The Japanese had to be seen as conceding that they had sinned while fishing in the past but were now recognizing and embracing international and national fishing regulations and Western science. They would obey the regulations of the newly organized International Whaling Commission. And if the Japanese were allowed to fish in the waters of other countries, they would obey the local regulations, as they obeyed being confined to the MacArthur Zone. Col. Schenck, in an analysis written for Science, conceded that Japan had done more research on fishing methods and development than any other country in the world, but the result had been overfishing of some stocks. It was time for Japan to shift its emphasis from exploiting fish populations to long-term management directed at establishing sustained yields. If the science could be remade in the American model, with a focus on “conservation,” perhaps the Japanese would restrain their fisheries in the future.59 By the spring of 1947, the pressure to expand the MacArthur Zone was growing. SCAP wanted to increase the zone so the fleet would catch more fish. It also wanted to annoy the Soviets, who were claiming the Kuril Islands, long controlled by Japan.60 The Japanese industry wanted to expand the zone into the East China Sea and the southern part of the Yellow Sea.61 The Korean government wanted SCAP to reduce the fisheries zone, pushing it closer to Japan.62 If SCAP could expand the zone into the waters south, near the Trust Territories, that would allow the Japanese to get back into the canned tuna market. The fish could be sent to the United States, reducing the ever-escalating costs of the Occupation, which the Japanese were required to pay.63 The sooner Japan began fishing in the high seas, the sooner a peace treaty could be negotiated to bring a formal end to the war. The two experimental tuna voyages did not go well, despite (or per80

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haps because of ) heavy American control. The catch was poor in relation to the costs. The weather was bad, and the lack of refrigeration on the catcher boats made it impossible to keep the tuna in prime condition until they could be transferred to the mother ship. Labor was so cheap that there was no attempt to increase efficiency. Workers were on call twenty-four hours a day, and by the end of the voyage, the cumulative stress of hard labor, inadequate rest, and poor pay left them exhausted and demoralized.64 How could SCAP argue that Japan was not a danger to the fishing regimes of other countries, when the Japanese kept violating the Mac­ Arthur Zone? SCAP established a fishery inspection patrol and allowed an experimental mother-ship operation into the waters of the Mandated Islands, under strict American supervision, in 1949.65 The zone restricted Japanese fishing at longitude 165° east ; now it was expanded to longitude 180°. The new regulations also allowed the Japanese to approach within three miles of territory occupied by other nations.66 This was a challenge to the Soviets, since SCAP also proposed that Japanese fishing expand to the north, to within three miles of the Kuril Islands, now occupied by the Soviet Union.67 Fishing was always about more than fish. SCAP greatly expanded the MacArthur Zone, opening the waters around the Mandated Islands to tuna fishing on September 19, 1949. The expanded zone also allowed Japanese fishing boats to sail within three miles (rather than twelve) off the coasts, a deliberate challenge to the twelve-mile limit the Soviet Union was claiming.68 The following month, SCAP asked for permission to begin discussions with the Japanese about a peace treaty. The State Department refused, because it did not yet have a policy on what to do about Japanese fishing. The internationalist faction still believed that the Potsdam Conference guaranteed Japan access to raw materials it had utilized before the war. That obviously included fish, even American fish. The freedom of the sea, the right of passage and of fishing by all countries, was part of U.S. policy; if that meant the Japanese would fish for salmon in Alaskan waters, so be it. The Soviet Union, China, Korea, the Philippines, and India—all the neighbors—opposed any expansion of Japanese fishing territory. All these countries were developing fisheries of their own, and the return of the Japanese fleet was unwelcome competition.69 It was also unwelcome in Bristol Bay. The West Coast salmon industry had lobbied since 1936 to keep Japan out of Alaskan waters. Now the industry’s man in the State Department, Wilbert Chapman, warned that if the Japanese were allowed back into Bristol Bay, there would be so much opposition on the West Coast that the Senate would never ratify a peace treaty with Japan.70 81

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Shaping Fisheries Science Sovereignty—Free Enterprise—Sustained Yield.  PACIFIC FISHERMAN, JANUARY 1949

British scientists organized the first conference to address overfishing in the North Sea and North Atlantic in 1937. Fishing was so poor throughout the 1930s that fishermen were leaving the industry because they could not make a living. E. S. Russell, the distinguished director of research at the Lowestoft laboratory, suggested regulating the size of mesh in fishing nets, so immature fish would be released unharmed. Ten Western European countries signed the agreement, but with the start of World War II, it failed to go into effect. Two years later, Russell traveled to Baltimore to deliver a series of lectures at Johns Hopkins University. The five lectures were published in 1941 under the title The Overfishing Problem and dedicated to the memory of Raymond Pearl, the well-known population biologist who had died the year before. Working with statistician Lowell Reed, Pearl tried to forecast the eventual size of the U.S. population. They based their prediction on U.S. census data and a new mathematical model, the logistic equation. Pearl and Reed described the growth of a population along a smooth S-shaped path toward a stable upper limit, called a logistics curve.1 Russell, who had a deep interest in the development of ecology and its application to fisheries science, was one of the first scientists to apply their model to fish stocks. In the five lectures, Russell painstakingly laid out the evidence that hake, cod, haddock, and plaice of the North Sea were being “definitely overfished, in the sense that the 82

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intensity of fishing had gone beyond the optimum and resulted in depressing stocks below their most profitable level.”2 Unrestricted fishing wasted fish, but it also wasted the resources of fishermen, leaving them with higher expenses and less profit. World War II was, in effect, creating a second great fishing experiment—and a second opportunity for European scientists to institute a program that would sustain the stocks and the fishermen who depended on them. The longer the war lasted, the more chance it would give stocks to recover. Russell extended his argument, saying that reduced fishing power would benefit all nations and a fisheries plan should be adopted quickly, so the gains so painfully won during the war would not be lost, as they had been in the 1920s. Before Russell retired in 1945, he wrote a memorandum to the Committee on Post-war Fishery Research, laying out the problems that needed attention and a ten-year plan of study. Most important was to study the postwar fishery, to determine the impact of reduced fishing during the war on the stocks. There also needed to be greater investigations into the relationships between the density of fish populations and the rates of growth, reproduction, recruitment, natural mortality, and fishing. It was a substantial plan of work for Michael Graham, who was Lowestoft’s senior naturalist, in line to succeed Russell after his retirement.3 The British held another overfishing conference in March 1946. This time Russell put forth a controversial proposal for a new kind of regulation, restricting the tonnage of the fishing fleet of each country, taking tonnage as a rough measure of fishing capacity. There was enormous resistance. Canada wanted to include all North Atlantic high-seas fisheries in the convention, to avoid creation of an area where European fleets would escape restrictions and deplete North American stocks. The Europeans were against that proposal, and so were the Americans, who adamantly refused to consider including American waters in a European convention. The United States sent a State Department representative to the meeting, not a scientist.4 When the European fleets were finally able to cobble together the boats and gear to resume fishing, they found extremely good catches. People were hungry, and fishing provided badly needed protein. There was little interest in restricting the tonnage of the fleet when there was money to be made. But the 1946 meeting resulted in an agreement to regulate mesh size and size limits for fish, although it was not ratified until 1953.5 The conference also directed Graham to provide scientific advice on the most effective way of crafting regulations to protect spawning stocks, a charge that was similar to the directive suggested by Russell before his retirement. 83

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11 Michael Graham was Britain’s chief fisheries scientist after World War II. This photograph of

him cleaning a fish appeared in his 1943 book, The Fish Gate. Graham advocated restricting fisheries as they developed so that scientists could study the interaction between the fish and the fishing gear. Crown Copyright. Reproduced with permission of Cefas, Lowestoft, UK.

In many ways, Michael Graham (1898–1972) is the most intriguing of the scientists during this period. He came from a prominent Quaker family and was educated at a Quaker school, Bootham, before going to Cambridge, where he studied under Stanley Gardiner, the chair of the zoology department and a noted expert on marine zoology. Graham was not a pacifist and served in the Royal Navy during World War I and in the Royal Air Force from 1939 to 1945. He had a deep interest in farming, designed his own home, and had enough acreage to keep cattle and horses. His first book, Soil and Sense, was published in 1941 and dealt with his concerns over the mechanization of farming and the excessive use of fertilizer, which was exhausting the soil. At the time he was appointed director of Fishery Investigations, he was writing another book, Human Needs, in which he investigated the fundamental needs of humans and what kind of society was most likely to supply those needs. His last book, A Natural Ecology, was published in 1973. Graham was eccentric. He roasted and ground the beans for his coffee at the laboratory, wrote with quill pens fashioned from the feathers of his own geese, and wore a flowing cape with a pocket big enough to carry Ministry files. He also rode his Arab mare around Lowestoft at night with rear lights fitted to his riding hat and stirrups.6 When he was appointed director of research, Graham chose to stay in Lowestoft, rather than move to London, and Sidney Holt recalled that he would often head out for 84

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Ministry meetings clad in the sweater and pants he had been wearing on one of the research vessels. Graham was concerned about the ability of fishermen to make a living. Fishing was a proud part of the nation’s maritime heritage. It was an important industry, providing significant amounts of low-cost protein, as well as exports to other European countries. Boats fishing off Norway and Iceland caught fish, but they also signified a claim to the high-seas fish resources. The fishing industry played an important role during the war itself, as fishermen risked their lives to fish and land their catch. The larger boats were conscripted for military service, directed into the Royal Naval Patrol Service, which eventually grew to 66,000 men and 6,000 vessels of all shapes and sizes. Many of the small boats that carried the wounded from the beaches at Dunkirk were part of the fishing fleet.7 The preservation of the industry and the financial health of its fishermen was a high priority for the postwar government. In his most important book, The Fish Gate, published in 1943, Graham argued that as soon as a fisherman began fishing a virgin stock, profits started to decline. Fishermen responded by making their gear more efficient, but eventually there was a point where the fishery was no longer economic. From this, Graham deduced his great law of fishing: “Fisheries that are unlimited become unprofitable.”8 Scientists used to argue that fishermen needed to save fish for their sons to catch. Now, it was necessary to save the fish for today’s fishermen. Graham spent his war years finding more efficient ways for heavy artillery gunners to determine correct ranges, beyond the haphazard technique of raising or lowering the barrel. He worked on the problem with the Cambridge mathematician H. R. Hulme, who was assigned to the British Air Ministry. Graham also asked Hulme to work on deriving an equation for the sustainable yield of an exploited fish population, as a function of the rate of mortality due to fishing and the amount of fishing effort. Hulme scrawled an equation on the back of an envelope. Graham saw that Hulme was pointing in the right direction, but more mathematics was needed.9 When Graham returned to Lowestoft, he passed the envelope to two young researchers he had hired, Raymond Beverton and Sidney Holt. Beverton graduated from Cambridge and arrived at Lowestoft in late 1945. Holt, who graduated from Reading University, arrived in early 1946. One of the first things Graham gave the pair to read was W. F. Thompson’s work on Pacific halibut.10 Graham wanted a paper reflecting his hypothesis that if fish were allowed to grow larger before they were caught, fishermen would make more money. He believed the data would show that restricting fishermen 85

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12 Raymond Beverton (left ) and Sidney Holt. When Michael Graham returned to Lowestoft

after the war, he hired two young zoologists and set them to work on his hypothesis that introducing regulations as fisheries were developing would allow fishermen to make more money. Their work, titled On the Dynamics of Exploited Fish Populations, is the foundation document for modern fisheries management. Crown Copyright. Reproduced with permission of Cefas, Lowestoft, UK.

to catching larger fish would make the case for restrictions on the catch of young fish. In the preface to what would become, when it was finally published in 1957, On the Dynamics of Exploited Fish Populations, Graham wrote that it was time for a thoroughly analytical treatment of the impact of fishing on fish stocks, using all the available information.11 As fishing was becoming more complicated, managers needed to know how changes in mesh sizes interacted with the behavior of the fish, the effects fishing was having of thinning the stocks, and how this changed the rates at which fish reproduced and survived. What were the major impacts? What were minor? Could the benefits of a conservative fishing policy be estimated for the industry and for government? Beverton and Holt developed a series of theoretical methods to study the dynamics between fishermen and the stocks they were catching— plaice, haddock, cod, and sole. They expected to find that the survival rates of the main demersal species in the North Sea had increased substantially during World War II, and the stocks certainly had. But their 1949 analysis showed that the renewed onslaught of fishing was already impacting the fish; the survival rate for plaice was at least as low as it had been between 1937 and 1939, when the stocks were fished heavily. 86

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Beverton and Holt focused on the development of four main variables: recruitment, the number of fish in the exploited phase of the life cycle, growth of individuals in the exploited phase, capture of individuals in the exploited phase, and the natural death of fish in the exploited phase. Recruitment and growth increased the total weight of fish; capture and natural death decreased the total weight. What were the interactions? They expressed the four factors in a series of mathematical representations and then adjusted the models to study the interactions between the different gear types, fishing rates, and any other applicable data.12 Graham hoped that Beverton and Holt’s analytical framework would prove his great law of fishing. Their conclusions supported his hypothesis: a conservative fishing regime, while scientists studied the impact of gear changes on fish populations, resulted in catching larger fish, reduced wasteful bycatch, and earned more money for fishermen. Reducing the intensity of trawling for cod, haddock, plaice, and sole by a quarter would result in a 15 percent increase in the total sustainable catch. They had even quantified how much a conservative fishing regime would mean for the fisheries involved, “an extra million or so pounds sterling a year on present day wholesale prices, as a reasonably cautious estimate.”13 For Graham, there was an urgent need to act before the fish stocks were reduced below the levels that Beverton and Holt had identified. Many European nations, including Britain, were already embarking on government-sanctioned programs to rebuild fishing fleets that had been so badly damaged during the war. Writing in 2006, Sidney Holt recalled: Those were post-war years of optimism. It seemed that with the reduction in the number of fishing vessels available, as a direct result of the war, and the expected recovery of depleted fish stocks during it, it would be politically feasible for Europeans to engage in what Graham called “rational fishing.”14

Beverton and Holt’s work proved Graham’s hypothesis, and in the process they established the foundation for modern fisheries management. But while Graham was interested in the health of fish stocks and the fishermen who depended on them, there were other forces involved, with a different set of objectives.

Wilbert McLeod Chapman was enormously successful during the three years he spent in the State Department. He presided over the signing of three fisheries treaties and established two international commissions 87

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that are still working today, the International Commission for the Northwest Atlantic Fisheries (ICNAF) and the Inter-American Tropical Tuna Commission (IATTC). He was intimately involved in the negotiations that led to the peace treaty with Japan, signed in 1951, which opened the way for a fisheries treaty among Canada, the United States, and Japan, and the creation of the International North Pacific Fisheries Commission (INPFC). He was also a key figure in the development of American oceanographic research, involved in the creation and the design of the Pacific Oceanic Fisheries Investigation (POFI) and the California Cooperative Oceanic Fisheries Investigations (CalCOFI). It is a remarkable record of achievement.15 Chapman and the Pacific Fisheries Congress had tirelessly lobbied to create the undersecretary position at the State Department. He had taken a leave of absence from his job as director of the School of Fisheries at the University of Washington, and he was quick to tell everyone that he took the job on a temporary basis; as soon as he became ineffective, he would return to Seattle. The fishing industry’s support had placed him within the State Department; now the industry had to get behind his policies. It was Chapman who framed maximum sustainable yield (MSY) as the scientific foundation for the United States Policy on High Seas Fisheries, which he announced in 1949. The three commissions he shaped were managed under MSY. Chapman and his successor as fisheries attaché, William C. Herrington, actively maneuvered to have MSY adopted as the goal of international fisheries policy at a key conference in Rome in 1955. There has been some scholarly attention to the roles played by Chapman and Herrington in the development of postwar fisheries policy, but little that has looked at their contribution toward the development of fisheries science. Both men pushed the adoption of MSY, helping to translate it from a theory to a policy doctrine. As MSY came to be implemented, it meant that fishing could not be restricted until there was scientific proof that the stocks were overfished. One consequence of the adoption of MSY is that it allowed distantwater fleets to continue to fish in waters around the globe, despite the objections of smaller, poorer nations—and despite claims of overfishing. It would take another two decades, as fleets of factory processing ships spread throughout the oceans of the world, for nations to mobilize and increase their territorial limits from 3 miles to 200 miles. By then, fishermen would be taking the stocks in the deepest and most inaccessible portions of the oceans, and there were few places for fish to take refuge. Historian Arthur McEvoy wrote that Chapman’s success was based on the harmony between his expansionist views and the fit with the Progressive ideology that resources are to be used.16 While other scientists (such 88

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as Graham and Chapman’s University of Washington mentor, William F. Thompson) were concerned that individual fisheries were being depleted, Chapman believed in the essential resilience of the fish themselves, despite the pressure of sustained fishing. Till his death in 1970, he believed that fishing did not overharvest stocks; he was not alone in that belief. Other prominent scientists—including A. G. Huntsman, one of Canada’s most influential scientists—also believed that fishing did not cause fish stocks to decline.17 There was no agreement among American fisheries scientists about what the fluctuating catches of sardines and salmon really indicated— that the fisheries were overfished, or that as more boats came into a fishery, landings would be pushed to a new record catch. It was not until 1939 that Willis Rich presented a paper to the American Association for the Advancement of Science, concluding that Pacific salmon returned to their natal river to spawn and that the five species of Pacific salmon were composed of many smaller, local populations. It was obvious, Rich wrote, that for salmon stocks to be sustained, they had to be managed throughout their range.18 But there were no American research efforts on salmon in the ocean. That same year Frances Clark, the director of research at the California Department of Fish and Game, published the most integrated and cogent analysis of the California sardine fishery. California sardines migrated north to British Columbia in their second year of life. The British Columbia sardine fishery, started in 1918, was on the same stocks fished off California. “Throughout its entire life and along its entire range of distribution the sardine population is exploited by man,” Clark wrote.19 When the war had started, the federal government would soon intensify both the salmon and sardine catches. There was also no agreement on whether international fisheries should be managed through independent investigations or through agencies that were already established.20 The work of William F. Thompson at the Halibut Commission had been lauded internationally. The Halibut Commission’s success led Canada and the United States to create a second international commission, to manage Fraser River salmon. But Thompson’s work was attacked at a 1948 symposium of North American fishery scientists in Toronto. After “Report No. 8” was published and catch limits sets during the mid-1930s, the total halibut catch had increased by nearly 25 per­cent. Fishing effort had declined by one-third. The season had gone from eight months to two. Thompson interpreted the compression of the season as the successful result of beneficial management. However, North Carolina biologist Martin Burkenroad challenged Thompson, pointing 89

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out that the results were inconclusive. The changes could have been due to natural trends or oscillations in the stocks.21 The decline in effort during the early 1930s could have been because of the Depression, when some fishermen were unable to afford to fish, especially if catches were low.22 The criticism called into question the entire success of the Halibut Commission and its contention that proper regulation could restore overfished populations. Thompson was not pleased by the criticism. Once in Washington, D.C., Chapman found a series of political problems. He was able to come up with a “scientific” solution that, in retrospect, had more to do with ideology and patriotism than it did with science. That Chapman could set scientific policy out of the State Department speaks to the unorganized state of American fisheries science during this period. It was in no way as coherent theoretically or scientifically as European fisheries science in general and British science in particular. There was little coordination between state and federal officials, and a sharply different philosophy. From its early days, the U.S. Bureau of Commercial Fisheries had been shifted, from the Department of Commerce and Labor to the Department of the Interior. It was reorganized again in 1940, creating the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service. The federal scientists saw their mission as supporting the industry, rather than conserving fish stocks. Through the 1930s, top federal officials had more experience with birds and wildlife than they did with fish—and especially with West Coast fish. They did not have the deep understanding of the intricacies and contradictions of the fishing industry that Chapman had. Chapman may have embellished his contact with the fishing industry during this childhood and teenage years in Kalama, but there is no denying he had imbued the essence of how the industry worked, its ruthless business ethic, its bitter internal divisions, and its inability to act toward its own long-term best interests. He was regularly exasperated by the industry he was attempting to steer. But he also understood it and loved it deeply, and he was passionately devoted to understanding the political context in which is existed and to working toward the goal of expanding American fishery hegemony deep into the Pacific. He had faith in the ability of Americans not only to fish, but to understand the ocean processes they were participating in. It is easy to argue Chapman’s scientific failures, but the optimism that imbued his science and his politics cannot be denied. He believed in the ability of Americans to catch fish, toe to toe with the Japanese. He believed that American fishery scientists were the best in the world, understanding both the fish and fishing, and capable of maintaining catches at high levels. 90

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Chapman’s vision of a Pacific fisheries frontier, with a line of American fishing boats consolidating claims to vast stretches of the Pacific, fit with postwar foreign-policy objectives. Control of both the Atlantic and Pacific oceans was considered indispensable to national security. While the plans for a network of military bases throughout the Pacific were scaled back due to budgetary constraints, Chapman’s vision of American fishing boats strung throughout the equatorial Pacific Ocean resonated strongly with government policies that sought to expand fishing for strategic and economic reasons. The litany of problems Chapman faced in Washington would have limited the ability of most individuals to effect change. “He never functioned at this best in a fixed routine,” his friend Jack Kask wrote in an obituary of sorts. “He was a free-wheeling individual who needed much room to maneuver.”23 Somehow, in Washington, D.C., Chapman found room to maneuver, probably because everybody else in the State Department had far more important things to deal with than fish. Before agreeing to take the job, Chapman had elicited a promise that the department would support his efforts. “There is now a possibility that something useful can be accomplished,” Chapman wrote in a January 1949 letter. “The reason for this is that I have independence of action in a large degree. Mr. Lovett has enough troubles in other fields and intimates that he hired me to take the fishery problems off his neck. He doesn’t even want to hear about them. If I can solve any of them without his hearing about them, he is pleased.”24 The summer of 1948, when Chapman arrived at the State Department, was a critical time for the development of American fisheries. A treaty was being negotiated with eleven European countries and Canada to regulate the depleted Northwest fisheries. With the collapse of the California sardine fishery, purse-seine boats poured into the tuna fishery off Mexico. Mexico wanted a fisheries agreement that would license the purse-seine fleet, while increasing fees on the bait-boat fleet. Costa Rica—the scene of American fishery warfare in 1947, when the Pacific Explorer showed up with its fleet of a dozen purse-seine boats—was considering expanding its territorial limits and joining forces with Mexico, Argentina, Chile, and Peru. The tuna fleet faced the prospect of continued increases in fees to fish off Latin America. At the same time, there was the problem of dealing with cheap Japanese tuna. How would fishing issues be handled when a peace treaty was signed with Japan? The State Department was just as divided as it had been in 1945 when the Truman Proclamation on fisheries was issued. The internationalists wanted Japan to have open access to ocean resources, while the protectionist faction and the salmon industry 91

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demanded exclusion from Bristol Bay salmon—an exclusion that was sure to be seized by the Latin Americans and used against the tuna fleet. As Chapman viewed the situation, the Truman Proclamation had created a snarl of problems for the industry, which the State Department could barely control. It was not going to be possible to get Japanese boats banned from American salmon waters, because that precedent would hurt the equally valuable and powerful Southern California tuna industry. “Most of these problems are embarrassing, if not damaging, to us when the total national interest is taken into account,” Chapman wrote.25 Within months of arriving in Washington, D.C., Chapman crafted the U.S. Policy on High Seas Fisheries. He announced it on December 2, 1948, in a speech to the Chamber of Commerce in San Francisco. The text was published the next month in the State Department Bulletin. The policy was sold as scientifically sound, based on maximum sustained yield. While the science behind the policy was scant, the political benefits were considerable. MSY was flexible enough and vague enough to justify keeping the Japanese out of Bristol Bay. It acknowledged that fishing should be regulated in the North Atlantic. It also affirmed the American right to fish without restrictions off Latin America for baitfish and tuna. The high-seas policy was geared to address the confusion caused by the Truman Proclamation in 1945 and the string of territorial claims from Latin American countries. The ink on the policy was scarcely dry when a fisheries treaty was signed with Mexico on January 25, 1949. An agreement with the eleven European countries and Canada was signed three days later, to regulate fishing in the North Atlantic. On May 31, 1949, a convention was signed with Costa Rica, creating the Tuna Commission. Chapman was also circulating two sets of proposals for an eventual fishing treaty with Japan. All of the new treaties and the two commissions they created included the policy that fisheries would be managed to produce MSY, as defined by Chapman: to “make possible the maximum production of food from the sea on a sustained basis year after year.” The policy was extremely simple, and “it is doubtful there will be any objection to it from any quarter.”26 Chapman was formally adopting what had been unofficial American fisheries policy since the days of Spencer Fullerton Baird and the creation of the U.S. Fish Commission in 1871.27 The unofficial policy had always been to harvest the maximum number of fish, consistent with “conservation” in the Progressive Era sense of the term: efficient utilization of resources without impairing future viability. Harvesting the maximum had

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also been the official policy during the war, when California sardines and the Alaskan salmon fishery had been under federal control. Maximum harvest had become “a national duty and a moral imperative,” as historian Paul Hirt has written.28 Stocks had suffered grievously as a result, but it was now an article of political faith that the Americans conserved their resources, taking only as much as could be harvested each year without impairing the future vitality of the stocks. Stocks fluctuated; the salmon and sardines would recover. American fishery management was sound and based in science. The high-seas policy was an extension of the 1936 response by Secretary of State Cordell Hull to the Japanese proposal for a scientific investigation of the Bristol Bay sockeye. In Hull’s formulation, the United States had restrained its harvest for decades, limiting the catch, investing in hatcheries, and engaging in scientific research and in enforcement, giving the United States “a special claim in the ocean areas beyond three miles where the fishery was centered.”29 Hull’s rhetoric was adopted by American scientists during the Occupation, only this time the assumptions were spoken: the Americans conserved their resources; the Japanese did not. Now, with Chapman’s interpretation, this political and moral position was given a scientific foundation that was backed by the force of the U.S. government. Chapman’s high-seas policy implied that it was based on science, but the critical document was not published in a refereed scientific journal, but rather in the Department of State Bulletin. There are no formal references. The graph that supports the MSY theory (see fig. 13) has no numerical scale on the axes—it is a theoretical construction with no quantitative dimension. And there is no quantitative evidence—indeed, there is no evidence at all—given to demonstrate or otherwise justify that the graph bears any relationship to nature and how populations grow and decline. As Chapman presented it, MSY was just an idea, a concept with limited theoretical basis, and no experimental or observational backing. The mathematical formulas to establish MSY levels were not published until 1954, some five years later. Chapman acknowledged that the growing technological capacity of modern fisheries imperiled some stocks and that in some cases fishing should be restricted, or, as Chapman put it, “smaller crops will have to be taken until the population recovers.”30 While there are no formal references in the high-seas document, Chapman obliquely acknowledged Graham’s analysis that less fishing could ultimately mean more fish, and that as fishing became more efficient,

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13 Maximum sustained yield curve. When Wilbert Chapman announced the 1949 High Seas

Fisheries policy, he used this graph as the policy’s scientific foundation. The graph was published in the Department of State Bulletin. The graph has no numerical scale on the axes. It is a theoretical construction with no quantitative dimension, and there is no quantitative to demonstrate or otherwise justify that the graph bears any relationship to nature and how populations grow and decline. As Chapman presented it, MSY was just an idea, a concept with limited theoretical basis, and no experimental or observational backing. The mathematical formulas to establish MSY levels were not published until 1954, some five years later.

“one after another of the major fishery resources of the sea stands in danger of overfishing and depletion.”31 But Chapman dismissed Graham’s concern, suggesting that as the intensity of fishing on a stock increased, the reproductive capacity of the fish population also increased, for reasons that scientists did not understand, perhaps because there was more food for the fish that were left or because there was less predation. He expressed this relationship in a logistics curve: The meaning of this curve is that for any particular population of fish there is an optimum point of fishing intensity which, if sustained, will yield the maximum crop of fish year after year. Less fishing is wasteful, for the surplus of fish dies from natural causes without benefit to mankind; more fishing is wasteful because it depletes the population and so results actually in a smaller crop.32 94

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Chapman acknowledged that establishing the point of optimum fishing intensity was “difficult and expensive,” and that cyclical changes in the sea could have a great impact on stocks like herring and sardines, but a lesser impact on fish like halibut, where “it seems the natural fluctuations are small enough that they can be almost ignored.” The scientific concerns were less difficult than the diplomatic problems. For Chapman, a key concept was that management was only necessary when fishing intensity passed the point of maximum return. As an example of how fisheries could be managed, he selected the Halibut Commission. Halibut regulations had been designed to keep halibut stocks at MSY levels.33 As evidence of the commission’s success, Chapman said that fishermen used to spend nine months of the year to catch 44 million pounds of fish. Now, the fleet could take 56 million pounds in less than two months of fishing. While invoking the mantle of Thompson’s success, Chapman at the same time misrepresented one of his teacher’s key insights: with no control of the number of fishermen, the halibut catch was being taken in a shorter and shorter period of time. Chapman did not cite any empirical evidence in his 1949 paper, but he used MSY to justify future scientific investigations—but only in the future, and only as needed. As the tuna fishery developed, MSY would guide the gathering of information to manage “when that proves to be necessary.” Intervention to restrict fishing could only be made with scientific evidence of depletion. Until then, fishing could proceed to expand, without interference from governments. The United States refused to recognize the growing number of territorial claims that were being filed against the American bait-boat fleet. Without scientific evidence of depletion, there was no basis to restrict American fishing. Chapman supported the kind of institutional structure he was familiar with—international commissions, carrying out their own independent research. He worked systematically to shut the newly reorganized U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service out of any role in any of the three commissions he helped establish. An overriding concern for Chapman was to avoid general international regulations or control over American fisheries. Governmental power within three miles was sufficient to regulate fisheries once bilateral or multilateral agreements were reached by governments. To claim additional territory in the oceans was a step backward. Chapman thought that all the nations of the world could agree that the high-seas fisheries should be kept in a state where “a maximum crop can be harvested year after year.” But he acknowledged it would be impossible to agree on how the crop should be shared. In short, the driving principle under Chapman’s conception of 95

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fisheries was a belief in, and a defense of, free markets. Pacific Fisherman summarized Chapman’s policy with a six-word headline: “No Sovereignty—Free Enterprise—Sustained Yield.” The approving article declared that the United States would not support policies that established ownership of the seas “by any nation—itself included.”34 The oceans could— and would—be a free market, where American fishermen saw themselves as equal competitors. But their main competitors, the Japanese, were still fenced within the MacArthur Zone. The Latin Americans, who were scrambling to try to organize their own fisheries, were hardly fair competition. In a statement prepared for the Fishing Gazette in 1949, Chapman expanded on the U.S. High Seas Fisheries Policy. Congress was considering legislation to fulfill the U.S. obligations under the three new fishery conventions, and a bill to support an international whaling convention had already been passed by the Senate. Chapman argued that the treaties solved the industry’s problems. “Fishery resources, being quickly replaced by nature, are wasted if the annual crop which can be safely harvested from them is not taken. The fish mature, die, and are lost to the benefit of no one.”35 If the Americans did not catch the baitfish, it would die anyway; the Latin Americans were selfish not to allow the Americans to harvest the fish. The fish were owned by all until they became the property of the fisherman who caught them. There was no justification for a nation to tax the fishermen of another nation when they were fishing within international law and in compliance with conservation regulations. Chapman invoked the humanitarian goal of increasing the food supply: So long as the resource is underfished there is room for more fishermen to fish and it would be morally as well as legally unjustifiable for a resource of the high seas to be fenced off and not fished to the full extent that is needed to produce the maximum sustained harvest from the resource.36

At the heart of fishery science is the idea that removing some fish frees up food and other resources for faster-growing small fish. Fishing produced the conditions that allowed the population to respond and produce the maximum number of fish on a sustained basis, year after year. In other words, human intervention played an integral role in stabilizing fish populations and allowing the fish to gain maximum weight, when they would be removed. In dense populations, fish were old and slow growing, resulting in a small annual crop. Thinning out the old population through intense fishing replaced the old, slow-growing fish with younger, fast-growing individuals, increasing the weight of the crop, just 96

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as thinning trees increased the yield in a forest.37 Old fish, like old trees, were not seen as having any value. The United States had not taken these actions to give its own fishermen preferential treatment. In fact, the United States was working energetically to provide technical advice and financial assistance to build up the fisheries of other nations. Chapman implied that the Americans were altruistic and inspired by humanitarian goals. But the expansion of Western fishing technology was also good business. And far from being selfless, the United States crafted its high-seas fisheries policy and its scientific underpinning to comply with American foreign-policy goals, especially the freedom of the seas. The Canadians, who were watching helplessly as European boats flocked to Newfoundland to catch cod, had pushed for an international convention to regulate fishing. The British had suggested a set of regulations during the overfishing conference in April 1946, for the North Atlantic and Arctic oceans.38 But the United States did not want to be subject to a European convention.39 Instead, the Americans suggested there were actually two fishing areas in the North Atlantic that should be treated separately. The European convention delimited the western boundary of its convention area at longitude 42° west.40 In the fisheries policy, Chapman staked out the American preferred position, to avoid expanded territorial claims by regulating fisheries through the creation of bilateral or multilateral commissions. Commissions offered a way to organize scientific research and contain the territorial claims that threatened American fisheries. By 1949 the Americans had overtaken the Japanese as the world’s largest distant-water fishing nation. American boats were fishing for cod, halibut, and haddock off Nova Scotia and Newfoundland, for tuna off Latin America, for shrimp off the Gulf of Mexico and into the waters as far south as Brazil, and for salmon and halibut off British Columbia and Alaska. The United States sought a policy that would legitimize its extensive network of fisheries, yet protect its most valuable fishery (Bristol Bay salmon) from other fishermen—in effect, to have their fish and eat them, too. Representatives of eleven nations (Canada, Newfoundland, Denmark, France, Iceland, Italy, Portugal, Norway, Spain, Britain, and the United States) met in Washington, D.C., to work out a fisheries agreement. The International Convention for the Northwest Atlantic Fisheries (ICNAF) was signed February 8, 1949, and went into effect on July 3, 1950. The agreement was as minimal as possible, allowing the United States to veto any proposed restrictions that might hurt American fishing or political interests.41 97

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The European scientists involved in ICNAF were trying to deal with overfishing issues in the Northwest Atlantic, arguing about mesh sizes and areas where fishing would be restricted. The United States strongly objected to setting up ICNAF as an independent investigatory agency, limiting its role to not doing independent research, but correlating the research done by individual fisheries agencies of the countries involved.42 The goal of the new commission was announced by the United States before any scientific discussions could begin, to harvest the maximum amount that the stocks could sustain. There was no place on the table for Graham’s hypothesis of implementing harvest restrictions to slow the catch and protect small fish. If there was discussion by scientists about the philosophy under which the commission would work, it was not recorded in the early ICNAF annual reports. By moving to sign the multilateral agreements that created both the North Atlantic and the tuna commissions, the United States was acting to preempt any discussion about an international commission with wider powers, perhaps the powers to rein in American fisheries. In particular, Chapman did not want the United States to come under the authority of the Food and Agriculture Organization of the United Nations. There had been different viewpoints about the FAO when it was established in late 1944. One faction wanted a strong and activist organization that could foster economic expansion and prevent food crises in the future. The second wanted an organization that would be limited to fact-finding and analysis, “carefully insulated from positive action.”43 Not surprisingly, Americans were in the latter camp. While they had supported the formation of the FAO, they wanted to limit its power to an advisory role. In the high-seas fishing policy, Chapman used the Halibut Commission as the standard for how fishery commissions ought to operate. While the Halibut Commission has a long record of successful management, it is unusual in that it deals with only one species of fish that are caught by one type of gear. Most fishery agreements involve multiple species, often caught by different types of gear. Applying the lessons of one fish to the management of many would create its own series of scientific difficulties. The American model of how fisheries ought to be managed created an additional set of complications when the process was applied to Japan. One of the attractions of MSY is its extreme flexibility, allowing it to seem like a reasonable solution to many different scenarios. Chapman used it to justify creating fishing restrictions in the North Atlantic, and to frame the research plan of the newly created Tuna Commission. He also used MSY in the struggle between the Japanese and the American fishing industries, especially with regard to Bristol Bay. Chapman was preparing 98

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to argue that when a fishery was being fished at MSY levels, that justified denying entry to the fishery by the boats of other nations. The Bristol Bay halibut and salmon fisheries were “mature” and were being fished at MSY levels, a justification to bar entry to the Japanese. It was enclosure, but it was selective enclosure (only aimed against the Japanese), and it was justified by the newly adopted U.S. high-seas policy. Other fisheries that were not mature (tuna off Latin America) had no basis for denying entry to boats from other countries. Indeed, the Americans were performing a service in fishing up to MSY levels, since if the fish were not harvested, they died and benefited no one. Finally, Chapman placed his faith in free enterprise and competition. “There is a crop to be taken in the international common. Each takes according to his ability. When the safe crop is taken, all stop the harvest.”44 Thanks to Chapman, it continues to be very difficult to stop the harvest.

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The Line in the Water The first Jap vessel that catches a salmon bound for Alaskan water gets us automatically in hot water in Latin America, both in our tuna and shrimp fisheries, the entire Northwest Atlantic area and particularly in the Nova Scotia and Gulf of St. Lawrence parts of that area, and in Hecate Straits. . . . In my humble opinion a general treaty of peace which does not settle the fishery questions will have rough sledding getting ratification in the U.S. Senate.1 

W . M . C H A P M A N (1950)

In February 1949 the Supreme Commander Allied Powers opened a trade office in New York. Americans unfortunately only wanted two products from Japan, silk and canned tuna. As a trickle of tuna turned to a tsunami and the start of the Korean War increased the pressure to sign a peace treaty, Wilbert Chapman held American foreign policy hostage to where the Japanese were going to be allowed to fish. American policy was undergoing a substantial jolt. The United States had long looked to China as the anchor for its base in the Far East. Between 1937 and 1945, the Chinese nationalist government of Chiang Kai-shek had battled the Japanese army. Millions died of disease and starvation, leaving China exhausted. The nationalists now faced an internal war with the Chinese Communists, headed by Mao Zedong. By 1947 Mao’s forces held all the territory north of Manchuria; within two years, the nationalists were forced to retreat to the island of Taiwan. Mao staged a celebration in Beijing’s Tiananmen Square to mark the end of the long civil war and immediately signed treaties of friendship and assistance with the Soviet Union. On August 29, 1949, the Soviets exploded their first 100

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atomic test in the Kazakhstan desert. In January 1950 President Harry Truman announced that the United States would go ahead with a hydrogen bomb, a thousand times more powerful than the bombs that had been dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Six months later North Korean troops crossed the 38th parallel, and the Korean War began.2 “The blue skies of 1945 had become covered with dark clouds, shooting red; by 1950 the world was an unfriendly place,” wrote historian James Stokesbury.3 With the descent into the Cold War and the loss of China, policy makers in Washington began to look to Japan as the northern anchor of its defense system of checking the Soviet Union.4 It was more urgent than ever for the Japanese economy to recover, to be a visible sign to the Asian world that American-style democracy and capitalism worked. The free world was dependent upon Japan being part of the free world, not the Soviet world. And the Japanese were dependent on the sea for food.5 The Korean War changed the dynamics of the Japanese-American relationship. Prime Minister Shigeru Yoshida believed that Japan’s strategic importance to America rose quickly after the North Korean attack, and he used Japan’s elevated status to strengthen his negotiating position.6 The United States rapidly escalated its spending in Japan; during the next four years, the United States spent some $2.37 billion buying ammunition, trucks, uniforms, and communications equipment from the Japanese.7 The United States pushed other countries to grant favored-nation status to Japan. The Occupation was costing Japan some $900 million a year, fully a quarter of the Japanese budget, and the country was still importing much of its food supply.8 Both countries were eager for the Occupation to end, but the question of where Japanese boats would be allowed to fish was becoming more contentious. Throughout the 1950s, many domestic American industries would come into conflict with U.S. foreign policy, as their markets were eroded by imports of cheaper goods from countries with lower labor costs.9 The American fishing industry was one of the first. A decade earlier, the industry had championed free enterprise. It spent the 1950s seeking tariff protection but was repeatedly rebuffed by the State Department and foreign-policy considerations involving Japan, Iceland, Norway, Canada, and Latin America. A strong Japan was essential for foreign policy in the Pacific. The United States wished to continue operating the airbase it had built in Iceland during the war. Iceland had little to export to the United States except cod, which undercut prices for New England fishermen. Norway was also encouraged to export fish to the United States, in hopes of weakening its trade ties with the Soviet Union. Canada was a major trading 101

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partner and was restructuring its East Coast industry to produce frozen fillets that could be turned into fish sticks for the American market. The tuna industry sought tariffs against tuna from Peru, but Peru threatened to ban all American boats from their territorial waters. Increasingly, fishing was a global game. As it expanded, the territorial claims increased, tying fishing ever more tightly to foreign policy. There was always more on the line than just fish.

During 1949 Wilbert Chapman circulated two draft treaties dealing with Pacific fisheries. One proposed to cover the fishing activities of the United States, Canada, and Japan, while the second included the Soviet Union. Both called for the United States, Canada, Japan, and the Soviet Union to agree not to fish within 150 miles of each other’s coasts for a fifteenyear period. On the face of it, this seemed reasonable, but there was little chance of American boats crossing the Pacific to fish in the already wellharvested waters off Japan and the Soviet Union. The ploy was designed to keep the Japanese out of Bristol Bay but not concede anything that could be used against American boats fishing in Latin American waters. Chapman argued that the halibut and salmon fisheries of the West Coast were “mature” and being managed to produce maximum sustained yield (MSY). The joint American and Canadian management of salmon and halibut was unique in the world, and conservation efforts would be jeopardized if other boats entered the fishery. It was essentially the argument that Cordell Hull had made in 1936, with a stronger emphasis on science. Chapman had a set of demands: that a peace treaty include a provision that Japan would adhere to the International Convention for the Regulation of Whaling and abide by American regulations with regard to conservation agreements. Japan would also formally adopt the American policy of MSY.10 The International Relations section at the State Department was outraged that Chapman had circulated a draft treaty that was not only out of step with the objectives of American foreign policy, but violated the Atlantic Charter and the Potsdam Declaration, which held that Japan had the right to access resources it had been dependent on before the war.11 SCAP also objected, noting that Japan was being asked to concede real rights, while Canada and the United States would give up theoretical rights.12 SCAP disapproved of any treaty being forced on Japan and any provision that would seriously affect SCAP’s attempts to make Japan more self-sufficient. 102

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The battle within the State Department raged into 1951, with Chapman regularly threatening to play his last card, his resignation. He called the battle “some of the most energetic, fierce, and bitter in-fighting that I have ever been witness to.”13 He was forced to draw on “Kalama-style, i.e., bare knuckle diplomacy,” one of his rare references to growing up around the salmon business on the Kalama River. “It’s a tough racket for one man all alone to buck this mob. Nobody has ever done it successfully before; they have broken better men than me.”14 What Chapman had going for him was the authority and absolute assurance that came from his deep understanding of the industry—both sides of the industry, salmon and tuna. He was committed to his vision of American fishing boats catching tuna throughout the Pacific—but he also knew there was no way that the Northwest salmon industry would accept Japanese boats doing the same thing in American waters. His understanding of the industry became more important as the problems involving Atlantic fish swirled into the Pacific. Iceland expanded its territorial sea in 1948, based on the precedent set by the Truman Proclamation, in defiance of the British and other European boats taking cod in its waters. The Norwegians were seeking to expand their own territorial limits, to push British trawlers out of their inshore waters. As the territorial disputes multiplied, it was harder to sustain the freedom of the seas, so important for American naval vessels and submarines—and fishing boats. Chapman was also in a uniquely powerful position. When the temporary undersecretary position had been created, Chapman wrote that “it stuck out like a sore thumb and it still does.”15 But it had concentrated the power to decide fisheries policy within the State Department, and Chapman was vigilant about keeping it there, setting up his international commissions to be as independent as possible from the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service bureaucracy. For Chapman, it was a way to keep the ability to set policy centered on the West Coast, not in Washington, D.C. Within the department, responsibility for overseeing Chapman shifted among various individuals, all of whom seemed to quickly recognize the depth of the fish quagmire and were content to leave the details in his capable hands.16 There were always more important issues to deal with than fish. Another factor in Chapman’s success was his close relationship with William Herrington, who had left the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service to head the fisheries sector of the Natural Resources division of SCAP. The two men worked together to find common ground for a peace treaty, and Herrington replaced Chapman in the State Department position. 103

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Both were united in their dedication to protecting the American fishing industry as best they could, and their partnership and friendship would last until Chapman’s death in 1970. While the State Department bickered with Chapman, SCAP opened discussions with the Japanese government over fisheries issues. The Ministry of Foreign Affairs presented the official Japanese position on the high seas to SCAP on March 20, 1950. The statement opened with a declaration of how important the high-seas fisheries were to the future of Japan. Fishing was an essential basic industry. The statement laid out six general principles for a fisheries treaty: (1) Japan would accept a multilateral agreement with Canada and the United States; (2) it was ready to seek, with the United States, a formula that would not set prejudicial precedents on other Japanese high-seas fisheries; (3) Japan would continue to honor its 1938 agreement not to fish in Bristol Bay; (4) it wanted full access to fisheries in the former Mandated Islands and other former possessions; (5) Japan would support the IWC and join other international agreements for halibut and tuna research; and (6) Japan proposed that any agreement run for five years, after which any contracting party could terminate it.17 It was a strong set of demands, reflecting not only the importance of fishing to the overall Japanese economy, but the new position of Japan relative to the United States in the North Pacific. Japan could not afford to permanently concede its right to fish in Alaskan waters, because that could be used to ban Japanese fishing in other areas. The Soviets, the Koreans, and the Chinese were all eager to keep Japanese boats out of their waters. The freedom of the seas—and the freedom to fish the high seas—was just as important to Japan as it was to the United States.

For American fishermen, the end of the war was supposed to mark the beginning of the American century. Especially in the Pacific, the new fisheries frontier, it appeared American fishermen held all the cards to dominate the ocean as the Japanese had done a decade earlier. It was hard to believe that the dominance would be so brief and that American boats would be facing such substantial setbacks in such a brief period of time. The 1946 tuna pack was 4.3 million cases, a record, and the market could have absorbed more. Congress was debating the Farrington Bill to fund American research efforts in the Pacific. A new magazine hit the docks in San Diego in December 1947. Tuna Fisherman Magazine featured an eye-catching blonde in a two-piece bathing suit, pretending to be 104

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a mermaid. The economy was booming in sunny Southern California, where a tuna fisherman could earn a governor’s salary in less than a year. By the time the war ended, the industry had a monopoly of the vast American tuna market. The war had kept cheaper Japanese imports from the grocery store shelves, but the respite was brief. In 1943 the United States had negotiated a trade agreement with Iceland that lowered tariffs on a number of items, including fish canned in anything except oil. Fish canned in oil carried a tariff rate of 45 percent, but fish canned in anything else had a tariff of 12.5 percent. When SCAP negotiated the entry of Japanese tuna into the American market in 1949, the Japanese immediately began canning tuna in brine water and shipping the cheaper but inferior product to the United States. Imports of tuna in brine increased 2,110 percent between 1950 and 1951, undercutting all other canned tuna on the American grocery store shelves. Cans of brined tuna sold for between 19 and 21 cents a can, higher-quality tuna sold for 29 cents, while an American can, packed in oil, sold for between 35 to 39 cents.18 The second international twist to the tuna situation came in 1948, over imports of bonito, a species of tuna from Peru and Chile. American capital had created the Latin American industry during the war, when there was a big demand for protein. Bonito carried a 30 percent tariff, but that was reduced to 21 percent in 1948. A further reduction to 15 percent came during the trade negotiations at the 1950 conference at Torquay in England, despite strenuous objections from the American tuna industry. Bonito imports were steadily increasing, to 500,000 cases by 1951.19 When added to the rapidly growing volume of tuna exported by Japan, the imports eroded the American market, and the 260-boat San Diego bait fleet was spending more time tied to the dock than it was fishing. In June 1950 the Mexican government announced it would abrogate its 1943 trade agreement with the United States. There was a six-month delay for the trade agreement to be nullified, when the tariff on tuna canned in oil would go back to 45 percent. Seizing the opportunity, the Japanese again escalated their imports into the United States. Imported tuna totaled 4.5 million pounds; by 1950 that increased to 35.4 million pounds.20 They also sharply increased exports of frozen and fresh tuna to the United States. There was no tariff governing these new products; fresh tuna hadn’t existed as a viable commodity when the previous tariff agreements were negotiated in the 1930s, and frozen tuna had made up a small part of the imports. By 1951 there were four different kinds of tuna products imported into the United States, with three different tariff structures. Almost all the imported tuna was cheaper than tuna caught by American boats and 105

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canned in Southern California. In San Diego and San Pedro, the canneries were idled, the workers unemployed, and a fleet that cost $100 million to build was tied to the dock.21 Fishermen and processors in New England were also unhappy about the rising amounts of imported fillets and tuna. Large European factory processing ships were fishing on the Grand Banks of Newfoundland and landing their catch at New England ports.22 Mexico arrested five Texas shrimp vessels in 1950 for fishing in the Gulf of Mexico, causing a domestic uproar, with southern congressmen ordering the State Department to demand the immediate release of the vessels.23 “These issues are too important to lose or ignore,” Chapman wrote.24 But although the tensions were rising, there was no break in the stalemate between Chapman and the internationalist faction within the State Department. In April 1950 President Truman appointed John Foster Dulles (1888– 1959) as an assistant to Secretary of State Dean Acheson, with responsibility to negotiate a Japanese peace treaty. Dulles assembled a small staff and began work on the American objectives for a treaty. The overall goals were that the Japanese be peaceful, respect fundamental human rights, join the free world, and be friendly with the United States. Japan should develop self-respect by avoiding dependence on outside charity, and it should demonstrate to the rest of Asia the benefits of the free world, helping to resist communism. A key concern was that Japan be able to find the raw materials it needed, without having to trade with the adjacent Communist countries.25 The raw materials included fish.

In Japan things were not going well for the fishing industry. Despite the carrot of being allowed back in the tuna grounds around the Mandated Islands, Japanese fishing boats continued to fish illegally outside the MacArthur Zone, where they were seized by the Soviets, Koreans, and Chinese. The seizures fueled the perception that the Japanese refused to obey fishing regulations. If the Japanese refused to obey the SCAP fishing boundaries, what would happen when a peace treaty was signed and there were no restrictions on where they could fish? The pressure finally prompted the Japanese government to reduce the East China fleet to 247 vessels, down from 296. A patrol system was now operating, and there were plans to expand it, in hopes of reducing the seizures.26 But by early 1951, SCAP was forced to acknowledge that the Japanese coastal fisheries were in crisis. The catch was almost up to prewar levels, but there had been a 40 percent increase in the number of fishermen. 106

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With the removal of price controls on food in the spring of 1950, the price of fish plummeted. Operating costs had increased, and coastal fishermen were unable to pay off old loans or get credit to finance further operations. “Coastal fishermen in most areas now are facing financial collapse,” SCAP reported. “If this situation is allowed to continue, it will make necessary great outlays of relief funds; serious declines in production will be incurred; and it will seriously threaten the success of the orderly fishery reforms which are now progressing favorably.”27 SCAP’s Natural Resource Section offered a five-point plan: a halt to further expansion in overexploited fisheries, development of sound conservation regulations, more government enforcement, an increase in profits for fishermen, and establishing a sound financing program. While there may have been some token reductions of licenses in the East China Sea fleet, the overall capacity of the Japanese fisheries under SCAP had increased to an estimated 70 percent greater capacity than in 1939. The industry continued to press for greater allocations of fuel and materials, all of which had to be imported and paid for by the United States, as part of the rehabilitation of the Japanese economy. But while more resources were being poured into the fisheries, overall production had not increased, generating more calls for fuel and material, and continued pressure to expand the fishing area. For the strapped Japanese government, there was no good solution—except expansion into new waters. The Japan Federation of Industries, which represented some 200,000 people, wanted an expansion in the East China Sea.28 The Northern Pacific Ocean Fisherman’s Association wanted to get back to the Bering Sea and sought permission for a canned salmon, salted salmon, and crab processing operation in the northern Pacific. There had been 76,500 fishermen and their families dependent on the northern fishery before the war.29 But even SCAP hesitated to advocate sending Japanese boats to fish for salmon into the waters off Alaska. Dulles made his first negotiating trip to Japan in January 1951.30 He needed to align Japan with the United States against the Soviet Union, and he did not want a squabble over fish to bog down the negotiations on an overall peace treaty.31 He asked Chapman to work on a letter to Prime Minister Yoshida, as the basis for an agreement on fisheries. Chapman went back to the 1938 language in which Japan had agreed to keep its fisheries out of Bristol Bay and fashioned a document that Dulles took with him to Tokyo. Chapman’s draft became the basis for an exchange of letters between Yoshida and Dulles, agreeing to remove fisheries from the main treaty negotiations. In a letter dated February 7, 1951, Dulles wrote that the 107

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Americans recognized that the Japanese depended on fish for their food supply, and they thus had a special interest in the “conservation and development of fisheries.”32 After full sovereignty was restored, Japan would enter into negotiations to establish fishing treaties. The emphasis was on volunteerism. This voluntary act did not imply a waiver of international rights or prohibit Japanese fishermen from fisheries in which they were currently engaged. In return, Yoshida wrote that Japan recognized that high-seas fisheries could exhaust resources unless there was concerted action for conservation. The government was aware that certain countries had adopted “international agreements and voluntary self denying ordinances to prevent exhaustion of high seas fisheries which are readily accessible to fishermen of their own country and that if these conserved fisheries were to be subject to uncontrolled fishing from other countries, the result would be international friction and the exhaustion of the fisheries themselves.” Japan would enter into negotiations in the future, and in the meantime, without waiving its international rights, would prohibit its fishermen from operating “in presently conserved fisheries.”33 Japan was officially recognizing the American claim that they had conserved salmon stocks. It was not as explicit as the northwest salmon industry wanted it to be, but it was a victory for Chapman and the salmon industry. In a March 5, 1951, letter, Chapman wrote that the State Department had not reconciled its different views on what to do with the Japanese fisheries, but that Dulles had made a decision, based on language that Chapman had drafted. “What he decided was that he had to eliminate the fishery problem from the general problems of the Treaty of Peace or he was likely to get tangled up in such a fishery snarl both at home and with our Pacific allies that the conclusion of the Treaty of Peace would be delayed longer than was in the best interest of the United States.”34 Dulles’s actions surprised and disappointed several sectors of the State Department, Chapman wrote, but the decision was accepted because Dulles had the authority to make it. The fish war within the State Department was finally settled. The tension between the salmon and tuna industries was not. Chapman had taken a leave of absence in 1948 from his job as director of the School of Fisheries at the University of Washington, and he wanted to return home. The expense of moving the family from Palo Alto to Seattle to Washington, D.C., “not only left us dead broke but substantially in debt—to my father-in-law,” Chapman wrote.35 There were six Chapman children by now, living in a rented house and longing to get back to friends and family on the West Coast. 108

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But the University of Washington campus would be a small stage after Washington, D.C. The American Tuna Association, based in San Diego and recognizing that it needed a continued presence in Washington, D.C., created the position of director of research and offered it to Chapman. It would keep him in the thick of the fight to secure Pacific Ocean tuna for American fishermen. William Herrington left SCAP in April 1951 and returned to Washington, D.C., where he was scheduled to replace Chapman in the fisheries adviser position in the State Department. Chapman left for San Diego in June.

The Conference for the Conclusion and Signature of the Treaty of Peace with Japan took place in San Francisco September 4–8, 1951. Article 9 called for Japan promptly to begin negotiations with the Allied Powers for the conclusion of agreements providing for the regulation or limitation of fishing and the conservation and development of fisheries on the high seas. In his remarks at the start of the conference, Dulles said the present wording did not set any limitations on Japanese fishing activities in the Southeast Asian and Pacific waters. Therefore, there was no basis in the treaty for future bilateral or multilateral agreements. “This omission is to be regretted. Here one will have to depend largely upon Japan’s willingness to arrive at a fair agreement in which there is sufficient scope for all nations concerned to develop their fishing industries in accordance with their economic needs.”36 Japan prepared to sign the treaty by stitching together, as best it could, a series of accords designed to protect its strategic interests. The United States favored independence for Japan, but in line with American strategic objectives in the Far East. Tokyo grudgingly accepted the terms of the peace treaty because they had no choice, since opposition could endanger the new economic and political relationship with the Americans. “As a result, Japanese leaders signed a series of agreements riddled with inequality,” wrote historian Michael M. Yoshitsu. 37 In their view, a peace treaty falling outside the United Nations Charter, a security treaty omitting mutuality, and an administrative accord affirming American control were all signs of the imbalance in Tokyo-Washington ties. For the moment, the Japanese would have to bite the diplomatic bullet. Yoshitsu might have cited the Tripartite Treaty—as the fisheries treaty signed by Japan, Canada, and the United States in 1952 came to be called—as one of the diplomatic bullets. Legal scholar Harry Scheiber called it a victory for the Americans and Canadians, because it kept the 109

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Japanese from fishing in Bristol Bay.38 But the treaty has to be considered within the totality of Pacific geopolitics. While the North Americans were successful in limiting access to salmon and halibut, the Japanese had carte blanche to enter the lucrative American tuna market, setting the stage for the demise of the Southern California processing industry. It also has to be considered in terms of its scientific implications and the future relationship between Japanese and Western scientists. Just as the unequal treaties of the 1860s barred Japan from getting involved with heavy industry, so the 1951 peace treaty cemented Japan on a course that it probably would have taken anyway, to reclaim its supremacy on the world stage that it had dominated in the 1930s in fishing and whaling. It really had no choice but to make a commitment to reclaim its ocean empire. Japan had pledged to recognize American conservation efforts—but what did that mean? Where did Bristol Bay salmon cease to be claimed as North American and become denizens of the high seas, free to be caught by the fishing boats of any country? Where was the line in the water going to be? The Americans, who had never done any research on the migrations of salmon at sea, didn’t know, but they figured the Japanese did know—and that was why they wanted a line at longitude 165°, some 400 miles west of Bristol Bay.39 Herrington thought it was much too close to Bristol Bay to be acceptable to the salmon industry. He suggested longitude 180°, some 600 miles from Bristol Bay. But the Japanese refused to budge. They would not cede a centimeter of water without a fight. In a 1949 talk to a group of Hokkaido businessmen, Herrington estimated the fleet at 450,000 boats, with a trend toward larger boats with more at-sea capacity. The inshore fisheries were overfished, and the total catch was dwindling. “The individual fisherman’s share of the catch, therefore, has been reduced, while his expense of operation has become greater.”40 It was the pattern identified by E. S. Russell, Michael Graham, and W. F. Thompson: as fishermen exhausted the waters near home, they had to travel farther, at greater cost, to keep production levels high. But under the Occupation regime, Japanese fishermen could no longer seek refuge from their overcapacity problems in distant-water fisheries. It is certain that Herrington understood what kind of shape the Japanese fishing industry was in, but it is also likely that he attributed the problems to the situation that had existed before SCAP had arrived. Herrington had tried to remake Japanese fisheries science, imposing American methods of statistics collection, and he was not happy with the lack of response from Japanese scientists.41 The Ministry of Agriculture and Forestry, which oversaw fisheries, 110

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signed an ordinance in August 1950, reorganizing its Bureau of Statistics. Plans called for hiring 1,000 full-time agents and office staff and 7,000 part-time employees. “These people will not work on anything except fisheries statistics,” according to a SCAP memo.42 But while the order had been issued, the employees were not hired. Japanese statistics continued to be “notoriously poor and unreliable.” Progress after three and a half years was “negligible” and the Fisheries Agency was “unwilling or unable to make improvements.” The collection system was “inadequate, inefficient, inaccurate, expensive.” The data were incomplete, and efforts were duplicated. Herrington’s overall conclusions were that the program was both ridiculous and extravagant, and the United States could be of no further help and would suspend further efforts.43 The industry and the ministry had accepted Herrington’s scolding and criticism, because they had no choice, but they had not substantively changed the way they operated. As Herrington prepared to return to the United States, it must have been with deep misgivings about the future, both for the Japanese fish stocks that were being pressed so hard within the MacArthur Zone and for the American fishing industry, as the Japanese fleet continued to exceed its prewar fishing capacity. Officially, the restoration of the fishing industry was one of SCAP’s success stories. Catches were at 1940 levels. Price controls were being removed, fishery cooperatives were being organized, and the tuna fishery had resumed. The Japanese Fisheries Research system was moving to place greater emphasis on population studies to determine how to prevent overexploitation and develop the maximum sustained yield.44 Herrington claimed that American science was superior because it was grounded in the “conservation” of stocks. But, as we have seen, this meant utilization, and not conservation in the sense the word is used today. The Americans also claimed that their stocks were scientifically managed, but the Japanese knew how little research the Americans had done in the oceans. The Japanese were proud of their fishery science and of the role it had played in developing the empire. Fishing showcased Japan’s industrialization and its modernization. That its fisheries science could be so thoroughly rejected must have stung. But was Japanese science weak? The Japanese had eagerly embraced Western science in the wake of the Meiji restoration after 1860. It was also eager to showcase its science to the West. The Japanese had participated in all the international scientific conferences in the Pacific. The Pacific Science Association was born at a meeting in Tokyo in 1926.45 Prince Iyesoto Tokugawa, president of the Pan-Pacific Association of Japan, opened the meeting and declared, “The Pacific Era is here.”46 The meeting was a 111

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national event in Japan, with participation by the Imperial family, government officials, educators, businessmen, farmers, and schoolchildren.47 The Japanese also published the results of their oceanography and fishery research, in English, as early as 1923.48 When W. F. Thompson had sought the support of Japanese scientists in 1930 in recovering drift bottles and buoys as part of an investigation into where halibut larvae drifted, the Japanese had immediately ordered their prefecture offices to turn in any bottles that were recovered.49 Japanese science was geographically isolated, since rapid communication with Japan was technically impossible before World War II.50 Those who knew about the extent of Japanese science respected it. Homer E. Gregory, chairman of the Pacific Science Congress, wrote in a 1927 study that in the development of natural resources—including forestry, fisheries, and systemic botany—“the number of professionals is greater in Japan than that of most countries.”51 Harald U. Sverdrup, director of the Scripps Institution of Oceanography, communicated with Japanese oceanographers.52 Japanese oceanographers dominated the papers at the Sixth Pacific Congress in San Francisco in 1939.53 Daniel Merriman, head of the Bingham Oceanographic Laboratory at Yale, wrote in 1949 that the United States had “a long way to go before we catch up with the prewar knowledge and ability of the Japanese.”54 One of SCAP’s priorities had been translating Japanese fisheries and oceanographic papers into En­ glish. The Australians in Japan at the time of the Occupation were just as eager for Japanese technical information as the Americans. And Wilbert Chapman, traveling to fishery research institutes in Europe during his 1948 Guggenheim Fellowship, looked to the Japanese education model for the changes he meant to implement at the School of Fisheries at the University of Washington. There were certainly problems with Japanese fisheries science. SCAP was undoubtedly correct that there was much duplication and inefficiency. Research was not transmitted among the various prefectures. Historian James R. Bartholomew, in his study of science formation in Japan, suggested there were serious problems with the management of science. Tokugawa traditions, reinforced by German influence, produced an autocratic government slow to sanction autonomy or forthright politicking by scientists and professors. Some technical specialists lost access to the uppermost levels of policy-making men. The most serious problem, however, was the inability of administrators trained exclusively in law to communicate with scientists and technical experts.55

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Bartholomew’s point is also true of the difficulty within the State Department in arriving at agreement between Chapman, a scientist, and the economists and attorneys in the International Relations section. In his analysis of postwar American science as a component of American hegemony, historian of science John Krige wrote that science was a vehicle to project American power in Europe. American and European physicists negotiated and exchanged knowledge on a platform of mutual respect. Krige used the term “coproduction,” where both partners were seen as providing input into the relationship.56 While Americans negotiated more or less on terms of equality with European physicists, the relationship between American fisheries scientists and their Japanese counterparts carried much more cultural and racial baggage. Japanese fisheries science, despite its role in creating the world’s leading fishing nation, was not recognized as being on par with American science. The Japanese certainly saw that the Tripartite Treaty was not negotiated on an equal footing. As one State Department document put it, it was obvious that the Japanese were getting little more out of the fisheries treaty than “harmonious relations” with Canada and the United States, and the hope that the agreement would not prejudice its fishing claims with other Asian nations.57 When Herrington returned from his posting at SCAP in 1951, he met with Chapman and discussed what to do about a peace treaty. Herrington thought it might be possible to get Japan to agree to waive their fishing rights under certain conditions, an early formulation of what he came to call the principle of abstention. Chapman thought the idea had merit.58 When Herrington settled into Chapman’s job at the State Department, he drafted some language on his principle of abstention and took it to Dulles, who cleared it and recommended that Herrington lead the U.S. delegation to negotiate the fisheries convention at Tokyo. The Japanese wanted a quick decision on the fisheries treaty, and that meant deciding where Herrington’s abstention line was going to be drawn. The Japanese were hoping to mount a king crab operation in the Bering Sea by April 1952. But Herrington warned that if the Japanese boats returned before a treaty was signed, there could be “extensive repercussions” in Alaska and the Pacific Northwest.59 The Japanese government decided to put off the crab expedition until the fisheries treaty was concluded. Pressure around fishing escalated on January 18, 1952, when South Korean president Syngman Rhee issued a Proclamation of Sovereignty over the adjacent seas. Rhee based the decision on international law and the 1945 Truman Proclamation, as well as the subsequent claims by

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Mexico, Argentina, Chile, Peru, and Costa Rica. The Rhee Line claimed Korean sovereignty over the continental shelf and the adjacent waters and established exclusive fishery zones that reached about 200 miles. If upheld, the claim would leave the Japanese with a far smaller body of water to fish than the MacArthur Zone. Japan issued a formal protest, declaring that Korea’s action destroyed the freedom of the seas. The Rhee Line was a resumption of conflicts over fishing that went back to the 1930s, when the Koreans accused the Japanese of overfishing sardines in Korean waters. The fisheries confrontations continued until 1965, when a treaty was finally concluded. In the meantime, Korea, the Soviet Union, and Communist China were seizing hundreds of Japanese vessels and capturing thousands of fishermen.60 The Korean demands— coming as the first fisheries agreement was being negotiated with Canada and the United States—certainly heightened Japan’s concerns about the future of its high-seas fleet and strengthened its determination to not cede any access to the Bering Sea. Both Japanese and American negotiations wanted to claim as many salmon as possible. The initial Japanese position was that they had the right to fish the salmon, halibut, herring, and other stocks along the North American coasts on the same basis as Canadian and U.S. fishermen. Any restriction imposed on Japan had to be contested fully, or it might be used as a precedent by other countries to restrict the Japanese from their coasts.61 With both sides stalemated, Herrington enlisted U.S. ambassador William Sebald, who called on Prime Minister Yoshida and told him of the deadlock. Yoshida ordered the Japanese delegation to accept the 175° west line.62 Representatives of Japan, Canada, and the United States signed the International Convention for the High Seas Fisheries of the North Pacific Ocean on May 9, 1952, at Tokyo. Salmon in the North Pacific would be shared equally among the parties. There would be special treatment for fisheries that were already utilized and “fully conserved.”63 The Japanese could fish for king crab within Bristol Bay’s conservation zone. Only three North American fisheries qualified for abstention: salmon, halibut, and herring. The Japanese had to agree to abstain from fishing on all three species east of the line. The line was provisional and would be revaluated after five years to see if it impeded the treaty’s goal of equal sharing of the resource. If the Americans could not prove that Alaskan salmon were managed at levels of MSY, abstention protection could be withdrawn from either salmon or halibut, opening the water closer to Bristol Bay to Japanese nets. The abstention line acted to enclose the Alaskan salmon fishery from the 114

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Japanese, based on the assertion that Bristol Bay stocks were fished at MSY levels—an assertion that was not backed by any scientific investigation of the stocks. “As is clear from all this, prima facie this treaty seems to be constructed very scientifically and rationally, but in reality it is composed of extremely political elements,” wrote Japanese scientist Tomonari Matsushita in a document that formed part of the scientific exchange when the line was renegotiated in 1957.64 He was especially unhappy that when Canadian and American policy makers negotiated the halibut and salmon treaties, a sharing agreement was made in principle, and then scientists gathered the data to decide how the catch would be shared. Matsushita thought Japan was held to a different standard. They were forced to accept Herrington’s line, although the Americans had absolutely no scientific information on the composition of the salmon stocks in the waters off Bristol Bay. There were salmon—but they may have been from Soviet or Japanese rivers, as well as from American and Canadian rivers. The Japanese, who had been tutored in American fishery science for the six years of the Occupation, wanted scientific proof that the Americans did not have. If the Japanese were expected to obey scientific lines in the ocean, they wanted scientific justification. The Americans signed the treaty and hoped their politically acceptable but scientifically dubious line would have some practical utility in terms of keeping the Japanese gillnets away from Bristol Bay sockeye. They had claimed since 1936, in one way or another, that salmon stocks in the North Pacific were being managed for conservation, which justified the exclusion of the Japanese from the world’s richest fish resource. The Americans had claimed this repeatedly, but it was not based on any scientific evidence. They had five years to prove that the 175° line had scientific validity in separating North American and Asian salmon stocks. After decades of declaring that American fisheries were managed for conservation, the Americans were going to have to prove it to the skeptical Japanese. Three days after the Tripartite Treaty was signed, the first three Japanese mother-ship fleets, with 50 catcher boats and 12 scouting vessels, left for the North Pacific, hoping to harvest 1.8 million salmon on the high seas. The actual catch would be 2.1 million, and the Japanese made plans for a larger fleet in 1953, 6 mother ships, 200 catcher boats, a whaling expedition, and a king crab expedition, as well as 5 trawlers and a fish meal factory. Fishing in the North Pacific region was undergoing significant expansion, and the pressure on salmon stocks sharply increased. American fishermen could only watch with dismay. The United States had won the war, but fishermen saw themselves as David, facing the 115

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colossal, government-funded Japanese juggernaut. Thanks to the years of fishing pressure, capped by expanded fishing for the military during the war, the 1944 Bristol Bay season was disastrous. The 1946 season was the worst in nineteen years, but the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service went ahead with the 1947 season as if nothing had happened.65 The 1953 Alaskan salmon pack was less than 3 million cases, for the first time since 1921, “due entirely to lack of fish—to failure unforeseen,” as Pacific Fisherman put it.66 But of course it had been foreseen, as far back as 1919. Nobody wanted to believe Americans overfished the runs. It was easier to blame the Japanese or predators, such as seabirds and sea lions. The economic distress was so acute that President Eisenhower declared parts of the territory to be a disaster area and sent federal relief funds and food supplies from the Department of Agriculture. Public-works projects and other stopgap measures followed to lessen the impact of the fishery failures. While the treaty was being negotiated, the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service moved to radically liberalize the fishing regulations in Bristol Bay. The chief conservation measure had been forcing the small gillnet boats to only be powered by sail, creating inefficiency that slowed the catch and increased operating expenses, yet did little to hold the catch down, since anybody could buy a boat and go fishing. The new regulations allowed small engines and net rollers driven hydraulically. In anticipation of the increased catch, the Seattle-based fleet of freezer processor ships—most of them former military vessels sold to the industry at bargain-basement rates—planned to spend their summers in Alaska, buying salmon from the gillnet fleet and freezing the fish to be transported south for canning. The Americans saw their inshore fishery as being heavily regulated. The Fish and Wildlife Service set seasons and decided how many days could be fished a week. It was not fishing flat-out, but by today’s standards, it was very close to it, given the number and efficiency of the fish traps, the laxness of the enforcement, and the ever-increasing number of fishermen, ratcheting up the pressure on the fish. The idea of regulating the number of fishermen or the amount of gear was still a long way outside the thinking of the industry and its managers. There was deep unhappiness that the federal government had not done more to keep the Japanese further offshore.67 In June 1952 the Japanese announced another salmon fishing operation, in the seas adjacent to the international date line, in the Western Aleutian Islands. It was outside the waters of the North Pacific fisheries treaty convention, but the Japanese announced that they would fish within the terms of the treaty convention.68 It was scant comfort for the American industry, as they watched their catches dwindle. 116

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The Road to Rome Manifestly, major interests of the United States Government—security, naval, maritime, air transport, as well as fishing operations, are inextricably involved in any move which would alter the scope and attributes of these two principles as the United States views them under international law. Briefly stated, that view is that international law does not require a state to recognize more than three marine miles of territorial waters. Beyond this zone lie the high seas to which freedom of navigation and fishing for all countries appertains. WILLIAM HERRINGTON (1955)1

The high seas were shrinking. It was not just the expanded fishing throughout the oceans, but trade, economics, and politics that drew fishing and non-fishing countries together, however unwillingly. If the high seas had ever been a commons, the commons was rapidly disappearing because of the deliberate actions by nations, motivated by a range of issues. Security, navigation by air and sea, conservation of fish, exploitation of mineral resources, and simple nationalism all contributed to the mounting tensions.2 Smaller nations saw enclosure as the only way to protect themselves from the distant-water fleets. The distant-water nations—especially the United States, Europe, the Soviet Union, and Japan—were wary that restrictions on catching fish had the potential to justify further restrictions on other uses. A great deal of money and the right to harvest millions of tons of fish were at stake. But as always, more was involved than just fish. In the glory days after the end of World War II, the American fishing industry believed that free enterprise would triumph and that fishing wages in other countries would rise 117

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to American levels. As their markets were eroded by low-cost imports, the industry began a series of major campaigns to persuade Congress to erect tariffs to protect them. But American foreign policy was moving decisively toward dismantling trade and tariff barriers, and the attempts of coastal lawmakers to protect their industries were blunted by the State Department and its national security concerns involving Iceland, Canada, Japan, and Latin America. More importantly, as the Cold War went on, the freedom of the seas—the right of passage for American ships, submarines, naval vessels, and fishing boats—could not be jeopardized. The United States briefly replaced Japan as the leading distant-water fishing nation in the Pacific. The San Diego tuna clippers were expanding their fishery for tuna, drawing accusations that they were depleting local bait stocks off Latin America. Mexico, Costa Rica, and Ecuador were regularly seizing American boats and accusing them of illegal fishing. The Americans greatly resented the accusation that they were depleting local bait stocks. They insisted that the Latin Americans were after “tribute,” not fishery conservation, and protested the harassment of their boats fishing legally on the high seas.3 The Latin Americans saw illegal fishing and continued to seize American boats. At the same time, they steadily increased the fees they charged for bait fish. American boats were not alone in drawing fire for distant water fishing. The three-mile limit had long been promulgated as international law, especially by Great Britain, and then upheld by the United States. But it had never really been accepted, and support for it was eroding as distant-water fishing increased. In 1948 Iceland moved decisively to enclose its waters from the foreign fishing fleets that had been an irritant since the 1890s. Citing the Truman Proclamation of 1945, Iceland declared a 200-mile limit. The following year, Iceland’s delegation to the United Nations requested that the International Law Commission (ILC) study the issue of territorial claims. Despite strong opposition from the Western European nations fishing in Icelandic waters, the UN backed Iceland’s motion. The General Assembly implicitly agreed with Iceland that the three-mile limit was not international law and the regime of the territorial seas needed to be addressed.4 It was an important milestone in the evolution of the Law of the Sea. Norway also had long-standing grievances with the British trawlers that began fishing in their waters in 1906. Decades of diplomatic discussions brought no resolution, and in 1935 Norway issued a decree expanding its waters to a four-mile belt seaward from straight baselines drawn between forty-eight points on Norwegian promontories, islands, and rocks. The result was the enclosure of a large area of water that formerly 118

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had been regarded as the high seas and an important British fishing area. Britain applied to the International Court of Justice at The Hague for a ruling, and in 1951 the court upheld the Norwegian position.5 The court recognized the need for serious measures to slow fish decline and prevent a war of enclosure. New international law was urgently needed. The decision was one of the first successful attempts by a country to restrict foreign fishing on territorial grounds, and it was a substantial blow, not only to Britain’s distant water fleet, but to the U.S. distant-water claims as well. Iceland moved swiftly to reinforce the decision. On March 19, 1952, it closed Faxa Bay, an important fishing area, for what it described as conservation reasons. Iceland’s coast guard arrested a British trawler two months later, claiming it was fishing inside the new conservation zone.6 Iceland’s decision expressly linked conservation with enclosure and protection from the distant-water fleet. The International Law Commission, which had been studying the territorial and fishing questions since the late 1920s, issued a draft report in the summer of 1952. It recommended the creation of an international framework, under the Food and Agriculture Organization (FAO) of the UN, to come up with regulations to protect fish resources from waste or extermination on the high seas. The recommendations would be binding.7 The report reflected the Anglo-Norwegian court decision, recognizing Norway’s right to set a four-mile territorial sea. It also recommended that territorial limits be expanded to six miles. Enclosure increasingly seemed the only way for smaller nations to protect themselves from the larger, more powerful fleets of distant-water nations, and their right was being recognized in international law. The ILC also recommended that highseas fisheries were of a “technical character” and outside the commission’s expertise. It recommended that a specialized body, such as FAO, be consulted to investigate the matter and prepare resolutions for the UN. It was obvious that the days of mare liberum were numbered, at least as far as fishing was concerned. The major naval nations, the United States and Britain, were now just two of the voices at the United Nations and on the International Court of Justice. “The ideas and interests of small, nonnautical nations are becoming increasingly dominant in consideration of the question,” William C. Neville, the State Department’s fisheries attaché in Tokyo, wrote to Herrington in 1952.8 For the United States, locked in a high-seas Cold War battle with the Soviet Union, fishing was now tied more tightly than ever to foreign-policy concerns. The Norwegian decision greatly complicated the American territorial waters position. In certain instances, “our position is untenable and that in others we’re skating on mighty thin ice,” State Department legal 119

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analyst Fred. E. Taylor wrote. The court had upheld four miles: would it uphold twelve miles, the territorial claim currently being made by the Soviet Union? “You get a twelve-mile limit decided against you and the floodgates are open.”9 Every country could start to enclose their waters. In late 1951 Wilbert Chapman left the State Department and took a job as an adviser to the San Diego–based American Tuna Association (ATA), which represented the bait-boat fleet. With his customary energy and enthusiasm, Chapman threw himself into the battle of prodding Congress into giving tariff protection to the industry. He believed that the ILC’s recommendations did not adequately reflect the technical problems involved if nations attempted to work together toward marine conservation.10 He was also concerned about placing the United States under the authority of an international body. FAO was trying to organize a Latin American Fisheries Council that Chapman saw as a potential threat to the newly created Inter-American Tropical Tuna Commission (IATTC), established at La Jolla under the leadership of his old friend Milner B. Schaefer. Chapman had been instrumental in Schaefer’s appointment to the Tuna Commission, now starting to plan its research agenda. An FAO planning group met in September 1951 in Lima. Herrington, who had headed the U.S. delegation, reported that there had obviously been prior consultation among the Latin Americans about the issue of territorial limits. Chile’s delegate floated a motion about expanding regional territorial waters. It did not pass, but Herrington considered the meeting to be ominous. If a measure on territorial limits had passed at a conference under the sponsorship of the United Nations, it would have recognized that expanding territorial waters was essential to the conservation of Latin American fishery resources. That would have strengthened the hands of Latin American governments in their negotiations with the United States, not only over fishing, but other issues as well.11 Both Chapman and Herrington saw the ILC recommendations as fuel for the Latin Americans in their attempts to restrict American fishing. Chapman was particularly troubled and began to alert the West Coast fishing industry to the danger. On October 21, 1952, he wrote to Seattle attorney Edward Allen that he wanted to “scotch” the ILC’s recommendation of establishing the FAO as a world regulatory body. “Why don’t we take the initiative and see if we can’t force the Department’s hand a bit?”12

There was deep unhappiness in Latin America over U.S. policy toward the region. The Truman administration had decided to subordinate regional 120

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concerns to the more important tasks of rebuilding Western Europe and Japan as bulwarks against communism.13 Despite the substantial support provided by Latin American countries to the United States during the war, the administration poured $19 billion into Western Europe between 1945 and 1950, while Latin America received little more than promises of future consideration.14 But the United States was concerned about hunger in Latin America, believing that hunger led to political instability and opened the door to Communist agitators. There were Communist political parties in many Latin American countries, and the administration saw Communist activity as a danger to U.S. strategic interests, such as Venezuelan oil and Chilean copper. Mexico, for example, was “disturbingly passive toward Communism, tolerating it as a variation on national revolutionary themes.”15 For many U.S. policy makers and scientists, the solution lay in the transfer of Western technology and ideology to undeveloped countries, which would then follow the American progression toward capitalism and democracy. As historian Michael E. Latham argued, theorists placed Western, industrial capitalist democracies—especially the United States—at the apex of the historical scale and stressed that the United States could lead less developed countries through a progression to modernism.16 Dwight D. Eisenhower campaigned for the presidency during 1951 by charging that the Truman administration had betrayed the trust of Latin America by reneging on wartime promises of economic cooperation. After the election, his new policy toward Latin America was laid out in the National Security Council Document 144/1. The documents interpreted inter-American efforts within the context of the larger struggle between the United States and the Soviet Union.17 The Americans wanted their neighbors to support U.S. positions at the United Nations, to eliminate the menace of internal communism, to produce strategic raw materials for U.S. markets, and to cooperate in defending the hemisphere. But while the United States wanted trade and good relations in Latin America, it was up to the Latin Americans to create the right political climate to draw capital investment to their countries. Despite Eisenhower’s campaign complaints, the United States devoted about 1 percent of its development assistance to Latin America during the 1950s, with most of the money going to Bolivia, Haiti, and Guatemala. The United States insisted that Latin American governments had to recognize that the bulk of the capital needed for economic development was best supplied by private enterprise, so it was up the governments to create a climate to attract private investment.18 121

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Latin American governments attempted to foster private development through fisheries, purchasing American expertise and technology, and exporting the fish to the United States. The chief vehicle was the Point Four Program, announced by Truman on January 20, 1949. The Point Four Program was the technological front of the Cold War, using American technology, especially in agriculture, to inculcate American values and capitalism into Third World countries.19 By 1953 there were Point Four Fishery Projects in Mexico, Peru, Colombia, El Salvador, and the Dominican Republic, as well as projects in Liberia, Lebanon, Egypt, Jordan, Iran, India, and Indonesia.20 FAO was also starting to be more active. It formed the Extended Technical Assistance Program to funnel advice on agriculture and fisheries information to the Far East, Latin America, and the West Indies. FAO assigned a scientist to do biological work in preparing a plan for the development, conservation, and management of Ecuador’s fisheries. Other surveys were begun in Brazil, Pakistan, Ceylon, and Haiti.21 The Latin Americans did attempt to attract foreign capital for fisheries projects, but while the fish resources of the area were potentially rich, catching fish was not easy. Colombia, for example, bought three Swedish fishing vessels and an entire fish plant in 1952, to catch and freeze tuna caught off the Galápagos. Six months later, the boats and the plant were for sale. They had been unable to catch enough fish to supply the plant.22 When projects were successful, such as an American-funded plant to process shrimp in Ecuador, the products were typically exported to the United States, not used to feed local people, despite the humanitarian rhetoric about increasing protein from the sea to feed the poor. Total landings of tuna and bonito in Peru were 105,550 metric tons (mt) in 1951, but the domestic market consumed only 200 mt of it.23 The rest was exported to the United States. In 1952 the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service sent one of its research ships to explore the shrimp grounds off the Caribbean coasts of Honduras and Nicaragua. The objective was information to expand a fishery by American boats, based in Brownsville, Texas.24 The expanding global market (especially for fish meal), technology transfer, and short-term loans from local bankers were all significant factors in the growth of fisheries in Latin America.25 However, the fledgling Latin American fishing industry was about to get caught in between two sets of pincers: the tariff battle over entry to the U.S. market for tuna and the territorial pressures that were forcing Americans to fish farther from home for high-seas tuna. 122

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oceans, influencing the development of high-seas fishing. After 1920 Americans increasingly fished for yellowfin off Mexico and Latin America, drawing complaints that baitfish stocks were overharvested. The Japanese focused fishing on albacore tuna stocks off Japan and the Marshall, Mariana, and Caroline islands. The Japanese developed a fishery around the islands after 1918.

Mexico was the first country to respond to the Truman Proclamations’ 1945 declaration of the U.S. right to create conservation zones to protect its fish stocks, signing its proclamation a month after Truman issued his two proclamations. Argentina acted on October 11, 1946, declaring control of its continental shelf, but not affecting the freedom of navigation. 123

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Chile, on June 23, 1947, issued the first 200-mile declaration, which was copied by Peru in its August 1, 1947 declaration.26 The United States did not have a fishery in the areas affected by the Argentine, Chilean, and Peruvian claims, but the situation changed in 1950 when tuna was discovered off northern Peru at the Guayaquil Banks. American fishing boats poured into the area. On November 6, 1950, Ecuador declared a minimum extension of its territorial waters to twelve miles.27 Ecuador promulgated a further decree on January 29, 1952, prohibiting any foreign fishing vessels from entering, for any purpose, a twelve-mile zone of waters along its coast. The zone included the Galápagos, an important tuna fishing ground for American boats. When Ecuador seized three American boats passing through their waters in 1952, the State Department sent a representative to Ecuador to protest.28 But other seizures followed. The United States argued that if states could unilaterally claim whatever seaward limits they wanted, the result would be international conflict and chaos. Other nations saw the matter differently. The Latin Americans started with the premise that all states were equal, sovereign, and independent, and that states had a duty to recognize and respect the sovereign status of other states. They saw the three-mile limit as serving European self-interests and felt that they were not bound to recognize anything they had not signed and ratified. The 200-mile doctrine was modern and progressive and the most practical and equitable means for promoting fishery conservation and development. They also considered it intellectually dishonest for the United States to differentiate between their declarations and the Truman Proclamation of 1945.29 The United States refused to recognize the Latin American claims, arguing that they willfully misunderstood the Truman Proclamation. The United States had never acted to create conservation zones in its waters; it had only claimed the right to do so. They were especially sensitive about the allegation that American fishermen were depleting local bait stocks, a charge that the United States rejected because there was no scientific evidence that stocks had declined. The United States refused to recognize that the Latin Americans might be motivated by conservation, suggesting that the territorial claims were to raise revenues, not conserve bait stocks.30 In 1953 the United States harvested some 274 million pounds of tuna, most of it taken by clippers off Peru, with smaller quantities landed in Chile, Ecuador, Panama, Costa Rica, and Mexico.31 Most of the fish was trans-shipped, frozen, to the United States for processing. The catch figures encapsulated exactly why Latin Americans were considering enacting regional law to control tuna fishing by 124

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15 American tuna fishermen during the 1940s used slender bamboo poles to catch tuna. The

boats carried live bait that was tossed in the water when a school of fish was sighted. The bait threw the tuna into a feeding frenzy that caused them to snap at hooks. Two or three men could pull the largest of tunas onboard the boat. Courtesy of the San Diego History Center.

American boats. They wanted a greater share of the wealth being taken off their shores, wealth that couldn’t be harvested without the local bait stocks. Japanese imports were steadily increasing, especially of frozen tuna, which hadn’t existed as a product in 1934 when the tariff rates were originally established. By 1950 frozen tuna imports were 56.7 million pounds.32 At least 30 percent of the American market was being supplied by Japanese tuna, second only to silk in terms of the value of Japanese exports to the United States.33 The volume of imports had increased so rapidly that the Southern California fleet had little time to respond. Boats were tied up, as the price of albacore plummeted.34 The Latin Americans were steadily increasing the fees they charged boats to pass through their waters, increasing expenses for the San Diego fleet at a time when its fish was not competitive in its own markets. Ecuador raised fees for the bait boats in March 1951. Permits for tuna now cost $200 and had to be used within 100 days or a second permit was needed.35 Mexico increased its fees for taking bait, bringing the amount 125

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Americans paid to the government to about $330,000 annually.36 In February 1951 Ecuador increased its fees, raising the cost of fishing permits from $7.50 per ton to $12 per ton.37 Panama followed suit in December 1952, pegging license costs to boat size and sharply increasing fees.38 Each fee increase made it more difficult for American boats to compete with the Japanese. But while coastal representatives pushed for tariff relief for fishermen, foreign governments protested any increase. The Canadian government warned that increasing the tariff could have serious consequences, not only for trade, but for the overall relationship between the two countries.39 The State Department did not want to increase a tariff on Peru, a wartime ally. An American tariff that caused Peruvian unemployment could be a cause of social unrest, fueling Communist agitators and anti-American public opinion.40 Even a small tariff would hurt the fledgling Latin American tuna industry. Peru could not compete with Japan; its boats were small and could not fish offshore, while its processing industry had begun in 1940 and did not achieve efficiency until 1946. The fishery was seasonal, with high production costs, and processing capacity was less than 1,000 cases daily. Bonito were smaller than albacore, so handling and processing costs were higher, and the United States was the only market.41 An article in the Icelandic Trade Agreement required Iceland to agree to the withdrawal of any item from the trade schedule. If the United States acted unilaterally, Iceland could terminate the agreement.42 The Foreign Operations Administration warned that the operation of U.S. bases in Iceland depended on the goodwill of the nearby fishing communities; Iceland had recently signed a trade agreement with the Soviet Union. A tariff or a quota would “conflict with our military security system to some extent in Norway, more in Canada, and worst of all in Iceland. . . . As one Icelandic official has put it, in commenting on the Tariff Commission’s proposal, ‘Iceland cannot live on military agreements alone.’ ”43 It was a sound economic suggestion, although a dubious biological one, since warm-blooded tuna were seldom found in the cold waters off Iceland. The American Tuna Association ran out of money in 1953. The industry couldn’t persuade the Eisenhower administration to back tariffs, but they were able to persuade Congress to pass the Fishermen’s Protective Act of 1954, authorizing the secretary of state’s office to secure the release of seized vessels and crew, and reimbursing fishermen for fines paid to Latin American governments. It was a direct subsidy to the tuna industry, tying fisheries more tightly to foreign policy and the Cold War objectives of keeping American fishing boats on the high seas.

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The looming threat to American fisheries intensified in August 1952 at a meeting in Santiago of the South Pacific Fishery Conference. Chile, Ecuador, and Peru, with observers from Colombia, acted decisively to assert wider territorial limits. Chile’s motivating concern was protection from a fleet of Soviet whaling ships operating outside the territorial bound­aries set by the International Whaling Commission. But Peru and Ecuador were concerned about American tuna boats in their waters.44 While the initial thrust of the proposed new commission was to regulate whaling, the Santiago Declaration expanded the concept of territorial waters. All three countries were acting to exclude not only American boats, but Japanese and European ones as well. They voted to establish a permanent commission to oversee fisheries in the territorial waters of the participating nations. The new commission would have authority to undertake technical investigations and make recommendations to governments, to restrict fishing, and to establish quotas, prohibited areas, and closed seasons.45 The Santiago conference resolved that “every single state shall have the right to establish a protection, control, and exploitation zone a distance of 200 nautical miles from such countries’ coasts and islands, within which area they can individually exercise military, administrative, and physical jurisdiction.”46 The precedent was the 1833 British proclamation of sovereignty over the continental shelf and adjacent ocean areas of the Falkland Islands. The conference closed with a speech by Peruvian delegate Julio Ruiz, who laid out a vision of increased well-being, based on an expanded harvest from the sea, “which contain a single biological environment of minerals, flora, and fauna.”47 It was an early formulation of a concept that the three countries would advance in 1955, of a “biomass” theory that united all life on the coastal zone with the living communities of the sea.48 Ruiz said that fishing by foreign fishermen threatened the development of a fishing industry in Peru by unethical conduct, and similar abuses were occurring off Colombia and Ecuador, where foreign boats were being seized with illegal catches of fish. Ruiz laid out an ambitious agenda, of establishing marine biological stations, coordination of scientific investigations, establishing measures for conservation, and a preferential consideration for domestic industries to supply local markets. Within days of the conference, Peru reported that one of its fishing vessels had been attacked with firearms by an American tuna clipper thirty miles off the Peruvian coast near the port of Mancora. The Peruvian fishing boat was owned by Wilbur-Ellis, an American company based in San Francisco. The newspaper La Prensa in Santiago covered

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16 William Herrington (second from the left ) at the signing of the North Pacific Fisheries treaty.

The signing of the peace treaty between the Japan and the rest of the world was delayed by a disagreement within the State Department over where Japanese boats should be allowed to fish. According to the Potsdam Resolution, which set forth the terms of surrender, Japan was to have access to all the raw materials it had utilized before the war and that obviously included fish. But Wilbert Chapman knew that if the Japanese were allowed back into the salmon-rich waters off Alaska’s Bristol Bay, a peace treaty would be held up in the Senate. Courtesy of the University of California, Berkeley, School of Law.

the incident heavily and supported lawmakers who wanted to extend territorial limits.49 The embassy staff was kept busy translating a steady stream of newspaper articles and editorials, chronicling how much fish the American boats were harvesting off Latin America.50 The allegations of overfishing were embarrassing. The United States went on the offensive against the Latin American claims. Herrington fell back on his principle of abstention, which he had forced the Japanese to accept as part of the 1952 Tripartite Treaty. In an account of this period, written in 1989, Herrington said that when he returned from Japan in 1951, he had discussed with Chapman the difficulty that the State Department was having in coming to a position over Japanese fishing. Herrington thought it might be possible to get countries to agree to waive their fishing rights in certain conditions, an early formulation of what came to be called the principle of abstention. Herrington was able to get John Foster Dulles to agree to the principle.51 It was the key rationalization used to keep the Japanese fishery 600 miles west of Bristol Bay. 128

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Herrington gave a different account in a speech to the University of Rhode Island on June 27, 1966. He said that during 1954 several people in the State Department thought that instead of taking a negative attitude toward the International Law Commission recommendations, it would be more productive to get the commission to consider several “newer” concepts. It was widely felt within the State Department that when the United States became involved in broad international deliberations, it usually lost more than it gained. The issue was discussed with the department’s Fishing Industry Advisory committee, and a decision was made to see what international support could be found for the American position of maintaining the freedom of the seas and the three-mile limit.52 The “newer” concept that Herrington pushed was his fleshed-out principle of abstention. When a country had carried on extensive scientific study of a fish stock and regulated the catch by scientific findings, then other states should voluntarily waive the right to participate in that fishery. The principle would encourage countries to do research and manage their fisheries on a scientific basis, but it would not exclude other countries from fishing an unused or underused stock.53 It was essentially Cordell Hull’s formulation from 1936, that when a fishery was fully utilized (Bristol Bay sockeye) and managed for conservation (by the Americans), the financial sacrifice and burden of conservation would be wasted if other fishermen (especially Japanese) were allowed access to the fish. Chapman carried this idea forward in the High Seas Fishery Policy of 1949, declaring that the Alaskan salmon fisheries were “mature” and could not withstand further fishing pressure. Herrington restated Hull’s formulation to emphasize more clearly that the American actions were grounded in science. If a state would voluntarily waive its right to fish on this scientifically managed stock, then protection could be achieved without setting a legal precedent of expanding territorial limits. Abstention resulted in enclosure that wasn’t called enclosure. It also stacked the deck in favor of countries with scientific capabilities. And while Herrington proposed abstention as being voluntary, the Japanese had been forced to accept the principle and a line in the water that kept them 600 miles off Bristol Bay. Herrington was preparing for negotiations with Ecuador, where the United States wanted its fishing boats to be able to navigate freely through Ecuadorian waters. Ecuador, Peru, and Chile were planning another meeting and would likely try to expand the Santiago Declaration of 1952. Herrington was advised to tactfully suggest that adopting “exaggerated” claims of jurisdiction would be as unacceptable to most maritime nations are they were to the United States.54 Herrington was anxious to 129

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have abstention upheld in another forum. As it was, abstention could be considered a gimmick to exclude the Japanese from American fisheries. Herrington believed that the principle encouraged research that would lead to better management and that it was a useful concept that could help to establish new international law.55 But it could also be seen as a way for the United States to build on its own claim of acting for conservation reasons to protect salmon, while doing little to restrain its own distant-water tuna fleet and the fishing impact on bait stocks. Abstention was also controversial within the American fishing industry. To Chapman, it was too close to what the Latin Americans and the ILC called the “principle of exclusion of third parties.” Writing in 1968, also in hindsight, Chapman said that adopting the principle meant that the salmon and tuna industries could no longer align their interests and political strength.56 What was necessary for the salmon industry would harm the tuna industry. The political coalition that had brought Chapman into the fisheries attaché position at the State Department in 1948 was unraveling. The controversy over territorial claims escalated sharply in late August 1954, when the illegal whaling ship Olympic Challenger, owned by Aris­ totle Onassis, and its fifteen catcher boats arrived off Peru to challenge the Santiago Declaration. “The whaling pirate Onassis insists on disregarding our national sovereignty,” Peru’s leading newspaper, La Nación, declared. “This will not be tolerated. . . . His ships must be seized by our navy.”57 Onassis, who had registered his ships in Panama, was already embroiled with the IWC for whaling out of season. The price of whale oil had increased since the start of the Korean War, and illegal whaling was highly profitable. Peru sent two cruisers to establish a threatening presence at sea. The Onassis vessels, Olympic Victory and Olympia Conqueror, were boarded and escorted to Peru. Peruvian planes spotted a third ship, the Olympic Challenger, and ordered it to head for the coast. Instead, as it headed away at top speed, shots were fired into the water around it. “We are being attacked and strafed by Peruvian planes,” the captain radioed to Panama. The vessel surrendered, and a Peruvian maritime court established that between 2,500 and 3,000 whales had been caught within Chilean territorial limits and imposed a fine of $3 million, to be paid within five days or the ships and cargo would be sold at auction.58 The fleet was insured by Lloyd’s of London, with potential liability of $14 million, which drew Britain into the territorial disagreement.59 Lloyd’s paid the fine, and the vessels were released. Onassis later sold his entire whaling fleet to Japan for $8.5 million. The Olympic Challenger was renamed the Kyokuyo Maru II.60 130

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The well-publicized Onassis incident highlighted the attempts by the Latin Americans to prevent overharvesting in their waters. At the Tenth Inter-American Conference in Caracas, Venezuela, in early 1954, Ecuador proposed to adopt a 200-mile rule for the territorial sea in Latin America. The U.S. ambassador William Sanders, working with F. V. García-Amador of Cuba, managed to prevent the motion from coming to the floor for a vote. “If it had come to a vote it would win by 19 to 2,” Chapman later wrote. “The only two opposing nations were Cuba and the United States.”61 Ecuador, Peru, and Chile had been unable to get a vote on their territorial motion at Caracas, but they continued to move forward. The special meeting of the Permanent Commission on Exploitation and Conservation of the Marine Resources of the South Pacific was held at Santiago, on October 4–8, 1954. The delegates from Peru, Chile, and Ecuador unanimously approved a number of resolutions that had been prepared by three working committees on judicial, administrative, and economic questions. Since some of the resolutions exceeded the authority of the Permanent Commission, it was decided to convene another conference at Lima on December 1, 1954.62 According to the American embassy in Lima, the purpose of the meeting was to draft an international fisheries convention that would be voted on at a meeting in Santiago during 1955. The ambassador recommended a strong and clear statement of American views, since the adoption of a convention will “add a judicial character to their pretensions.”63 The Lima meeting passed three conventions; a 200-mile declaration of sovereignty, measures to exercise control over the maritime zone, and a provision to issue licenses for exploiting the marine resources in the zone. Other resolutions called for using the fees collected from fishing licenses to set up marine biological stations for technical and scientific research. In a translation from La Nación, the Peruvian foreign minister, Dr. Aguilar Cornejo, was quoted as saying it was fitting that the world recognize that Latin America “is perfecting its own laws related not to archaic concepts but to the obligations to protect social interests and prevent exploitation of natural resources by capitalistic interests for the benefit of the few to the detriment of the many.”64 The Latin American declaration claimed the conservation high ground and painted the United States as ignoring conservation and exploiting the Latin American countries. Both Herrington and Chapman believed that if another conference went forward in 1955, the United States would not be able to prevent the creation of a regional 200-mile limit. That would complicate American tuna fishing, but, more seriously, it might be used as a precedent 131

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elsewhere in the world to restrict American activity on the high seas. If a meeting on fisheries conservation was to go ahead, Herrington wanted it to happen within an arena more favorable to American interests. The obvious choice was the United Nations, and the vehicle for taking control of the Latin American conference was the International Law Commission and its 1953 recommendations. The United States would attempt to outflank its Latin American opponents, by moving the issue to a European forum where the American position would receive more support from other distant-water nations.65 Once that was accomplished, the United States could move forward with shaping an agenda that would maximize its opportunities to achieve its objectives of open seas for American boats. Events in Latin American were moving quickly. The United States was concerned that Chile, Peru, and Ecuador were creating a regional agreement that would challenge the international law of the freedom of the seas. Even if the draft international convention was not ratified, it was obvious that American tuna boats would continue to be targeted by all the three nations. But while the U.S. position was that its fishing boats, like its planes and submarines, had the right of free passage on the high seas, the fishing industry was not united on a single position. The recommendations of the ILC offered a vehicle for shaping a new high-seas regime that would be more in favor with American interests, but Herrington bluntly told the fishing industry that he could not move forward at the United Nations without the full backing of the industry. According to Chapman’s version of events, Herrington’s strategy was to sell the principle of abstention internationally, and he could not do it if factions within the industry did not support him. The tuna industry did not believe that a majority of nations would vote to accept the principle of abstention, but the present situation in Latin America was not acceptable.66 The industry had no choice but to swallow the principle of abstention, with all of its dangers, just as the Japanese had been forced to do, and back Herrington in this high-stakes global game. In its 1953 draft recommendations, the ILC wrote that high-seas fisheries were of a “technical” character and outside the competence of the commission. It recommended that a specialized body, such as the FAO, be consulted to investigate the matter and prepare resolutions for the United Nations. In the fall of 1954, the Americans placed a proposal on the UN agenda to convene a joint technical and legal conference to seek agreement on international rules for dealing with the high-seas fisheries. The ILC had done an excellent job in laying out a strategy for dealing with high-seas fishing claims, but the United States did not think it was 132

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practical. The United States billed its proposal for an international conference as opening the way to an international agreement on the freedom of the seas. The issue was framed as a response to the “grossly exaggerated” claims of the Latin Americans, who were using fisheries as “a pretext to cover up a desire for territorial expansion.”67 The United Nations General Assembly referred the American proposal to its legal committee, which was chaired by Cuban ambassador GarcíaAmador. The United States picked up on the ILC’s recommendation that fisheries were of a technical nature and that agreement should be sought upon the principles of international fisheries conservation. The present situation, which the United States conceded was in a condition approaching anarchy, was unacceptable.68 The U.S. position was that fishing could be considered separately from territorial questions. If a conference were held, it should be restricted to the fishery questions brought up by the ILC report, not deal with territorial claims. The conference needed to happen soon, as it was “highly desirable” to forestall Latin American attempts to develop “fragmented or regional International Laws.”69 A recommendation eventually went forward to the UN as a whole to convene an international technical conference. Resolution 900 (IX) was adopted by the 512th plenary meeting of the General Assembly, passed by one vote on December 14, 1954. The conference would take place in Rome and be hosted by the FAO. It was scheduled for April, so its recommendations could be forwarded to the International Law Commission, meeting in Geneva in June. It was a short time to prepare for such an important conference. As far as Herrington was concerned, the United States was the underdog, fighting to uphold an important principle (the freedom of the seas) and struggling to impose scientific conservation on countries that were only interested in catching fish ( Japan) or extorting tribute from American boats (Latin America). It was time to enlist American fisheries science in supporting the national foreign-policy position of ensuring open seas and open skies for all American vessels, but especially for American fishing boats.

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The Meeting in Rome The diplomatic preparation included the construction of an acceptable agenda that would start with impeccable conservation science and lead step by step to the obvious need for constructing international machinery that would provide for regulation of fishing effort when it was needed for conservation purposes and permit freedom of fishing on the high seas when regulation for conservation purposes was not needed. 

WILBERT CHAPMAN1

By 1955 ten Latin and South American countries had declared some sort of expanded jurisdiction, from Mexico’s claim of nine miles, to Argentina and Panama claiming the continental shelf, to the 200-mile claims of Chile, Peru, Costa Rica, El Salvador, Honduras, Ecuador, and the Dominican Republic. The United States formally protested the claims and reserved its right of free passage on the high seas, but that right looked increasingly imperiled. Iceland and Norway were seeking to restrict British high-seas trawling. The Soviets claimed a twelve-mile jurisdiction and were seizing Japanese fishing boats in the Pacific and European ones in the Barents Sea. Korea was also seizing Japanese fishing boats that violated its expanded territorial claims. The claims had already involved violence, with the Peruvian navy firing shots at the Onassis whaling mother ships and at American tuna boats. With Ecuador, Peru, and Chile moving to establish a regional 200-mile zone and claiming the right to seize boats that violated it, William Herrington believed that it was becoming more likely that territorial claims could lead to the use of force.2 These issues came to a head at the Rome conference in April and May 1955. The International Technical Conference 134

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on the Conservation of the Living Resources of the Sea was about more than conserving fish: national security, naval, maritime, and air trans­ port could all be adversely affected by territorial restrictions aimed at enclosing fish stocks from distant water fleets. The conference was described as being held to settle scientific and technical issues, but delegations were headed by government representatives, not by scientists. And while the purpose of the meeting was to provide “technical” advice on fishing to the International Law Commission, the real objectives were political, to halt the creation of new international law, on a regional basis, designed to control fishing on the high seas and potentially eroding the freedom of the seas for all distant-water nations—and the taking of fish, anywhere in the world. The United States had to “bolster the declining case for the three-mile limit,” Herrington wrote to the delegation. Fisheries could be conserved and protected from overfishing by agreements among states, and it was not necessary to claim ownership of the waters.3 The Americans also wanted to secure the continued right of American tuna boats to fish off Latin America. And, finally, Herrington wanted another international body to adopt the principle of abstention. If abstention could be recognized at Rome as a principle of international law, it would strengthen its legitimacy in keeping the Japanese at bay in the North Pacific. Under the leadership of the United States, the rich fishing nations of the world were attempting to solidify their claims to fish caught off the shores of poorer nations, which sought enclosure as a way to preserve fish so that local fisheries could develop. The Rome conference cemented disparate objectives—biological, economic, political, and social—into the fundamental framework of today’s modern fisheries management process. While the meeting was billed as a technical conference, it was expressly political. This would have a profound impact on the development of fisheries regulation, and on global fish populations in the years to come. The vehicle for achieving these ends was fisheries science and the American concept of maximum sustained yield. The key move involved the burden of proof. The decisions in Rome allowed fishing to continue until scientists could prove that overfishing had occurred; it was only then that restrictions such as mesh sizes, area closures, and time closures could be introduced to lower the catch. Then fishing would continue, but at a lower level, until stocks recovered their productivity. It was expressly the opposite of how Britain’s chief fisheries scientist, Michael Graham, thought fisheries ought to be managed. Graham fought for a policy that would have introduced restrictions as fisheries were developing, but he 135

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was overruled by his own government when it voted with the U.S. position. Policy makers in Rome saw fish stocks as essentially resilient, stable populations that had “surplus” individuals that could safely be harvested. There would be little harm if a few too many fish were occasionally taken. Fish bounced back. Fishing created the conditions that allowed the stocks to respond. The scientists and policy makers at Rome made two critical errors. They accepted the assumption in the American science papers that all stocks had “surplus” production that could safely be harvested. And they assumed that when fishing levels declined, fishing would stop because it was no longer economic to fish. It was an assumption that ignored the growing ways that governments were subsidizing their fishing fleets. Three weeks before the conference began, on March 27, 1955, Ecuador seized two American flag fishing vessels, the Arctic Maid and the Santa Ana, off the Ecuadorian coast. An American seaman was seriously wounded by gunfire from the Ecuadorian patrol vessel. Fines of more than $49,000 were imposed on the vessel, despite strong American protests.4 Ecuador’s ambassador to the United States, José Chiriboga, apologized for the shooting but said the Santa Ana was fleeing from the Ecuadorian enforcement vessel. He said Ecuador was bound by the international agreement it had signed with Peru and Chile to take action to protect its maritime waters.5 Tensions were high as the delegates headed to Rome.

Having persuaded the UN to back the idea of a technical conference to provide information to the International Law Commission, Herrington swung the full weight of the State Department into preparation. A group of experts met in New York on January 29, 1955. One of the British diplomats suggested that the science items be omitted from the agenda because they might cause the conference “to become involved in lengthy and irrelevant debate on scientific details, but the fishery experts attached importance to it.”6 Governments were invited to contribute papers by March 1.7 FAO had not been involved in the UN decision but was informed during negotiations that it would host the conference. FAO fisheries director D. B. Finn suggested more time was needed to plan such a complex meeting.8 But if the recommendations were to be ready for the ILC, scheduled to meet in June in Geneva, the conference had to be completed during May. Herrington spent the winter of 1955 seeking support for the U.S. position. The most extensive negotiations were with the British; Herrington 136

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traveled to London in January and again in February 1955. He also traveled to Ottawa, Gothenburg, Oslo, and Stockholm during February for consultations. An important ally was the Cuban ambassador to the United States, F. V. García-Amador, who was also a member of the ILC.9 Cuba was heavily dependent on salt cod for food, a legacy of Cuban slavery, when it was cheaper to import cheap salt cod from Newfoundland than it was for slaves to grow their own food. Cuba briefly flirted with building its own fleet to fish in Newfoundland. García-Amador met informally in Havana during February with representatives from Cuba, Brazil, Columbia, Venezuela, and Uruguay.10 Herrington flew to Havana on March 8 to meet with García-Amador.11 He also visited Mexico for informal discussions.12 He arrived in Rome a week before the meeting, to confer with delegates from France, Greece, Panama, Turkey, and nationalist China.13 The extensive consultations with potential allies were necessary to line up the votes to support the American position.14 The directions from the United Nations were that the Rome conference was only to concern itself with the “technical” problems of fishing. Finn described the meeting’s purpose as concerning “itself with the technical aspects of the principles under which a set of rules could be made for conservation rather than the rules themselves which, of course, must vary according to the region to be dealt with.”15 The United States did not want a wide discussion of the technical and economic problems of conservation.16 It also did not want any discussion of territorial limits, which might lead to an undesirable ruling. “Herrington made it clear that the fisheries interests in the United States are anxious to avoid a wide discussion on problems of conservation and technical and economic aspects of the world fisheries situation,” Frank McDougall, an FAO assistant, wrote to FAO director-general P. V. Cardon on October 4, 1954.17 Finn agreed. “In certain quarters tempers are quite high, and I think that sufficient time must be given for them to cool a bit.”18 Herrington led the American delegation; three advisers represented the fishing industry, including Wilbert Chapman (tuna) and Edward Allen (salmon). There was also a clutch of scientists, including Milner B. Schaefer of the Tuna Commission. The tensions within the industry surfaced before the delegation left the United States. In a long memorandum after the meeting, Allen wrote that he was unhappy with the focus on tuna, which he saw was at the expense of salmon. The survival of the salmon industry depended on abstention; a voluntary pledge from the Japanese to refrain from fishing was not enough protection.19 He was also unhappy with so much attention paid to Schaefer’s work, when there were other equally capable scientists attending. 137

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The American position was complex. The primary argument was that fish could be conserved without territorial claims, through the creation of bilateral or multilateral organizations, such as the United States and Canada had created to share halibut and salmon. Scientific programs had to be authorized through agreements among the concerned states. Sovereignty beyond three miles was not needed.20 There was no need for an international commission, with binding authority, under the auspices of the UN. The delegation was to shape the recommendations to the ILC as much as possible to reflect the American political objectives.21 “It is incumbent upon the United States to take every opportunity to maintain the principle that international law does not require a state to recognize more than three marine miles of territorial waters,” wrote Herrington. “Beyond this lie the high seas to which freedom of navigation and fishing for all countries appertains.”22

The year leading up to the 1955 Rome conference was a critical one in the development of modern fisheries science. Many scientists contributed to the development of maximum sustained yield as a scientific concept. Fisheries scientist David Cushing wrote in 1983 that E. S. Russell, Michael Graham, Raymond Beverton, Sidney Holt, William Ricker, and Milner Schaefer wrote the basic five papers that established MSY. Russell, Graham, and Schaefer stated the theory in different words, and it was Ricker who first used the phrase “MSY” in a 1946 paper.23 Between 1947 and 1953, Graham’s protégés, Ray Beverton and Sidney Holt, wrote On the Dynamics of Exploited Fish Populations. It was submitted to the government printing office in 1954. At more than 500 pages and replete with algebraic equations, the manuscript had to be set by hand and did not appear until 1957. The printer originally offered to print 100 copies, but, according to Beverton, Graham threatened to resign unless 1,500 copies were printed.24 But while publication was delayed, Beverton lectured on their conclusions at the U.S. Fishery Laboratory in Beaufort, North Carolina, in 1951, and at an ICES meeting in Copenhagen in 1953. The North Carolina lectures were published in a limited edition in 1954. Their work had received wide distribution in the fishery science community, both in Europe and at least the eastern United States, before the monograph was finally published.25 Canadian William E. Ricker (1908–2001) published the spawnerper-recruit theory in 1954, which outlined means to estimate the optimum number of spawners (or parents) from each year-class of fish.26 His 138

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article “Stock and Recruitment” showed that the magnitude of recruitment could be reduced as a stock declined under the pressure of fishing. Ricker plotted the reproductive curves of salmon, showing the “relationship between an existing stock, and the future stock which the existing stock produces.”27 He then developed a series of mathematical models to describe the reproductive curves of fish populations.28 According to Chapman’s account of the preparations for the meeting, the purpose of the agenda was to construct the “international machinery” that would allow regulation of fishing for conservation purposes, when it was needed, but also permit continued freedom to fish on the high seas.29 Herrington’s agenda showcased Schaefer’s work on the rapidly developing American tuna fishery in the Pacific. Schaefer contributed two papers, one on the spectacular success of the tuna fishery and another that outlined how the study of fisheries science ought to proceed. The tuna paper clearly brings together the political and scientific thinking that the Americans brought to Rome. A graph laid out the escalating tuna catch off Latin American, from about 70 million pounds in 1930 to almost 350 million pounds in 1950.30 It was no surprise that the Latin Americans wanted a share. Schaefer published his surplus production theory in 1954, based on his study of tuna while he worked for the Pacific Oceanic Fisheries Institute in Hawaii and the research of the Tuna Commission. At the heart of Schaefer’s work were his estimates of the age distribution of yellowfin tuna, based mainly on catch data. From this, he had drawn a logistics curve that represented the age structure of yellowfin. Against this curve, Schaefer plotted the catch of tuna in the equatorial Pacific. The data showed two clusters: a tight one in the data from 1934–45, close to the rising arc of the logistic curve, as the fish grew and put on weight. There is a second set of data points, the postwar catch, which are clustered near the peak of the curve, where the population is at its maximum. Schaefer had two case studies, yellowfin and skipjack. He concluded that in 1953 yellowfin tuna “appears to have reached a level of intensity near the level of maximum sustained yield, there is no likely imminent danger of serious overfishing.”31 There was no cause for concern because the intensity of fishing had decreased in 1955. It was not economically attractive to build new vessels, and fishing intensity was not expected to increase. The analysis could have come from Harden F. Taylor in 1930, when he wrote that fish stocks could not be exterminated, because as soon as the fish were thinned and fishing was no longer profitable, fishing stopped, thanks to business failure.32 In other words, open markets would solve the biological problem, with no need for fishing restrictions. 139

distribution of yellowfin tuna, based mainly on catch data. From this, he drew a logistics curve that represented the age structure of yellowfin. Against this curve, Schaefer plotted the catch of tuna in the equatorial Pacific. The data showed two clusters: a tight one in the data from 1934–45, close to the rising arc of the logistic curve, as the fish grew and put on weight. The second set of data points, the postwar catch, are clustered near the peak of the curve, where the population is at its maximum.

17 Schaefer’s yellowfin logistics curve. Milner B. Schaefer published Surplus Production Theory in 1954. At the heart of his work were his estimates of the age

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On the other hand, while the runs fluctuated greatly, skipjack had sustained great fishing effort and showed no apparent signs of decline. The impact of fishing on the skipjack population was so small it could not be detected, and the fishery could increase in intensity before reaching the point of maximum average sustained yield.33 There was no need for regulation. Schaefer’s logistics curve clearly illustrated the argument he was making, that fish had surplus production that could safely be harvested, and when the catch per unit effort (CPUE) dropped, fishing would halt and the stocks would be given time to rebound to optimal levels. Introducing restrictions as the catch was increasing was not necessary. The fishery could regulate itself. By assuming that the drop in the yellowfin catch in 1953 was because the fish had become less abundant, Schaefer extrapolated that no management measures were needed to regulate the catch. Restrictions could be implemented, but the critical point is that harvest was designed to continue, just at slightly lower levels. When catch levels had dropped and fishing was no longer economic, fishing would stop, and that point was well beyond the population needed for reproduction, a claim that might have been true, but there was no scientific evidence to substantiate it. While surplus production theory purported to be based on biology, it rested on an economic trigger: a decline in the CPUE. In Schaefer’s yellow­fin example, economic conditions halted the expansion of fishing. Therefore, the fishery was being managed at close to MSY levels, and management intervention, in the form of restrictions to slow the catch, was not warranted. When the stocks had recovered to MSY levels, fishing could resume. This turned out to be a profoundly misleading understanding of the data. The whole biological-economic model presumed that markets were open, when, in fact, they were not. After 1945, governments increasingly subsidized the global fishing industry, creating new programs to build boats and processing facilities, funding university work on the development and marketing of new fish products, and implementing tariffs and other protective measures. When fish catches fell, the economic incentive to leave the industry was neutralized by government actions. If anything, once government spending was established, subsidies continued, creating the pressure for more assistance and continually thwarting the expected corrective action of the markets.34 In a truly sociologically flexible system, where fishermen could easily enter and leave fisheries to take other employment during 141

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bad times, this economic trigger might have worked. But the fisheries market was not open, government subsidies (initiated for political and foreign policy reasons) were extensive, and most fishermen frequently had no other occupations to turn to when fishing was poor. Schaefer was unable to age tuna, and his assumption that the stocks had “surplus” that could safely be harvested was untested. Nevertheless, it was adopted as part of the thinking that emerged from the Rome conference, and it quickly was applied to other stocks. Fish had surplus, and scientists could estimate how many fish could safely be taken without jeopardizing sustainability. Schaefer’s second paper, his analysis of the types of scientific information needed for conservation, reveals some of the thinking under surplus production theory. He wrote that populations of fish and other organisms tended to remain in balance with their environments. If more fish were taken by predation or other means, the population would tend to come back into balance. This happened during fishing, since a fishery is simply an increase in the predation rate. It is the compensatory reaction of the fish population to the mortality produced by fishing which made a fishery possible, so that the population comes into balance under environmental conditions which include predation by man. It is theoretically possible to impose so much fishing . . . to drive it below its threshold magnitude for survival. I know, however, of no instance where this has been accomplished in a purely marine fishery. It appears that the threshold magnitude is almost always well below the population size to which it is economically possible to fish.35

Schaefer equated fishing by humans as a natural part of predation in the ocean, in keeping with MSY’s inherent implication that fishing is good for fish stocks, creating the conditions that produce large numbers of younger fish that grow rapidly to a harvestable size. Schaefer recognized there were other variables that affected the size of fish populations, including variations in the natural environment, and so one of the chief tasks for scientists was to account for the natural fluctuations in the stocks and separate them from the impact of fishing. Schaefer laid out three scenarios or levels of study in an elaborate matrix. Level I, the first and most practical, focused on studying the relationship between fish and fishing: how many fish were being taken, how large the population was, and how quickly the fish grew. Schaefer acknowledged that the weakness with the approach was that it did not look at the factors that caused populations to increase. But it was often

142

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18 Schaefer’s matrix for fishery investigations. Milner B. Schaefer laid out three scenarios or

levels of study for fisheries science in an elaborate matrix. Level I, the first and most practical, focused on studying the relationship between fish and fishing, how many fish were being taken, how large was the population, and how quickly the fish grew. Level II investigations focused on estimating the size of a fish population and calculating reproductive rates, growth rates, and natural mortality. At Level III, scientists would look at the environmental factors— both physical and biological—influencing the population.

adequate “to determine whether a greater average harvest may be obtained by restrictions on fishing.”36 He saw the studies he was directing at the Tuna Commission as being within his Level I framework. Level II investigations focused on estimating the size of a fish population and calculating reproductive rates, growth rates, and natural mortality. These more in-depth studies provided an improved understanding of fish populations, but the environmental forces were treated as random variables, “so that regulation is possible only for average environmental conditions.”37 Schaefer saw Beverton and Holt’s work as being within this level. At Level III, scientists would look at the environmental factors—both physical and biological—influencing the population, allowing “capacity

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for full management of the fishery.”38 This ideal stage had not been realized (and neither had Levels I and II), but it was the ultimate goal of fisheries science. Schaefer argued that it was possible to provide useful advice even with the relatively limited information from Level I studies alone; in other words, Schaefer was buttressing the limited results he had gathered from the brief investigation into the tuna fishery, saying that such limited studies provided enough information to manage the fishery. “To control a fishery completely it would be necessary to understand all of these interrelationships in their entirety. However, it is possible to achieve a useful measure of control with less than perfect understanding.”39 Schaefer was also echoing his mentor, W. F. Thompson, who had argued in 1922 that a fishery could be managed without detailed oceanographic information.40 Most of the scientific objections to Herrington’s plans came from Britain’s Michael Graham. During a February 1955 meeting in London with the Minister of Fisheries Ronald Wall, Herrington argued that MSY was the most appropriate goal for fisheries management. Graham objected, arguing that “it was unreal to emphasize solely this objective when others were equally valid.”41 Herrington replied that MSY was the only objective likely to receive general backing at the meeting, a political assessment—but it was not a scientific one. The British scientists agreed to an annotation on the agenda item, including the following language: “It is, as a general rule, considered that the primary objective of fishery conservation is to control man’s activities so as to produce the maximum sustainable yield of products in the form most useful to man” (italics added).42 The shift in emphasis is important. For Graham, restricting fishing was the key to long-term successful fishing. This language was dropped from later versions of the annotated agenda. Graham was disturbed enough that he offered to write a short paper for the conference, outlining his theory of fishing. In his keynote address that opened the conference, Graham took the opportunity to sound the theme of The Fish Gate, that fisheries needed to be regulated or they would become unprofitable. Citing the work of W. F. Thompson at the International Pacific Halibut Commission, Graham pointed out that although the commission’s management had resulted in an increased catch, the season had shrunk from eight and a half weeks in 1932 to only twenty-eight days on one fishing ground and fifty-six days on a second. Clearly, the stocks were facing increased pressure.43 And fishermen would be having a more difficult time catching enough fish to cover costs. Overall increased catches hid the fact that fishermen were working harder to land their catch and that fishing was less profitable. 144

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Graham also challenged the assumption that human predation was natural. If “one agent of death becomes so active as to claim more fish than die by all other agencies together, then that agent has control of the average age of the stock of fish.”44 Human fishing differed in both scale and magnitude from other forms of predation. In a natural system, predation was focused on young fish, and predation eased as fish grew larger. Fishing, on the other hand, targeted larger fish, creating predation pressures throughout a fish’s life span. Graham argued, moreover, that when fish were caught at a larger size, the yield was much higher. “Great benefits of several kinds are therefore obtainable if the rate of fishing can be controlled, especially when, as often is the case, an intermediate rate of fishing gives the best result.”45 Under Graham’s approach, gear restrictions and mesh sizes would be introduced to the fishery early on, before scientists had established that stocks were declining, while the research was ongoing. It was a go-slow approach that sought to achieve long-term economic benefits for fishermen, by protecting young fish from exploitation until they were older, larger, and had spawned. Today it is tempting to call Graham’s proposals precautionary, but Graham, the Quaker and Socialist, was motivated not so much by the desire to protect fish as the desire to protect fishermen. Protecting fishermen would also protect fish. Why were Graham’s warnings brushed aside? The historical evidence suggests that it was because the outcome of the conference was decided before it started. Graham said as much in his keynote address. “In the Old World we have not as yet made any explicit choice among the possible qualities of a fishery—but in the New World, the choice of maximum sustained yield has been explicit in all recent international conventions.”46 Graham headed Britain’s scientific delegation to Rome, but the British delegation itself was headed by the Minister of Fisheries Ronald Wall. It is normal in diplomacy to have decisions made in advance of meetings. But the scientific process is supposed to be open, with time for scientists to argue and persuade. At Rome this did not happen. The decisions had been made before the conference started. Others besides Graham were troubled by the decision in Rome. Finn attempted to have a paper written by Sidney Holt, who began working at FAO in 1953, included in the conference documents. Holt’s paper challenged MSY and went through at least four drafts, but it was not included in the conference’s published papers. Holt argued against research aimed at estimating a “critical point” for ocean fishery management.47 If fishing was focused on harvesting the maximum catch at its maximum weight, this could only be done by a large number of boats or “with an infinitely 145

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high fishing intensity and hence at a correspondingly high cost; it is therefore a totally unreal objective for resource use.”48 What Holt meant was that MSY encouraged the development of a large fishing fleet, increasing expenses to fishermen. Large fleets generate political pressure to continue fishing. In a letter to Schaefer, written on March 25, 1955, Finn responded to comments that Schaefer had made about Holt’s paper. Finn asked if scientists knew enough about any population of fish to decide if fishing was having a particular impact on the stocks. He wrote that a fishery problem could not be identified as a conservation problem until basic information was available about the fish stock and the impact of fishing on it. “However, we may hope that at the UN meeting such principles as these may be discussed and clarified.”49 It was a vain hope for a political meeting. MSY was exactly the opposite of the approach suggested by Graham, Beverton, Holt, and Finn—that a more conservative regime, with fishing restrictions imposed early, produced a greater yield of fish and protected stocks that had not spawned. Holt’s paper worked out the argument in detail, but it was not included in the published conference documents. In addition to not wanting a discussion of territorial limits, Herrington did not want his agenda with its “impeccable conservation science” to be jeopardized by views that did not lend themselves to the American position. Introducing regulations while the fishery was still expanding would have opened the door for the Latin Americans who wanted to restrict the American fishing for bait. In a memo after the conference, Finn argued that MSY was not a single yield, but many yields, depending on the interplay of several factors, including the productivity of the ecosystem, which was not constant. MSY “is an entirely theoretical concept, about the determination of which biologists and others are still arguing and will undoubtedly continue to argue. Should we set up such a criterion as the basis of recommendations from this Conference? I think not.”50 Finn’s memo pointed out the significance of the conference’s conclusions, that conservation measures would not be justified without scientific evidence. Fishing could not be restricted until it had begun to damage fish stocks. Graham lost the battle. The British scientists were outflanked by their own government. After more than a decade of trying to engineer fishing limits in the North Sea, the British began rapid expansion of its fishing industry in 1950. The Whitefish Authority was created, and fish prices were subsidized as was the building of new boats, so that British fishermen could compete with foreign fishermen and their lower labor costs.51 A line of fishing boats—this time off Norway, Iceland, Greenland, and 146

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Newfoundland—played an important role in Britain’s own reaction to territorial claims.

The International Technical Conference on the Conservation of the Living Resources of the Sea began April 18, 1955, at the Food and Agriculture Organization headquarters in Rome. Delegates from forty-five countries attended, including the Soviet Union, as well as a goodly sprinkle of scientists from regional and international organizations. According to the introduction to the published papers, the conference was not supposed to discuss any legal or political issues.52 But the political and economic objectives had already been inextricably interwoven with the science. Politics and economics were embedded in fisheries theory, especially surplus production theory. Scientists helped run the meeting, but science did not. This came down to the simple word conservation, which even the most unsophisticated delegate thought he understood and was in favor of, and which the most sophisticated fishery-educated delegate also thought he understood and certainly would not oppose. Opposing conservation was, and is, the same as opposing motherhood and being in favor of sin,53 as Chapman put it in his 1968 recollections. There were potent Cold War undertones. Rome was the first international fisheries conference to have Soviet fishery scientists attend. The Soviets proposed seating delegates from Communist China, East Germany, and North Korea. The Americans protested, saying only UN members could participate. But to the surprise of the United States, after some differences on organizational matters, the Soviets voted consistently with the United States and Britain; the distant-water nations had to stick together.54 The greatest conflict was with the Latin American countries.55 If the Americans had been scornful of Japanese science before and after World War II, they were downright patronizing about Latin American fisheries science. The Americans insisted that there was a fundamental difference between the Truman Proclamation and the “Latin American texts which have followed it.”56 They steadily refused to acknowledge the legitimacy of conservation concerns, insisting that the territorial claims were “exaggerated” and that Chile, Peru, and Ecuador were only interested in “tribute” from American fishermen. The delegates were almost evenly divided between two groups. Some coastal countries, such as Peru and Mexico, did not have developed fisheries. The fishing nations—including the United States, Japan, Britain, and Norway—had very effective or wide-ranging fisheries. Both groups 147

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claimed the moral high ground. The Latin American countries accused the United States of depleting their bait-fish resources, preventing local boats from organizing their own fishery. The United States stood on its conservation record, the seven international fish and fur seal treaties it had negotiated since 1911, and its success in working with Canada to restore Northwest halibut and the Fraser River salmon. It was a matter of ideology: Americans conserved their fishery resources. But the position ignored the collapse of California sardines and the fact that Alaskan salmon runs were spiraling downward, under the increased pressure of liberalized regulations in Bristol Bay and the growing Japanese fishery in the high seas. When Americans sought a cause for the decline, it looked to Japan. For American purposes, the most significant vote came on May 5, on three paragraphs that framed the conference’s conclusions for the International Law Commission. The language was as follows: 1. Conservation is essential in the development of a rational exploitation of the living resources of the seas. Consequently, conservation measures should be applied when scientific evidence shows that fishing activity adversely affects the magnitude and composition of the resources or that such effects are likely. 2. The immediate aim of conservation of living marine resources is to conduct fishing activities so as to increase, or at least maintain, the average sustainable yield of products in desirable form. At the same time, wherever possible, scientifically sound positive measures should be taken to improve the resource. 3. The principle objective of conservation of the living resources of the sea is to obtain the optimum sustainable yield so as to secure a maximum supply of food and other marine products.

MSY was now enshrined as the scientific goal of international fisheries management. Mexico and Peru offered an amendment that came to a vote on May 5. By a one-vote margin, they had the following sentence inserted in the last paragraph: “When formulating conservation programs, account should be taken of the special interests of the coastal State in maintaining the productivity of the resources of the high seas near to its coast.”57 Chapman recorded the vote: “Against us” were Argentina, Brazil, Chile, China, Colombia, Costa Rica, Cuba, Ecuador, Guatemala, Iceland, India, Indonesia, Korea, Mexico, Paraguay, Peru, Uruguay, and Yugoslavia. “For us” were Belgium, Egypt, France, Germany, Greece, Italy, Japan, Monaco, Netherlands, Norway, Poland, Portugal, Spain, Sweden, the United Kingdom, the USSR, and the United States. Australia, Canada, 148

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Denmark, Honduras, Nicaragua, Panama, Turkey, and South Africa abstained. El Salvador and Israel were absent.58 While the language in the Mexican and Peruvian sentence seems minor, it recognized a position that they had been pushing for more than a decade. By a one-vote margin, they had forced the Europeans to acknowledge that coastal states had special interests. The fishing nations of the United States, Britain, and Japan saw the language as opening the door to territorial expansion that could prejudice their distant-water fleets. Despite the troublesome single sentence, the State Department considered the Rome conference a success. Many American goals had been achieved. The process of creating regional international law was checked. The American tuna fleet—as well as the distant-water fleets of Britain, Japan, and a host of other developed countries—could continue to fish off the coasts of poorer, less developed countries. Foreign fishing could only be halted when scientific studies proved that overfishing was occurring. The language in the recommendations reflected the American thinking at the time: that fishing and other human activities, such as hatcheries, played a positive role in increasing or maintaining fish stocks. The great sea fisheries were essentially inexhaustible; yes, they fluctuated, and too many fish could be taken; but the ocean was powerfully productive, and under modern scientific management, fish stocks would be sustained. The aim of fisheries management should be to harvest fish until a critical maximum point was reached, when conservation measures could be applied, while fishing continued at a lower level. Herrington’s hard work and politicking paid off. The U.S. position had improved as the meeting went on. Delegates who were suspicious seemed to at least understand, even if they would not vote to uphold the principle of abstention. The Soviet and Polish delegations voted consistently with the United States. It was the United States, not Britain, who dominated the conference. The British delegation was able but not as well prepared as the Americans.59 Regrettably, Herrington was not able to win support for his abstention principle. As he himself pointed out in a 1953 memo, its chief limitation was that the United States was the only nation with fisheries that could use the principle.60 The scientists at Rome could have debated two significantly different courses of action. Should postwar fishing policy adopt a go-slow approach and implement restrictions while scientists studied the impact of fishing on the stocks, as Graham and others had advocated? Or should managers avoid making restrictions, allowing fisheries to develop in a laissez-faire manner, until stocks showed signs of overfishing, as Chapman, Herrington, and Schaefer wanted? 149

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Other questions, too, might have been debated. Was fishing by humans a natural part of predation? Or had E. S. Russell been right in the 1930s when he began the study of a different kind of predation on fish, the growing pressure by man? Graham argued that human predation was different because it could be controlled, and management was needed to control it, both for the health of fish stocks and for the profitability of fishing. Herrington made sure these ideas were not part of his agenda. In short, the “technical conference” was not technical at all. It is clear from the historical record that Herrington, Chapman, and Schaefer were successful in shaping the agenda to give the Americans as much control of the outcome as possible. Herrington lobbied the Canadians and the Europeans, nations with well-developed fisheries, to support the U.S. position. The British Ministry of Fisheries was allied with the Americans, to retain fishing by their distant-water fleet and resist enclosure by smaller, weaker states (specifically Iceland). Other European nations, as well as Japan and the Soviet Union, supported the U.S. position. Graham’s go-slow approach of instituting restrictions before they were needed to slow the catch held little appeal for countries that were rapidly developing new fisheries throughout the world. Schaefer’s surplus production theory dovetailed perfectly with the objectives of expanding fisheries, the idea that all fish populations had “excess” fish that were not needed for reproduction and could safely be harvested. None of this is to say that Herrington, Chapman, and Schaefer acted from dishonest or insincere motives. But it is to say that during the Rome meeting, they represented the U.S. government, with a political agenda to which they were deeply committed. MSY was presented as a policy to conserve stocks, and that is where much confusion lies, because we no longer use the word “conservation” to mean utilization. MSY was presented as conserving stocks, but it allowed the distant-water fleets of developed countries to continue to fish where they pleased in the high seas and made it extremely difficult for other nations to protest. This decision shaped fisheries science by making its focus the estimating of the critical harvest points needed to establish MSY, a process that resulted in substantial later criticism and the ultimate failure of the stated goal of conserving fish populations. It shaped the fisheries management process by pushing the American preference for limited, bilateral, or multilateral agreements, usually with limited jurisdiction and enforcement, rather than the creation of an international fisheries agency with broad regulatory authority and enforcement powers. And it shifted the burden of proof from the distant-water fish-

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ing countries to the poor countries that were unable to fund the science needed for conservation. In his analysis of the Rome conference, Tim B. Smith argued that it codified what he called the three partial theories of MSY (the work of Beverton and Holt, Ricker, and Schaefer) into a single research directive, estimating the critical point when fishing needed to be controlled. The MSY point was to harvest the maximum number of fish at their maximum weight, so that no fish would be wasted, yet the spawning biomass was protected. Smith argued that Schaefer’s research paradigm froze fisheries science in a narrow approach that focused on fish populations in isolation from one another.61 Smith does not go far enough. The dominant idea that emerged from the conference—especially among the non-scientists who controlled the national positions and thus the votes—was that stocks had a harvestable surplus scientists would be able to accurately estimate, so that fishing activity could be regulated when it was needed, not before. It was essentially the Progressive idea of management: the government would not interfere with private enterprise, and the “technical” problem of deciding when regulation would be needed would be performed by neutral experts. Michael Graham and D. B. Finn had protested, but events were already moving far faster than the scientists understood. Schaefer’s artificial division of research into three stages reflected the idea that there was time for scientists to develop their programs in an ordered manner. Meanwhile, the entire world of fishing was accelerating, as more government and private money was being poured into the industry. The peculiar postwar activity of fishery development had already emerged, with its strong political ties to government and its economic implications for fishermen. Fishery science was only one component of postwar fishery development, and the suggestion that fishing proceed slowly and cautiously did not fit with the postwar objectives of staking claims to new fishery resources. As biologist Daniel Pauly has noted, fishery management goals “often simultaneously include increasing total sustained harvest, increasing exports, increasing employment, improving distribution of benefits among the fisheries and improving the economic efficiency of the industry.”62 MSY encapsulated all of those goals, with an understanding that fish populations could safely withstand harvest. The Rome meeting decisively shaped the direction of fisheries science and fisheries management. But the debate among scientists over the appropriateness of MSY as a goal of management was not completely settled. In correspondence after the conference, Sidney Holt and his

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superior at FAO, G. K. Kesteven, continued a dialogue with Schaefer about his approach to fisheries science. In an August 22, 1956, letter, Kesteven wrote that while he and Holt greatly admired Schaefer’s argument and his ingenuity, “we both nevertheless find ourselves a little out of sympathy with the principles which appear to be guiding your development of fishing theory.”63 In a personal letter to Schaefer a year after the conference, Graham thanked him for sending copies of an unspecified paper. Graham’s response is worth quoting at length. He said he was sure that Schaefer’s paper was sound, but that he was not sympathetic to it, because “I think that the problem of fish conservation is not so clear that we can write about it in an authoritative way without running the risk of emphasizing what may in the future turn out to be less important points.” He was uncertain if scientists had sufficient theory to account for interactions among fish species, which might be extremely important. Beverton and Holt’s work was exploratory, not an attempt to teach. “Perhaps you are right to try and teach, but I am still teaching this: ‘Find what direction to go in and take a small step that way.’ ”64 Another critique of MSY came from the Japanese in 1957, as Japan, Canada, and the United States approached the five-year deadline where the Abstention Line, imposed on Japan in 1952 as part of the Tripartite Treaty, was reevaluated. As part of the exchange of scientific documents, Tomonari Matsushita of the Japanese Fisheries Agency argued that the problems with the treaty could not be discussed without taking into account MSY. He called the Tripartite Treaty political, formulated to control the offshore Japanese fishery. Like D. B. Finn, Matsushita argued that MSY was not a single and unchanging yield, but that it varied with changes in environmental conditions. Over time, it was only possible to obtain an average maximum sustained yield that corresponded to average environmental conditions. MSY was impossible to attain on different stocks of fish over time because it was “but an ideal of fisheries and this ideal or goal is not fixed and invariable but is always variable according to changes in condition.” What was needed to manage was “a realistic and accurate yard stick,” not a theoretical yard stick.65 Matsushita’s critique of MSY is as incisive as those by Michael Graham, Sidney Holt, G. K. Kesteven, and D. B. Finn. But while American scientists in 1957 may or may not have conceded some of Matsushita’s points, it really didn’t matter because the policy had been decided. MSY not only had the weight of the American government behind it; it had the endorsement of the Rome conference, and by 1958 it had the backing of the International Law Commission as well. 152

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Just as the new tools of technology were expanding the ability of fisher­ men to catch fish, so the new tools of science were transforming fisheries biology. Statistics, mathematical modeling, and expounding on the theories of population dynamics were transforming fisheries science, shifting away from the traditional limnology, the study of fish and how they interacted in their environment. MSY offered an efficient, conservation-based, and practical approach to fisheries science. With the passionate promotion of American scientists and politicians, MSY had gone from an idea about how fishing should be managed to policy, then to science, then to a legal concept. It became an ideology, taking the maximum amount but no more, conserving the stocks in perpetuity. As Chapman wrote in 1949, it was extremely simple and who could object to it? The weight of the U.S. State Department was thrown behind this concept of fisheries management, and it was inextricably linked to postwar foreign-policy dogma. Americans conserved their fishery resources.

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Fishing “Up” to MSY MSY: “A quantity that has been shown by biologists not to exist, and by economists to be misleading if it did exist. The key to modern fisheries management.”1

When the Rome conference ended in early May 1955, Wilbert Chapman and William Herrington drove to Geneva for the International Law Commission meetings, scheduled for most of June. Herrington had to leave shortly to go back to Washington, D.C., and deal with the Latin Americans, but Chapman stayed for the entire meeting, keeping an eye on things. He doubtlessly met with Douglas Edmonds, the American judge to whom he had written a fourteen-page letter before he left for Rome, complete with eight appendices of federal fisheries hearings and Chapman’s own testimony. Once again, Cuban ambassador F. V. García-Amador played a vital role in securing American objectives. He wrote the report on the “technical” recommendations from the Rome meeting. The ILC accepted the advice from the Rome conference, and MSY was on its way to becoming a legal concept, in addition to its role as a policy objective and as a scientific principle. Two groups of nations had squared off in Rome: countries with developed fishing fleets and poorer nations that wanted to establish fisheries of their own. The solution was for everybody to go fishing and for Western technology to be exported to other countries, so they could create and expand their own fleets. Assumptions about how much protein the oceans could yield on a sustained basis proved to be woefully optimistic—and few more optimistic

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than Wilbert Chapman’s own estimate, announced in 1961, devoid of any scientific evidence, that the current catch of 38 million metric tons could be increased to 400 million mt, “thereby solving the world’s food shortage problems.”2 Chapman’s estimate was typically exaggerated, but other scientists suggested that a catch of 200 million mt was certainly conservative.3 The global fish catch peaked during the 1980s at close to 100 million mt, not including an estimated 27 million mt that was caught and discarded.4 Since then, the catch has hovered around the 80 million mt level, a level that some argue is too high, since it leaves some populations overfished. In addition, there is much fishing in areas not governed by international agreements, as well as a substantial amount of illegal fishing. The Rome meeting was a diplomatic success for the United States, another high-water mark of Chapman’s personal influence and, as MSY would come to be implemented, a disaster for fisheries science. It has also been a disaster for some of the world’s great fish stocks. But what the scientists and policy makers gathered at Rome saw was that fish stocks were being well managed by confident scientists. They had just voted to implement what they thought was a conservation-based regime on the high seas. As soon as biologists, after scientific study, concluded that fish stocks were declining, regulations would be implemented—in the fisheries covered by national and international conventions. Throughout the next several decades, there was evidence to support the idea that fish stocks were well and conservatively managed, as the catch steadily grew. For Chapman and other scientists at the time, the problem was seen as getting fisheries up to MSY levels, not fishing down to them. And if some of the great stocks needed to be regulated, it was thought that fishing could continue, just at a slightly reduced level, until the stocks recovered, then fishing could increase again. The idea that fisheries were capable of sustaining large catches was still deeply ingrained. Also ingrained was the idea that fish only have utility if they are harvested. “Fish resources cannot be stored in the sea,” Chapman wrote in 1955. “They die.”5 Not to harvest was wasteful. The Japanese were soon, once again, the world’s leading fishing nation. Their fleets moved from the Pacific into the Indian Ocean in 1952, searching for tuna. As the initial high catches dropped, they moved into the Atlantic in 1956, delivering to Italy, Cuba, and Brazil. Catches were so high in 1959 that the global tuna price dropped, delivering a deathblow to the California fleet. Chapman wrote that the crisis was so bad that “for a period of about five months the canners, unions, and boat owners

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practically worked together (the longest such united frenzy so far in the history of the industry).”6 Just as the Americans and Japanese had imperial ambitions on the ocean, so did the Soviet Union. Like the Americans, they began fishing in the Pacific during the war to provide food for their troops. After the war, they greatly expanded their presence in the ocean, both militarily, but also scientifically as well, with a series of oceanographic voyages. As part of the Soviet government’s industrialization after the war, it created one of the world’s largest fishing fleets. Pacific development was not as great as the effort the Soviets expended in the Atlantic Ocean, perhaps due to the high cost of transporting fish from the Far East and Siberia to the centers of demand.7 The Japanese and the Soviets signed a North Pacific fisheries agreement in 1956, and the two countries embarked on one of the most dramatic and rapid fishery expansions the world has ever seen. The Eastern Bering Sea fishery had a combined catch of 103 million pounds in 1958 but rose to more than 1.6 billion pounds by 1961. The combined 1958 catch exceeded the total U.S. and Canadian Pacific Coast groundfish catches that year, and by 1961 the Eastern Bering Sea fishery was more than ten times as large as the catches by the Canadian and American fleet.8 The large subsidies that both countries had invested in high-seas fisheries were paying off, with huge catches of fish. The factory processors steadily expanded their range into American and Canadian waters, drawing the same kinds of protests that Latin Americans had been making for decades, that another country was harvesting “our fish.” Soviet processing ships expanded into American waters in 1961; within the next decade, more than a thousand Communist-bloc ships would be fishing North American Atlantic waters. Their catch was ten times what the New England and Canadians boats were able to harvest. As more and more boats joined the fishery, the total catch was up, but the pattern identified by E. S. Russell, Michael Graham, and W. F. Thompson was repeating itself: the boats were running more hours and fishing more water, but the per boat catch was declining.9 The fishing continued, even as the losses accelerated, sustained by government subsidies and catching enough fish to provide the illusion of cash flow. The Americans watched helplessly as the foreign factory ships appeared off their coast. Thanks to the U.S. position at Rome, which was reinforced during the Law of the Sea meetings that began in 1958, there was no mechanism to ban the boats—or to regulate the obviously huge catches. Most of the U.S. commercial fishing fleet was small, old, and outmoded. It was an industry built on individual free enterprise: build156

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ing a boat and going fishing. But the world of fishing was changing fast; the harvest of protein was being industrialized across the globe. Governments instituted new financial arrangements, borrowing money to build boats and equip them with the best machinery, such as Baader processing equipment from West Germany, trawl gear from Norway, nylon nets, and the new sonar and radar technology that was moving from the military to civilian use.10 In 1961 Spain began a period of generous government loans and subsidies for fishing boats. Spanish frozen fish production rose from 4,000 tons in 1961 to approximately 500,000 tons in 1972. By the early 1970s, Spain had the third largest fishing fleet in the world, after the USSR and Japan. Spain concentrated on hake fisheries off South Africa and on new species off South America.11 The expansion of fishing produced some spectacular catches. Starting in the late 1950s, the Peruvian anchovy fishery took off, fueled by American money. Catches peaked at 12.2 million tons in 1970; then abruptly crashed to less than 2 million tons the following year.12 Some 185,000 tons of the 1970 catch was used for human consumption in Peru.13 The rest of the catch—85 percent—was turned into fish meal and fed to European and American cattle, pigs, and chickens.14 Industrial agriculture needed fertilizer—and it had to be cheap. There was nothing cheaper than fish. American fishermen had always prided themselves on their spirit of free enterprise and their independence from government regulation. But this was an idealization, based on ignoring the substantial services the government had always provided, such as research into catching and processing techniques, school lunch programs, as well as salmon hatcheries. Throughout the 1950s, the industry sought tariff relief to make their catches more competitive, but the State Department and the president opposed tariffs. Congress sought to assuage the industry with funds for research. The 1954 Saltonstall-Kennedy Act directed that 30 percent of gross receipts from customs duties collected on fishery products be placed in a special fund in the Department of Commerce. The bulk of funds were soon devoted to general operations of the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service. The Americans had built some of the most sophisticated fishing boats in the world, their tuna clippers, but the boats could only catch fish; they were dependent on shore-side plants to put their tuna into cans. The trend was toward catching and processing at sea, and the Americans had missed that boat. In March 1948 the 423-foot flagship vessel the Pacific Explorer made its long-delayed cruise to Alaska. It returned to Astoria with canned crab and fish fillets, worth more $1 million.15 But $4.1 million had been spent, while the operating losses reached $1.3 million. The 157

CONCLUSION

19 Pacific Explorer label. The giant fishing boat only made two trips: the first, to Costa Rica,

resulted in a congressional inquiry, and the second, to Alaska to fish for bottom fish in 1951, was a financial loss. The ship did catch and can fish during its Alaska cruise, but internationally the industry was moving away from canning and toward freezing at sea. Courtesy of the Bez family, Seattle.

Restoration Finance Corporation auctioned off the Pacific Explorer in 1951, for $181,387. The Fish and Wildlife Service declared the Pacific Explorer a success and published the voyage’s data on catching and processing of crab and bottom fish. As the huge foreign fleets vacuumed and processed fish from the sea, there was growing pressure to limit foreign fishing—and to build an American fishing fleet that would equal the European and Japanese catching ability. Legislation in 1956 offered low-interest loans to build boats. By the mid-1960s, there were programs on safety, training of fisher­ men, research and development, loans, and vessel construction subsidies. As historian Margaret Dewar pointed out in 1983, the government tried to increase demand for fish while decreasing the costs of fishing, but the programs were “incorrectly conceived, badly implemented, and too small to cope with very large problems.”16 The real problem, of course, was that New England fisheries were producing at MSY levels during the 1950s. In 1953 Boston fishermen landed 141 million pounds of groundfish worth almost $10 million. By 1965 they landed only 96 million pounds, valued at $10.6 million.17 The fishing pressure on the stocks was escalating, as hundreds of catcher-processor boats from foreign countries showed up in American waters, first on the Atlantic, then in the Pacific. American tuna fishermen were being sacrificed to create jobs for Japanese fishermen. The New England fisheries were being sacrificed for foreign-policy objectives involving Canada, Iceland, and Norway. It sounds trite to say that the collapse of Atlantic cod 158

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should have been no surprise; the surprise is that the stocks lasted as long as they did under the assault. The forces for survival are strong in fish. The cod evolved desperately, spawning earlier and earlier, but the fishing pressure was relentless. California sardines had virtually disappeared by 1953.18 Canneries in Southern California were closing. The failure of the federal government to manage the salmon in Alaska was a potent issue in pushing statehood, and the runs were not in better shape in Washington, Oregon, and California. By 1963 the salmon situation was so bad that the governors of the West Coast states met with officials from British Columbia to come up with a plan to reinvigorate the ailing salmon runs.19 Even at the International Pacific Halibut Commission, the shining example of good management and conservation for both Canada and the United States, the length of the season was steadily shrinking because so many boats were participating in the harvest, leading to shorter and shorter seasons and increasing the pressure on fishermen to take their boats out in poor weather to get their share of the catch. More and more people were going fishing. Limits on the number of licenses were another two decades away. From San Diego, Chapman and the tuna industry fought the tariff battle for a decade, steadily losing ground. By 1957 they couldn’t even get a hearing in the House Ways and Means Committee. “All of us in San Diego put our last dime and ounce of energy into its conduct,” Chapman confided in a letter. “Upon looking back over that conduct I could discover no obvious flaw in it. I do not know yet of any important thing that was left undone nor of consequential error in commission. Yet with every ounce of effort and every dime of funds we could rustle up we had not even made a slight impression.”20 Support continued to erode internationally for the three-mile limit. With the rapid and extensive expansion of its high-seas fisheries, the Soviet Union took a harder line on a twelve-mile territorial sea. At the Rome conference in 1955, William Herrington had been pleasantly surprised at how the Soviets had supported the Americans in upholding the threemile limit. Now the Soviets were pushing for a twelve-mile limit, threatening American interests in the Middle East. Fishing suddenly found itself taking a backseat to wider Cold War security concerns. The International Law Commission met in 1958, for the first of what would be three international meetings over the next two decades, dealing with the Law of the Sea. While the territorial question of fish had driven the 1955 meetings, now there were more important political concerns. Nobody was interested in tuna. “To hell with the fisheries,” wrote Chapman. 159

CONCLUSION

“I have seen no time in the last ten years when the effectiveness of the fishing industry in Washington has been at such a low ebb.”21 The tuna industry was shrinking. It had lost a third of its boats and was in the process of losing its most powerful component, the canners. In 1953 U.S. Customs determined that while American Samoa was under U.S. control, it was not a U.S. port, and thus foreign-flag vessels did not have to comply with U.S. law. That meant the Japanese could land tuna at American Samoa and not have to pay any tariffs. The U.S. Navy had built a cannery at American Samoa during the war, and now the prospect of buying cheap Japanese tuna promoted the Van Camp Seafood Company to begin operation in 1954. The company could produce a case of tuna at less than half what it cost in San Diego. As Van Camp steadily expanded the American Samoa cannery, it reduced operations in San Diego. There was abundant tuna in the waters around Samoa, but it was too far for American boats to operate economically. The Japanese longline technique required large crews, but as before the war, fishermen were paid very little. There was enormous downward pressure on tuna prices. The price of yellowfin fell to $270 a ton, from $350. Skipjack prices also tumbled, to $230 a ton, from $310.22 The ATA was itself in financial trouble. Van Camp Seafood Company offered Chapman the job of director of the Division of Resources in 1961. When Ralston Purina bought Van Camp, Chapman was named director of the Marine Resources Division. But regardless of who he was working for, Chapman basically did the same thing: he wrote letters and testimony, and he served on state, federal, and international advisory boards. He knew everybody. He went to all the important meetings. He was a member of all the important U.S. delegations and spoke at the scientific panels. He was an institution; it was a badge of honor to be one of the multiple recipients of his famous letters. He was the acknowledged expert, the man who knew everybody, who knew how the strings were pulled, and who could still pull a string or two himself. He intended to write another book. He was headed to Malta in 1970 for a meeting on ocean uses and ownership when he died. “This time he was going to take his wife and members of his family,” wrote his friend Jack Kask. “The trip was never made. But it would have been a more useful and vivacious meeting had he been there.”23 And that was certainly true. It is easy to be critical of Chapman for his naive optimism, expansive visions, and his willingness to offer scientific opinions without a shred of evidence. Like many scientists during the 1950s, he believed that science 160

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should be enlisted to serve the interests of the state. Historian William Appleman Williams might have had Chapman in mind when he wrote: Americans could not only conquer nature, but they could put their self-interest to work to produce the well-being and the harmony of the world. Their theory not only held that they could do these things; it asserted the natural necessity of action. Any other course violated natural law and thus subverted the harmony of interests. Throughout the twentieth century, and particularly after World War I, the theory was advanced with great force by American experts in casuistry. But the logic of the theory itself led to the conclusions in complete innocence. They were neither hypocrites nor sophists; they simply accepted and believed the idea that American expansion naturally improved the world—as well as being necessary for their own democracy and prosperity.24

Chapman was not alone in seeing the great benefit from science in the service of the state. Indeed, if there is anything remarkable about Chapman as a scientist during this period, it is the breadth of his vision, the Pacific fisheries frontier, to establish an American fishing industry throughout the Pacific.

The criticism that Michael Graham and D. B. Finn leveled against MSY at the Rome conference has been lost to sight, just as Sidney Holt’s critique of MSY was not included in the conference’s collected papers. Tomonari Matsushita’s wider analysis was lost within the scientific wrangling over the North Pacific fisheries treaty and how many American salmon that Japanese boats were catching. There have been no further attempts to create an international body with binding authority to rule in fisheries disputes. There has been no other formal attempt to bring scientists together to decide the overall direction of fisheries science and how its objectives should fit into fishery management. While current management is heavy with language that privileges the place of science within the management process, the science involved remains stuck in the assumptions of 1955, that fishing creates the conditions that produce more fish. Fishing is not restricted until there is evidence of the decline in the stocks. While the overall catch was growing, individual stocks were quietly in trouble. World War II marked a shift in fishing. Fisheries for oil and meal production, involving the intense exploitation of young fish, replaced the stocks that had sustained people for generations.25 Pacific mackerel disappeared in 1933; California sardines in 1949. Norwegian and Icelandic herring stocks waned during the 1950s, followed by South African 161

CONCLUSION

pilchards in 1960, Peruvian anchoveta in 1972, and Georges Banks herring in 1967.26 Fishing moved steadily down the ocean food chain, taking the big fish, then smaller ones like anchovies and herring, and reducing the complexity of the ocean ecosystem. The sea itself was still seen as enormously resilient, capable of producing huge amounts of fish. The political apparatus to build fishing boats and create processing jobs was firmly established. University scientists were working on ways to make fishing more efficient, to process a larger share of the catch, and to find new ways to use fish that had not traditionally been marketed. Ironically, when Garrett Hardin’s “Tragedy of the Commons” paper appeared in 1968, it had the effect of sanctioning still more growth, despite mounting evidence of trouble, because the “tragedy” thesis implied that it was impossible to control the “commons.”27 This in turn provided justification for those who opposed development of international regulatory regimes. Moreover, by persuading scientists that overuse of resources was virtually a law of nature, Hardin’s analysis drew attention away from the conscious government policies that had helped to produce the prevailing situation. Fishing steadily expanded into a powerful global enterprise, operating on the high seas, essentially out of sight, and for most people definitely out of mind. It is generally argued that MSY was a step forward in recognizing that the great sea fishes were exhaustible. However, I argue the opposite. MSY, as it came to be implemented, created a false sense of security in the minds of the public and politicians. In a sense, fisheries science was frozen in 1955 by the actions at the Rome meeting. There have been various modifications of MSY, replacing the word “maximum” with other words, such as “optimum” or “economic,” but the modifications have not been substantial enough to prevent fish populations from being overly exploited. Canadian zoologist Peter Larkin’s witty epitaph for MSY, published in 1977, suggested that MSY was oversimplified when it was sold to administrators, which scientists did with a clear conscience. “For they all knew that the main idea was correct and it was only necessary to do a bit more research, to get a bit more experience, and then the basic theme could be appropriately fine tuned to perfection.”28 This idea, that with additional data the models could be fine-tuned and made more accurate, is an enduring belief in fisheries science. As Alan Finlayson pointed out in his examination of the collapse of Atlantic cod, even very competent scientists seem to believe “that the tools just need to have their blades sharpened a bit, or a new attachment here and there.”29 162

FISHING “UP” TO MSY

Congress adopted the Fisheries Conservation and Management Act, creating the Exclusive Economic Zone, a 200-mile territorial sea, in 1977. Fish were to be managed to achieve MSY. It was highly doubtful if any of the congressional staff who worked on the bill understood the concept correctly.30 Expanding the territorial zone to 200 miles meant control over the foreign fishing fleets, and it resulted in another surge of investment into the industry, fueled by low-interest loans to build boats and processing plants. By 1978 Sydney Holt and L. M. Talbot suggested that MSY was a useful evolutionary step on the way to conservation of marine resources, but that it “has become institutionalized in a more absolute and precise role than intended by the biologists who were responsible for its original formation.”31 The existence of MSY in its multiple realms—politically, scientifically, and legally—has reinforced its perception as being based in science, rather than in policy, and has contributed to the inability of scientists to implement the growing body of ecological knowledge into effective action to increase biological resilience—the qualities that ecosystems need to withstand the constant and dynamic changes in the world’s most volatile realm, the great world ocean. The controversy over the adoption of MSY has been lost to sight, and so has any understanding of the context in which the decisions were made at Rome. Schaefer’s central idea, that fish stocks have surplus, was accepted as being true, not only for tuna, but for all fish.

There are many legacies from the Rome meeting, politically, economically, and especially scientifically. It was the catalyst for the creation of a series of institutional structures to manage the harvest of ocean resources, using the powerful tools of Western science. MSY was soon incorporated into most postwar fisheries agreements. And as it came to be implemented, managers did not restrict fishing until there was evidence of decline in the stocks. The result—as Sidney Holt pointed out in his 1954 paper that was omitted from the conference documents—was that when fishing was focused on harvesting the maximum catch at its maximum weight, this could only be done by a large number of boats; or “with an infinitely high fishing intensity and hence at a correspondingly high cost.”32 What Holt meant was that MSY encouraged the development of a large fishing fleet, increasing expenses to fishermen, and generating the political pressure to keep fishing. In the meantime, stocks continue to decline. 163

CONCLUSION

The Rome meeting made the world safe for distant-water fishing for another two decades, allowing the fleets of richer nations to exploit the fish resources of poorer, weaker countries. Western science and ideas about fish were transferred to smaller countries throughout the Southern Hemisphere, so they could increase their catch of fish. This scientific imperialism, which countries have to develop as we have developed, has left fishermen and their communities with fewer fish, higher costs, and greater uncertainty.33 The exploitation of the remaining virgin stocks in the world’s oceans offered opportunities for vast wealth for the fishermen and countries that got there first. The increased fishing pressure has resulted in what scientists call growth overfishing, which means that the level of fishing is so high that younger, smaller fish are caught. When population structures are weakened, the remaining fish are subject to greater volatility as they respond to shifting ocean conditions. I have contended that the struggle over the development of fishing is a story of the Cold War, focused on the relationship between Japan and the United States. Historian Kimie Hara asks if the Cold War in the Pacific ever really ended. She argues that the postwar order imposed in the Asia-Pacific was a reflection of U.S. initiatives with regard to national and global security and that the new order left the status of many countries and protectorates unsettled.34 This postwar order reflected the economic interests of both the United States and Japan, as the story of the continued development of tuna certainly shows. Since the 1950s, the two nations have acted to maintain their dominance in the high-seas fishery for tuna, despite the territorial claims of Pacific island nations.35 The legacies of both the Cold War and the American Occupation of Japan continue to linger within the politics over whaling and the animosity between Western and Japanese scientists over what constitutes good science. American fishery scientists—and perhaps other American scientists participating in the Occupation—practiced scientific racism toward Japanese fishery science, part of the systemic racism toward Japanese fishermen that was a feature of life on the West Coast during the twentieth century. This racism has cast a long shadow; neither group of scientists respects the science the other side is doing. The underlying premise of the International Whaling Commission (IWC) was that scientific management would result in an increase in the whale populations. Postwar scientists were enormously confident they had uncovered the keys to not only understand the oceans and fish populations, but also to control them.

164

FISHING “UP” TO MSY

In the half century since Rome, fisheries science has lost the certainty that imbued its early days. A growing number of scientists are now questioning the foundation of fisheries science and the relationship around the S-shaped logistics curve—discovered by Pierre-François Verhulst in 1838 and rediscovered by the American scientist Raymond Pearl in the 1920s—and its applicability to nature. “Interesting conceptually, has no empirical support,” Sidney Holt wrote in 2009. Biological oceanographer Alan Longhurst points out that the ocean is a lot messier than the models. The unadorned logistics function “resembles nothing in the natural world.”36 The curve is an expression of a theory that there is a point where a population will attain maximum growth before mortality sets in. Populations face predators, a changing food supply, and shifts in winds and currents—a host of uncertainties. While MSY was established with the objective of conservation, our meaning of the word has shifted. Through the 1950s, the word was used in its Progressive sense of making use of resources, not squandering them—but also not wasting them.37 By claiming their policies were “conservation,” the United States did what it had been doing since the early days in Bristol Bay—not conserving fish, but conserving the American right to fish and all the territorial claims that fishing has always implied. Conservation of marine resources meant catching them.38 Fish had surplus that could safely be harvested; not to harvest was wasteful. This view did not consider there might be other reasons for fish to be kept in the ocean. And that is why, when Ransom Myers and Boris Worm along with a host of other scientists began to publish papers looking at the impact of fishing on fish stocks, the harshest reaction came from the other scientists, especially those who were involved in fisheries management.39 Conservation, as we understand the word today, was not a feature of fisheries science during its first sixty years, according to Canadian historian Jennifer Hubbard. She argues that fisheries science was greatly influenced by the philosophy of German scientific forestry, with its nineteenth- and early twentieth-century focus on “optimal” and “sustained” yields, and its idea that the removal of old trees would create the conditions for younger trees to grow faster.40 I am not sure when or where the European idea of rational fishing, the goal for E. S. Russell and Michael Graham, shifted to the American idea of maximum fishing. It may well have happened in the 1880s, as the United States began to investigate its fisheries resources and why they were declining. As catches dwindled, perhaps that created the pressure to take as much as possible of what was left—and to search for ways to

165

CONCLUSION

create more fish, rather than to live within the limits of what nature was willing to provide. A boundless belief in the power of technology pushed early American fishery science, focusing on hatcheries and finding new supplies of fish, rather than implementing regulations to curtail fishing.41 Early American settlers believed the rain followed the plow; fishery scientists thought postwar fishing nets would create the right conditions for younger, faster-growing fish. It was all very efficient, and Americans have always valued efficiency. The industrialization of fishing also resulted in the industrialization of fisheries science—or, as Canadian ecologist Henry Regier put it, the science of harvesting a “relatively undifferentiated mass” of fish.42 During the 1920s, as William F. Thompson struggled to understand the California sardine fishery he was trying to manage, he looked for a way to do it without having extensive biological knowledge of the ocean. Expansive studies, wrote Thompson, “would have been tunneling the mountain by removing it in its entirety.”43 It was a message that imbued the work of his student, Milner B. Schaefer, that it is possible to manage fish populations with relatively little information. In a paper published after his death in 1965, Thompson lamented how little was known about salmon at sea, even after decades of study. His final paper is an eloquent plea for more study and for greater protection for “the multitude of these little independent gene pools.” He wrote as Japan, the United States, the Soviet Union, and Canada were negotiating a new North Pacific treaty. “We need a new and more demanding theory of conservation, a flexible one fitting the needs of small populations as they vary from year to year and from each other,” Thompson wrote.44 During the 1980s, scientists would finally unravel the age of more of the fish in the sea, and it would turn out that many, especially those living in the deep ocean, were far older than scientists had originally thought. Fishing progressively targets older fish, but new evidence shows that in most fish populations, older females produce more eggs than smaller, younger fish; the eggs are larger and more viable. Good spawning conditions might come along once in a decade, and the population needs the older females to produce a strong year-class that will buffer the population until the next spawning cycle. For such populations, there are very few fish that are surplus to the population.

William Herrington was most likely right when he told Michael Graham that MSY was the only concept that would win the support of the major166

FISHING “UP” TO MSY

ity of countries at the meeting in Rome in 1955. It was already obvious that when international bodies, such as the IWC, attempted to constrain harvest, countries could walk out and set their own harvest goals—in defiance of the international body and world opinion. MSY was enormously flexible, and it sanctioned the growth of the industrial fishing industry. Over the decades, scientists, economists, and political theorists compiled a growing body of evidence that MSY levels tended to be set too high, taking too many fish. Once MSY was established as science and upheld legally, there was never a space for scientists to come together and discuss whether it was actually an appropriate measure for management. If scientists were to have this conversation at a meeting run by science instead of politics, I suggest they would agree that a more appropriate goal is to ensure that fish stocks have the minimum populations they need to survive during periods of low ocean productivity.45 It is theoretically possible to integrate the study of the environmental shifts in the ocean with larval studies that indicate the strength of fish year-classes, leading to more accurate assessments of population strength. Agencies are moving toward this, but there are institutional constraints—such as the legal language around MSY and the pressure from an overcapitalized fishing sector to continue to harvest. A rational fishery, as envisioned by Michael Graham, was one where the protection of fish stocks ensured the protection of fishermen. The story we have always told about all the fish in the sea is that there are many of them. They are renewable, they can sustain heavy fishing pressure, and the ocean they live in is resilient and productive. Instead, our twenty-first-century story of all the fish in the sea is that they must be valued and husbanded. They play a vital environmental role in the ocean; they must be protected so they can replenish and strengthen their population structures, and the ocean itself must be treated with greater understanding for its fragility and its limits.

167

Notes Introduction

1. 2.

3.

4.

5.

6. 7.

Michael Graham, The Fish Gate (London: Faber and Faber, 1943), 129. Erika M. Bsumek, David Kinkela, and Mark Atwood Lawrence, eds., The Nation-State and the Transnational Environment (New York: Oxford University Press, forthcoming). Ronald E. Doel, “Scientists as Policymakers, Advisers, and Intelligence Agents: Linking Contemporary Diplomatic History with the History of Contemporary Science,” in The Historiog­ raphy of Contemporary Science and Technology, ed. Thomas Soderqvist (Amsterdam: Harwood Academic, 1997), 215–44. Kristine Harper, Weather by the Numbers: The Genesis of Modern Meteorology (Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 2008); John Krige, American Hegemony and the Postwar Reconstruction of Science in Europe (Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 2006); Stuart W. Leslie, The Cold War and American Science (New York: Columbia University Press, 1993); Naomi and Ronald Rainger Oreskes, “Science and Security before the Atomic Bomb: The Loyalty Case of Harold U. Sverdrup,” Studies in the History and Philosophy of Modern Physics 31, no. 3 (2000): 309–69; Jacob Darwin Hamblin, Oceanographers and the Cold War: Disciples of Marine Science (Seattle: University of Washington Press, 2005). Ove Hoegh-Guidberg and John F. Bruno, “The Impact of Climate Change on the World’s Marine Ecosystems,” Science 328, no. 5985 (2010): 1523–28. William G. Robbins, Landscapes of Promise: The Oregon Story, 1800–1940 (Seattle: University of Washington Press, 1997). IWC, “The Convention,” http://iwcoffice.org/commission/ convention.htm (accessed August 10, 2010).

169

notes to pages 2–7

8. 9. 10.

11. 12.

13. 14. 15. 16.

17. 18.

19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26.

27.

28.

170

Wilbert M. Chapman, “United States Policy on High Seas Fisheries,” Department of State Bulletin 20, no. 498 ( January 16, 1949): 67–80. Peter A. Larkin, “An Epitaph for the Concept of Maximum Sustained Yield,” Transactions of the American Fisheries Society 106, no. 1 (1977): 1–11. Alan Christopher Finlayson, Fishing for Truth: A Sociological Analysis of Northern Cod Stock Assessments from 1977–1990 (St. John’s: Memorial University of Newfoundland, 1994), 149. Thomas G. Paterson, On Every Front: The Making and Unmaking of the Cold War (New York: Norton, 1992), 80. Immanuel Wallerstein, The Modern World-System: Capitalist Agriculture and the Origins of the European World-Economy in the Sixteenth Century (New York: Academic Press, 1974), 16. Brett L. Walker, The Conquest of Ainu Lands: Ecology and Culture in Japanese Expansion, 1590–1800 (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2001), 141. August J. Felando, “California’s Tuna Clipper Fleet: 1918–1963, Part 1 of 3,” Mains’l Haul 32, no. 4 (1996): 6–17. Arthur F. McEvoy, The Fisherman’s Problem: Ecology and Law in the California Fisheries (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1986). Edward Allen, letter from Chapman to Harold Coolidge, National Research Council, January 30, 1947, box 18, folder “United Nations fisheries conference,” UWSC. Chapman, “United States Policy,” 68. Kenneth T. Frank and William C. Leggett, “Fisheries Ecology in the Context of Ecological and Evolutionary Theory,” Annual Review of Ecology and Systematics 25 (1994): 407. Peter A. Larkin, “Fisheries Management—An Essay for Ecologists,” Annual Review of Ecology and Systematics 9 (1978): 60. Ibid., 62. Alan Longhurst, The Mismanagement of Marine Fisheries (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010), 81. Helen Rozwadowski, The Sea Knows No Boundaries: A Century of Marine Science under ICES (Seattle: University of Washington Press, 2002). Chapman, “United States Policy,” 69. Larkin, “An Epitaph.” Ransom A. Myers and Boris Worm, “Rapid Worldwide Depletion of Predatory Fish Communities,” Nature 423 (2003): 280–83. Stephen Berkeley et al., “Fisheries Sustainability via Protection of Age Struc­ ture and Spatial Distribution of Fish Populations,” Fisheries 29, no. 8 (2004); Jennifer A. Devine et al., “Deep-Sea Fishes Qualify as Endangered,” Nature 439, no. 5 ( January 5, 2006). Kristina M. Gjerde and David Freestone, “Unfinished Business: Deep-Sea Fisheries and Conservation of Marine Biodiversity beyond National Jurisdictions,” International Journal of Marine and Coastal Law 19, no. 3 (2004): 213. World Bank, The Sunken Billions: The Economic Justification for Fisheries Re-

notes to pages 8–12

29.

30.

31. 32. 33. 34. 35.

form (conference edition), Agriculture and Rural Development Department ( Washington, DC: World Bank, 2008), http://siteresources.worldbank.org/ EXTARD/Resources/336681-1224775570533/SunkenBillionsFinal.pdf (accessed August 10, 2010). Daniel Pauly, “Fisheries Management: Putting Our Future in Places,” in Fishing Places, Fishing People: Traditions and Issue in Canadian Small-Scale Fisheries, ed. Dianne Newell and Rosemary E. Ommer (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1999), 355–62. Giulio Pontecorvo, “Insularity of Scientific Disciplines and Uncertainty about Supply: The Two Keys to the Failure of Fisheries Management,” Marine Policy 27 (2003): 69–73. Brian Walker and David Salt, Resilience Thinking: Sustaining Ecosystems and People in a Changing World (Washington, DC: Island Press, 2006), viii. Boris Worm et al., “Rebuilding Global Fisheries,” Science 325 (2009): 578–84. Garrett Hardin, “The Tragedy of the Commons,” Science 162 (December 13, 1968): 1244. James R. McGoodwin, Crisis in the World’s Fisheries: People, Problems, and Politics (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 1990), 69. There is indeed a Cold War story to be told about the relationship between the United States and the Soviet Union in the development of fish stocks of the North Pacific, but that is beyond the scope of this book. More broadly, the story of the development of the North Pacific stocks is also a story of international development in fisheries, as Rune Hornnes points out in his 2006 thesis from the University of Bergen, “Norwegian Investments in the U.S. Factory Trawler Fleet, 1980–2000.”

Chapter one

1.

2.

3.

4. 5.

6.

Michael Graham, “Overfishing: Proceedings of the United Nations Scien­ tific Conference on the Conservation and Utilization of Resources,” Wildlife and Fish Resources 20, no. 4 (1951), 66. William F. Thompson, “Conservation of Pacific Halibut: An International Experiment,” Annual Reports, Smithsonian Institution, publication 3366 (1936). John Thistle, “ ‘As Free of Fish as a Billiard Ball Is of Hair’: Dealing with Depletion in the Pacific Halibut Fishery, 1899–1924,” BC Studies 142/143 (2004): 117. Bernard Einar Skud, Revised Estimates of Halibut Abundance and the ThompsonBurkenroad Debate, Scientific Report No. 56 (Seattle: IPHC, 1975): 27. William F. Thompson and F. Heward Bell, foreword to “Biological Statistics of the Pacific Halibut Fishery,” Report of the International Fisheries Commission, no. 8 (1934). D. H. Cushing, Science and the Fisheries (Southampton, UK: Camelot Press, 1977), 39.

171

notes to pages 13–19

7.

8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15.

16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21.

22.

23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28.

29. 30.

172

J. Richard Dunn, “William Francis Thompson (1888–1965) and His Pioneering Studies of the Pacific Halibut, Hippoglossus stenolepi,” MFR 63, no. 2 (2002): 1. Robert R. Stickney, Flagship: A History of the Fisheries at the University of Washington (Dubuque, IA: Kendall/Hunt, 1989), 23. Thistle, “As Free of Fish,” 107. Dunn, “William Francis Thompson,” 6. J. Richard Dunn, “William Francis Thompson (1888–1965) and the Dawn of Marine Fisheries Research in California,” MFR 63, no. 2 (2002): 19. Dunn, “William Francis Thompson,” 8. Tom Mangelsdorf, A History of Steinbeck’s Cannery Row (Santa Cruz, CA: Western Tanager Press, 1986), 26. William F. Thompson, “Report No. 1,” California Fish and Game 6, no. 1 (1920): 178. William F. Thompson, “Errors in the Method of Sampling Used in the Study of the California Sardine,” Fish and Game Commission of California Fish Bulletin 11 (1926): 159–89. William F. Thompson, “The Marine Fisheries, the State and the Biologist,” Scientific Monthly, no. 15 (1922): 549. Ibid. Thistle, “As Free of Fish,” 110. Robb Robinson, Trawling: The Rise and Fall of the British Trawl Fishery (Exeter, UK: University of Exeter Press, 1996), 105. Dietrich Sahrhage and Johannes Lundbeck, A History of Fishing (Berlin: Springer-Verlag, 1992), 112. Jon Th. Thor, British Trawlers in Icelandic Waters: History of British Steam Trawling Off Iceland, 1889–1916, and the Anglo-Icelandic Fisheries Dispute, 1896–1897, trans. Hilmar Foss (Reykjavik: Fjolvi, 1992), 23. H. M. Kyle, “Statistics of the North Sea Fisheries, Part III: Summary of the Available Fisheries Statistics and Their Value for the Solution of the Problem of Overfishing,” Rapports, ICES (1905): 3. Tim D. Smith, Scaling Fisheries: The Science of Measuring the Effects of Fishing, 1855–1955 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1994), 158. Robinson, Trawling, 143. Smith, Scaling Fisheries, 158. R. Angelini and C. L. Maloney, “Fisheries, Ecology, and Modeling: An Historical Perspective,” Panamjas 2, no. 2 (2007): 75–85. Quoted in Smith, Scaling Fisheries, 162. Nils Roll-Hansen, “E. S. Russell and J. H. Woolger: The Failure of Two Twentieth-Century Opponents of Mechanistic Biology,” Journal of the History of Biology 17, no. 3 (1984): 408. Smith, Scaling Fisheries, 199. E. S. Russell, “Fishery Research: Its Contribution of Ecology,” Journal of Ecology 20, no. 1 (February 1932): 128–51.

notes to pages 19–22

31. Vera Schwach and Jennifer Hubbard, “Johan Hjort and the Birth of Fisheries Biology: The Construction and Transfer of Knowledge, Approaches, and Attitudes, Canada and Norway, 1890–1920,” Studia Atlantica (2009): 13, 20–39. 32. Sidney Holt, “The Evolution of the Objectives, Science and Procedures of Fisheries Management,” paper presented at the Twelfth Conference of the North Atlantic Fisheries History Association, Norfolk, VA, August 19–22, 2009. 33. E. S. Russell, The Overfishing Problem (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1942). 34. Michael Graham, “Modern Theory of Exploiting a Fishery, and Application to North Sea Trawling” ICES 10, no. 3 (December 1935): 273. 35. Michael Graham, review of “Report No. 8,” by William F. Thompson, ICES 10, no. 2 (1935): 61. 36. Thompson to the International Fisheries Commission, February 13, 1936, box 278, folder A–Z 1936, IFC. 37. John G. Butcher, The Closing of the Frontier: A History of Marine Fisheries of Southeast Asia, 1850–2000 (Singapore: Institute of Southeast Asian Studies, 2004), 67. 38. Hiroshi Kasahara, “Japan’s Distant Water Fisheries: A Review,” Fishery Bulletin 70, no. 2 (1972): 230. 39. Japan Times & Mail, Japan’s Fisheries Industry 1939 (1939), 82. 40. George L. Small, The Blue Whale (New York: Columbia University Press, 1971), 152. 41. Japan Times & Mail, Japan’s Fisheries Industry, 82. 42. Mark R. Peattie, “Nanshin: The ‘Southward Advance,’ 1931–1941, as a Prelude to the Japanese Occupation of Southeast Asia,” in The Japanese Wartime Empire, 1931–1945, ed. Ramon H. Myers et al. (Princeton, NJ: Princeton Uni­ versity Press, 1996), 201. 43. SCAP, “Summation of Non-Military Activities in Japan and Korea,” no. 5 (February 1946): 76. 44. H. P. Willmott, “The Second World War in the Far East,” in Smithsonian History of Warfare, ed. John Keegan ( Washington, DC: Smithsonian Books, 1999), 190. 45. Japan Times & Mail, Japan’s Fisheries Industry, 10. 46. Georg Borgstrom, Japan’s World Success in Fishing (London: Fishing News, 1964), 63. 47. Ada Epenshade, “A Program for Japanese Fisheries,” Geographical Review 39, no. 1 (1949): 76. 48. PF, February 1935, 19. 49. Nagaharu Yasuo, “The North Ocean Fishery in Japan’s Economic Life,” Far Eastern Survey 8 no. 9 (1939): 106–8. 50. David L. Howell, Capitalism from Within: Economy, Society, and the State in a Japanese Fishery (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1995), 144–45.

173

notes to pages 23–27

51. Takiji Kobayashi, The Factory Ship and the Absentee Landlord, trans. Frank Motofuji (Seattle: University of Washington Press, 1973), 3. 52. Kathleen Barnes, “The Clash of Fishing Interests in the Pacific,” Far Eastern Survey 5, no. 23 (November 18, 1936): 243. 53. Steven Haycox, Alaska, an American Colony (Seattle: University of Washington Press, 2002), 241. 54. Chris Friday, Organizing Asian American Labor: The Pacific Coast Canned Salmon Industry, 1879–1942 (Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 1994), 106. 55. Dean Conrad Allard Jr., Spencer Fullerton Baird and the U.S. Fish Commission (New York: Arno Press, 1978), 144. 56. Richard A. Cooley, Politics and Conservation: The Decline of the Alaska Salmon (New York: Conservation Foundation, 1963), xvii. 57. Ibid., 85. 58. Ibid., 91. 59. Ernest Gruening, The State of Alaska (New York: Random House, 1968), 260. 60. Arthur F. McEvoy, The Fisherman’s Problem: Ecology and Law in the California Fisheries (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1986). 61. Haycox, Alaska, 243. 62. Ibid., 149. 63. J. Richard Dunn, “Charles Henry Gilbert (1858–1928): An Early Fishery Biologist and His Contributions to Knowledge of Pacific Salmon (Oncorhynchus spp.),” Reviews in Fishery Science 4, no. 2 (1996): 149. 64. Charles H. Gilbert and Henry O’Malley, “Special Investigation of Salmon Fishery in Central and Western Alaska,” U.S. Bureau of Fisheries Document 891, Alaska Fisheries and Fur Industries (1919), 143–60; Willis H. Rich and Edward M. Ball, “Statistical Review of the Alaska Salmon Fisheries: Part 1, Bristol Bay and the Alaska Peninsula,” Bulletin of the U.S. Bureau of Fisheries 44 (1928): 41–95. 65. L. Larry Leonard, International Regulation of Fisheries (Washington, DC: Carnegie Endowment International Peace, Columbia University Press, 1944), 124. 66. Edward Allen to Dr. Francis B. Sayre, April 20, 1937, box 278, folder “Allen, Edward W., 1937,” Allen Papers, UWSC. Chapter two

1.

2.

3.

174

Quoted in L. Larry Leonard, International Regulation of Fisheries (Washington, DC: Carnegie Endowment International Peace, Columbia University Press, 1944), 133. Keith E. Korsmeyer and Heidi Dewar, “Tuna Metabolism and Energetics,” in Tuna: Physiology, Ecology, and Evolution, ed. E. Donald Stevens and Barbara A. Block (New York: Academic Press, 2001), 38. Jim Lichatowich, Salmon without Rivers (Washington, DC: Island Press, 1999), 51.

notes to pages 28–36

4. 5. 6. 7.

8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17.

18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23.

24. 25. 26. 27. 28.

John M. Maki, William Clark Smith: A Yankee in Hokkaido (Sapporo: Hokkaido University Press, 1994), 204. Dietrich Sahrhage and Johannes Lundbeck, A History of Fishing (Berlin: Springer-Verlag, 1992), 187. Paul W. Schroeder, The Axis Alliance and the Japanese-American Relations, 1941 (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1958), 2. Kurkpatrick Dorsey, The Dawn of Conservation Diplomacy: U.S.-Canadian Wildlife Protection Treaties in the Progressive Era (Seattle: University of Washington Press, 1998). Frank Langdon, The Politics of Canadian-Japanese Economic Relations, 1952–1983 (Vancouver: University of British Columbia Press, 1984), 11. Thomas A. Bailey, Theodore Roosevelt and the Japanese-American Crisis (Gloucester, MA: Peter Smith, 1964), 252. State Board of Control of California, California and the Oriental (Sacramento: California State Printing Office, 1922), 105. PF, December 1919, 23. Theodore Whaley Cart, “The Federal Fisheries Service, 1871–1940: Its Origins, Organization, and Accomplishments,” MFR 66, no. 4 (2006): 21–22. Richard A. Cooley, Politics and Conservation: The Decline of Alaska Salmon (New York: Conservation Foundation, 1963), 201. Leonard, International Regulation, 129. PF, September 1937, 27. Ibid. Harry N. Scheiber, “Origins of the Abstention Doctrine in Ocean Law: Japanese-U.S. Relations and the Pacific Fisheries, 1937–1958,” Ecology Law Quarterly 16 (1989): 32. PF, July 1937, 23. Ibid. Leonard, International Regulation, 133. Richard L. Neuberger, Our Promised Land (New York: Macmillan, 1938), 134–35. Leonard, International Regulation, 131. Harry N. Scheiber, Inter-Allied Conflicts and Ocean Law, 1945–53: The Occu­ pation Command’s Revival of Japanese Whaling and Marine Fisheries (Taipei, Taiwan: Institute of European and American Studies, Academia Sinica, 2001), 15. Cordell Hull to Miller Freeman, March 25, 1938, box 5, folder 29, Freeman Papers, UWSC. Freeman papers, box 5, folder 29, UWSC. Gordon Ireland, “The North Pacific Fisheries,” American Journal of International Law 36, no. 2 ( July 1942): 407. Harden Taylor article, February 17, 1930, box 276, IPHC. Kathleen Barnes, “The Clash of Fishing Interests in the Pacific,” Far Eastern Survey 5, no. 23 (November 18, 1936): 245.

175

notes to pages 36–40

29. Leonard, International Regulation, 136. 30. Scheiber, Inter-Allied Conflicts. 31. Charles H. Gilbert and Henry O’Malley, “Special Investigation of Salmon Fishery in Central and Western Alaska,” U.S. Bureau of Fisheries Document 891, Alaska Fisheries and Fur Industries (1919): 143. 32. Willis H. Rich and Edward M. Ball. “Statistical Review of the Alaska Salmon Fisheries: Part 1, Bristol Bay and the Alaska Peninsula,” Bulletin of the U.S. Bureau of Fisheries 44 (1928): 41–95. 33. Leonard, International Regulation, 124. 34. Hubbs was at the University of Michigan from 1920–44, when he moved to the Scripps Institution of Oceanography. 35. Report by Carl Hubbs on Malfeasance and Corruption in the Bureau of Fisheries, file number 13, box 3369, RG 48, Dept. of the Interior, Central Classified Files, NARA. 36. Cooley, Politics and Conservation, 149. 37. History of Scientific Study and Management of the Alaskan Fur Seal, Callorhinus ursinus, 1786–1964, NOAA Technical Report NMFS SSRF-780 (March 1984): 25. 38. George L. Small, The Blue Whale (New York: Columbia University Press, 1971), 152. 39. James Joseph et al., Tuna and Billfish: Fish without a Country (La Jolla, CA: Inter-American Tropical Tuna Commission, 1988), 3. 40. Ibid., 1. 41. Ibid., 6. 42. Korsmeyer and Dewar, “Tuna Metabolism,” 40. 43. Alan Longhurst, The Mismanagement of Marine Fisheries (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010), 299. 44. Kamakichi Kishinouye, “Contributions to the Comparative Study of the So-Called Scombroid Fishes,” Journal of the College of Agriculture, Imperial University of Tokyo 8, no. 3 (1923): 293–475. 45. Committee on Pacific Oceanography of the National Research Council of Japan, Records of Oceanographic Works in Japan 1 (1928). 46. Don Estes, “Kondo Masaharu and the Best of All Fishermen,” Journal of San Diego History 23, no. 3 (1977): 9. 47. August J. Felando, “California’s Tuna Clipper Fleet: 1918–1963, Part 1 of 3,” Mains’l Haul 32, no. 4 (1996): 11. 48. Tom Mangelsdorf, A History of Steinbeck’s Cannery Row (Santa Cruz, CA: Western Tanager Press, 1986), 26. 49. Thomas Wolff, In Pursuit of Tuna: The Expansion of a Fishing Industry and Its International Ramifications—the End of an Era (Tempe: Center for Latin American Studies, Arizona State University, 1980), 2. 50. Felando, “California’s Tuna Clipper Fleet,” 3. 51. PF, March 1931, 21. 52. PF, December 1935, 24.

176

notes to pages 40–46

53. Report, October 30, 1933, box 18, folder “U.S. Tariff Commission Report to the President, Fish Packed in Oil,” ATA Files, SIO. 54. PF, January 1934, 18. 55. Clifford M. Zierer, “The Los Angles Harbor Fishing Center,” Economic Geography 10, no. 4 (October 1934): 407. 56. Arthur F. McEvoy, The Fisherman’s Problem: Ecology and Law in the California Fisheries (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1986), 145. 57. Janet Gilmore, The World of the Oregon Fishboat: A Study in Maritime Folklife (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1986), 42. 58. Frances N. Clark, “The Sardine: International Aspects of Its Life History and Exploitation,” Proceedings of the Sixth Pacific Science Congress of the Pacific Science Association, held at the University of California, Berkeley, Stanford University, and San Francisco, July 24 to August 12, 1939, vol. 3, 251. 59. Harold L. Ickes, “The Nation Turns to Its Fisheries,” Pacific Fisherman, January 1943, 41. 60. PF, March 1943, 13. 61. Wolff, In Pursuit of Tuna, 7. 62. Los Angeles Times, June 19, 1949. 63. McEvoy, Fisherman’s Problem, 153. 64. John Radovich, “The Collapse of the California Sardine Fishery: What Have We Learned?” California Cooperative Oceanic Fisheries Investigations Reports 23 (1982): 56–77. 65. Connie Y. Chiang, Shaping the Shoreline: Fisheries and Tourism on the Monte­ rey Coast (Seattle: University of Washington Press, 2008). 66. Felando, “California’s Tuna Clipper Fleet,” 24. Also see Daniel M. Shapiro, “ ‘The Pork Chop Express’: San Diego’s Tuna Fleet, 1942–1945” (MA thesis, University of San Diego, 1993). 67. PF, March 1944, 34. 68. PF, 1947 Yearbook, 151. 69. Cooley, Politics and Conservation, xiv. 70. PF, January 1942, 18. 71. U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, “The Alaskan King Crab,” Fishery Market News, supplement (May 1942): 27. 72. Harry N. Scheiber, “Pacific Ocean Resources, Science, and Law of the Sea: Wilbert M. Chapman and the Pacific Fisheries, 1945–70,” Ecology Law Quarterly 13, no. 38 (1986): 394. 73. Michael Schaller, The American Occupation of Japan: The Origins of the Cold War in Asia (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1985), 54. Chapter three

1. 2.

Wilbert Chapman, “State of the Industry,” Tuna Fisherman Magazine 1, no. 2 (January 1948). SPI, June 23, 1945.

177

notes to pages 47–53

3. 4.

5. 6.

7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20.

21. 22. 23.

24. 25. 26.

27. 28. 29.

178

Chapman to Magnuson, box 50, folder 21, Magnuson Papers, UWSC. Kamakichi Kishinouye, “Contributions to the Comparative Study of the So-Called Scombroid Fishes,” Journal of the College of Agriculture, Imperial University of Tokyo 8, no. 3 (1923). Chapman to Magnuson, box 50, folder 21. Charles B. Selak Jr., “Recent Developments in High Seas Fisheries Jurisdiction under the Presidential Proclamation of 1945,” American Journal of International Law 44, no. 4 (1950): 673. Harry N. Scheiber, Inter-Allied Conflicts and Ocean Law, 1945–53: The Occu­ pation Command’s Revival of Japanese Whaling and Marine Fisheries (Taipei, Tai-­ wan: Institute of European and American Studies, Academia Sinica, 2001), 10. Ann Hollick, U.S. Foreign Policy and the Law of the Sea (Princeton, NJ: Prince­ ton University Press, 1981), 19. Donald Cameron Watt, “First Steps in the Enclosure of the Oceans,” Marine Policy, July 1979, 223. Washington embassy to Foreign Office, July 7, 1945, MAF 209/32, BA. Watt, “First Steps,” 21. Affidavit, box 23, folder “1945 Truman Proclamation,” Allen Papers, UWSC. Emphasis in the original. Watt, “First Steps,” 212. Ibid., 214. Hollick, U.S. Foreign Policy, 22. Harold Ickes, “Underwater Wealth,” Collier’s, February 1946, 49. Acheson to Magnuson, October 24, 1945, box 27, Allen Papers, UWSC. Allen memo, box 50, folder 21, Allen Papers, UWSC. Allen to Guy Cordon, February 28, 1947, box 4, folder 13, Allen Papers, UWSC. Harry N. Scheiber, “Origins of the Abstention Doctrine in Ocean Law: Japanese-U.S. Relations and the Pacific Fisheries, 1937–1958,” Ecology Law Quarterly 16 (1989): 23–101. Charles L. Mee, Meeting at Potsdam (New York: M. Evans, 1975), 314. Watt, “First Steps,” 214. Harry N. Scheiber, “Pacific Ocean Resources, Science, and Law of the Sea: Wilbert M. Chapman and the Pacific Fisheries, 1945–70,” Ecology Law Quarterly 13, no. 38 (1986): 448. Thorp memo, August 17, 1945, RG 59, 811.0145/3-345, NARA. Scheiber, “Pacific Ocean Resources,” 454. Joseph Walter Bingham and Stefan Albrecht Riesenfeld, Report on the International Law of Pacific Coastal Fisheries (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 1938), 14. Margaret E. Dewar, Industry in Trouble: The Federal Government and the New England Fisheries (Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 1983), 46. PF, June 1949, 27. Freeman Papers, box 5, folder 36, UWSC.

notes to pages 54–60

30. John Radovich, “The Collapse of the California Sardine Fishery: What Have We Learned?” California Cooperative Oceanic Fisheries Investigations Reports 23 (1982): 56–77. 31. Gerald D. Nash, World War II and the West: Reshaping the Economy (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 1990), 17. 32. Jack L. Kask, dedication to World Fisheries Policy: Multidisciplinary Views, ed. Brian Rothschild (Seattle: University of Washington Press, 1972), iii. 33. Chapman CV, box 112, folder 13, Chapman Papers, UWSC. 34. Kalama Bulletin, September 28, 1928, 5. 35. Wilbert McLeod Chapman, “Oceanic Fishes from the Northeastern Pacific Ocean Collected by the International Fisheries Commission” (PhD diss., University of Washington, May 7, 1937). 36. Thompson to Chapman, September 8, 1944, box 18, folder 13, Thompson Papers, UWSC. 37. Kask, World Fisheries, vi. 38. Chapman to Thompson, October 28, 1944, box 18, folder 13, Thompson Papers, UWSC. 39. “Statement in Regard to the Recent Death of Richard Thomas Smith,” undated, box 4, folder 6, Chapman Papers, UWSC. 40. Scheiber, “Pacific Ocean Resources,” 403. 41. Wilbert M. Chapman, “The Wealth of the Oceans,” Scientific Monthly 65, no. 3 (1947): 197. 42. Wilbert M. Chapman, “Tuna in the Mandated Islands,” Far Eastern Survey 15, no. 20 (October 9, 1945): 319. 43. Chapman to Harold Coolidge, January 30, 1947, box 18, folder “United Nations fisheries conference,” Allen Papers, UWSC. 44. Chapman to Montgomery Phister, March 13, 1947, box 18, folder 13, Chapman Papers, UWSC. 45. Scheiber, “Pacific Ocean Resources,” 394. 46. Ibid., 407. 47. Thompson to Chapman, June 11, 1946, box 18, folder 13, Thompson Papers, UWSC. 48. Chapman to Montgomery Phister, March 13, 1947, box 18, folder 13, Thompson Papers, UWSC. 49. Chapman to Freeman, August 9, 1947, box 1, folder 34, Freeman Papers, UWSC. 50. Magnuson to George Marshall, April 1, 1947, RG 59, 811.628/4-147, NARA. 51. George Marshall to Thor Tollefson, April 23, 1948, box 4, folder 23, Freeman Papers, UWSC. 52. Chapman to Richard Croker, June 16, 1948, box 26, folder “Dr. Chapman’s Report,” ATA Papers, SIO. 53. R. H. Calkins, “Captains of the Pacific Northwest Maritime Industry,” Marine Digest, September, 20, 1952, 25.

179

notes to pages 60–68

54. 55. 56. 57. 58. 59. 60. 61. 62. 63. 64. 65. 66. 67. 68. 69.

70. 71. 72. 73. 74.

PF, April 1934, 18. Time, November 4, 1945, 92–93. PF, March 1939, 27. William G. Robbins, Landscapes of Promise: The Oregon Story, 1800–1940 (Seattle: University of Washington Press, 1997), 294. Time, November 4, 1946, 94. Newsweek, May 20, 1946. Time, November 4, 1946, 94. Bumble Bee, August 1947; CRPA, CRMM. CFR, January 1947, 12–13. PF, January 1947, 25–35. PF, January 1933, 14. Ann Hollick, “The Roots of U.S. Fisheries Policy,” Ocean Development and International Law Journal 5, no. 1 (1978): 69. Los Angeles Times, “Fleet of Six Ships Launches Biggest Fish Hunt in History,” June 19, 1949. Arthur F. McEvoy, The Fisherman’s Problem: Ecology and Law in the California Fisheries (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1986), 153. Radovich, “The Collapse,” 59. Arthur F. McEvoy and Harry N. Scheiber, “Scientists, Entrepreneurs, and the Policy Process: A Study of the Post-1945 California Sardine Depletion,” Journal of Economic History 44, no. 2 (1984): 395. “The Pacific Explorer Matter,” box 26, folder “Pacific Explorer,” ATA Papers, SIO. Ibid. Telegram from Sam Husbands to John Goodloe, RFC, June 10, 1947, Papers of John Steelman, White House Confidential Files, TPL. Peru Embassy memorandum, “Proposed Sperm Whaling Operation by British off Coast of Peru,” April 7, 1947, RG 331 box 5314, NARA. PF, October 1947, 75.

Chapter four

1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6.

180

Yonematsu Mitsui, Japan’s Fisheries Industry 1939 (Tokyo: Japan Times and Mail, 1939), 7. Thomas G. Paterson, On Every Front: The Making and Unmaking of the Cold War (New York: Norton, 1992), 11–12. Shigeru Yoshida, The Yoshida Memoirs: The Story of Japan in Crisis, trans. Kenichi Yoshida (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1962), 204. SCAP, Summation of Non-Military Activities in Japan and Korea, No. 1 (Tokyo: SCAP, 1945), 44. John H. Perkins, Geopolitics and the Green Revolution: Wheat, Genes, and the Cold War (New York: Oxford University Press, 1997), 127. Paterson, On Every Front, 71.

notes to pages 68–73

7.

8. 9.

10. 11. 12.

13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31.

Michael Latham, Modernization as Ideology: American Social Science and Nation Building in the Kennedy Era (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2000), 74. John Abbott, Politics and Poverty: A Critique of the Food and Agriculture Organization of the United Nations (London: Routledge Press, 1992), 19. Eugene Skolnikoff, The Elusive Transformation: Science, Technology, and the Evolution of International Politics (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1993), 4. Michael Harris, Lament for an Ocean (Toronto: McClelland & Stewart, 1998), 64. Charles L. Mee, Meeting at Potsdam (New York: M. Evans, 1975), 314. Harry N. Scheiber, “Origins of the Abstention Doctrine in Ocean Law: Japanese-U.S. Relations and the Pacific Fisheries, 1937–1956,” Ecology Law Quarterly 16 (1989): 37. John Gunther, The Riddle of MacArthur: Japan, Korea, and the Far East (New York: Harper & Brothers, 1950), 17. Robert Harvey, American Shogun: General MacArthur, Emperor Hirohito and the Drama of Modern Japan (Woodstock, NY: Overlook Press, 2006), 333. Douglas MacArthur, Reminiscences (New York: McGraw-Hill, 1964), 307. Chalmers Johnson, MITI and the Japanese Miracle: The Growth of Industrial Policy, 1925–1975 (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 1982), 177. Edwin M. Martin, The Allied Occupation of Japan (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 1948), 5–7. Walter LaFeber, Clash: U.S.-Japanese Relations throughout History (New York: Norton, 1997), 263–66. John W. Dower, Embracing Defeat: Japan in the Wake of World War II (New York: Norton, 1999), 494. Harry C. Kelly, “A Survey of Japanese Science,” Scientific Monthly 68 (1949): 42. SCAP, Japan’s Natural Resources: A Comprehensive Survey (Tokyo: Hosakawa, 1949), xxi. Ibid., 504. Ibid., 518. LaFeber, Clash, 271. Hubert G. Schenck, “Natural Resource Use Problems in Japan,” Science 108 (October 8, 1948): 371. Edwin O. Reischauer, The United States and Japan (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1950), 241. Ibid., 247. Jon Halliday, A Political History of Japanese Capitalism (New York: Pantheon, 1975), 52. SCAP, Summation of Non-Military Activities in Japan and Korea, No. 1, 47. Michael Schaller, The American Occupation of Japan: The Origins of the Cold War in Asia (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1985), 19. Reischauer, The United States and Japan, 211.

181

notes to pages 74–79

32. Weissberg Guenter, Recent Developments in the Law of the Sea and the JapaneseKorean Fishery Dispute (The Hague: Martinus Nijhoff, 1966), 6. 33. Herrington press conference notes, July 16, 1947, RG 331, box 8866, NARA. 34. George L. Small, The Blue Whale (New York: Columbia University Press, 1971), 152. 35. Scheiber, “Origins,” 40. 36. Memorandum, December 30, 1946, RG 331, box 8866, NARA. 37. William C. Herrington, “Imported Fish: A Major New England Problem,” CFR, February 1946, 3. 38. Tim D. Smith, Scaling Fisheries: The Science of Measuring the Effects of Fishing, 1855–1955 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1994), 269. 39. “Recommendations Submitted by the Aquatic Research Reform Committee to the Minister of Morinsho,” June 18, 1948, box 8867, RG 331, NARA. 40. Ada Epenshade, “A Program for Japanese Fisheries,” Geographical Review 39, no. 1 (1949): 81. 41. Robert R. Stickney, Flagship: A History of the Fisheries at the University of Washington (Dubuque, IA: Kendall/Hunt, 1989), 6. 42. Texas Game, Fish, and Oyster Commission, November 7, 1950, box 8871, folder “Correspondence-General,” RG 331, NARA. 43. SCAP, Summation of Non-Military Activities in Japan and Korea, No. 4 (Tokyo: SCAP, 1945), 81. 44. SCAP, Summation of Non-Military Activities in Japan and Korea, No. 5 (Tokyo: SCAP, 1945), 76. 45. Bruce Cummings, “Japan and the Asian Periphery,” in Origins of the Cold War: An International History, ed. Melvyn P. Leffler and David S. Painter (London: Routledge, 1994), 215–35. 46. Bell M. Shimada, “Japanese Tuna-Mothership Operations in the Western Equatorial Pacific Ocean,” CFR, June 1951, 65–66. 47. Bowen C. Dees, The Allied Occupation and Japan’s Economic Miracle: Building the Foundations of Japanese Science and Technology, 1945–1952 (Mitcham, Surrey: Japan Library, Durzon Press, 1997), 29. 48. “Fisheries Survey, Fisheries of Japan,” October 18, 1948, box 8867, RG 331, NARA. 49. Epenshade, “Japanese Fisheries,” 82. 50. Harvey, American Shogun, 329. 51. CFR, April 1946, 42–43. 52. “Itinerary and Purpose of Proposed Trip to United States by Dr. Motosaku Fujinaga and Mr. Atsuyoshi Hosokawa,” October 20, 1948, box 8867, RG 331, NARA. 53. “FAO Questionnaire on Fisheries Research and Education,” November 23, 1948, box 8867, RG 331, NARA. 54. “Summary of Developments and Actions Regarding Violations of SCAPIN 1033,” October 27, 1948, box 8866, RG 331, NARA.

182

notes to pages 79–86

55. Gordon Ireland, “The North Pacific Fisheries,” American Journal of International Law 36, no. 2 ( July 1942): 407. 56. SCAP press conference statement, February 5, 1949, box 8866, RG 331, NARA. 57. Statement to the West Japan Trawlers Association, February 11, 1949, box 8866, RG 331, NARA. 58. SCAP memorandum, June 16, 1949, box 8866, RG 331, NARA. 59. Schenck, “Natural Resource Use Problems,” 367–72. 60. Draft Staff Study, SCAP, box 8866, RG 331, NARA. 61. W. C. Neville, Deputy Chief, Fisheries Division, memo, box 8866, RG 331, NARA. 62. “Voices of Korean Fishing World,” July 24, 1947, box 8867, RG 331, NARA. 63. “Japanese Fishing Policy and Cable C-61147,” June 2, 1948, box 8866, RG 331, NARA. 64. Shimada, “Japanese Tuna-Mothership Operations,” 2. 65. Japanese Fishery Advisory Committee memorandum, October 19, 1949, CRMM. 66. PF, November 1949, 53. 67. Herrington to Chapman, August 22, 1949, carton 3C, Herrington Papers, UCB School of Law. 68. Guenter, Recent Developments, 7. 69. Far Eastern Commission and Japanese Fishing Areas, November 7, 1950, box 8875, folder “Fishing Area Extensions,” RG 331, NARA. 70. Chapman to Herrington, April 11, 1950, carton 3D, Herrington Papers, UCB. Chapter five

1.

Sharon E. Kingsland, Modeling Nature: Episodes in the History of Population Biology, 2nd ed. (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1995). 2. E. S. Russell, The Overfishing Problem (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1942), 98. 3. A. J. Lee, The Directorate of Fisheries Research: Its Origins and Development (Lowestoft, UK: Crown, 1992), 197. 4. Embassy, International Conference in London on Overfishing, April 26, 1946, box 4482, RG 59, NARA. 5. Lee, Directorate of Fisheries Research, 139. 6. Ibid., 146. 7. Robb Robinson, Trawling: The Rise and Fall of the British Trawl Fishery (Exeter, UK: University of Exeter Press, 1996), 174. 8. Michael Graham, The Fish Gate (London: Faber and Faber, 1943), 150. 9. Lee, Directorate of Fisheries Research, 198. 10. Sidney Holt, personal communication. 11. Michael Graham, preface to On the Dynamics of Exploited Fish Populations,

183

notes to pages 87–93

12. 13. 14.

15.

16. 17. 18. 19.

20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29.

184

by Raymond J. H. Beverton and Sidney Holt (1957; facsimile repr., London: Chapman and Hall, 1992), 5. Raymond J. H. Beverton and Sidney J. Holt, On the Dynamics of Exploited Fish Populations (London: Chapman and Hall, 1957), 21. Ibid., 435. Sidney J. Holt, “Foreword to the 2004 Edition,” On the Dynamics of Exploited Fish Populations, Raymond J. H. Beverton and Sidney J. Holt (1957; repr., Caldwell, NJ: Blackburn Press, 2004), ii. Harry N. Scheiber, “Pacific Ocean Resources, Science, and Law of the Sea: Wilbert M. Chapman and the Pacific Fisheries, 1945–70,” Ecology Law Quarterly 13, no. 38 (1986): 448; Arthur F. McEvoy, The Fisherman’s Problem: Ecology and Law in the California Fisheries (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1986), 224. McEvoy, Fisherman’s Problem, 224. Jennifer Hubbard, A Science on the Scales: The Rise of Canadian Atlantic Fisheries Biology, 1898–1939 (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2006), 162. Jim Lichatowich, Salmon without Rivers (Washington, DC: Island Press, 1999), 160. Frances N. Clark, “The Sardine: International Aspects of Its Life History and Exploitation,” Proceedings of the Sixth Pacific Science Congress of the Pacific Science Association, Held at the University of California, Berkeley, Stanford University, and San Francisco, July 24th to August 12th, 1939, vol. 3 (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1940), 251–56. Chapman to Thompson, undated letter, Correspondence, folder “C,” Fisheries Research Institute, UWSC. Tim D. Smith, Scaling Fisheries: The Science of Measuring the Effects of Fishing, 1855–1955 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1994), 276. Bernard Einar Skud, Revised Estimates of Halibut Abundance and the ThompsonBurkenroad Debates, Scientific Report No. 56 (Seattle: IPHC, 1975), 28. Jack Kask, dedication to World Fisheries Policy, Multidisciplinary Views, ed. Brian J. Rothschild (Seattle: University of Washington Press, 1972). Chapman to Judge W. C. Arnold, January 3, 1949, box 15, folder 14, Chapman Papers, UWSC. Ibid. Wilbert M. Chapman. “United States Policy on High Seas Fisheries,” Department of State Bulletin 20, no. 498 ( January 16, 1949): 67–80. Dean Conrad Allard Jr., Spencer Fullerton Baird and the U.S. Fish Commission (New York: Arno Press, 1978), 316. Paul W. Hirt, A Conspiracy of Optimism: Management of Forests since World War II (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 1994). Harry N. Scheiber, Inter-Allied Conflicts and Ocean Law. 1945–53: The Occu­ pation Command’s Revival of Japanese Whaling and Marine Fisheries (Taipei, Taiwan: Institute of European and American Studies, Academia Sinica, 2001), 15.

notes to pages 93–101

30. 31. 32. 33. 34. 35. 36. 37.

38. 39. 40.

41. 42. 43. 44.

Chapman, “United States Policy,” 68. Ibid., 69. Ibid., 68. Ibid., 69. PF, January 1949, 17. Wilbert M. Chapman, “Report on Activities with Respect to High Seas Fisheries, 1949,” 811.245/1–950, box 4425, RG 59, NARA. Ibid. Erik M. Poulson, “Conservation Problems in the Northwestern Atlantic,” Papers Presented at the International Technical Conference on the Conservation of the Living Resources of the Sea, April 18 to May 10, 1955, Rome (New York: United Nations Publications, 1956), 184. Ann Hollick, “The Roots of U.S. Fisheries Policy,” Ocean Development and International Law Journal 5, no. 1 (1978): 63. Helen Rozwadowski, The Sea Knows No Boundaries: A History of Marine Science under ICES (Seattle: University of Washington Press, 2002), 108–9. Charles B. Selak Jr., “Recent Developments in High Seas Fisheries Jurisdiction under the Presidential Proclamation of 1945,” American Journal of International Law 44, no. 4 (1950): 677. Ibid., 676. Chapman to Thompson, undated, Fisheries Research Institute, Correspondence, folder “C,” University of Washington School of Fisheries. Gove Hambidge, The Story of FAO (New York: D. Van Nostrand, 1955), 53. Chapman, “United States High Seas Fisheries Policy,” 80.

Chapter six

1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9.

Chapman to Herrington, April 11, 1950, carton 3D, Herrington Papers, UCB. John Lewis Gaddis, The Cold War (London: Penguin, 2005), 35. James L. Stokesbury, A Short History of the Korean War (New York: William Morrow, 1988), 31. R. K. Jain, Japan’s Postwar Peace Settlements (Atlantic Highlands, NJ: Humani­ ties Press, 1978), 3. “Statement of William C. Herrington before the Committee on Foreign Relations of the Senate,” box 38, folder 5, Chapman Papers, UWSC. Michael M. Yoshitsu, Japan and the San Francisco Peace Settlement (New York: Columbia University Press, 1983), 45. Chalmers Johnson, MITI and the Japanese Miracle: The Growth of Industrial Policy, 1925–1975 (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 1982), 227. Michael Schaller, The American Occupation of Japan: The Origins of the Cold War in Asia (New York: Oxford University Press, 1985), 82. William S. Borden, The Pacific Alliance: United States Foreign Policy and Japanese Trade Recovery, 1947–1955 (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1984), 9.

185

notes to pages 102–108

10. Chapman to Colonel E. W. Hendrick, November 8, 1949, box 8866, RG 331, NARA. 11. Martin to Chapman, August 3, 1949, Columbia River Packers files, CRMM. 12. Memo to Adjutant General, Department of the Navy, September 15, 1949, Columbia River Packers files, CRPA. 13. Chapman to Herrington, May 3, 1950, Herrington Papers, carton 3D, UCB. 14. Chapman to Freeman, June 24, 1950, box 2, folder 2, Freeman Papers, UWSC. 15. Chapman to Dr. Raymond Allen, March 10, 1950, box 16, folder 2, Chapman Papers, UWSC. 16. Chapman to Milton Brooding, May 4, 1951, box 16, folder 9, Chapman Papers, UWSC. 17. Harry N. Scheiber, “Origins of the Abstention Doctrine in Ocean Law: Japanese-U.S. Relations and the Pacific Fisheries, 1937–1958,” Ecology Law Quarterly 16 (1989): 53. 18. PF, July 1950, 40. 19. PF, March 1952, 59–65. 20. Statement of Harold C. Cary, December 1954, box 18, folder “Committee on Reciprocity Information,” ATA files, SIO. 21. “The ATA before the U.S. Tariff Commission,” June 26, 1952, box 18, folder “U.S. Tariff Commission,” ATA files, SIO. 22. Chapman memorandum, June 8, 1950, box 27, folder “Fishing Industry Advisors,” Allen Papers, UWSC. 23. Statement of W. M. Chapman, Subcommittee on Fisheries of the House Committee on Merchant Marine and Fisheries, May 25, 1950, box 27, folder 12, Chapman Papers, UWSC. 24. Chapman memorandum, June 8, 1950, box 27, folder “Fishing Industry Advisors,” Allen Papers, UWSC. 25. Seigen Miyasato, “John Foster Dulles and the Peace Settlement with Japan,” in John Foster Dulles and the Diplomacy of the Cold War, ed. Richard H. Immerman (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1990), 191–212. 26. Department of State to the Acting U.S. Political Advisor for Japan, July 21, 1950, box 8875, folder “Fishing Area Extensions,” RG 331, NARA. 27. CFR, April 1951, 59–60. 28. “Opinion concerning the Expansion of the Fishing Area in the East China Sea formulated by the Japan Federation of Industries on Oct. 3, 1950,” box 8875, folder “Fishing Area Extensions,” RG 331, NARA. 29. “Petition for the Extension of Fishing Waters in Northern Pacific Ocean for Experienced Unemployed Japanese Fishermen,” October 20, 1950, box 8875, folder “Fishing Area Extensions,” RG 331, NARA. 30. Telegram from Thomas Sandoz to Rep. Wayne Morse, January 12, 1951, box 12, folder 27, Chapman Papers, UWSC. 31. Scheiber, “Origins of the Abstention Doctrine,” 60. 32. Department of State Bulletin 24, no. 608 (1951): 351–52.

186

notes to pages 108–112

33. Ibid., 352. 34. Chapman to Montgomery Phister, March 5, 1951, carton 3D, Herrington Papers, UCB. 35. Chapman to Dr. Raymond Allen, March 10, 1950, box 16, folder 2, Chapman Papers, UWSC. 36. “Conference for the Conclusion and Signature of the Treaty of Peace with Japan, Record of Proceedings,” San Francisco, September 4–8, 1951 (Washington, DC: U.S. Printing Office, 1951), 197. 37. Yoshitsu, Japan and the San Francisco Peace Settlement, 100. 38. Scheiber, “Origins of the Abstention Doctrine,” 24. 39. William C. Herrington, “In the Realm of Diplomacy and Fish: Some Reflections on the International Convention of High Seas Fisheries in the North Pacific Ocean and the Law of the Sea Negotiations,” Ecological Law Quarterly 16, no. 1 (1989): 107. 40. “Substance of informal remarks to the Hokkaido Businessmen’s Association,” November 16, 1949, box 8867, RG 331, NARA. 41. Memorandum for Fisheries File, August 29, 1950, box 8870, folder “Laws and Legal Matters,” RG 331, NARA. 42. J. A. Craig to Herrington, October 28, 1950, “Collection of Fisheries Statistics by Ministry of Agriculture and Forestry,” box 8890, folder “Laws and Legal Matters,” RG 331, NARA. 43. “Memorandum for Fisheries File,” August 29, 1950, box 8870, folder “Laws and Legal Matters,” RG 331, NARA. 44. “Some Outstanding Fishery Developments in Japan during the Twelve Months Ending 31 August 1950,” box 8871, folder “Correspondence, General,” RG 331, NARA. 45. Philip F. Rehbock, “Organizing Pacific Science: Local and International Origins of the Pacific Science Association,” in Nature in Its Greatest Extent: Western Science in the Pacific, ed. Roy MacLeod and Philip F. Rehbock (Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press, 1988), 195. 46. A. P. Elkin, Pacific Science Association: Its History and Role in International Cooperation (Honolulu: Bishop Museum Press, 1961), 9. 47. Homer E. Gregory, “Pacific Science Association,” Science 65, no. 1684 (1927): 35. 48. Kamakichi Kishinouye, “Contributions to the Comparative Study of the So-Called Scombroid Fishes,” Journal of the College of Agriculture, Imperial University of Tokyo 8, no. 3 (1923). 49. Box 276, folder “Correspondence, General A–Z, 1930,” IPHC. 50. James R. Bartholomew, The Formation of Science in Japan: Building a Research Tradition (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1989), 6. 51. Gregory, “Pacific Science Association,” 35. 52. Naomi Oreskes and Ronald Rainger, “Science and Security before the Atomic Bomb: The Loyalty Case of Harald U. Sverdrup,” Studies in the History and Philosophy of Modern Physics 31, no. 3 (2000): 353.

187

notes to pages 112–119

53. Roy Elwood Clausen, “The Sixth Pacific Science Congress,” Science 90, no. 2342 (1939). 54. Daniel Merriman, “Biological Problems of the Ocean,” Scientific Monthly 68, no. 1 (1949): 14. 55. Bartholomew, Formation of Science, 269. 56. John Krige, American Hegemony and the Postwar Reconstruction of Science in Europe (Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 2006), 9. 57. Memo, Tripartite Fisheries Conference, January 4, 1952, box 2722, 611.006 NP/1-452, RG 59, Decimal Files, NARA. 58. Herrington, “In the Realm of Diplomacy,” 103. 59. Herrington memorandum, “North Pacific Fisheries Convention,” March 5, 1952, box 26, Chapman Papers, UWSC. 60. Roy I. Jackson and William F. Royce, Ocean Forum: An Interpretive History of the International North Pacific Fisheries Commission (Farnham, VA: Fishing News Books, 1986), 64. 61. Ibid., 32. 62. Niles W. Bond to Robert McClurkin, December 21, 1951, Decimal files, box 1573, 398.245/12-2151, RG 59, NARA. 63. CFR, May 1952, 46–47. 64. Tomonari Matsushita, “The Japan-United States-Canada Fishery Treaty,” unlabeled folder, Allen Papers, UWSC. 65. Richard A. Cooley, Politics and Conservation: The Decline of the Alaska Salmon (New York: Conservation Foundation, 1963), 157. 66. PF, Yearbook 1954, 87. 67. Herrington to Leonard Warner, July 12, 1952, box 2272, folder 611.006, RG 59, NARA. 68. PF, June 1952, 22. Chapter seven

1. 2.

3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8.

188

“Draft instructions,” March 30, 1955, box 23, folder “UN International Conference on the Living Resources of the Sea,” Allen Papers, UWSC. Teruo Kobayachi, The Anglo-Norwegian Fisheries Case of 1951 and the Changing Law of the Territorial Sea, University of Florida Monographs, no. 26 (Gainesville: University of Florida, 1965), 1. PF, June 1949, 27. Hannes Johnson, Friends in Conflict: The Anglo-Icelandic Cod Wars and the Law of the Sea (London: C. Hurst, 1982), 56. L. C. Green, “The Anglo-Norwegian Fisheries Case, 1951,” Modern Law Review 15, no. 3 (1951): 373. CFR, September 1952, 34–35. Finn memorandum, November 23, 1953, series C3, RG 61-1, FAO. Neville to Herrington, July 25, 1952, box 2722, 611.006-NP/7-2552, RG 61-1, NARA.

notes to pages 119–125

9. Taylor to Chapman, May 2, 1952, box 20, folder 10, Chapman Papers, UWSC. 10. Wright memorandum, December 1, 1955, box 1 of 8, E 209, Records of Office of International Relations, RG 22, NARA. 11. Herrington, memo to the Latin American Fishery Advisory Committee, October 8, 1951, box 1437, folder 398.03-FAO/10-851, RG 59, NARA. 12. Chapman to Allen, October 24, 1952, box 21, folders 52–58, Allen Papers, UWSC. 13. Stephen G. Rabe, “Dulles, Latin America, and Cold War Anticommunism,” in John Foster Dulles and the Diplomacy of the Cold War, ed. Richard H. Immerman (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1990), 162. 14. Michael Latham, Modernization as Ideology: American Social Science and Nation Building in the Kennedy Era (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2000), 74. 15. State Department Correspondence, 1951–1952, White House Central Files, box 42, folder “State Dept. Correspondence 1951–62, Latin America,” March 1951, TPL. 16. Latham, Modernization as Ideology, 4. 17. Rabe, “Dulles, Latin America,” 162. 18. Ibid., 179. 19. John H. Perkins, Geopolitics and the Green Revolution: Wheat, Genes, and the Cold War (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1997), 145. 20. Point Four Fishery Projects, April 1, 1953, box 14, folder “Technical Assistance, U.S. Fish and Wildlife,” RG 14 FI 170, FAO. 21. Canadian Fisherman, October 1951, 32. 22. CFR, March 1952, 41. 23. Pan American Fisherman, July 1953. 24. CFR, October 1952, 48–50. 25. Alonzo Aguilar Ibarra et al., “The Political Economy of Marine Fisheries Development in Peru, Chile, and Mexico,” Journal of Latin American Studies 32, no. 4 (2000): 503–27. 26. Ibid., 507. 27. CFR, October 1952, 61. 28. Foreign Service dispatch, August 22, 1952, “Arrival of Fred E. Taylor—Status of Sun Pacific and Equator seizure cases,” 611.226/8-2252, RG 59, NARA. 29. David C. Loring, “The United States–Peruvian ‘Fisheries’ Dispute,” Stanford Law Review 23, no. 3 (1971): 401. 30. PF, June 1949, 27. 31. Milner B. Schaefer, “Scientific Investigation of the Tropical Tuna Resources of the Eastern Pacific,” papers presented at the International Technical Conference for the Conservation of the Living Resources of the Sea, United Nations Publication Sales No.: 1956.II.B.1, 194. 32. PF, October 1951, 27–31. 33. Chapman to Tatsunosuke Takasaki, December 18, 1951, box 1, folder 17, Freeman Papers, UWSC.

189

notes to pages 125–129

34. PF, October 1951, 27. 35. CFR, April 1951, 51. 36. Department of State, memorandum, “American tuna fleet fishing problems off coasts of Central America Feb. 8, 1952, 611.206/2-852,” RG 59, NARA. 37. Chapman to president of Ecuador, August 15, 1952, folder “D.B. Finn, ATA Affair (Osorio) 1952–55,” RG 14 FI 158, FAO. 38. CFR, February 1953, 63. 39. White House Central Files, box 786, folder 149-B-2 Fish (1), EPL. 40. Memorandum of conversation, May 15, 1952, Proposed Duty on Tuna Imports, box 90, folder “May, 1952,” Papers of Dean Acheson, TPL. 41. Smith to Chapman, November 29, 1951, box 76, folder “Peru,” ATA files, SIO. 42. Memo to Dr. John Steelman, January 30, 1952, “Tuna Canned in Brine,” box 55, White House Central Files, TPL. 43. Subject Series, box 94, folder “Trade Agreements and Tariff Matters, Fish (1),” EPL. 44. Foreign Service dispatch, Santiago Embassy to State Department, September 5, 1952, 398.245 SA/9-552, RG 59, NARA. 45. Report from Santiago Embassy to State Department, August 20, 1952, 398.245-SA/8-2052, RG 59, NARA. 46. J. N. Tonnessen and A. O. Johnsen, The History of Modern Whaling, trans. R. I. Christophersen (London and Canberra: C. Hurst & Co. and Australian National University Press, 1982), 554. 47. Report from Santiago Embassy, August 20, 1952, 398.245-SA/8-2052, RG 59, NARA. 48. U.S. State Department, Santiago Negotiations on Fishery Conservation Problems (Washington, DC: U.S. State Department, 1955), 9. 49. Foreign Service dispatch, August 28, 1952, 398.245-SA/8-2852, RG 59, NARA. 50. Foreign Service dispatch, September 24, 1952, 398.245-SA/9-2452, RG 59, NARA. 51. William C. Herrington, “In the Realm of Diplomacy and Fish: Some Reflections on the International Convention on High Seas Fisheries in the North Pacific Ocean and the Law of the Sea Negotiations,” Ecological Law Quarterly 16, no. 1 (1989): 103. 52. William C. Herrington, University of Rhode Island speech, June 27, 1966, box 29, unlabeled folder, ATA Files, SIO. 53. Herrington, “Realm of Diplomacy,” 103. 54. Smith to Herrington, March 16, 1953, box 2758, folder 611.226/3-1353, RG 59, NARA. 55. Herrington, “Realm of Diplomacy,” 112. 56. Wilbert M. Chapman, “Prepared for Presentation at the Third Annual Conference of the Law of the Sea Institute, June, 1968, University of Rhode Island. On the United States Fish Industry and the 1958 and 1960 United

190

notes to pages 130–137

57. 58. 59. 60. 61. 62. 63.

64. 65. 66. 67. 68.

69.

Nations Conference on the Law of the Sea,” box 29, unlabeled folder, ATA Files, SIO. Nicholas Fraser et al., Aristotle Onassis (London: Times Newspaper Ltd., 1977), 123. Tonnessen and Johnsen, History of Modern Whaling, 556. Fraser et al., Aristotle Onassis, 123. Tonnessen and Johnsen, History of Modern Whaling, 556. Chapman speech. CFR, January 1955, 39–41. Memorandum, December 2, 1954, Tripartite Conference in Lima on Exploitation and Conservation of Maritime Resources of the South Pacific, box 1573, 398.245-LI/12-254, RG 59, NARA. Foreign Service dispatch from Lima, December 2, 1954, box 1573, 398.245LI/12-254, RG 59, NARA. Ann Hollick, “The Roots of U.S. Fisheries Policy,” Ocean Development and International Law Journal 5, no. 1 (1978): 84. Chapman speech. NYT, October 6, 1954. “In support of proposed resolution on fisheries,” box 23, folder “U.N. International Technical Conference on the Conservation of the Living Resources of the Sea,” Allen Papers, UWSC. Herrington, “Realm of Diplomacy,” 115.

Chapter eight

1.

2.

3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9.

Wilbert M. Chapman, “Prepared for Presentation at the Third Annual Confer­ ence of the Law of the Sea Institute, June, 1968, University of Rhode Island. On the United States Fish Industry and the 1958 and 1960 United Nations Conference on the Law of the Sea,” box 29, unlabeled folder, ATA files, SIO. Herrington memorandum, “U.S. Position Relative to International Fisheries Conservation Principles,” March 13, 1955, box 1538, folder 398.245/ 4-1355, RG 59, NARA. Looney to Kissick, March 11, 1955, folder 398.245, RG 59, NARA. CFR, September 1955, 5. Memorandum of Conservation, March 31, 1955, box 4142, 811.245, RG 59, NARA. United Kingdom Delegation to the United Nations, January 19, 1955, no. 1274/16/55, FO 371/115380, BA. Memorandum, January 31, 1955, box 1538, Central Decimal Files, 1955– 1959, RG 59, NARA. Finn to Dinesen, December 28, 1955, Series A3, O-163, RG 61.1, FAO. Memorandum, meeting between García-Amador and Herrington, February 21, 1955, box 1538, folder 398.245, RG 61.1, NARA.

191

notes to pages 137–139

10. Telegram, Looney to Herrington, February 18, 1955, box 1538, folder 398.245, RG 59, NARA. 11. American Embassy Habana, February 23, 1955, box 1538, folder 398.245, RG 59, NARA. 12. Foreign Service dispatch, American Embassy, Mexico, April 4, 1955, box 1538, folder 398.245, RG 59, NARA. 13. Instruction, March 28, 1955, box 1538, folder 398.245, RG 59, NARA. 14. The Rome meeting was followed by the meeting of the International Law Commission in Geneva in June, and a fall meeting of the Inter-American Council of Jurists on the issue of territorial waters, as well as 1955 Specialized Inter-American conference on the submarine shelf and oceanic waters. The UN had given the ILC a deadline for making its recommendations for its Eleventh Session in 1956. The Rome meeting was the first of a series of important meetings where the United States had to defend its position that no country had a right to more than a three-mile territorial limit. Memo from Looney to Kissick, February 8, 1955, box 1538, folder 398.245, RG 59, NARA. 15. Finn to Dinesen, December 28, 1954, O-163, Series A3, RG 61.1, FAO. 16. McDougall to Cardon, October 4, 1954, unlabeled folder, RG 14, FI 159, FAO. 17. McDougall to Cardon, October 4, 1954, unlabeled folder, RG 14, 14 FI, FAO. 18. Finn to McDougall, October 13, 1954, unlabeled folder, RG 14, 14 FI, FAO. 19. Memorandum, undated, box 23, folder “UN Technical Conference on the Living Resources of the Sea,” Allen Papers, UWSC. 20. Kissick to Looney, February 8, 1955, box 1539, folder 398.245-SA6-755, RG 59, NARA. 21. “Draft instructions,” March 30, 1955, box 23, folder “UN International Conference on the Living Resources of the Sea,” Allen Papers, UWSC. 22. Memorandum, Herrington to Kissick, June 7, 1955, box 1539, folder 398.245-SA6-755, RG 59, NARA. 23. D. H. Cushing, Key Papers on Fish Populations (Oxford: IRL Press, 1983), 1. 24. Emory D. Anderson, The Raymond J. H. Beverton Lectures at Wood Hole, Ma. (Washington, DC: National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, 2002), 134. 25. Sidney Holt, personal communication. 26. Kenneth Johnstone, The Aquatic Explorers: History of the Fisheries Research Board of Canada (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1977), 264. 27. W. E. Ricker, “Stock and Recruitment,” Journal of the Fisheries Research Board of Canada 11 (1954): 559–623. 28. Tim D. Smith, Scaling Fisheries: The Science of Measuring the Effects of Fishing, 1855–1955 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1994), 288. 29. Chapman speech. 30. Milner B. Schaefer, “Scientific Investigation of the Tropical Tuna Resources of the Eastern Pacific,” in Papers Presented at the International Technical Conference on the Conservation of the Living Resources of the Sea, Rome, 18 April to

192

notes to pages 139–147

31. 32. 33. 34.

35.

36. 37. 38. 39. 40. 41. 42. 43.

44. 45. 46.

47. 48. 49. 50. 51. 52.

10 May 1955 (New York: United Nations Publication Sales No. 1956.II.B.1), 194. Ibid., 217. Harden F. Taylor, “Trends of Progress in the Fish Industry,” Canadian Fisheries Annual, 1930, box 276, folder “Harden Taylor Article,” IPHC. Schaefer, “Scientific Investigation,” 221. See Donald Ludwig et al., “Uncertainty, Resource Exploitation, and Con­ servation: Lessons from History,” Science 260, no. 17 (1993); and William B. Schrank, “The Failure of the Canadian Seasonal Fishermen’s Unemployment Insurance Reform during the 1960s and 1970s,” Marine Policy 22, no. 1 (1998). Milner B. Schaefer, “The Scientific Basis for a Conservation Program,” in Papers Presented at the International Technical Conference on the Conservation of the Living Resources of the Sea, Rome, 18 April to 10 May 1955 (New York: United Nations Publication Sales No. 1956.II.B.1), 15. Ibid., 17. Ibid., 19. Ibid., 21. Ibid., 17. William F. Thompson, “The Marine Fisheries, the State and the Biologist,” Scientific Monthly, no. 15 (1922): 549. “Summary Record of an Informal Meeting Held in London on 9th/10th February, 1955,” FO 371/115380, BA. Ibid. Michael Graham, “A First Approximation to a Modern Theory of Fishing,” in Papers Presented at the International Technical Conference on the Conservation of the Living Resources of the Sea, Rome, 18 April to 10 May 1955 (New York: United Nations Publication Sales No. 1956.II.B.1), 57. Ibid., 57. Ibid., 59. Michael Graham, “Concepts of Conservation,” in Papers Presented at the International Technical Conference on the Conservation of the Living Resources of the Sea, Rome, 18 April to 10 May 1955 (New York: United Nations Publication Sales No. 1956.II.B.1). Papers of D. B. Finn, April–May 1954 conference, Misc. manuscripts and clippings (Holt’s paper is labeled “Fourth Draft”), RG 14, FI 159, FAO. Ibid., 7; italics added. Finn to Schaefer, March 25, 1955, O-163, Series A1 1951–1960, RG 61.1, FAO. Misc. notes, 1955 Conference, folder 14, RG 14, 14 FI 159, FAO. Foreign Service dispatch from Edinburgh, June 27, 1950, box 4794, RG 59, NARA. Preface, Papers Presented at the International Technical Conference on the Conservation of the Living Resources of the Sea, Rome, 18 April to 10 May 1955 (New York: United Nations Publication Sales No. 1956.II.B.1), iii.

193

notes to pages 149–156

53. Chapman, “Prepared for Presentation.” 54. Telegram, Herrington to State Department, May 12, 1955, box 1538, folder 398.245, RG 59, NARA. 55. Telegram, May 2, 1955, box 1538, folder 398.245-RO/5-255, RG 59, NARA. 56. Herman Phleger, “Regime of the High Seas and Conservation of the World’s Fisheries Resources,” Department of State Bulletin 32, no. 832 ( June 6, 1955): 934–40. 57. Memo from D. B. Finn to the FAO director general, May 19, 1955, O-163, Series C3, RG 61.1, FAO. 58. Chapman notes, box 76, folder “Rome,” ATA files, SIO. 59. Foreign Service dispatch, June 3, 1955, box 1538, 398.345, RG 59, NARA. 60. William Herrington to John Yingling, July 14, 1953, Department of State Memorandum, U.S. High Seas Fisheries Policy, box 2768, 611.006/50-54, RG 59, NARA. 61. Smith, Scaling Fisheries, 335. 62. Daniel Pauly, On the Sex of Fish and the Gender of Scientists (London: Chapman & Hall, 1994), 102. 63. G. L. Kesteven to Milner Schaefer, August 22, 1956, folder “Correspondence to Various Groups and Individuals,” O-163, Series 61.5, RG 61.1, Series C3, FAO. 64. Graham to Schaefer, May 29, 1956, box MC 2, unlabeled folder, Schaefer Papers, SIO. 65. Tomonari Matsushito, “The Japan–United States–Canada Fishery Treaty,” unlabeled folder, 1, Allen Papers, UWSC. Conclusion

1.

2. 3. 4.

5. 6. 7.

8.

194

Attributed to John Gulland, from Ray Hilborn, foreword to On the Sex of Fish and the Gender of Scientists, by Daniel Pauly (London: Chapman and Hall, 1994). Unlabeled newspaper clipping, box 63, folder 14, Chapman Papers, UWSC. Milner B. Schaefer, “The Potential Harvest of the Sea,” Transactions of the American Fisheries Society 94, no. 2 (1965): 123–28. S. Garcia and C. Newton, “Current Situation, Trends, and Prospects in World Capture Fisheries,” in Global Trends: Fisheries Management, ed. E. L. Pikitch et al., American Fisheries Society Symposium 20 (Bethesda, MD: American Fisheries Society, 1997), 13. Wilbert Chapman to Judge Edmonds, April 13, 1955, box 21, folder 52-58, Allen Papers, UWSC. Box 33, folder “The Resources Committee, June 27, 1961, The Japanese fishery for tuna in the Atlantic,” ATA Papers, SIO. Alan Christopher Finlayson, Fishing for Truth: A Sociological Analysis of Northern Cod Stock Assessments from 1977–1990 (St. John’s: Memorial University of Newfoundland, 1994), 32. Dayton Lee Alverson, A. T. Pruter, and L. L. Ronholt, A Study of the Demer-

notes to pages 156–163

9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19.

20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25.

26.

27. 28. 29. 30.

sal Fishes and Fisheries of the Northeastern Pacific Ocean (Vancouver: University of British Columbia Press, 1964), 37. William W. Warner, Distant Water: The Fate of the North Atlantic Fisherman (Boston: Little, Brown, 1977), 58. Ibid., 41. Ibid., 119. M. H. Glantz, “Science, Politics, and Economics of the Peruvian Anchoveta Fishing,” Marine Policy 3 ( July 1979): 201–10. Statistical Abstracts of Latin America (Los Angeles: UCLA American Center Publications, 38, 1981), 612–36. Georg Borgstom, The Hungry Planet: The Modern World at the Edge of Famine (New York: Macmillan, 1965), 281. SPI, July 27, 1948. Margaret E. Dewar, Industry in Trouble: The Federal Government and the New England Fisheries (Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 1983), 83. Ibid., 81. CFR, January 1955. “Report of the Second Governors’ Conference on Pacific Salmon,” paper presented at the Second Governors’ Conference on Pacific Salmon, Seattle, Washington, January 7–10, 1963. Chapman to Oscar Strackbein, December 5, 1958, box 42, folder ATA correspondence, 1957, ATA files, SIO. Chapman to Gordon Sloan, March 6, 1957, box 42, folder ATA correspondence, 1957, ATA files, SIO. Chapman to John Quimby, March 6, 1957, box 42, folder ATA correspondence, April 10, 1957, ATA files, SIO. Jack L. Kask, dedication to World Fisheries Policy: Multidisciplinary Views, ed. Brian Rothschild (Seattle: University of Washington Press, 1972), viii. William Appleman Williams, The Tragedy of American Diplomacy, 2nd ed. (New York: Dell, 1978), 94. Sidney Holt, “The Evolution of the Objectives, Science and Procedures of Fisheries Management,” paper presented at the Twelfth Conference of the North Atlantic Fisheries History Association, Norfolk, Virginia, August 19–22, 2009. R. J. H. Beverton, The R. J. H. Beverton Lectures at Woods Hole, ed. Emory Anderson (Washington, DC: National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, 2002). Garrett Hardin, “The Tragedy of the Commons,” Science 162 (December 13, 1968): 1243–48. Peter A. Larkin, “An Epitaph for the Concept of Maximum Sustained Yield,” Transactions of the American Fisheries Society 106, no. 1 (1977): 2. Finlayson, Fishing for Truth, 149. Christopher M. Weld, “The First Year of Federal Management of Coastal Fisheries: An Outsider’s View of Fisheries,” Fisheries 4, no. 2 (1979): 13–14.

195

notes to pages 163–169

31. Sidney Holt and L. M. Talbot, “New Principles for the Conservation of Wild Living Resources,” Wildlife Monographs 59 (1978): 25. 32. Papers of D. B. Finn, April–May 1954 conference, Misc. manuscripts and clippings. Holt’s paper is labeled “Fourth Draft.” FAO, RG 14 FI 159, FAO. 33. James R. McGoodwin, Crisis in World’s Fisheries: People, Problems, Politics (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 1990), 182. 34. Kimie Hara, Cold War Frontiers in the Asia-Pacific: Divided Territories in the San Francisco System (London: Routledge, 2007), 189. 35. Rachel A. Schurman, “Tuna Dreams: Resource Nationalization and the Pacific Islanders’ Tuna Industry,” Development and Change, 29 (1998), 107–136, 113. 36. Alan Longhurst, The Mismanagement of Marine Fisheries (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010). 37. Samuel P. Hayes, Conservation and the Gospel of Efficiency (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1959), 274. 38. A. T. Pruter, “Conservation of Marine Resources,” in Industrial Fishing Technology, ed. Maurice E. Stansby and John A. Darrow (London: Reinhold, 1963), 13. 39. Cornelia Dean, “Study Finds Hope in Saving Saltwater Fish,” NYT, July 30, 2009. 40. Jennifer Hubbard, “The Gospel of Efficiency and the Origins of MSY: Scientific and Social influences on Johan Hjort and A. G. Huntsman’s Contributions to Fisheries Science,” paper presented at the North American Society for Oceanic History, Mystic Seaport, Connecticut, May 13, 2010. 41. Daniel L. Bottom, “To Till the Water: A History of Ideas in Fisheries Conservation,” in Pacific Salmon and Their Ecosystems: Status and Future Options, ed. Deanna J Stouder, Peter A. Bisson, and Robert J. Naiman (New York: Chapman & Hall, 1997), 573. 42. Henry Regier, “Old Traditions that Led to Abuses of Salmon and Their Ecosystems,” Pacific Salmon and Their Ecosystems: Status and Future Options, ed. Deanna J Stouder, Peter A. Bisson, and Robert J. Naiman, (New York: Chapman & Hall, 1997), 25. 43. William F. Thompson, “The Marine Fisheries, the State and the Biologist,” Scientific Monthly, no. 15 (1922): 549. 44. William F. Thompson, “Fishing Treaties and Salmon of the North Pacific,” Science 150 (December 31, 1965): 1189. 45. J. F. Caddy and J. C. Seijo, “This Is More Difficult Than We Thought!: The Responsibility of Scientists, Managers and Stakeholders to Mitigate the Unsustainability of Marine Fisheries,” Philosophical Transactions of the Royal Society of Biology 360 (2005): 59–75.

196

Index Acheson, Dean, 106 Adriatic Sea, study of fish populations in, 18 Alaska, 43, 97; Bristol Bay (see Bris­tol Bay, Alaska); canning in­dustry in, 60, 62; fisheries enforce­ ment, 24–25; fishing pressure on salmon stocks, 36–37; Japanese fishing boats off waters of, 23, 30; overfishing in, 24–25; salmon fishing in waters, 3–4, 11, 23–24, 32, 36, 42, 43; statehood, 159; during World War II, 93 Alaska Fishermen’s Union, 33 Alaska Organic Act, 24 Alaska Southern Packing Com­ pany, 60 Allen, Edward, 26, 49–50, 53–54, 120, 137 American Association for the Advancement of Science, 88 American Samoa, Japanese tuna boats, 160 American Tuna Association, 42, 65, 109, 120, 126, 160 anchovies, 8; Peruvian anchovy fishery, 157, 162 Antarctica: number of whales in, 19; whaling industry, 21, 72, 75, 78 Argentina, 91; Japanese boats off coast of, 21; at Rome conference, 148; territorial zone, 48, 123, 134 Atlantic Charter of 1941, 52, 102 Atlantic Ocean, Soviet processing ships in, 156

Australia: complaints about Japa­ nese fishing, 28–29; Japanese boats off coast of, 21; and Japa­ nese technology, 78, 112; at Rome conference, 148 Baird, Spencer Fullerton, 92 bait-boat fishing, 13, 29 fig. 3, 39, 63, 65, 91, 95, 105, 120, 125 bait fish, 40–41, 48; American tuna boats taking in Latin Ameri­can waters, 4; in California waters, 63; depletion of, 53; fees charged for, 118, 125–26; Latin American, 124–25; in Latin American waters, 92; San Pedro bait-boat fleet, 64 Ball, Edward, 36–37 Barents Sea: British boats in, 17; seizure of European fishing vessels in, 134 Barnes, Kathleen, 36 Bartholomew, James R., 112–13 Belgium, at Rome conference, 148 Bell, Frank T., 33 Bering Sea: crab operations in, 113; fisheries catch, 156; Japanese fisheries, 113–14 Beverton, Raymond, 9, 85, 86, 87, 138, 143, 146, 152 Bez, Nick, 45, 46, 60, 61 fig. 9, 62, 65, 157–58 billfish, 38 Bingham Oceanographic Labora­ tory, 112 biomass theory, 127

197

Index

boats and processing facilities, government support of, 141 Bolivia, development assistance to, 121 Bone, Homer T., 33 Bonin and Kasan Islands, whaling in region, 75 bonito imports, 38, 105, 122, 126 bottom fish, off Bristol Bay, 72 Brazil: American boats in waters off, 97; FAO plan for fisheries, 122; Japanese tuna boats delivering to, 155; at Rome conference, 148 Bristol Bay, Alaska, 45; bottom fishing in, 72; Chapman’s treaty proposals, 102; conservation measures, 36–37, 129; crab fishing in, 23, 33, 114; declining catch, 43, 54, 72, 148; Japanese fisheries in, 26, 30, 35, 38, 81, 91–92; Japan’s treaty of 1938, 104, 107; peace treaty with Japan, 110; restrictions on fishing, 116; salmon fishing in, 23–25 British Columbia: American boats in waters off, 97; anti-Japanese sentiments in, 30; decline in catch of Pacific halibut, 13–14; salmon industry, 159; sardine fishing, 42, 89 Bureau of Commercial Fisheries, 24, 76, 90; Bristol Bay studies by, 33, 34; role of, 32 Burkenroad, Martin, 89–90 Byrnes, James F., 49 California: bait fish in waters off, 63; Depart­ ment of Fish and Game Commission, 14, 24, 65, 89; ethnic groups in fishing industry, 30–31; fisheries science in, 16; salmon fishing in, 23; San Diego baitboat fleet, 63, 65; San Pedro bait-boat fleet, 64; sardine canning industry in, 11, 24, 36, 39–42, 54, 64–65, 148, 159, 161; territorial claims from Latin America, 53; tuna fishing boats, 38, 42–43, 92, 104–5, 106, 118, 125–26, 155–56; during World War II, 42–43, 93 Canada, 101–2, 118; agreement with U.S. to manage catch, 11–12, 102, 138, 148; at British overfishing conference, 83; Chapman treaty proposals, 102–3; fisher­ ies catch, 156; and international fishing conventions, 97; low-cost fish fillets from, 76; at Rome conference, 148; salmon fisheries commission with U.S., 35,

198

89; salmon fishing in British Columbia, 23; and tariff relief, 126; Tripartite Treaty, 104, 109–10, 114–16, 152 canning industry, 27–28, 30, 62, 160; in Alaska, 60; in California, 39–40; con­ solidation of, 31–32; fisheries science joining with, 63; Japanese, 28; Latin American harvests, 62–63. See also specific fish cap on catch. See restrictions on fishing Cardon, P. V., 137 Caroline Islands, 45; American fishing boats off, 3; Japanese fisheries, 72, 123 fig. 14; navy bases planned for, 45; tuna grounds, 57, 72 Ceylon, FAO plan for fisheries, 122 Chapman, Wilbert McLeod, 4, 46–47, 55–60; and abstention principle, 130; and American Tuna Association, 108–9; on conservation, 147; estimate of maxi­ mum yield, 154–55; International Law Commission meetings, 154; and Japa­ nese fisheries science, 112, 113; on Japanese fishing in Bristol Bay, 81, 100; and Latin American fishing, 66, 120, 131–32; on lobbying by fishing industry, 159–60; and maximum sustainable yield, 88–89, 92–98; Pacific fisheries treaties, 102–4; and postwar fisheries development, 54–56, 57–59, 91; at Rome conference, 137, 148–49; science in service of the state, 160–61; State De­ partment career of, 87–88, 102–4, 106, 130; on tariffs, 159; on tuna fleet expan­ sion, 47–48; work with Herrington, 76, 103–4, 113 Chile, 26, 91; American tuna boats off coast of, 4; bonito imports from, 105; protection of waters, 6–7; at Rome con­ ference, 147, 148; territorial zone, 48, 120, 124, 127, 131–32, 134; tuna fishing off coast of, 124 China: Communist revolution, 100; famine in, 67; fisheries, 81; Japan fishing off waters of, 20–21, 72, 73; and MacArthur Zone limits, 75; at Rome conference, 148; seizure of Japanese vessels, 114; war with Japan, 20, 28, 100 China Sea, Japanese boats in, 21 Chiriboga, José, 136 Christian Salvesen, whaling by, 66

Index

Clark, Frances, 89 closure of nursery areas, halibut fishing agreement, 12 cod (Gadus morhua), 86, 87; collapse of At­ lantic cod, 158–59; Cuban dependence on, 137; fishing on Grand Banks of Newfoundland, 13; Iceland’s sales to, 53; overfishing, 3, 82–83 Cold War era, 8–9, 120–21, 122, 164; fishing and foreign policy, 101–2; and freedom of the seas, 3, 118; and Rome confer­ ence, 147 Colombia, 127; foreign capital for fisheries projects, 122; Point Four Fishery Projects, 122; at Rome conference, 148 Columbia River Packers Association (CRPA), 62 Commercial Fisheries Review, 78 Committee for the Protection of the Pacific Fisheries, 32–33 Committee on Post-war Fishery Research, 83 conservation measures, 78–79, 80, 85, 90, 135, 146, 147; and abstention principle, 129–30; enclosure of fishing waters, 118–19; and fisheries science, 142–44, 146; and freedom of the seas, 139; Graham’s theory, 152; international fisheries conservation, 133; joint Ameri­can and Canadian fisheries man­ agement, 102; maximum harvest con­ sistent with conservation, 92–93; and maximum sustainable yield, 150–51, 165; meanings of conservation, 165; Rome conference conclusions, 148; and territorial limits, 124; treaty with Japan promoting, 108, 109 Copenhagen, fisheries research facilities in, 59 Cornejo, Aguilar, 131 Costa Rica: bait fish, 41, 48, 53; convention signing with, 5; fishing fees, 53; at Rome conference, 148; seizure of American boats, 118; territorial zone, 48, 91, 134; Tuna Commission, 92; tuna fishing off coast of, 38, 40, 41, 65, 124 crab: in Bering Sea, 113; in Bristol Bay, 114; canning at sea, 28; Japanese fishing for, 33, 34–35, 43–44, 72, 113, 114 Cuba: dependence on salt cod, 137; Japa­ nese tuna boats delivering to, 155; at Rome conference, 148, 154

Cummings, Bruce, 77 Cushing, David, 138 D’Ancona, Umberto, 18 dead zones in waters, 2 Defense Plant Corporation, 46, 61 fig. 9, 63 Denmark, at Rome conference, 149 Department of Agriculture, 44 Department of Commerce and Labor, 90, 157 Department of State Bulletin, 93 Department of the Interior, 90 Dewar, Margaret, 158 Diamond, Anthony, 33 distant-water claims, 69, 117; American, 97, 118; of Iceland and Norway, 119; Japanese fisheries, 38, 97, 110, 118; and maximum sustainable yield, 4, 88, 150–51; in the Pacific, 118; Rome meet­ ing regarding, 130, 132, 135, 147, 149, 164; and three-mile limit, 118 Dominican Republic: Point Four Fishery Projects, 122; territorial zone, 134 Dower, John, 71 Dulles, John Foster, 106, 107–8, 113, 128 East China Sea, Japanese fishing in, 21, 74, 79, 80, 106, 107 ecology, 18; and fishery research, 18–19, 82; fishing as part of predation, 142–44, 145, 149, 150, 162; in Japanese government research, 71 Ecuador, 9, 26; American tuna boats off coast of, 4; bait fish, 41, 48, 53; FAO plan for fisheries, 122; fishing fees, 53, 126; foreign capital for fisheries projects, 122; protection of waters, 6–7; at Rome conference, 147, 148; seizure of Ameri­ can boats, 118, 124, 136; territorial zone, 124, 127, 131–32, 134; tuna fish­ ing off coast of, 38, 124 Edmonds, Douglas, 154 Egypt: Point Four Fishery Projects, 122; at Rome conference, 148 Eisenhower, Dwight D., 43, 116, 121 El Salvador: Point Four Fishery Projects, 122; at Rome conference, 149; territorial zone, 134 environmental causes, of fish stock fluctuations, 18–19 Exclusive Economic Zone, 163

199

Index

Factory Ship, The (Kobayashi), 22–23 Falkland Islands, British claims of sover­ eignty, 127 Far Eastern Commission, and Japanese whaling, 75 Far Eastern Survey, 36 Farlow, Arthur C., 33 Farrington, Joseph R., 58 Farrington Bill, 104 Faxa Bay, closure of by Iceland, 119 Felando, August, 42 Finlayson, Alan, 162 Finn, D. B., 136, 145, 146, 151; critique of maximum sustainable yield, 161 Fish and Wildlife Service, 90, 95, 103, 116, 122, 157; crab industry report, 44; sur­ vey of fishery resources, 58 Fish Commission, 23, 24, 92 Fisheries Conservation and Management Act, 163 fisheries regulation, 98, 135; critical point for ocean fishery management, 145–46, 149; and free enterprise theory, 96, 98–99, 101, 139, 141–42; goals of, 151; in­ternational organizations, 136–38; and maximum sustainable yield, 95, 135–36, 155, 161, 163–64; and territorial limits, 95 Fisheries Research Institute, 59 fisheries science, 8, 14, 18–19, 96, 165; can­ ning ships engaging in, 63; and con­ servation, 142–44, 146; development of, 6; and ecology, 18–19, 82; fish popu­ lations in, 166; international investiga­ tions, 15–16; Japanese and American compared, 110–11, 115, 164; Japanese research, 21, 39, 57–58, 71, 72, 76–78, 111–13; Korean research, 77; Latin American research, 131, 147; and maxi­ mum sustainable yield, 96–97, 135–36, 150–51, 152, 153, 155, 162, 167; and oceanographic information, 144; and population growth curve, 19, 82, 165; population studies, 71, 82, 83; Schaefer’s scenarios for, 142–44; State Department need for, 57–58, 90; Taiwanese research, 77; and technology, 166 Fishermen’s Protective Act of 1954, 126 Fish Gate, The (Graham), 84 fig. 11, 85, 144 fishing fleet, size of, 146

200

Fishing Gazette, 96 fishing nets, 166; gillnet fleets, 116; improve­ ment of, 7; mesh size, 82, 83, 86, 98, 145; nylon nets, 157 fish populations, 135, 146, 166; density of, 83; estimating size of, 143; Fish Com­ mission seeking to increase, 23–24; in fisheries science, 71, 166; fluctuations in, 35–36, 164; geographic range of, 57–58; impact of fishing on, 88, 89–90, 165; maximum sustainable yield (see maxi­mum sustainable yield); population growth curve, 19, 82, 165; sustainable yield, 85, 87; unlimited fisheries, 85. See also specific species fish stocks: and fishing, 138–39; impact of harvest on, 2, 16; international man­ agement of, 7; and maximum harvest, 93; maximum sustainable yield (see maximum sustainable yield); shifts in, 5–6; and technological advances in fishing, 93 fleet size, 43, 119; Japanese, 33, 38, 73–75, 115; and overfishing, 19, 163 Fletcher, Charles K., 65 floating processing ships, 21, 22 food web, 5, 7 foreign policy and fishing. See politics and fishing Formosa. See Taiwan France, at Rome conference, 148 freedom of the seas, 52, 123, 135; during Cold War era, 3, 118; and conservation measures, 139; and enclosure of fishing areas, 119; for Japan, 104; and Potsdam Declaration, 81; science and politics interaction, 1; and South Korea’s Proc­ lamation of Sovereignty, 114; and ter­ ritorial limits, 103, 129, 135, 138; U.S. endorsement of, 4 free enterprise theory, 117–18, 156–57; and fisheries regulation, 96, 98–99, 101, 139, 141–42 Freeman, Miller, 23, 31, 33, 34–35, 43, 53–54, 59 French Oceania, tuna industry, 47 fur seals, hunting of, 30, 37, 79, 148 Galápagos, tuna fishing grounds, 124 García-Amador, F. V., 131, 133, 137, 154

Index

Gardiner, Stanley, 84 Georges Bank herring, 162 Germany: processing equipment from, 157; at Rome conference, 148 Giannini, Amadeo P., 62 Gilbert, Charles, 14, 76 Graham, Michael, 83–86; critique of maxi­ mum sustainable yield, 144, 151, 161; fishing zone and catch levels, 75, 85, 110, 156; impact of fishing on fish stocks, 86–87, 93–94, 138, 149, 150; protection of spawning stocks, 83, 135–36; rational fishing, 9, 165, 167; review of Report No. 8, 19, 20 Grand Banks of Newfoundland, cod fishing on, 13 Great Britain, 9, 146–47; in Canadian waters, 20; in Greenland’s waters, 146; in Icelandic waters, 16, 17, 119, 134, 146, 150; and international fishing conven­ tions, 97, 136–37; Lowestoft fisheries research laboratory, 18, 19, 59, 82, 84; in Newfoundland’s waters, 147; in Norway’s waters, 118–20, 134, 146; opposition to international regulation, 25–26; overfishing conferences, 82–83; plaice fishing after World War I, 18; rebuilding fishing fleets post–World War II, 87; at Rome conference, 147, 149, 150; sovereignty over Falkland Islands region, 127; whaling by, 21, 66; during World War II, 85; World War I’s effect on fishing industry, 17–18 Greece, at Rome conference, 148 greenhouse gases, effect of, 1–2 Greenland, British boats in waters off, 17, 146 Gregory, Homer E., 112 growth. See life processes of fish Gruening, Ernest, 24 Guatemala: development assistance to, 121; at Rome conference, 148 Guayaquil Banks, tuna fishing in, 124 Gulf of Alaska, halibut fishing in, 12, 13 Gulf of Mexico: American boats in waters off, 97; shrimping in, 106 Gulf of Tonkin, Japanese boats in, 21 haddock, 86, 87; overfishing, 82–83 Haiti: development assistance to, 121; FAO plan for fisheries, 122

hake, overfishing, 82–83 Halibut Commission, 16, 35, 36, 89–90, 95, 98 halibut (Hippoglossus stenolepsis), 13, 85; in Canadian waters, 20, 102; catch limits, 89; and cyclical sea changes, 95; decline in catch of Pacific halibut, 11–12, 13–14; joint management by Canada and U.S., 138; management by Canada and U.S., 148; maximum sustainable yield, 99, 114–15; in the Pacific, 19; research into halibut larvae, 112 Hara, Kimie, 164 Hardin, Garrett, 8, 162 Harris, Michael, 69 harvest, 155, 165; impact on fish stocks, 16; maximum harvest for wartime, 93; maxi­mum number consistent with con­ servation, 92–93; maximum production for wartime, 78; scientific management of, 2; of surplus fish stocks, 136. See also maximum sustainable yield Harvey, Robert, 78 hatcheries, 93, 166; salmon, 23–24, 25, 36 Hawaii, fisheries in, 58 Hecate Strait, halibut fishing in, 12 herring, 8; and cyclical sea changes, 95; Georges Bank, 162; Japanese fishing for, 72; Norwegian and Icelandic stocks, 161; off Sakhalin, 72 Herrington, William C.: and abstention principle, 76, 113, 128, 129–30, 149; International Law Commission meet­ ings, 154; and Japanese fisheries science, 110, 111; and Latin American territorial limits, 120, 131–32, 134; on maximum sustainable yield, 144, 166–67; in post­ war Japan, 75–76, 79; and Rome con­ ference, 133, 136–37, 139, 146, 149, 150; State Department career of, 109; and Tripartite Treaty, 115; work with Chap­ man, 103–4 High Seas Fishery Policy of 1949, 129 Hirt, Paul, 93 Hjort, Johan, 19 Hollick, Ann, 49, 51 Holt, Sidney, 85–86, 87, 143; critique of maximum sustainable yield, 145–46, 151–52, 161, 163; On the Dynamics of Exploited Fish Populations (Beverton &

201

Index

Holt, Sidney (cont.) Holt), 86, 138; on Graham’s hypothesis, 9; on logistics function, 165; on Michael Graham, 84–85 Honduras: at Rome conference, 149; shrimp grounds off coast of, 122; territorial zone, 134 House Merchant Marine and Fisheries Com­ mittee, 65 Hubbard, Jennifer, 165 Hubbs, Carl, 37 Hull, Cordell, 33, 34–35, 43, 49, 50, 51, 80, 93, 102, 129 Hulme, H. R., 85 Human Needs (Graham), 84 Huntsman, A. G., 88 Husbands, Sam H., 65 Iceland, 9, 20, 26, 38, 53, 101, 118; Ameri­ can air base in, 53; British fishing boats in waters of, 16, 17, 119, 134, 146, 150; European fishing off coast of, 3; herring stocks, 161; low-cost fish fillets from, 76; protection of waters, 6–7; at Rome conference, 148; sales of cod to Soviet Union, 53; Soviet Union trade with, 126; territorial zone, 48, 103, 118; trade agree­ ment with, 105, 126 Ickes, Harold, 42, 43, 50–51, 78 illegal fishing, 155 imperialism, fishing and whaling as vehicles for, 3, 8–9, 20–23, 28–29, 77 India: famine in, 67; fisheries, 81; Point Four Fishery Projects, 122; at Rome conference, 148 Indian Ocean, Japanese fishing boats in, 21 Indonesia: Point Four Fishery Projects, 122; at Rome conference, 148 industrial fishing, 7, 8, 13, 68–69; pay and working conditions (see pay and work­ ing conditions). See also specific countries or companies industrialization of food supply, 68 Inter-American Conference in Caracas, 131 Inter-American Tropical Tuna Commission (IATTC), 5, 56, 120 Intercoastal Packing Company, 60 International Convention for the High Seas Fisheries of the North Pacific Ocean, 114–15

202

International Convention for the Northwest Atlantic Fisheries, 97–98 International Convention for the Regulation of Whaling, 102 International Council for the Exploration of the Sea (ICES), 6, 11, 17, 19; Journal du Conseil, 18 International Court of Justice, British trawlers in Norwegian waters, 118–20 international fisheries, management of, 89 International Fisheries Commission, 35 international law, and territorial limits, 138 International Law Commission: Law of the Sea, 118, 119, 120, 129, 159–60; and Rome conference, 132–33, 135, 148, 152, 154; technical advice provided to, 134, 136 International Pacific Halibut Commission, 144 International Pacific Salmon Fisheries Commission (IPSFC), 49–50, 57 International Packing Company, 31 international regulation of fisheries, 7, 25– 26, 36, 95–97, 98, 102; by FAO, 122; and Rome conference, 149 International Technical Conference on the Conservation of the Living Resources of the Sea, 134–35, 147–53, 163–64 International Trade Policy Division, 52 International Whaling Commission, 2, 75, 80, 127, 130, 164 Iran, Point Four Fishery Projects, 122 irrational fishing, 17 Israel, at Rome conference, 149 Italy: Japanese tuna boats delivering to, 155; at Rome conference, 148 Japan, 118; American Occupation of, 4, 10, 53, 69–70, 73, 77–78, 80, 93, 101, 110, 164; Australians looking to Japanese technology, 78; Chapman treaty pro­ posals, 102–3; claims to Pacific Islands, 21; during Cold War era, 101–2; expan­ sion of fishing, 20–23, 21, 22; favorednation status, 101; Fisheries Board, 76; fisheries sciences in, 71, 72, 76–78; fish­ ing treaty with, 5, 92; food shortages in, 67, 69–70; fur seal hunting by, 30, 37, 79; Imperial Fisheries School, 76–77; imperialist claims and fishing, 3–4,

Index

28–29; and Korean territorial limits, 114; Kuril Islands claim, 80; MacArthur fish­ ing zone, 73–75, 79, 80–81, 96, 106, 111, 114; maximum sustainable yield policy, 102; Ministry of Agriculture and For­ estry, 110–11; North Pacific fisheries agreement with Soviet Union, 156; Occu­ pation of Southeast Asia, 67, 72; opposi­ tion to international regulation, 26; Pa­ cific Island fishing, 3; peace treaty with, 106, 107–8, 109–10; post–World War II, 52, 69, 72–73, 164; Potsdam Declaration of 1945, 81, 102; at Rome conference, 147, 148, 149, 150; science and tech­ nology in, 70–72, 76, 111–12, 164; tech­ nological advances used by, 22, 70–71; Tripartite Treaty, 104, 109–10, 113, 114– 16, 128, 152; tuna studies by scientists, 39; U.S. conflict with, 3–4, 8–9; war with China, 20, 28, 100; war with Russia, 20, 26, 28; in waters off China and Taiwan, 20–21; West Japan Trawlers Association, 79; whaling science, 10 Japanese fisheries, 106, 148; in American Samoa, 160; annual production, 22; in Bering Sea, 113–14; bottom fishing, 72; canning at sea, 28; crab fishing, 34–35, 43–44, 113, 114; in East China sea, 74, 79, 80, 107; freedom of the seas for, 104; government subsidies for, 22, 31, 40, 76; Hawaii supplied by, 58; herring fishing, 72; in Korean waters, 20–21; licensing of, 38; management of, 2; in Manchu­ rian waters, 20–21; in Mandated Islands, 104; and maximum sustainable yield theory, 98–99; overfishing by, 80; pay and working conditions, 22–23; price controls on food and, 106–7; regulation of fleet, 38, 78–80; in Russian waters, 20– 21; salmon fishing off Alaskan coast, 4, 22, 25, 26, 91–92, 102, 104, 107; salmon fishing off Kamchatka, 72; sardine fish­ ing, 41, 72; seagoing research ships, 57– 58; seizure of vessels, 114, 134; State Department policy, 81; technological advances used by, 20–21; tuna, 155–56; tuna fisheries, 21, 62, 72, 105–6, 123 fig. 14, 125; in Western Aleutian Islands, 116; whaling by, 21, 37, 72, 75, 79, 102; in Yellow Sea, 80

Japanese Fisheries Agency, 152 Japanese Fisheries Research system, 111 Japanese Research Council, 39 Japan Federation of Industries, 107 Johnson, Charles, 70 Jordan, David Starr, 14, 25 Jordan, Point Four Fishery Projects, 122 Kamchatka: fisheries research facilities in, 21; Japanese fishing in, 20, 22, 37, 72; Russian fishing in, 37 Kask, Jack, 91 Kesteven, G. K., 152 king crab. See crab Kishinouye, Kamakichi, 39 Kobayashi, Takiji: The Factory Ship, 22–23 Korea: fisheries, 81; fisheries research fa­ cilities in, 21, 77; Japanese fishing boats claimed by, 73; Japanese foothold in, 20, 28, 72; and MacArthur Zone limits, 75, 80, 114; Proclamation of Sovereignty by South Korea, 113–14; at Rome con­ ference, 148; seizure of Japanese vessels, 114, 134; territorial limits claimed by South Korea, 113–14, 134 Korean War, 100–101 Krige, John, 113 Kuril Islands, Russian-Japanese dispute over, 80, 81 Kyle, H. M., 17 LaFeber, Walter, 71 Larkin, Peter, 162 Latham, Michael E., 121 Latin America, 101, 118; American boats in waters off, 97; American fishing for tuna and bait fish, 4; and American foreign policy, 120–21; bait fish, 92; de­ velopment assistance to, 120–22; fees charged for fishing licenses, 118, 125–26, 131; fisheries science, 131, 147; foreign capital for fisheries projects, 122; Point Four Program, 122; protesting American tuna boats, 4; at Rome con­ ference, 147–48; sovereign status of states, 124; territorial claims of, 53, 124, 131–32, 134; tuna fisheries, 62– 63, 91, 118, 135, 139. See also specific countries Latin American Fisheries Council, 120

203

Index

Law of the Sea, 49; fishing as global activity, 20; International Law Commission meetings, 118, 119, 120, 129, 159–60; maximum sustainable yield as legal concept, 2; territorial limits, 118 League of Nations: Committee of Experts for the Progressive Codification of In­ ternational Law, 25–2; whaling stan­ dards, 75 Lebanon, Point Four Fishery Projects, 122 Lend-Lease program, Russian fishing fleet aided by, 59 Leonard, L. Larry, 36 Liberia, Point Four Fishery Projects, 122 life processes of fish, 5; calculating, 143; capture, 87; growth, 87; long-distance migrations, 5; and maximum sustain­ able yield, 94; natural death, 87; and overfishing, 12, 86, 87; and population density, 83; recruitment, 87, 139; repro­ ductive curves of fish populations, 139; sardines, 89; size of fish, 145 lobbying, 159–60; by canners, 24, 31–32, 81; post–World War II, 53–54; regarding tariffs, 126; for tariff protection, 120 Longhurst, Alan, 5–6, 165 MacArthur, Douglas A., 69–70 MacArthur fishing zone, 73–75, 79, 80–81, 96, 106, 111, 114 mackerel, 38; collapse of Pacific mackerel, 161 Madruga, Edward X., 43 Magnuson, Warren, 33, 46, 47, 49, 59, 61 fig. 9 Malaya, Japanese boats supplying fish to, 21 Manchuria: fisheries research facilities in, 21; Japanese foothold in, 28, 29 Mandated Islands: Japanese fisheries, 104; tuna fishing, 81; tuna grounds, 57, 66; U.S. control of, 3, 44 Mariana Islands, 45; American fishing boats off, 3; Japanese fishing, 72, 123 fig. 14; navy bases planned for, 45; tuna grounds, 57, 72 marine ecosystems, 5–6 marine refrigeration, development of, 3–4 marketing of new fish products, 141 marlins, 38 Marquesas Islands, tuna industry, 47 Marshall, George C., 59

204

Marshall Islands, 45; American fishing boats off, 3; Japanese fisheries, 72, 123 fig. 14; navy bases planned for, 45; tuna grounds, 57, 72 Matsushita, Tomonari, 115, 152, 161 Maurice, Henry, 18 maximum sustainable yield, 2–3, 8, 96, 98–99, 138; of Bristol Bay halibut and salmon, 99, 114–15; Chapman’s policy, 92–98; as conservation measure, 150–51; and conservation measures, 165; critical point for ocean fishery management, 145–46, 149; defined, 2; development of, 4–5, 9; estimate of maximum yield, 154–55; Finn’s critique of, 161; and fisheries regulation, 95, 135–36, 155, 161, 163–64; and fisheries science, 96–97, 150–51, 152, 153, 155, 162, 167; and fish populations, 151; and free enter­ prise theory, 96, 98–99; Graham’s cri­ tique of, 161; graph of, 93–94; Herrington on, 166–67; Holt’s critique of, 161, 163; Japan adoption of policy, 102; and Japa­ nese fisheries, 98–99; Japanese fisheries under American Occupation, 2; as legal concept, 2; Matsushita’s critique of, 152, 161; and overfishing, 155; as political and economic construct, 6–7, 8, 22; and reproductive capacity of fish, 94; Rome conference conclusions, 148; sustainable yield, 85; Talbot’s critique of, 163; tuna fishing, 139, 141 McDougall, Frank, 137 McEvoy, Arthur, 41 Medina, M. O., 39, 40 Merchant Marine and Fisheries Committee, Alaskan hearings, 37 Merriman, Daniel, 112 Mexico, 26; American tuna boats off coast of, 4; bait fish, 40–41, 48, 53; fears of Communism in, 121; fees charged for taking bait, 125–26; fisheries treaty of 1949, 5, 92; fishing fees, 53; food short­ ages in, 67; Japanese boats off coast of, 21; licensing fees, 64; Point Four Fishery Projects, 122; response to Truman Proclamation, 123; at Rome conference, 147, 148, 149; seizure of American boats, 53, 118; territorial zone, 48, 64; trade agreement, 105; tuna fishing off coast of, 38, 64, 65, 91, 124

Index

migrations. See life processes of fish Monaco, at Rome conference, 148 mortality. See life processes of fish Myers, Ransom, 7, 165 Nash, Gerald D., 54 National Security Council Document 144/1, 121 Natural Ecology, A (Graham), 84 Netherlands, at Rome conference, 148 Neuberger, Richard L., 34, 62 Neville, William C., 119 New England, fishing industry in, 53, 76, 101, 106, 156, 158–59 Newfoundland, 38; American boats in waters off, 97; British boats in waters off, 17, 147; catch landed in New England, 106 New York Times, report on Japanese fishing disputes, 34 Nicaragua: at Rome conference, 149; shrimp grounds off coast of, 122 Nichiro, 22 Nippon Suisan, whaling fleets, 21 North Atlantic, 92; collapse of fisheries, 91; fisheries treaty of 1949, 5, 92; Inter­ national Convention for the Northwest Atlantic Fisheries, 97–98; international fishing conventions, 97; overfishing in, 82 Northern Pacific Ocean Fisherman’s Association, 107 North Pacific fisheries agreement, 156 North Sea fisheries, 19, 20, 146–47; decline of, 9; overfishing, 82–83 Norway, 26, 53, 101; British trawlers fishing in waters, 118–20, 134, 146; European fishing off coast of, 3; herring stocks, 161; low-cost fish fillets from, 76; at Rome conference, 147, 148; territorial limits, 103, 118–20; whaling by, 21 Nova Scotia, American boats in waters off, 97 nursery areas, closure of. See closure of nursery areas oceanography, 166; and fisheries science, 144; Japanese studies, 39 Office of Economic Warfare, fisheries developed to feed troops, 57 Office of the Coordinator of Fisheries, 42, 50–51

oil drilling, 53; and coastal jurisdiction, 51, 52 Onassis, Aristotle: illegal whaling ships owned by, 3, 130–31, 134 On the Dynamics of Exploited Fish Populations (Beverton & Holt), 86, 138 open seas. See freedom of the seas orange roughy (Hoplostethus atlanticus), 7 Oregon, 159; Japanese fishing boats off waters of, 30; salmon fishing in, 23; sardine fishing in, 41–42 Our Promised Land (Neuberger), 34 overfishing, 6, 17, 94, 135, 164; British con­ ferences, 82–83; burden of proof, 135– 36; and fish population fluctuations, 35–36, 86; and fleet size, 19; by Japan, 80; and maximum sustainable yield, 155; in North Atlantic, 82–83; in North Sea, 82–83; in Peruvian waters, 127–28; po­ litical causes of, 162; Rome conference conclusions, 148–49; of salmon, 24–25; of sardines, 65; scientific evidence of, 3, 11; during steam engine era, 3, 11, 16 Overfishing Problem, The (Russell), 82 Pacific Exploration Company, 46, 61 fig. 9 Pacific Fisheries Congress, 53–54 Pacific Fisherman, 23, 25, 31, 32, 33, 43, 56, 96, 116 Pacific Islands: American and Japanese claims to, 3, 90–91; American expansion into, 4; Japanese claims to, 21; tuna fisheries, 21, 47–48, 57, 58, 66 Pacific Northwest, salmon industry in, 11, 27–28, 159. See also specific states Pacific Ocean: halibut fishing, 19; Inter­na­ tional Convention for the High Seas Fisheries of the North Pacific Ocean, 114–15; processing operations in, 107; Soviet Union fishing fleets, 156 Pacific Oceanic Fisheries Institute, 139 Pacific Science Association, 77, 111–12; Sixth meeting in 1939, 29 Pacific Science Congress, 112 Pakistan, FAO plan for fisheries, 122 Panama: fees charged for fishing permits, 126; at Rome conference, 149; territorial zone, 134; tuna fishing off coast of, 124 Pan-Pacific Association of Japan, 111–12 Paraguay, at Rome conference, 148 Paterson, Thomas, 68

205

Index

Pauly, Daniel, 8, 151 pay and working conditions, 160; in Ameri­ can fisheries, 31, 40; in Canadian fish­ eries, 53; in Japanese fisheries, 22–23, 31, 40; unionized crews, 40 Pearl, Raymond, 19, 82, 165 Permanent Commission on Exploitation and Conservation of the Marine Resources of the South Pacific, 131 Peru, 26, 91, 102; American tuna boats off coast of, 4, 134; anchovy fishery, 157, 162; attack on Peruvian fishing vessel, 127–28; bait fish, 48; bonito imports from, 105, 122, 126; illegal whaling off coast of, 3; overfishing by American vessels, 127–28; Point Four Fishery Pro­j­ ects, 122; at Rome conference, 147, 148, 149; tariffs, 126; territorial zone, 48, 66, 124, 127, 131–32, 134; tuna fishing off coast of, 38, 122, 124; whaling off coast of, 66, 130, 134 Philippines: complaints about Japanese fishing, 28–29; fisheries, 81 pilchards, South African, 161–62 Plaice Committee of 1907, 17–18 plaice (Pleuronectes platessa), 17–18, 87; ef­ fect of World War I on fishing, 18; over­ fishing, 82–83; survival rate for, 86 Point Four Program, 122 Poland, at Rome conference, 148, 149 politics and fishing, 1; economic nation­ alism, 49; foreign policy, 164; foreign policy objectives, 51–52, 101–2, 126, 158–59; internationalists vs. real­ politiks, 51–52; International Law Com­ mission recommendations, 119; Japan’s exceptionalism, 22; Latin American foreign policy, 120–21; maximum sus­ tainable yield as political construct, 6–7, 8, 162, 167; peace treaty with Japan, 107–8, 113; Rome conference issues, 134–35, 147, 151, 162; sovereign owner­ ship of fish, 34–35 pollution of waters, 2 Pontecorvo, Giulio, 8 populations. See fish populations Portugal, at Rome conference, 148 Potsdam Declaration of 1945, 52, 69, 72–73, 81, 102 principle of exclusion of third parties, 130

206

profitability: of Alaskan crab catch, 44; of Alaskan salmon catch, 25, 30, 32, 35, 38; and fisheries regulation, 144, 150; of Japanese fisheries, 72; SCAP’s goals, 107; and sustainable stocks, 83, 85; of tuna catch, 43; and unlimited fisheries, 85, 139; and wages paid, 31; of whaling industry, 72, 130 Puget Sound: canning industry, 25; halibut fishing in, 12, 13 purse-seine fishing, 29 fig. 3, 39, 41, 43, 62–63, 64, 65, 91 radio programs, on fishing issues, 34 railroads, and transporting fish to markets, 13, 17 Ralston Purina company, 160 rational fishing, Graham’s concept of, 87, 165, 167 recruitment. See life processes of fish Reed, Lowell, 82 Regier, Henry, 166 Reischauer, Edwin, 72, 73 Report No. 8, 12–13, 19, 20, 89 reproduction. See life processes of fish Restoration Finance Corporation, 157–58; loan guarantees by, 63, 65, 66 restrictions on fishing, 11–12, 16, 98, 117, 146; abstention principle, 113, 128, 129– 30, 132, 135, 137, 149; Alaskan salmon fishing, 36–37; in Bristol Bay, 116; Brit­ ish Royal Commission, 17; conservation zones to protect fish, 48; developing fisheries, 135–36; gear restrictions, 145; Graham’s theory, 144, 149, 150; halibut fishing agreement, 12, 89; and life pro­ cesses of fish, 87; limits on number of licenses, 159; size limits, 83, 85–86, 87; State Department mandating, 36; tonnage restriction, 83. See also specific species Rhee, Syngman, 113–14 Rich, Willis, 36–37, 88 Ricker, William E., 138–39 rockfish (Sebastes), West Coast rockfish, 7 Rome conference of 1955. See Interna­ tional Technical Conference on the Conser­vation of the Living Resources of the Sea Roosevelt, Franklin D., 24, 43, 45, 51, 68

Index

Royal Naval Patrol Service, 85 Ruiz, Julio, 127 Russell, E. S., 18–19, 75, 82–83, 110, 138, 150, 156; rational fishing, 165 Russia: Atlantic Ocean fleets, 156; Chapman treaty proposals, 102–3; during Cold War era, 100–101; conflicts with Japan, 28–29, 37; expansion of fishing capacity, 55; fisheries, 81; Iceland’s sale of cod to, 53, 126; imperialist claims and fishing, 3; Kuril Islands claim, 80, 81; LendLease program aiding fishing fleet, 59; and MacArthur Zone limits, 75; North Pacific fisheries agreement with Japan, 156; Pacific Ocean fleets, 156; at Rome conference, 147, 148, 149, 150; seizure of European vessels, 134; seizure of Japanese vessels, 114, 134; territorial zone of Soviet Union, 134, 159; war with Japan, 20, 26, 28; whaling, 127 Sakhalin: fisheries research facilities in, 21; herring fishing off, 72; Japanese fishing in, 20, 72; salmon fishing off, 72 salmon: distribution of, 28 fig. 2; fishing pressure on salmon stocks, 36–37; hatcheries, 23–24, 25, 36; ocean popu­ lations, 88; reproductive curves of, 139; spawning conditions, 23, 34 salmon industry, 23; abstention principle, 129; in Alaska and Pacific Northwest, 3–4, 11, 23, 24; anti-Japanese sentiment in, 30; canneries, 27–28; fluctuations in catch, 11, 159; and freedom of the sea, 81; as global industry, 27–28; Japanese fishing, 22, 23, 25, 26, 30, 32–33, 38, 72, 91–92, 102, 104, 107, 110; joint manage­ ment by Canada and U.S., 35, 89, 102, 138, 148; joint venture proposed by Japan, 32; maximum sustainable yield, 99, 114–15; in North Pacific Ocean, 114– 15; off Sakhalin, 72; overfishing, 24–25; post–World War II, 53–54; regulation by Secretary of Commerce, 32; restrictions on harvesting, 43, 110; and tuna indus­ try interests, 130; during World War II, 42, 93 Saltonstall-Kennedy Act, 157 Sanders, William, 131 Santiago Declaration, 127, 129, 130–31

sardine industry, 14; in British Columbia, 89; in California, 11, 24, 41; and cycli­ cal sea changes, 95; fishing pressure, 42, 65; fluctuations in catch, 36, 39–40, 41, 54, 64–65, 65, 88, 148, 159, 161; Japa­ nese fisheries, 41; in Oregon, 41–42; in Wash­ington, 41–42; during World War II, 93 sardines (Sardinops sagax caerulea), 14; Clark’s study of, 89; collapse of Califor­ nia sardines, 4, 89; life cycle of, 89; Thompson’s study of, 14–15 Sarmiento, Fray Martin, 39 Schaefer, Milner Baily, 56–57; appointed to Tuna Commission, 120, 137; Farrington Bill, 58; Graham’s critique of theory, 152; information needed for managing fish populations, 166; and maximum sustainable yield, 138, 151; on the Pacific Explorer, 63; postwar fishing policy, 149; surplus production theory, 139, 140 fig. 17, 141, 142–44, 163 Scheiber, Harry, 48–49, 109–10 Schenck, Hubert G., 70, 72, 79–80 Schwellenbach, Lewis, 50 Science, 80 science and foreign policy. See politics and fishing Scientific Monthly, “The Wealth of the Oceans,” 59 Scombridae, 38 Scripps Institution of Oceanography, 112 seafloor communities, effect of trawl gear on, 7 seals, fur. See fur seals, hunting of Sea of Okhotsk, Japanese boats in, 21 Sebald, William, 114 Secretary of Commerce, and Alaskan salmon industry, 32 Sette, Oscar, 58 shrimp: Caribbean shrimp grounds, 122; from Gulf of Mexico, 106 Silva, Guy, 40 Singapore, Japanese boats supplying fish to, 21 size limit for fish, 142; halibut, 12; and maxi­ mum sustainability, 6; minimum size limit, 17, 18, 83, 145; sardines, 15. See also restrictions on fishing size of boat, 64, 110, 126

207

Index

size of fleet. See fleet size Smith, Robert T., 57 Smith, Tim B., 151 Soil and Sense (Graham), 84 sole, 86, 87 South Africa: pilchards, 161–62; at Rome conference, 149 South China Sea, Japanese boats in, 21 South Pacific Fishery Conference, 127 Soviet Union. See Russia Spain: at Rome conference, 148; subsidies for fishing boats, 157 spawner-recruit theory, 138–39 spawning conditions: effect of fishing on, 2; for salmon, 23; shifts in, 5–6 State Department, 29–30, 49, 113; at British overfishing conference, 83; Chapman as undersecretary, 4, 92–99, 102–4, 109; fisheries and foreign policy within, 51– 52; and fisheries issues, 91–92; and fish­ eries science, 57–58, 90; Fishing Advi­ sory committee, 129; and Japanese fishing disputes, 32–33, 34; and Japa­ nese fishing policy, 81; and Japanese whaling, 75; lobbying by fisheries, 53– 54; and maximum sustainable yield, 153; restrictions on fishing, 36; and Rome conference, 149; science and foreignpolicy interaction, 1, 113; during World War II, 51 Stettinius, Edward R., 49, 51 Stokesbury, James, 101 Stuhr, Harry, 33 Supreme Commander Allied Powers (SCAP): American science brought to Japan, 70–71, 79; analysis of Japanese fishery research, 77, 78, 79, 81; and import of Japanese tuna, 105; and Japanese fishing industry, 69–70, 73–75, 104; and Japanese whaling, 75; and MacArthur fishing zone, 73–75, 79, 80–81, 106–7, 112; Natural Resources Section, 107; and Pacific fisheries draft treaty, 102; trade office opened in New York, 100; and Truman fisheries proclamation, 52 surplus production theory, 136, 139, 141– 42, 150, 151, 163, 166 Sustained Fisheries Act, 2 Sverdrup, Harald U., 112 Sweden, at Rome conference, 148 swordfish, 38

208

Taiheiyo Gyogyo Kaisa, Ltd., 22 Taiwan, 28; fisheries research facilities in, 21, 77; Japan fishing off waters of, 20–21 Talbot, L. M.: critique of maximum sustain­ able yield, 163 tariff protection for fishing industry, 101, 102, 120, 141, 157, 159; tuna products, 105–6, 125–26, 160 Taylor, Harden F., 35–36, 139 technological advances in fishing, 3–4, 7, 13, 97, 157; airplanes spotting schools of fish, 63; Baader processing equipment, 157; and fisheries science, 166; fishfinding electronics, 7; and fish stocks, 93; global positioning systems, 7; Japanese using, 20–21, 22, 70–71, 112; refriger­ ated boats, 22, 43, 62, 65; seabed map­ ping, 7; sonar and radar technologies, 69, 157; steam engines, 3, 11, 16; steam trawlers, 21; trawl technology, 7, 75, 76, 157; tuna fishing, 39, 43 territorial limits, 9; of Argentina, 123, 134; Bristol Bay, 30, 34, 93, 129; of Chile, 120, 124, 127, 131–32, 134; of Costa Rica, 91, 134; of Dominican Republic, 134; of Ecuador, 124, 127, 131, 134; of El Salvador, 134; Exclusive Economic Zone, 163; extension of, 2, 46, 48, 51; of Falkland Islands, 127; and fisheries regulation, 95; and fishery conservation, 124; four-mile limit, 119–20; and free­ dom of the seas, 103, 129, 135, 138; of Honduras, 134; of Iceland, 17, 103, 118; and international law, 138; of Latin America, 4, 124, 131–32, 134; Latin American conference, 131–32; Law of the Sea, 118; MacArthur fishing zone, 73–75, 79, 80–81, 96, 106, 111; of Mexico, 64; nine-mile limit, 64, 134; of Norway, 103, 118–20; of Panama, 134; of Peru, 48, 66, 124, 127, 131–32, 134; realpolitik group vs. internationalists, 51–53; Santiago Declaration, 127; sixmile limit, 119; of South Korea, 113–14, 134; of Soviet Union, 134, 159; threemile limit, 51–52, 88, 95, 117–18, 125, 135, 138, 159; twelve-mile limit, 81, 120, 124, 134, 159; 200-hundred mile limit (see 200-hundred mile limit); whaling, 127

Index

Texas: Game, Fish, and Oyster Commission, 77; shrimp vessels, 106, 122 Thompson, W. L., 62 Thompson, William F., 43; on fishery man­ agement, 144; fishing zone and total catch, 75, 110, 156; halibut study, 14, 19–20, 85, 89–90, 112; International Pacific Salmon Fisheries Commission director, 57; on necessity for ocean­ ographic studies, 15, 144, 166; need for new theory of conservation, 166; Report No. 8, 12–13, 19–20, 89–90; and salmon catch fluctuations, 43, 54; sardines study, 14, 15, 15 fig. 1; working with Herrington, 76 Thorp, Willard, 52 three-mile limit. See territorial limits Tokugawa, Iyesoto, 111–12 tragedy of the commons, 8 Tragedy of the Commons (Hardin), 162 Transamerica Corporation of San Francisco, 62, 65 Treasury Department, 23 Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo, 64 Truman, Harry, 45, 101, 106, 120–21, 122 Truman Proclamation, 48, 91–92, 92, 103, 113–14, 118, 123–24, 147 Trust Territories, MacArthur zone, 80 tuna, 27, 30; albacore (T. alalunga), 39, 40, 62, 123 fig. 14; American boats heading south, 4; bigeye (T. obesus), 39; distri­ bution of, 39; Japanese studies of, 39; mi­gration and distribution, 29 fig. 3; northern and southern bluefin (T. maccoyii ), 39; skipjack (Katsuwonus pelamis), 38–39, 139, 141, 160; species of, 38–39; yellowfin (Thunnus albacares), 39, 123 fig. 14, 139, 140 fig. 17, 141, 160 Tuna Commission, 92, 137, 139, 143 Tuna Fisherman Magazine, 59, 104–5 tuna industry, 160; American boats heading south, 4, 48–49; and bait fish, 48; bonito imports, 105; California fishing boats, 38, 42–43, 92, 104–5, 106, 118, 125–26, 155–56; canneries, 27–28, 30, 40, 65; Costa Rican waters, 65; expansion of, 38; foreign policy and fishing, 126; Japanese fisheries, 40, 62, 72, 105–6, 123 fig. 14, 125, 155–56; in Latin American waters, 62–63, 91, 118, 124–25, 139; and MacArthur zone, 80–81; in Mandated

Islands waters, 81; and maximum sus­ tainable yield, 95, 139, 141; Mexican waters, 64, 65, 91; off Latin American coast, 135; off Peru’s coast, 134; in Pa­ cific Islands, 47–48, 57, 58, 66; in Peru, 122, 124; post–World War II, 53–54, 64, 104; and salmon industry interests, 130; tariff rates, 105–6, 125–26; technological advances in, 39, 43 Turkey, at Rome conference, 149 200-hundred mile limit, 88; American expansion to, 2; Exclusive Economic Zone, 163; Iceland, 118; Korean, 114; Latin American, 48, 66, 124, 131, 134; Lima meeting, 131; Rome conference, 131; Santiago conference, 127 United Nations: Charter, 109; Extended Technical Assistance Program, 122; Food and Agriculture Organization, 52, 68, 98, 119, 120, 122, 136; international technical conference, 132–33; Resolu­ tion 900 (IX), 133 United States, 9; agreement with Canada to manage catch, 138, 148; annual production, 22; conflicts with other nations (see specific country names); foreign factory ships off coast, 156–57; imperialist claims and fishing, 29–30; opposition to international regulation, 26; at Rome conference, 147, 148, 149, 150; salmon fisheries commission with Canada, 35, 89, 102; Tripartite Treaty, 104, 109–10, 114–16, 152 United States Policy on High Seas Fisheries, 4, 92, 93, 97 Uruguay, at Rome conference, 148 Van Camp Seafood Company, 160 Verhulst, Pierre-François, 165 Vietnam, famine in, 67 Volterra, Vito, 18 Walgren, Morad C., 45 Wall, Ronald, 144, 145 War Department, during World War II, 51 War Food Administration, 65; sardine industry regulation by, 42 Washington state, 53, 159; Japanese fishing boats off waters of, 30; salmon fishing in, 23; sardine fishing in, 41–42

209

Index

Washington Tribune, report on Japanese fishing disputes, 34 Watt, Donald Cameron, 49 Western Aleutian Islands, Japanese fisheries in, 116 whaling: in Antarctica, 21, 72, 75, 78; in Bonin and Kasan Island areas, 75; coastal whaling, 21; females and calves hunted, 21, 37, 75, 79; by Great Britain, 21, 66; illegal whaling ships, 130–31; industrialscale whaling, 21; International Conven­ tion for the Regulation of Whaling, 96, 102; by Japan, 21, 37, 72, 75, 78, 79, 102; League of Nations proposed standards, 75; by Norway, 21; off Peru’s coast, 130, 134; pelagic whaling, 21, 75; in Peruvian waters, 66; right whales hunted, 37, 75; scientific management, 164; by Soviet Union, 127; sperm whales, 66 whaling science: estimating number of whales, 19; Japanese scientists on value of, 10

210

Whitefish Authority, 146 Wilbur-Ellis, 127–28 Williams, William Appleton, 161 working conditions for fishermen and pro­ cessing workers. See pay and working conditions World Bank, on global fisheries misman­age­ ment, 7 World War I: effect on fishing industry, 17–18; postwar food shortages, 67 World War II, 29, 51, 85, 161–62; effect on fishing industry, 42, 67, 83; maximum harvest during, 92–93; postwar food shortages, 67–68; postwar political struggles, 164 Worm, Boris, 7, 165 Yellow Sea, Japanese boats in, 21, 80 Yoshida, Shigeru, 101, 107, 108, 114 Yoshitsu, Michael M., 109 Yugoslavia, at Rome conference, 148