The Closing of the Frontier: A History of the Marine Fisheries of Southeast Asia, C.1850-2000 9789812302595

Citation preview

JOHN G. BUTCHER

INSTITUTE OF SOUTHEAST ASIAN STUDIES Singapore

First published in Singapore in 2004 by ISEAS Publications Institute of Southeast Asian Studies 30 Heng Mui Keng Terrace, Pasir Panjang, Singapore 119614 E-mail: [email protected] • Website: http://bookshop.iseas.edu.sg All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, translated, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the Institute of Southeast Asian Studies. © 2004 Institute of Southeast Asian Studies, Singapore The responsibility for facts and opinions in this publication rests exclusively with the author and his interpretations do not necessarily reflect the views or the policy of the Institute or its supporters. ISEAS Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data Butcher, John G. The closing of the frontier : a history of the marine fisheries of Southeast Asia, c.1850-2000. (Modern economic history of Southeast Asia) 1. Fisheries—Asia, Southeastern—History. I. Title. II. Series. SH307 A9B98 2004 ISBN 981-230-259-X (soft cover) ISBN 981-230-223-9 (hard cover) Typeset by International Typesetters Pte. Ltd. Printed in Singapore by Seng Lee Press Pte. Ltd.

To Jim Warren, Bob Elson, and Nick Knight, friends, colleagues, mentors

A MODERN ECONOMIC HISTORY OF SOUTHEAST ASIA (ECHOSEA) SERIES This series is intended to cover the current state of knowledge of the economic history of Southeast Asia through discrete single-author volumes, some country-based but most defined thematically. It aims to bridge the gap between economists and historians working in this underdeveloped field, and also conventional divides between contemporary, colonial, and pre-colonial periods. It lays a necessary foundation for political and social studies of an important region of the world. Emerging from a five-year project of the Research School of Pacific and Asian Studies at the Australian National University, the series was published initially by Macmillan and its successor Palgrave. In 2003/04 it was transferred to ISEAS. Volumes remaining in print are available from ISEAS Publications.* General Editors Anthony Reid (Chair), Director, Asia Research Institute, National University of Singapore Anne Booth, Professor of Economics, School of Oriental and African Studies (SOAS), London Pierre van der Eng, Associate Professor, School of Business and Information Management, Australian National University, Canberra Titles in the Series R.E. Elson The End of the Peasantry in Southeast Asia: A Social and Economic History of Peasant Livelihood, 1800–1990s J. Thomas Lindblad Foreign Investment in Southeast Asia in the Twentieth Century* Anne Booth The Indonesian Economy in the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries: A History of Missed Opportunities* John H. Drabble An Economic History of Malaysia, c.1800–1990: The Transition to Modern Economic Growth* Howard Dick and Peter Rimmer Cities, Transport and Communications: The Integration of Southeast Asia since 1850 Amarjit Kaur Wage Labour in Southeast Asia since 1840: Globalisation, the International Division of Labour, and Labour Transformations John Butcher The Closing of the Frontier: A History of the Marine Fisheries of Southeast Asia c.1850– 2000*

vii

Contents

Contents

List of Tables

x

List of Figures

xi

List of Maps

xii

Acknowledgements

xv

Permissions

xix

Explanatory Notes

xx

1 Introduction The marine environment Some basic concepts Sources and scope

1 5 19 23

2 The Fisheries of Southeast Asia in the Middle of the Nineteenth Century The wealth of the sea The products of the sea Methods of capture The impetus to catch Rhythms and risks Patterns of intensity Conclusions

27 28 31 38 47 51 54 57

viii

3 State, Economy, and Fisheries to the 1930s The political and economic transformation Estimating the rate of increase in catches Two processes

Contents

60 60 67 72

4 Catching More with the Same Technology, 1870s to 1930s Gulf of Siam The Straits of Malacca The north coast of Java and Madura The Kangean Islands The Philippines Burma Reaching a limit

75 75 80 93 105 111 116 119

5 Technological Change and the Extension of the Frontier of Fisheries, 1890s to 1930s Pearling Trawling Muro ami Driftnetting and trolling from Singapore Purse seining in the Straits of Malacca Pole-and-line and longline fishing for tuna Motorizing the payang fishery in the Java Sea Lawagan and basnigan in the Philippines Explosives Conclusion

123 124 136 143 151 152 156 159 162 163 164

6 The Great Fish Race The Philippines Gulf of Thailand Peninsular Malaysia Indonesia Japanese tuna fishing Indonesia (continued ) Conflict at sea The end of an era

168 177 193 202 207 214 225 229 232

Contents

ix

7 The Closing of the Frontier The trawl ban and its aftermath Carving up the sea The continuing diaspora of Thai trawlers Tuna, the last great fishery Scouring the nooks and crannies The lure of Australian waters Farming the sea The closing of the frontier Towards a new frontier

234 235 242 246 252 268 278 281 287 290

Notes

293

Appendix 1: Nominal Marine Fish Landings in Southeast Asia by Year, 1956 to 2000

370

Appendix 2: Nominal Marine Fish Landings and Annual Rates of Growth in Landings in Southeast Asia by Decade, 1960 to 2000

373

Appendix 3: Southeast Asia: Per Capita Fish Supply in Kilograms per Year, 1961/62 to 1996/97

374

Glossary

375

Notes and Sources for Maps and Figures

388

Bibliography

394

Index

435

The Author

443

List of Tables

3.1 Nominal Catches of Marine, Freshwater, and Cultivated Fish in Southeast Asia, 1938 5.1 Landings of Fusiliers at Singapore by Weight and as a Percentage of Total Fish Landings, 1931–38 5.2 Percentage Distribution of Gross Proceeds from Sale of Fish at Public Auction in Batavia by Type of Fishery, 1935–38 6.1 Number, Catch Rate, and Length of Fishing Trip of Trawlers Operating in Manila Bay, 1941–53 6.2 Landings of Ponyfish (Leiognathidae) by Commercial Fishing Boats in the Central Visayas, 1951–54 6.3 Catches of Commercial Fishing Vessels in “Sulu (along Palawan Waters)” by Fishing Gear, 1971 6.4 Percentage Distribution of Marine Catches in Thailand, 1953–59 6.5 Catch Composition by Year in Kilograms per Hour of Trawling by R/V Pramong II throughout the Gulf of Thailand 6.6 Data on the Marine Fisheries of Indonesia, 1951–67

69 144

145 180 182 184 193

196 208

List of Figures

1.1 Schematic View of Two Villages and Neighbouring Sea

20

2.1 Floating Fish Lures 2.2 A Baklad, a Fish Corral Used in the Philippines 2.3 A Bubo, Used in the Philippines for Catching Coral Reef Species

39 42

3.1 Trade in Dried Fish, Salt, and Belacan, c.1910

66

43

4.1 A Jermal 4.2 A Sapyaw

85 114

5.1 A Japanese Beam Trawl (Utase) Operated from a Sailboat and a Motorized Vessel 5.2 Muro Ami Fishing 5.3 A Purse Seine

141 146 153

6.1 6.2 6.3 6.4

173 185 189 217

Trade of ASEAN Countries in Fish and Fish Products, 1978 A Basnigan Equipped with Electric Generator for Lighting A Payaw of the Type Used in Tuna Fishing A Tuna Longline

7.1 The Tuna Trade of Thailand, 1985 and 1989

266

List of Maps

1.1 Bathymetry of Southeast Asian Seas 1.2 Wind Streamlines over Southeast Asia 1.3 Mangroves and Coral Reefs of Southeast Asia

6 8 15

4.1 4.2 4.3 4.4

76 81 94

4.5

4.6 4.7 4.8

Gulf of Siam Straits of Malacca and Malay Peninsula Java Van Roosendaal’s Map of the Fishing Grounds of Villages on the Northeast Coast of Java and the North Coast of Madura in 1910 Van Pel’s Map of the Fishing Grounds of Villages on the Northeast Coast of Java and the North Coast of Madura in 1938 Kangean Islands Flores Sea Central and Northern Philippines

101

104 106 108 112

5.1 Sulu Archipelago Pearl Beds 5.2 Southern South China Sea 5.3 Japanese Pole-and-Line Fishing Bases

133 149 157

6.1 Gulf of Thailand 6.2 Spread of Tuna Longlining in the Indian Ocean, 1952–60 6.3 Eastern Indonesia

197 219 221

List of Maps

7.1 Extension of Fishing Grounds of Large Purse Seiners Based in Java 7.2 Location of Payaw Deployed Near Sulawesi by Philippine Operators 7.3 Timor Sea

xiii

238 262 279

xv

Acknowledgements

Acknowledgements

A great many individuals and institutions have generously helped me during the eleven years it has taken me to write this book. I am grateful to Tony Reid for asking me to contribute a volume on fisheries to the Economic History of Southeast Asia series, assisting my research in a multitude of ways, and prodding along a very slow writer. He and Linda Poskitt organized a one-day workshop at the Australian National University in December 1994 at which I was able to present what proved to be a very preliminary version of this book. During that workshop Tony, Daniel Pauly, Howard Dick, Peter Reeves, Pierre van der Eng, Amarjit Kaur, Padma Lal, Raoul Middelmann, Isabelle Antunès, and several others began to educate me in the things I would need to know and to push me in new directions. Two visits to the International Center for Living Aquatic Resources Management (ICLARM, now the World Fish Center) brought me into contact with many fisheries experts who kindly shared their knowledge with me. Among those I spoke with in Manila in 1994 were Jay Maclean, John McManus, Jose Padilla, Daniel Pauly, Bob Pomeroy, and Roger Pullin. In 2002, by which time the ICLARM had moved to Penang, I was fortunate to gain a glimpse into the latest thinking in a wide range of fields from Johann Bell, Modadugu V. Gupta, Kuperan Viswanathan, Mahfuzuddin Ahmed, A.G. Ponniah, and Mark Prein. Among the many fisheries experts, historians, and other scholars who have helped me with sources, information, and ideas on other occasions are Isabelle Antunès, Anugerah Nontji, David Ardill, Ken Armitage, Steve Blaber, Colin Brown, Eny Buchary, David Bulbeck,

xvi

Acknowledgements

Carunia Firdausy, Dale Chatwin, Choo Poh Sze, Bruce Cruikshank, Howard Dick, Frits Diehl, Jean-René Durand, Bob Elson, Pierre van der Eng, Carmelo Enriquez, Mark Erdmann, Brian Fegan, Radin Fernando, Vivian Forbes, Regina Ganter, Halim Ali, Hara Fujio, Shinzo Hayase, David Henley, Peta Johnson, Jomo K.S., Kamaruddin M. Said, Kristin Kaschner, Yasuhisa Kato, G.L. Kesteven, Gerry van Klinken, Paul Kratoska, Aiko Kurasawa-Inomata, Mary Lack, Mike Lean, Ewan Maidment, Jacek Majkowski, Masyhuri, Sebastian Mathew, Mike McCarthy, Eric Mills, Abu Khair Mohammad Mohsin, Steve Mullins, Daniel Pauly, James Penn, Jos Pet, Bob Pokrant, Lesley Potter, Greg Poulgrain, Tricia Pursell, Greg Rawlings, Peter Reeves, Glenn Sant, Kyoko Seo, Heather Sutherland, Baas Terwiel, Thee Kian Wie, Malcolm Tull, Tony Van Fossen, Veravat Hongskul, Peter Ward, Jim Warren, Johannes Widodo, Mohd. Zaki Mohd. Said, and Zulfigar bin Haji Yasin. At moments when I was feeling somewhat lost my colleagues Bob Elson and Nick Knight helped me not only to conceptualize what I was trying to do but also to persevere. Many librarians and archivists helped me gather the sources that appear in the notes and bibliography. Linda Temprosa made me feel at home in ICLARM’s extraordinary collection of fisheries literature when I visited Manila in 1994. In addition, librarians at Griffith University, the Australian National University, the National Library of Australia, the National Library of Singapore, the Royal Tropical Institute in Amsterdam, Puslitbang Oseanologi (LIPI) at Ancol Timor, INFOFISH in Kuala Lumpur, the Queensland Department of Primary Industry, and the State Library of Queensland have all been very helpful, as have archivists at the National Archives of Malaysia. Although this book is based largely on written sources, visits to fishing ports and villages and interviews with fisheries officers, fishers, the operators of fishing and processing companies, officials, and workers in non-government organizations between December 1993 and March 1994 helped me immensely in shedding light on those sources. The following are just a few of those who so willingly shared their knowledge and insights with me: Suwardi, Riyanto Basuki, Tan Sen Min, Chiam Thiam Hua, David Lim Yong Siah, Fatima Ferdouse, Mohd. Zainoddin, Goh Cheng Liang, Nigel Loh, Mohd. Zubin Abdullah, Mohd. Asmuain, Leong Chee Meng, Dr Lau, Brian Ng, David Khor, Aziz Ujang, the captain and crew

Acknowledgements

xvii

of PPF595, Tan Yong Kee, Encik Fuad, Jamli Ali, Bohari bin Leng, Kasemsant Chalayondeja, Kachornsak Wetchagarun, Somkiat Anuras, Rodolfo C. Simbulan, Francisco Tiu Laurel, Jun Salcedo, A.C. Santero, Jr, Edwin B. Maliwat, Rupert Sievert, Jim Hancock, John Manul, Antonio Palanco, Perfecto Palapal, Jr, the mayor, vice-mayor, and community development workers of Marabut, the mayor of Basey, Ricardo Dasal, Silvestre Dapita, George Campeon, Flordeliz “Poyie” Guarin, Alejandrao Yadao, Dario O. Lauron, Rogelio L. Nuñez, Elemido C. Quesada, Fausto Tan, Jr, Ernesto G. Jimenez, Corazon M. Corrales, Leonardo Aro, Allan Paquito, Gina Menendrez, John Gabuya, and Pablo Belite. Several institutions and individuals made it possible to talk with all these people as well as to visit libraries, archives, and research centres during my visit to Southeast Asia in 1993–94. The Social and Economic Research Unit in the Prime Minister’s Department, then in Kuala Lumpur, granted me permission to conduct research in Malaysia, while Universiti Kebangsaan Malaysia sponsored my research. I am particularly grateful to Shamsul Amri Baharuddin, Kamaruddin M. Said, and Abu Hassan bin Haji Omar for their assistance. The Director General of Lembaga Kemajuan Ikan Malaysia, Megat Muhaiyadin Hassan, and the Director of the Planning Division, Khatijah bt. Hj. Mohd. Sa’aid, arranged for me to visit several fishing sites in the Penang area. And during my visit to the Philippines Anselma Legaspi and Cynthia Isaac of the Bureau of Fisheries and Aquatic Resources prepared, with the approval of the Director, Guillermo Morales, an itinerary that took me to fishing ports, fish-processing plants, and fishing villages near Manila and in Leyte, Samar, Mindanao, Cebu, and Negros. I have been fortunate to receive excellent advice from the readers of various versions of the manuscript. Following the workshop in December 1994 I slowly began rewriting all the chapters. Enid Wylie read all of these chapters with a keen eye for clumsy writing and violations of elementary biology. Her criticisms as well as further research led to a third version of the manuscript in April 2002. Tony Reid and Bob Elson offered suggestions on making the book more accessible to the general reader. Brian Fegan subjected the manuscript to minute scrutiny in light of his wide-ranging knowledge of history and anthropology as well as his first-hand experience of fisheries in many parts of Southeast Asia. And Daniel Pauly, whose writings have both inspired and guided my research,

xviii

Acknowledgements

pointed out many scientific infelicities and outright blunders and offered invaluable advice on how to improve the text. I have not gone nearly as far as these readers would have liked. Indeed, I may have introduced errors when I revised the manuscript yet again early in 2003. But the book is incomparably the better because of their criticisms and suggestions. I thank Jason Wotherspoon of Griffith University and Aque Atanacio of the FishBase Project at Los Baños for so ably translating my rough sketches into the maps and figures that appear in this book, Larry Crissman for providing Jason with the facilities of the Asia Pacific Spatial Data Project, Robyn White of the School of International Business and Asian Studies for miraculously transforming my manuscript into the version finally presented to the publisher, and Griffith University for granting me the periods of leave during which I did most of the work on this book. And finally, for entertaining, enlightening, tolerating, and even subsidizing me during the years I worked on this book, I express my most heartfelt gratitude to Lorena, Jessica, and Lucy and their beloved cat of a thousand names. Brisbane, July 2003

Permissions

Map 1.2 has been reproduced with minor changes from R.D. Hill, ed., South-East Asia: A Systemic Geography (Kuala Lumpur: Oxford University Press, 1979), pp. 18 and 27, with the kind permission of Oxford University Press/Penerbit Fajar Bakti. Portions of Chapter 6 and 7 originally appeared in somewhat different form in “Getting into Trouble: The Diaspora of Thai Trawlers, 1965– 2002”, International Journal of Maritime History, December 2002, and are included here with the kind permission of the International Maritime Economic History Association. Every effort has been made to trace the owners of the illustrations used in this volume where these may still be covered by copyright, but in some cases this has proved impossible. The author would welcome contact with any of these copyright owners.

Explanatory Notes

Weights and measures All weights and measures are expressed in metric units except when they appear in other units in a law, treaty, or other legal document. There are frequent references to the tonnage of fishing vessels but the sources sometimes do not indicate the meaning of the “ton” being used. In a few cases the tonnage may refer to “displacement tons”, specifically the weight of the water the vessel displaces, but in most cases it probably refers to the internal capacity of the vessel. The terms “gross tons” (GT) and “gross registered tons” (GRT) both refer to the internal capacity. The former measurement includes enclosed areas above the top deck, while the latter does not. Thus, the GT of a particular vessel is greater than the GRT for the same vessel.

Currency The dollar ($) refers to the United States dollar. For the period 18501990 Asian currencies have been converted into U.S. dollars according to the table in Pierre van der Eng, The Silver Standard and Asia’s Integration into the World Economy, 1850–1914, Working Papers in Economic History, no. 175, Australian National University, 1993. Exchange rates (in the form of annual average market rates) for dates after 1990 are taken from the International Financial Statistics Yearbook (Washington: International Monetary Fund, 2001). Monetary values have not been adjusted for inflation.

Explanatory Notes

xxi

Numbers Except in a few cases where greater precision is both available and usefully retained numbers giving weights and measures, monetary amounts, sizes of fishing fleets, and populations are expressed in two significant figures.

Names of marine animals Marine animals are generally identified by their English common names but the valid scientific names are also given whenever possible. Many animals are referred to at least once by their names in relevant Southeast Asian languages as well. My reference for both common and scientific names of finfish is R. Froese and D. Pauly, eds, FishBase , cited simply as FishBase. I have, however, departed from FishBase in order to distinguish mackerels of the genus Rastrelliger from those of the genus Scomberomorus, since my older sources use terms in Southeast Asian languages that correspond with this distinction but do not make it possible to identify the species, each of which FishBase of course gives a unique common name. I therefore refer to Rastrelliger species as Indian mackerel (the name of one of the species in this genus) and Scomberomorus species as Spanish mackerel (again, the name of one species).

Glossary The glossary contains brief descriptions of fishing gears, species of marine animals (with cross references linking English common with scientific names and names in Southeast Asian languages), marine animal products, terms used in fisheries science, and a few other terms relevant to this history.

Bibliography and endnotes The bibliography does not include archival sources, newspaper reports, or books and articles that are not primarily related to fisheries. Full citations for all these sources are given in the endnotes. The following abbreviations have been used in the endnotes:

Explanatory Notes

xxii

FEER JIA&EA NAM

Far Eastern Economic Review Journal of the Indian Archipelago and Eastern Asia National Archives of Malaysia, Kuala Lumpur

“Reuters”, “Dow Jones Interactive”, and “Factiva” are the names of online news services used in this research.

Notes and sources for maps and figures In order to save space on the maps and figures I have placed explanatory notes and citations in a separate section near the end of this volume.

Reproduced from The Closing of the Frontier: A History of the Marine Fisheries of Southeast Asia c. 18502000, by John G. Butcher (Singapore: Institute of Southeast Asian Studies, 2004). This version was obtained electronically direct from the publisher on condition that copyright is not infringed. No part of this publication may be reproduced without the prior permission of the Institute of Southeast Asian Studies.Individual articles are available at < http://bookshop.iseas.edu.sg > 1 Introduction

1 Introduction

There were good fishing seasons. When they felt that it was not [so good] they moved to wherever the catch was good. Because that was only what they were after. Calixto Guxman, reflecting in 1992 on the history of fishing in the Visayas1

The seas of Southeast Asia have long provided humans with fish, shrimps, squids, whales, pearl oysters, sea cucumbers, and a multitude of other animals that they have collected and captured for medicine, oil, jewellery, and, above all else, food. But a profound change has taken place in the relationship between humans and the riches of the sea. Until the early 1900s most of the sea had been barely touched by fishing. When the demand for fish and other marine animals rose or the supply fell, there was always a new fishing ground to exploit and there were very few impediments to moving on to new fishing grounds. By extending the frontier of fisheries, moving on to new fishing grounds and, as part of this movement, exploiting more and more of the diverse ecosystems that make up the seas of Southeast Asia, fishers brought about spectacular increases in the harvest of fish, shrimps, and other marine animals, particularly in the decades right after World War II. By the 1990s, however, nearly all of the three-dimensional sea was being exploited, catches had fallen sharply in many areas, and the freedom to move from one fishing ground to another had been severely curtailed. Tracing and explaining this transformation is the purpose of this book. This history focuses on the act of fishing itself — what is caught,

2

Chapter 1

how it is caught, how much is caught, who it is caught by, and especially when and where it is caught — but we must see this act as part of a complex set of economic relations. “To use a particular type of gear to seek a particular fish”, argues Emmerson, “is to become involved in a unique set of economic transactions that radiate backward and forward in space and time from the place and moment of capture”.2 In one direction, those who capture fish and other forms of marine life operate gear that they have made with their own labour, purchased from their savings, or acquired on some form of credit or that is the property of other individuals or of firms. In the other, these same people must trade or barter at least part of what they catch or receive some sort of payment for their labour, whether a wage, a proportion of the proceeds of the catch, or simply enough food to continue working. Since fishing became increasingly oriented towards the market in the late 1800s and early 1900s, the spectacular growth in catches that is traced in this book must be understood in relation to changes in the processing and marketing of marine products. It was the expanding demand for the products of the sea created above all else by the growth in population but also by the development of transport and marketing systems and changes in the techniques of preserving fish, shrimps, and other marine life that prompted people to produce for the market. Often agents and entrepreneurs of various types were the ones who provided the stimulus, usually in the form of credit. As all this suggests, the history of fishing is in part the story of the interaction between fishing and the wider economy. Indeed, the growth of towns and the expansion of mines and plantations — all with large populations of people not producing their own food — and changes in employment and investment opportunities in the wider economy have all had a bearing on the intensity of fishing. States and, since the late 1940s, international organizations have all influenced the scale and location of fishing. Until recently, fishing, far more than sedentary agriculture, took place beyond the reach and grasp of state powers, and even today the relationship between state and fisher often resembles that between cat and mouse, as states impose rules and fishers try to evade them. Nevertheless, the activities of states, prompted by diverse and sometimes contradictory motives, have had a profound impact on the process described in this history. Explorations of the sea funded by states opened up new fishing grounds. The ways in which

Introduction

3

states have taxed fishing — whether it has been the catch, vital materials such as salt needed to preserve fish, or the fishing gear itself — have at times promoted and at others discouraged fishing. Regulations imposed by the state have had a bearing on where fishing is allowed, with what gear, and with what intensity. States promoted and often paid for the construction of the infrastructure of roads, railways, ports, and markets that have been an essential part of the expansion of fishing. Finally, state subsidies for the purchase of boats, nets, and fuel have contributed to much greater fishing intensity, as has the reduction or removal of import duties on fishing vessels and gear. Particularly in the 1960s and 1970s, governments adopted a variety of measures designed to promote fishing, sometimes with consequences that politicians and fisheries officers were unable to anticipate at the time. Also of crucial importance have been the activities of organizations set up by states outside the region such as the German Technical Assistance Program and the foreign aid programme of Japan as well as those of international aid agencies such as the Food and Agriculture Organization of the United Nations (FAO), the Asian Development Bank, and the World Bank. All of these organizations contributed to the spectacular increase in catches that took place beginning in the 1960s by providing expertise and substantial loans. And since 1982 the framework of exclusive economic zones created by the United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea has done a great deal to shape the ways in which the states of the region formulate policies with respect to fishing. Fundamental to the story traced in this book is a variety of ecological relationships. As will become clear, the marine environment of Southeast Asia is extraordinarily complex. What can be captured and how it can be captured depend greatly on the particular species being targeted, their life cycles, their movements, their behaviour, and their abundance at the time as well as on the skills and equipment of the fisher. In large part this is the story of how fishers were able to track down and capture more and more species until virtually every nook and cranny of the sea was fished. Because fish and other marine animals grow and reproduce it is possible to catch certain quantities of them and to keep on doing so indefinitely. Nevertheless, there comes a point at which the application of more fishers, boats, and gear to capture marine creatures becomes so intense that catches decline. Forces not directly related to the actual process of harvesting

4

Chapter 1

may also being about a decline in the productivity of a fishery. The most important of these are the removal of mangrove forests, siltation caused by mining and logging, and pollution caused by human and industrial wastes. It would be wrong, however, to view the marine environment merely as a passive participant in this story. Fishery scientists have demonstrated, for example, how intensive fishing can bring about a marked change in the relative abundance of different species. The fact that some species that have become relatively plentiful in the changed environment have considerable commercial value has helped to maintain and even intensify the level of fishing even when total catches have declined. As this discussion suggests, any attempt to write a history of the extension of the frontier of capture faces bewildering complexity, for, as McEvoy stresses in his history of the California fisheries, economy, state, and ecology not only interact with each other but also have dynamics of their own.3 There are a number of ways a historian might handle the complexity of the story. One would be to examine a number of themes in turn, perhaps considering first technological change, then changes in catches, and then the policies of governments before tracing the extension of the frontier of capture. I have chosen instead to adopt a chronological approach. Such an approach will, I believe, best allow me to trace the extension of the frontier of fishing and to explain it in relation to economic, political, and ecological changes. It also allows us to see the very uneven nature of this process, proceeding by fits and starts until, after World War II, it accelerated by leaps and bounds. A chronological approach carries its own problems. In particular, the construction of any periodization must be somewhat arbitrary, especially when applied to the whole region. Nevertheless, I have adopted a periodization that highlights a number of stages in the history of the extension of the frontier of capture. Following a survey of fisheries in the mid-nineteenth century in Chapter 2, Chapter 3 examines how the political and economic transformation that took place in the late 1800s and early 1900s stimulated the expansion of fishing. This growth took place both by means of a much greater use of existing methods, as traced in Chapter 4, and by the use of motors and the application of new methods to previously untapped ecosystems, as described in Chapter 5. The race to catch more

Introduction

5

and more fish to feed the rapidly growing populations of the newly independent nation-states and to profit from markets in other parts of the world between the end of World War II and the late 1970s is the subject of Chapter 6. During these years the rapid expansion of trawling began the exploitation of demersal species on a huge scale and the development of various methods of capturing pelagic fish opened up still more fishery resources. Soon, however, this scramble for fish engendered conflict over fishery resources. By the early 1980s, as shown in the final chapter, the Indonesian government had banned trawling in most of the country and all governments in the region had declared exclusive economic zones in the waters surrounding their countries. Chapter 7 goes on to show how the process of exploiting more and more marine animal populations — small pelagic fish in the Java Sea, tuna, reef fish, seahorses, sharks, and trochus to name a few — continued until many had collapsed and there were virtually no new ones to exploit. By the late 1990s the frontier of fishing had virtually closed. Before we trace this story, however, we need to have a look at the extraordinarily rich and diverse environment in which it took place.

The marine environment Maritime Southeast Asia is a great complex of islands, peninsulas, and bodies of water lying between the Asian and Australian land masses and between the Indian Ocean on the west and south and the Pacific Ocean on the east. Within this region the depth of the sea varies greatly, as indicated in Map 1.1. There are two very large shelf areas, the Sunda Shelf and the Sahul Shelf. Together they form about one-fifth of the total shelf area of the world, covering an area equivalent to ten Grand Banks.4 The Sunda Shelf encompasses the coastal waters of Burma, Straits of Malacca, Gulf of Tonkin, Gulf of Thailand, the southern part of the South China Sea, and the Java Sea. Also part of the Sunda Shelf as defined by Longhurst are the many bays, gulfs, and shallow seas such as the Samar Sea enclosed by the chain of islands running from Luzon in the north through the Sangir and Talaud islands to Sulawesi in the south, but the shelf area around these islands is far less extensive than that in the western part of the region. The Sahul Shelf, largely made up of the Arafura Sea and shallow waters off the north coast of Australia, is much

Map 1.1 Bathymetry of Southeast Asian Seas 6

Chapter 1

Introduction

7

smaller than the Sunda Shelf but still very large compared to many other shelves in the world. To the west of Sumatra, the south of Java, north of New Guinea, and particularly the east of the Philippine Islands the shelf area is very narrow and the seas plunge to great depths a short distance from the coast; a trench running north-south off the Philippines reaches depths greater than 10,000 metres. Between the two oceans and lying within Southeast Asia are several deep basins, including the Andaman, Sulu, Celebes, Flores, and Banda seas and the deep area in the South China Sea to the west of Luzon and Palawan. These basins vary greatly in the extent to which they are open to the oceans. The Banda Sea, part of which is over 7,000 metres deep, forms the only deep-water connection between the Indian and Pacific oceans at tropical latitudes. In sharp contrast, the Sulu Sea, which is shallower, is constrained by underwater ridges lying between the ring of islands that surround it. Just as there are great variations in depth there are also differences in tidal patterns from one part of the region to another. In almost all of the area to the east of Palawan, Kalimantan, and Lombok — that part of maritime Southeast Asia most directly connected with the oceans — there are usually two low and two high tides a day, whereas in most of the South China Sea and the Java Sea the prevailing pattern is for there to be just one high and one low tide a day. In the Straits of Malacca and the Andaman Sea there is a clear pattern of two high and two low tides a day. In all cases the tidal range varies with the phases of the moon, but this is especially pronounced in parts of the Straits of Malacca, where the gap between high and low tides can be as great as 6 metres during the full or new moons, as in the Rokan estuary, where there is a tidal bore.5 The monsoons (Map 1.2) provide “the principal ecological driving force” of Southeast Asia.6 In the northern winter, as the air over continental Asia cools and the atmospheric pressure increases, air flows across the equator to the low pressure area over the heated Australian landmass, thus generating the “northeast” monsoon (often called the “west” monsoon south of the equator), which lasts from about October to March and reaches its peak in December and January. The wind blows to the southwest across the South China Sea, turns towards the south at the equator, and blows to the east to the south of the equator. These winds bring rough seas to much of the South China Sea and heavy rain to the east coast of the Malay Peninsula and much of the area south of the

Chapter 1

8

Map 1.2 Wind Streamlines over Southeast Asia

Introduction

9

equator. During the northern summer the pattern is reversed, giving rise to the “southwest” monsoon (the “east” monsoon in many areas south of the equator), lasting from May to September and reaching its peak in June and July. As the air over mainland Asia heats and the atmospheric pressure drops, air flows from the Indian Ocean northeasterly across much of Southeast Asia as well as northwesterly from the winter high pressure area over Australia. During this monsoon seas along the west coast of Sumatra and along the coast of the mainland from the Mergui Archipelago to west of the mouth of the Irrawaddy are extremely rough; heavy rain falls in these areas as well as along the east coast of the Gulf of Thailand. Relatively small geographical features influence the way in which particular places are affected by the monsoons. For example, conditions are roughest on the western side of San Miguel Bay during the northeast monsoon but on the eastern side during the southwest monsoon.7 During the course of a year there are also two transitional periods as one monsoon ends and the other begins. During these periods winds tend to be light and variable in direction. In most of maritime Southeast Asia it is the monsoon winds that drive the main surface currents. As Roy explains, the combination of the constancy of the wind during the monsoons and the fact that the area formed by the South China, Java, Flores, and Banda seas “has its main axis aligned with the wind flux during both monsoons” favours “the development of surface circulation patterns strongly connected with the wind regime”.8 Thus, during the northeast monsoon water flows down the west coast of the South China Sea, south into the Java Sea, eastward through the Flores Sea, into the Banda Sea and then northward into the Pacific as well eastward into the Torres Strait and southward into the Indian Ocean. The South Equatorial Current of the western Pacific feeds into this flow through the passage between Luzon and Taiwan, the Makassar Strait, and other passages. During the southwest monsoon the current flows in the opposite direction from the Banda Sea through the Flores Sea into the Java Sea, where it is joined by the current flowing south through the Makassar Strait, through the South China Sea, and then through the passage between Luzon and Taiwan, where it joins the northward flow of the Pacific South Equatorial Current. The prevailing current is northerly through the Straits of Malacca and southerly along the southwest coast of Sumatra throughout the year.

10

Chapter 1

The monsoons are one of the most important factors influencing the salinity and turbidity of the sea. During periods of heavy rain the great rivers of the mainland — the Irrawaddy, Salween, Chao Phraya, and Mekong — and those of the island world such as the Rokan and the Kampar in Sumatra and the Kapuas in Borneo discharge enormous quantities of fresh water containing great amounts of silt (in total more than twice as much silt as that discharged by all of the other rivers of the world9) into the sea, making the water both less saline and more turbid and, over time, making the sea shallower. The annual cycle of changes in currents and salinity that take place in the Java Sea provides a good example of the impact of the monsoons. During the wet monsoon beginning in November a current flows from the South China Sea into the Java Sea and then continues into the Banda Sea. As this happens, and as heavy rain falls on the sea and, more importantly, as rivers discharge fresh water into the sea, the salinity begins to drop. During the dry monsoon beginning in May the current reverses direction, bringing oceanic water from the east and thereby causing the salinity of water in the Java Sea to rise. The movement of scads (Decapterus species), long one of the most important fishery resources of the Java Sea, is closely associated with this rhythm. One large group of scads moves from the Flores Sea into the Java Sea as the salinity rises and then returns to the Flores Sea as the salinity drops.10 Embedded in the seasonal pattern of the monsoons is the daily alternation of sea and land breezes. During the day the air over the land heats and becomes less dense. As this happens, cooler, denser air over the sea flows towards the land. The wind direction reverses during the night when the air above the land becomes cooler than the air over the water. This pattern is most pronounced during the periods between the monsoons. During the monsoons prevailing onshore winds are strengthened by sea breezes but retarded by land breezes, while prevailing offshore winds are affected in the opposite way. These daily changes in the direction and force of the wind, varying according to the season, are crucially important for the movement of sailing craft to and from fishing grounds. The basis of fisheries is the biological productivity of the sea. Marine biologists often describe marine life as forming a “web” made up of several trophic levels. At the lowest trophic level are phytoplankton, some other

Introduction

11

forms of plant life such as algae and seagrasses, and organic detritus. At a higher level are zooplankton, which consume phytoplankton, various species of small fish that eat detritus and algae, and other animals such as sea cucumbers which mainly feed on detritus. At a still higher level are various crustaceans that feed on detritus, zooplankton, and phytoplankton and fish that feed on zooplankton. At a slightly higher level are fish that consume other fish as well as zooplankton, and at the peak are large predators such as sharks and the larger species of tuna. As this sketch suggests, the biological productivity of the sea depends on the presence of phytoplankton, seagrasses, algae, and some other plants — the “primary producers” — and of detritus. The relative importance of these different components of the lowest trophic level varies from one marine ecosystem to another. On reef flats detritus, seaweeds, and seagrasses are far more important than phytoplankton. Benthic algae, detritus, and, to a less extent, phytoplankton are all important in deeper coralline waters. In soft-bottom communities such as those of the Gulf of Thailand and the Straits of Malacca, detritus and phytoplankton form the lowest trophic level, as they do in the open ocean.11 In all ecosystems the total mass of living organisms — the biomass — depends on the abundance of plant life and detritus at the lowest trophic level. Since much of the detritus consists of the remains of animals that once ate plants or ate other animals that ate plants (or, at the highest trophic level, ate animals that ate animals that ate animals that ate plants), it is the plant life — particularly phytoplankton — that forms the basis of most marine life. Since around 90 per cent of the energy at one trophic level is lost as it moves to the next level, the energy available to the animals at the highest trophic level is only a tiny proportion of the total energy made available by the plants at the lowest level. Removal of top predators may, therefore, result in great changes at lower trophic levels. Whatever the particular collection of species within the ecosystem, however, the biomass of that system is limited by the level of primary production within the system. As a consequence, anything that influences the level of primary production affects the whole ecosystem. The abundance of phytoplankton — by far the most important of the primary producers — varies greatly from one part of the sea to another and often from one season to another. As forms of plant life, phytoplankton use energy from the sun to photosynthesize water and

12

Chapter 1

carbon dioxide dissolved in the water into organic compounds and oxygen. The growth of phytoplankton also depends on the availability of phosphates, nitrates, and other nutrient salts. Since the dead organisms that are transformed into these minerals tend to sink to the bottom of the water column as they decompose, water lower in the water column tends to be much richer in these nutrients than the surface water. Therefore the abundance of nutrients near the surface where the strength of the sunlight is greater depends on the amount of vertical mixing in the water. In deeper waters the water column tends to be stratified with relatively warm water near the surface, a zone known as the thermocline through which the temperature drops rapidly, and cold, oxygen-poor but nutrient-rich water below the thermocline. One of the processes by which nutrients are brought to the upper level where there is sunlight is known as upwelling. There are no great regions of upwelling in Southeast Asia comparable to those off the coasts of California and Peru in the Pacific Ocean and the northwest and southeast coasts of Africa in the Atlantic, but upwelling nevertheless takes place, and is crucially important. Associated with the monsoons are, where the water is sufficiently deep and the winds sufficiently strong, areas of seasonal upwelling generated as water from the bottom of the sea rises to replace surface water moving offshore under the force of offshore winds. One area of strong seasonal upwelling is the eastern part of the Banda Sea and the shelf area of the Arafura Sea, where upwelling generated by monsoonal winds flowing from Australia during the southern winter brings the thermocline close to the surface and causes the surface water temperature to drop about 2°C.12 Rapid tidal currents (necessarily having to be faster in deeper water to have any effect) can also enrich surface waters with nutrients. And convection, taking place as surface water cooled during the night sinks and is replaced by water from the bottom, contributes a great deal to the availability of nutrients in the surface waters of shelf areas. Upwelling, tidal currents, and convection provide the nutrients for phytoplankton “blooms” and so for the proliferation of marine animals that feed either directly or indirectly on phytoplankton. For example, the strong upwelling in the Bali Strait creates the conditions that are capable of supporting extraordinarily dense populations of Bali sardinella (Sardinella lemuru).13 As already indicated, detritus contributes to the abundance of marine animal life by recycling the mineral nutrients needed for the growth of

Introduction

13

phytoplankton and providing a direct source of food for some animals. Dead organisms are a large source of detritus in all marine ecosystems. Rivers are a huge source of detritus in estuaries and nearby waters. Particularly during the monsoons, rivers discharge massive quantities of silt containing organic matter as well as some minerals into the sea. Another important source of detritus is mangrove litter, particularly leaves, which falls into the water and is broken down by bacteria, fungi, and tiny crustaceans. Thus, mangrove-lined estuaries such as San Miguel Bay and the estuary of the Rokan River are especially productive marine ecosystems. Until recent decades two of the richest fishing grounds in Southeast Asia were the Straits of Malacca, which contains many estuaries and which has itself been described as “a large marine estuary”,14 and the Gulf of Thailand. Both are relatively shallow, lined (though much less so now) by mangroves, and enriched by organic matter and minerals discharged by rivers. Recent research has shown that soft corals and sponges are (or at least were before trawling began on a large scale) also a vital part of the ecology of areas such as the Straits of Malacca, the Gulf of Thailand, and the Java Sea characterized by soft bottoms and contribute to the productivity of these seas.15 Coral reefs provide another highly productive environment for marine life. The most common type of coral reefs in Southeast Asia is the fringing reef, consisting of a sandy beach or mangrove trees along the shore, a broad reef flat comprising sand, mud, rocks, seagrass, algae, and scattered corals, and a reef crest and reef slope, both densely populated by coral. Typically, much of the reef flat is exposed at low tide as is the tip of the reef crest. The clear waters surrounding reefs are generally poor in nutrients, but the coral ecosystem is extremely efficient in recycling and retaining these. Within the tissues of coral polyps tiny algae known as zooxanthellae live in a symbiotic relationship with their hosts. Drawing energy from sunlight, the zooxanthellae produce organic compounds that the polyps use for energy as well as the oxygen that these animals need, while the waste material released by the polyps contains nutrients vital for the growth of the zooxanthellae. Other components of the reef community and nearby waters engage in recycling as well, as White explains: Coral reef communities obtain their supplies of fixed or usable nitrogen, which is essential to phytoplankton and algae for photosynthesis, from algae on adjacent reef flats and bacteria in reef sediments, sea grass beds and

14

Chapter 1

mangroves. Blue-green algae fix nitrogen and flourish on the reef flats. Algal mats are grazed by damselfish, surgeonfish and parrotfish that return to the reefs and deposit the nutrients there in the form of faeces. Fixed nitrogen produced by bacteria in the sediments of sea grass beds is carried by fish that feed there and return to the reefs for shelter.16

The reef itself is built up as the coral polyps secrete calcium carbonate, drawn from the seawater, to form a partition in the skeletal cups in which they sit. Over time this process creates a habitat of enormous physical complexity full of holes and crevices that provide shelter for fish and invertebrates. As can be see from Map 1.3, coral reefs are found in many parts of Southeast Asia but because corals cannot tolerate low salinity, high turbidity, or extremes of temperature they are most extensive in the eastern half of the region and in other areas well away from the discharge of large rivers. As well as sustaining a dazzling variety of species of finfish, coral reefs and surrounding waters are also inhabited by sea turtles, bivalves such as the giant clam and the pearl oyster, and echinoderms such as the sea cucumber (Holothurioidea), the sausage-shaped, detritus-eating creature that became such an important trade item in the 1700s under the name tripang. The ecology of the oceanic waters of the region differs considerably from that of the shallow seas and coral reefs. Satellite imaging demonstrates that the level of primary production, as indicated by levels of chlorophyll, the pigment by which plants absorb sunlight, is much lower in the deep basins and in the deep waters of the two oceans than it is in many of the shelf areas of the region.17 Nevertheless, the deep basins, the Indian Ocean, and particularly the western Pacific support very large populations of skipjack tuna (Katsuwonus pelamis) and yellowfin tuna (Thunnus albacares) as well as smaller populations of bigeye tuna (Thunnus obesus) and various billfish such as marlins. Surveying the ecological geography of what he calls the Western Pacific Warm Pool Province, Longhurst speculates that an explanation of the paradox of an abundance of fish in waters characterized by low primary production may have something to do with the stability of the highly stratified water column, which either creates conditions that “may serve to aggregate layers of food organisms, thus simplifying their location by foraging tuna (which are able to tolerate cold temperatures during their deep hunting forays)” or “provides invariant and predictable conditions for first-feeding tuna

Map 1.3 Mangroves and Coral Reefs of Southeast Asia

Introduction 15

16

Chapter 1

larvae”.18 It is worth adding that because the larger tunas are able to swim great distances at great speed thanks to their heavily muscled, streamlined bodies and their ability to conserve heat,19 they are also able to take advantage of seasonal fluxes in the abundance of food in different parts of the ocean. While the tunas dive to great depths to find food, a variety of smaller species of fish stay at depths greater than 200 metres during the day and come to the surface to feed at night. Relatively little is know about these “mesopelagic” fish, but a survey published in 1980 estimated that the seas of Southeast Asia had one of the highest densities of these fish in the world.20 Among the multitude of species inhabiting Southeast Asia’s seas are many marine mammals. Massive sperm whales often feed in relatively shallow waters but travel great distances between the oceans through the deep passages and seas in the eastern part of the archipelago. Humpback whales spend some time in waters around Vietnam and the Philippines and in the South China Sea during the northern winter. The Irrawaddy dolphin inhabits rivers and shallow, muddy coastal waters, mainly in the western part of Southeast Asia, while the bottlenose dolphin lives in oceanic as well as coastal waters and can be found throughout the region. Finally, to mention just one more species, dugongs only live in shallow coastal waters where there are extensive seagrass beds on which they can feed.21 As this survey already suggests, the marine environment of Southeast Asia is characterized by a myriad of species. There are many hundreds of commercially important species of finfish, crustaceans, and molluscs in the seas of Southeast Asia. Coral reefs, the marine equivalent of the tropical rainforest, are especially renowned for the diversity of life they support. Marr’s comment that “it is … not uncommon to take as many as 200 species in a single trawl haul”22 illustrates the variety of demersal species. A typical haul of a purse seine or other net used to catch pelagic fish yields far fewer species but nevertheless several different species. As a general rule, any given area of sea in the region contains far more species than an area the same size in temperate latitudes but far fewer individuals of each species. Some species occur (or once did in some cases) in large schools such as Indian mackerel and skipjack tuna, but most fisheries may be described as more or less “multispecies” in nature. Even skipjack tuna are often captured along with other species, particularly juvenile

Introduction

17

yellowfin tuna. How much and what fishers capture, it needs to be added, depends not only on the natural abundance and distribution of species in a particular fishing spot but also the ability of fishers to entice fish to that spot. More specifically, fishers have invented various devices (called “fish aggregating devices” [FADs] in the fisheries literature) to take advantage of the tendency of many species to gather under floating logs, branches, and seaweed or to be attracted by bright lights shining near the surface of the water on moonless nights. At this point it is useful to see the marine environment of Southeast Asia as being made up of several types of ecological subsystems, or “strata”. Following Pauly and Christensen, we can distinguish four strata, two of which are separated into substrata: I.

Shallow inshore waters down to a depth of 10 metres a. Estuarine, mangrove-lined waters b. Reef-flats/seagrass-dominated waters II. Waters ranging from 10 to 50 metres deep a. Soft-bottom communities b. Coral reef communities III. Deep shelves, waters from 50 to 200 metres deep IV. Oceanic waters, all waters deeper than 200 metres23 Each of these strata is characterized by a different assemblage of species — ponyfish (Leiognathidae) and shrimps in II(a), fusiliers (Caesionidae) and snappers (Lutjanidae) in II(b), yellowfin tuna and marlin in IV, and so forth. It is precisely for this reason that this categorization provides a useful schema for tracing the movement of fishing into new ecosystems. It is important, however, to see these strata as part of one large ecosystem encompassing the land and the sea. The productivity of fish and shrimps in shallow seas lined by mangroves, for example, depends on the existence of those mangroves, since mangroves provide nurseries for many species of fish and shrimps and mangrove litter is washed from shore into deeper waters. Certain species of fish such as hilsa shad (Tenualosa ilisha) school in coastal waters but go up rivers to spawn, while others such as barramundi (Lates calcarifer) inhabit rivers but spawn in estuaries. Frigate tuna (Auxis thazard thazard ) inhabit oceanic waters as well as the deeper shelf areas. And the larvae of fish and invertebrates may be taken by currents several hundred kilometres through oceanic waters from one

18

Chapter 1

reef system to another.24 Consequently, what happens in one stratum affects what happens in others, as will become clear in this history. So far I have described the marine environment as timeless, undergoing the same fluctuations every year. Here two points need to be made. First, the abundance of marine life can change from year to year for reasons that have nothing to do with the intensity of fishing. Some of these variations are associated with the oscillation in atmospheric pressure between the western and the eastern Pacific. Normally, the atmospheric pressure is higher in the eastern Pacific than it is over the western Pacific and the Indian Ocean. In these conditions strong trade winds blow westwards across the Pacific. These winds cause strong upwelling along the northeast coast of South America, bringing to the surface nutrients that allow high fish populations to maintain themselves. They also push warm surface water westward across the Pacific, bringing rainy conditions in the west. During an El Niño-Southern Oscillation (ENSO) event, which occurs once every two to seven years, the atmospheric pressure drops in the eastern Pacific and increases in the west. As this happens the winds weaken or even reverse direction. Warm surface water then flows eastward across the Pacific, bringing rains, and upwelling weakens off the coast of South America, where as a result there is a collapse in fish populations. In Southeast Asia an ENSO event brings drier air, resulting in warmer surface waters as well as drought. The changes in winds, currents, rainfall, salinity, water temperature, and depth of the thermocline associated with an ENSO event affect marine animals in different ways depending on the species and location. Sardinella appear to be much more abundant in the Bali Strait during ENSO events than at other times.25 In the Philippines small pelagic fish appear to move offshore, while tuna disperse over a greater area.26 Warmer water causes coral to “bleach” as the polyps expel zooxanthellae from their tissues. And in the Indian Ocean the three-dimensional distribution of different species of tuna changes markedly.27 The second point is that fishing and other human activities have had a profound impact on the marine environment, particularly since the 1960s. In some areas intensive trawling has changed both the abundance and composition of fish life. For example, ponyfish no longer dominate demersal communities in the shallow, soft-bottom waters of the Gulf of Thailand as they did before the onset of trawling. Likewise, the destruction of vast areas of mangroves in many areas has

Introduction

19

had many ecological consequences. Thus, as I hope to show, fishing has both brought about and been affected by ecological changes.

Some basic concepts At this point I need to introduce some of the concepts that I will use to tell the story of the process that has led to the closing of the frontier. Figure 1.1 gives a schematic view of two villages (X and Y) and a three dimensional view of the neighbouring sea divided up into sections (A to E) defined by their distance from the villages and their depth in the sea. Imagine that the fishers in village X fish in section A. The quantity and species of fish they catch depend on two things. First, they depend on what fish are in the waters they fish and whether they have the time and means to catch those fish. How many fish of different species are in section A may change according to natural fluctuations in fish populations (or “stocks” in much of the fisheries literature) as well as how much effort the fishers put into catching them. Second, the quantity and species of fish they catch depend on what they want to catch. If they spend most of their time farming or in some other pursuit on land, they may only want to catch enough to feed their families. But if they devote most of their lives to fishing they will have to sell or barter at least some of what they catch, since no one can live by fish alone. If there is a big demand for their catch — if there is a large population of people in the hinterland who want to eat fish and can afford to do so, and if there is an efficient means of processing the catch and transporting it to that population — and if they want to acquire various goods, they are likely to want to catch a lot of fish. They may be able to keep on catching more and more fish without any sign of depletion if they are merely nibbling away at the edges of a population of fish spread over a much larger area than section A (and if the fishers in section B and beyond are having no impact on this population). If a large proportion of the population is largely confined to section A for at least part of the year, however, they will find a number of things happening. The average size of the fish they catch will drop. There will be greater fluctuations in the catch because of the reduced number of age groups in the population. They will find that while they are catching more and more fish they have to put more effort into catching each additional kilogram or ton of fish. In other words, there is a decline

Figure 1.1 Schematic View of Two Villages and Neighbouring Sea 20

Chapter 1

Introduction

21

in “catch per unit effort” (CPUE). And if they keep on increasing their fishing effort their total catch will eventually reach a peak — the “maximum sustainable yield” if it proves possible to maintain that catch in the long term — but then start to decline. It is at this point that what fisheries scientists call “biological overfishing” has taken place. The application of more and fishing effort beyond the point at which the greatest catch occurs may bring about a collapse of the fish population, but this may not necessarily happen immediately. In a multispecies fishery such as is typical of Southeast Asia large, long-lived species (generally at a high trophic level) that are easily caught in the initial stages of expansion tend to be replaced by smaller, short-lived species (at a low trophic level). At some point, however, the size of the total catch will decline drastically if fishing pressure continues to increase. Fisheries scientists now use the term “ecosystem overfishing” to refer to a fishery characterized by declining total catches, diminished diversity, a fall in the mean trophic level of the catch, and greater variability in the abundance of species.28 In this history I will use the term “overfishing” in most cases simply to refer without great precision to severe depletion of a fish population. To return to our imaginary sea in Figure 1.1, a number of things might happen as the fish population becomes increasingly depleted in section A. First, the fishers might reduce their fishing effort to allow the population to recover. If they had exploited the population to the point where biological overfishing had taken place, they will find that as they reduce their fishing effort they actually catch more fish, since it becomes much easier to capture fish as they become more abundant. Such restraint is possible if a state authority decides that fishing effort is to be reduced and has the power to enforce this decision or if the villagers themselves agree to cut back on the intensity of their fishing. If, however, the fish of section A remain freely available to all — if, in other words, the fish in that section are an “open access resource” — individual fishers are likely to have no incentive to reduce their fishing effort, for the fish they leave in the sea may well be caught by someone else. Second, as the fish population becomes depleted, the fishers of village X may put even more effort into catching the fish in section A, for several different possible reasons. They may not have access to the capital needed to acquire boats that will allow them to travel to more distant fishing grounds. They may not have the means to preserve fish caught in distant

22

Chapter 1

fishing grounds. Or the price of the fish still available in section A may be so high and the opportunities for investing the money earned so promising that it is still worth their while to exploit that section A even more intensively even at the risk of destroying the fishery forever. They may, in other words, decide to treat the fishery as a mine rather than a renewable resource. Subsidies granted by some state authority may also prompt them to intensify exploitation of the population despite severe depletion, for subsidies lower “the biomass at which fishing becomes unprofitable”.29 Third, the fishers in village X may move along the coast and fish in section B using exactly the same fishing methods that they had been using before. This of course assumes that they have the means to travel along the coast and some way to preserve their catch before returning to village X. It also assumes that they have free access to section B. This depends on what rules some governing body may have set down, whether those rules are enforced, and of course whether the fishers of village Y see the fishers of village X as outsiders and take effective steps to stop them from fishing in section B. If section B is in fact freely accessible, the fishers of village X can exploit that section just as they had section A. Finally, the fishers of village X may decide to start fishing in section C, especially if their access to section B is restricted for some reason. Again, this assumes that they have boats which allow them to fish in section C and return home with their catch and that they will have no trouble selling this catch, which is likely to consist of different species than those in section A. It also assumes that the fish in section C are freely available to anyone with the means to capture them and that there are no fishers from outside the region already intensively fishing in the section. And it assumes that the fishers of village X have appropriate technology (and the capital needed to acquire it) to catch the species of fish that inhabit waters further from shore. If the fishers of village X do in fact successfully fish in section C and put more and more effort into trying to capture the fish in that section, they may eventually find the same signs of depletion that they experienced in section A. When that happens, they will face nearly the same range of possibilities that they did when section A became depleted. Unlike some of those who collect shellfish or use casting nets along the shore of section A, however, they have to worry about the high costs of operating their fishing gear and so

Introduction

23

are more likely to want to move on to new fishing grounds, particularly if their boats have no alternative use or if they have no chance of finding other work. The process I have described might well extend the frontier of fisheries into section D or even into section E. In theory, fishers might eventually exploit the whole of the sea. There is, however, nothing inevitable about this process. Any movement of the frontier of fisheries depends on a wide range of circumstances. We therefore need to trace the extension of the fisheries frontier of Southeast Asia step by step.

Sources and scope A few words are in order regarding the sources I have used in writing this history. Ideally, the historian attempting to write a history encompassing Southeast Asia as a whole would draw on a substantial historical literature related to particular parts of the region. Unfortunately, there is much less historical literature on fisheries than there is on many other economic activities such as mining and plantation agriculture. The few historical works that do exist are extremely valuable and often suggestive of larger themes,30 but they fall well short of providing the basis for a general account. I have therefore had to rely heavily on such sources as travel accounts, the reports and archives of fishery departments, fishery and scientific journals, the work of anthropologists,31 reports in newspapers and magazines, the publications of international bodies such as the FAO and research centres such as the Southeast Asia Fisheries Development Center (SEAFDEC) and the International Center for Living Aquatic Resource Management (ICLARM), and, to a very small extent, interviews with people involved in the fisheries of Southeast Asia. The publications of fisheries scientists have been particularly important in my attempt to trace changes in the location and intensity of fishing, for “fisheries science … is a strongly historical discipline” in which its practitioners produce narratives of changes in particular places over time.32 Analyses of trawl surveys conducted over several years are typical of this feature of fisheries science. There is therefore a wealth of material available for historians of fisheries to work with. In fact, I should emphasize that the sources listed in the notes and bibliography represent but a tiny fraction of the sources that a historian might profitably use. Japanese fishery journals, historical

24

Chapter 1

works in Japanese and Thai, the archives of the Asian Development Bank, and materials in Vietnamese and French libraries and archives are just a few of the sources that, with more time, money, and languages, I might have used. In view of the abundance of potential sources I am confident that other historians will be able to shed light on many of the issues that I have left unresolved. The problem of statistics deserves special mention. Up to the 1930s trade data and anecdotal reports provide the only way of gauging changes in catches. In 1931 the government of British Malaya started publishing data on landings of different kinds of fish but officials were under no illusions about the accuracy of the data they collected. When in 1938 the Superintendent for Marine and Customs for Malaya asked the British Advisor of Kelantan to begin collecting data on the quantity and species of fish caught by the fishers of the state, the Advisor provided some figures but questioned their value. “They are certainly not made from an exact weighing of the catch as landed from the boats as the catch of fresh fish is landed at uncertain times and almost instantly scattered all over the country.” The superintendent replied that while the figures were “pure estimations” they “are obviously more accurate than none at all”.33 In his review of the marine and freshwater fisheries of Indochina in the 1930s Gourou was not prepared to go even this far. “It is impossible to establish a production figure”, he explained, since “the major part of the fish caught in Indochina is … caught by the consumers themselves, and passes without commercial middlemen from river to kitchen”.34 The only estimate we have for fish landings for all of Southeast Asia at this time is a figure for 1938 later issued by the FAO.35 In the post-war period most governments began to compile annual fishery statistics and pass these on to the FAO. The fact that an ever increasing proportion of the total catch was landed at a few large fishing ports and entered the market made the task of compiling the data much easier than it had been before the war. There are, however, still many reasons to question the reliability of fishery statistics. Fishery officers often have to rely on the declarations of the fishers themselves, who as a general rule underreport their catches, often, as in the case of the operators of big fishing companies in the Philippines, out of suspicion that the tax authorities will use these data to assess the accuracy of their stated profits.36 To complicate matters further, fish reported as landed in one country are often caught in the

Introduction

25

waters of another, while in some fisheries a large proportion of the catch is immediately discarded. Fisheries scientists have developed ingenious ways of circumventing some of these problems. For example, they have taken the ratio between shrimp and fish in trawl catches to estimate the quantity of fish thrown overboard in the world’s shrimp fisheries including those of Southeast Asia.37 But many problems remain. Moreover, there is no reason to assume that, deficient though they are even today, fishery statistics have steadily become more and more reliable. In 2001 a group of fishery experts suggested that Southeast Asian fishery statistics had actually become less reliable in recent years because of a vicious cycle in which the inadequacy of the statistics in helping governments make decisions had led them to devote even fewer resources to compiling them.38 We must therefore exercise extreme caution when using fishery statistics. Interpreted in conjunction with a variety of other sources, however, they do allow us to trace the broad outline of the story that this book tells. As for the scope of this history, my focus is almost entirely on the capture fisheries of maritime Southeast Asia. Thus, I pay almost no attention to the cultivation of fish in brackish water ponds or in fish pens or fish cages. Aquaculture must, however, receive some attention. Aquaculture has depended on the collection of animals (fish larvae, berried shrimp, and so forth) for stocking ponds and cages, and particularly since the 1970s, the cutting down of mangrove forests to construct fish ponds appears to have affected capture fisheries. As would already be clear, this book deals with the marine fisheries of Southeast Asia, but I will occasionally refer to freshwater fisheries, mainly because changes in the productivity of freshwater fisheries may have had some impact on the intensity of fishing in the sea. As far as the marine life itself is concerned, my focus is on finfish, shrimps, squids, and other animal life captured on a large scale, but I also give some attention to sea cucumbers, pearl oysters, whales, and some other animals that, while taken in comparatively small quantities, have been the object of intensive fishing in certain places at certain times. From a geographical point of view, this history does not give fishing along the coasts of Vietnam and Cambodia the attention it deserves, a deficiency that I hope others will soon correct. As for the fishers themselves, “small-scale” fishers — those belonging to a category that came into existence after World War II to refer to fishers

26

Chapter 1

who did not take part in the emerging technologically advanced, capitalintensive sector — do not feature as prominently in this account as they might in view of the fact that they form the overwhelming majority of fishers. This is simply because my aim is to focus on the extension of the frontier of fishing rather than to write a general history of the marine fisheries of Southeast Asia. Last of all, I need to explain why I have taken 1850 as the starting point for this history. Ideally, a history of the marine fisheries of Southeast Asia should begin well before that date, since by 1850 the fishers of the region had already developed extremely elaborate methods of catching fish and many of them were already producing for the market, but because sources on fishing before the middle of the nineteenth century are both more sparse and more difficult to interpret I have chosen 1850 as my starting point. In any case, the momentous changes that are the concern of this history began in the latter part of the nineteenth century.

Reproduced from The Closing of the Frontier: A History of the Marine Fisheries of Southeast Asia c. 18502000, by John G. Butcher (Singapore: Institute of Southeast Asian Studies, 2004). This version was obtained electronically direct from the publisher on condition that copyright is not infringed. No part of this publication may be reproduced without the prior permission of the Institute of Southeast Asian Studies.Individual articles are available at 27 The Fisheries of Southeast Asia< in the Middle of the Nineteenth> Century http://bookshop.iseas.edu.sg

2 The Fisheries of Southeast Asia in the Middle of the Nineteenth Century

In 1850 Southeast Asia had a population of just forty million or so. The greatest concentrations of population were in Java (with perhaps a quarter of the total), Madura, Bali, the rice basins of the Menangkabau highlands of west Sumatra, the dry zone of the Irrawaddy, the flood plain of the Chao Phraya, the coast of Vietnam, Luzon, and southwest Sulawesi. There were pockets of population in the Straits Settlements of Singapore, Penang, and Malacca and numerous small sultanates in the island world from Aceh in the west to Ternate in the east. In contrast, large sections of Southeast Asia such as much of the area along both sides of the Straits of Malacca, most of Borneo, and most of the eastern island world were very sparsely populated. The great majority of the people of the region were peasant farmers, growing rice and other food crops for their own consumption and usually producing food and other goods for their overlords as well. A very small proportion of the population lived in cities and towns or worked in mines and plantations. The people of the region lived within or on the fringes of a very large number of political units in which power was, at least from our vantage point, highly decentralized, though less so in the few areas then under colonial rule such as Java, the Straits Settlements, Luzon, and the Visayas than in most of the rest of the region. In this world of scores of polities and thousands of islands a powerful unifying influence was the sea. It was by sea that people travelled long distances, and it was by sea that nearly all the long-distance trade was conducted, not only within the region but also with China, India, and Europe. Trade in sea-going sailing vessels

28

Chapter 2

and, by 1850, a tiny number of steamships was the lifeblood of such port cities as Singapore, Batavia, Surabaya, Makassar, and Manila. And it was the sea that provided animal life that people exploited both for food for themselves and for products that they could trade with others. For many people the capture of marine life was not their main activity. They were primarily agriculturalists and fished when planting and harvesting did not demand their full attention. For others, however, fishing was their main source of livelihood. The Bajau Laut and other sea nomads spent their whole lives in their boats living off the fruits of the sea. In fishing villages scattered around the coasts of Southeast Asia but concentrated near centres of population the whole routine of life was caught up in fishing. Typically, it was the men who went out to sea to fish and took care of the fishing gear, while the women looked after processing and marketing the catch. In Brunei, observed St John, the men delivered their catches as quickly as possible to their wives and daughters, who “are waiting their arrival, and immediately pull off to the floating market to dispose of the day’s capture”.1 If more recent evidence is any guide, women and children also collected large quantities of shellfish and other animals on mud flats and reef flats. All of these people depended on the wealth of the sea. It is with this wealth that we need to begin our survey.

The wealth of the sea We have no way of estimating the abundance of fish, shrimps, oysters, and other marine animals in the middle of the nineteenth century, as the first systematic surveys did not take place until after World War II. We therefore have to rely entirely on anecdotal evidence to gain an impression of the abundance of marine life at this time, but this at least gives us a base from which we can judge the great changes that began to take place in the middle of the twentieth century.2 “No part of the world abounds in more fine fish”, declared Crawfurd. “The seas of the western parts of the Archipelago particularly the Straits of Malacca, and the shores of the Gulf of Siam, are the most remarkable for their abundance of edible fish”.3 Along the west coast of the Malay Peninsula, wrote Anderson, “fish of the choicest and most delicate description is extremely abundant”,4 while along the east coast, according

The Fisheries of Southeast Asia in the Middle of the Nineteenth Century

29

to Clifford, “the fish crowd the shallow shoal waters, and move up and down the coast, during the whole of the open season, in great schools acres in extent”.5 An Englishman who sailed along the west coast of Borneo in the 1820s commented that “the coasts and rivers abound with excellent and wholesome fish in the greatest variety, and of the most delicious flavours”.6 Hugh Low observed that the waters along the coast of Sarawak abounded in “fine” fish and that a species of small shrimp was “found in enormous numbers on the borders of the sea” during “the fine season”.7 And the chief commissioner of British Burma described the sea in the Mergui Archipelago as “literally alive with fish”.8 We must treat these descriptions with caution. European observers may have exaggerated the abundance of the marine life of Southeast Asia just as they did the fertility of the soils. Nevertheless, reports about the abundance of fish in very specific locations certainly confirm the impression given by these accounts. According to a survey of the fisheries of the Netherlands Indies published in 1882, tenggiri (Spanish mackerel) and two other fish I am unable to identify were “very abundant” in the waters near Pariaman on the west coast of Sumatra and could be seen “in great schools” from the shore between October and December.9 At certain times in the Panjang Strait (known to the Dutch as the Brouwerstraat), according to an account of the shad (terubuk, Tenualosa macrura and T. toli) fishery there, “the movement near the surface of a solid mass of fish, consisting almost entirely of spawners, produces a choppy rippling of the water”.10 Munshi Abdullah recalled that when the British arrived at Singapore in 1819 “fish were very plentiful and large ones were found close to shore”.11 When the naturalist Tenison-Woods travelled along the west coast of the Malay Peninsula in the 1880s he found that at the mouth of one river “the mud is almost alive” with crocodiles and added that “I have never seen such numbers, or such large crocodiles in any other place in the whole course of my travels”.12 And it was Alfred Russel Wallace’s judgement that “there is perhaps no spot in the world richer in marine productions, corals, shells and fishes” than Ambon harbour: The bottom was absolutely hidden by a continuous series of corals, sponges, actiniae, and other marine productions, of magnificent dimensions, varied forms, and brilliant colours. The depth varied from about twenty to fifty feet, and the bottom was very uneven, rocks and chasms, and little hills and valleys, offering a variety of stations for the growth of these animal forests.

30

Chapter 2

In and out among them moved numbers of blue and red and yellow fishes, spotted and banded and striped in the most striking manner, while great orange or rosy transparent medusae floated along near the surface.13

Of special value in judging the abundance of marine animals at this time are the observations of some of the earliest fisheries scientists. “The shore is very low, the waters very muddy, and abound in animal life”, wrote Francis Day in his report on the fisheries of Burma. “Crustacea are in myriads, and marine fish which prey upon them, are in abundance”.14 On a visit to the fabled fishing grounds near Sitangkai in the Sulu Archipelago Alvin Seale, a pioneer of fisheries science in the Philippines, witnessed “a most astonishing movement of mullet”: A noise like a great waterfall was heard. Hastening to the beach I saw a vast shoal of fish coming from the north, keeping quite near the shore; they were leaping along the water in great flashing waves. The shoal was fully 100 yards wide and 500 yards long; there must have been over a million individuals in it.15

And in 1925 Hugh M. Smith, who had been the U.S. commissioner of fisheries and was now the fisheries adviser to the government of Siam, concluded with respect to the waters of Siam that “it seems altogether probable that in no other country do shrimps exist in greater profusion”.16 We have very few sources that allow us to judge the abundance of large pelagic fish such as tuna, mainly because they inhabited deep water and were beyond the reach of most fishers, but a passage in an account of an English whaler’s journey around the world in the 1830s gives us a glimpse into the deep sea (and, incidentally, illustrates the propensity of many species to gather under floating objects). While becalmed about 150 kilometres off the north coast of New Guinea, the crew of the Tuscan observed several logs floating near the ship and went in a boat to see the largest, which turned out to be “an entire tree, more than sixty feet in length”, covered with barnacles, crabs, and other animals and perforated by ship borers: In the water around was assembled a vast number of fish, chiefly yellowtails (Elagatis), rudder-fish (Caranx antilliarum [Caranx hippos, crevalle jack]), filefish (Balistes), some albacore [Thunnus], brown sharks, and many other kinds, of grotesque forms and gaudy hues …; the whole presenting a marine spectacle of a highly novel and animated character. The timber was towed to the ship, and part of it taken on board as fire-wood, and upon making

The Fisheries of Southeast Asia in the Middle of the Nineteenth Century

31

sail, a large proportion of the fish accompanied the ship, and continued to do so for several weeks [as the ship sailed first west and then south towards Timor].17

While large tunas and other large pelagic fish were rarely captured by humans at this time, the largest marine animal, the sperm whale, had been the object of hunting by English and American (and some Australian) whalers for several decades. All we can say is that sperm whales were sufficiently abundant to continue to attract whalers to their waters in the 1840s and into the 1850s. In 1852 one traveller came across two large sperm whales in the southwestern part of the Java Sea,18 but the whalers mainly hunted them in the Indian Ocean south of the string of islands from Java to Timor, the Savu Sea, the Ombai (Timor) Strait, the seas between Timor and the Philippines, and in the Pacific Ocean east of the Philippines as well as further north off the coast of Japan and in the South Pacific.19 The presence of sperm whales in Southeast Asian waters, it is worth adding, gives us indirect evidence of the abundance of other species. The 1882 survey describes the annual migration of sperm whales from the Indian Ocean through the passages in the Lesser Sunda Islands northward to the Pacific Ocean and back, stopping in straits and bays along the way to feed on the inktvisschen (squid or cuttlefish) and small fish found in “astonishing profusion” in these waters.20 The sources available from the middle of the nineteenth century are vague and anecdotal. Nevertheless, they do allow us to conclude that in the middle of the nineteenth century the seas of Southeast Asia were blessed with a great abundance of animal life. We can also be certain of the variety of animal life, which a handful of European taxonomists were busy naming and cataloguing. The most notable of these scientists was M.-P. Bleeker, who published nine volumes of his Atlas Ichthyologique des Indes Orientales Néêlandaises between 1862 and 1877.

The products of the sea The people of Southeast Asia exploited marine animals for a vast variety of purposes. The most important of these was for food for daily human consumption. Fish (in which term we can include shrimps, squids, shellfish, and other animals) comprised a vital part of the diets of most Southeast Asians. “Fish constitutes the chief animal aliment of all the

32

Chapter 2

inhabitants” of the island world, noted Crawfurd, adding that in most languages of the island world “the same word expresses both fish and flesh”.21 According to Gourou, “the products of the fisheries occupy a place superior to meat in the diet of the Indochinese”,22 while Graham commented that “almost every mouthful of rice” consumed by the people of Siam “is made palatable and helped down by fish in some form or other”.23 The survey of the fisheries of the Netherlands Indies asserts that in Java “fish along with rice is the main component of the native’s meal”,24 while the first American census of the Philippines reached the conclusion that “about nine-tenths of the people of the islands use fish as their principal flesh diet”.25 It appears that the lower a person was in the social hierarchy the greater was the relative importance of fish in that person’s diet. Writing of Singapore in the 1820s, Crawfurd noted that “with his rice the common labourer consumes fish, occasionally pork, and very generally a considerable quantity of ardent spirits”, while those in “the class of artificer” consumed “a daily allowance of pork” as well.26 Fish was consumed in many different ways. Fisherfolk and people who lived close to markets could eat fresh fish. More commonly, however, fish was consumed after undergoing some form of preservation, for fish quickly spoils in the hot, humid climate. Even fisherfolk consumed at least part of their fish intake in a preserved form, usually out of necessity, since for most of them there were times of the year when there were few fish or when the weather prevented them from catching them, but sometimes out of choice. A U.S. official remarked that the fishing communities of the Tawi Tawi Islands seemed “to prefer sun dried to fresh fish”, even though “the waters surrounding the islands appear alive with fish”, apparently all-year round.27 The most common method of preserving marine life was in fact to lay fish and other animals out on the beach or on special platforms to dry in the sun. Salt played a vital part in the preservation of fish by the removal of water, “thus delaying putrefaction since water is required by all agents and processes leading to protein spoilage”.28 Tiny fish could be dried without salt, but generally salt was essential unless the fish were going to be consumed within a short time, though Sumatrans were reputed to have a high tolerance for decaying fish.29 Whether prepared with salt or not, dried fish was, observed Crawfurd, “an article of as universal consumption among Indian islanders as flesh is in cold countries”.30 Nearly all the other ways of preserving

The Fisheries of Southeast Asia in the Middle of the Nineteenth Century

33

fish also involved the use of salt. A common method in the island world was to boil fish in brine and then dry it; the result was a product — known as pindang in Java — that would keep for a few days without spoiling. A technique used for preserving Indian mackerel (Rastrelliger species) along the coasts of the Gulf of Siam produced a partially rather than completely dried product. The fish were beheaded and gutted, placed in pickling vats for a day, and then dried in the sun for just one day before being pressed, usually along with generous amounts of salt, into wooden packing cases or baskets.31 This product was known in foreign markets as “Siam fish”. Many different pastes and sauces made from the fermentation of aquatic animals were widely consumed as well. In Vietnam the most important of these was nuoc mam, a sauce made in the south from the fermentation of certain clupeids. “The dream of every Annamese peasant …”, wrote Gourou, “is to have an abundance, at times when the stomach cries from hunger, of beautiful steaming white rice and nuoc mam of the highest quality, of a clear yellow, to sprinkle on his rice”.32 In the island world fish paste and particularly shrimp paste — made by grinding tiny shrimps, allowing them to ferment, and then drying the resulting mass — were an important part of the diet. Indeed, Crawfurd described shrimp paste — known most widely by its Malay name, belacan — as “the universal sauce of the Indian islanders”, without which “no food is deemed palatable”.33 An important part of the diets of Burmans was ngapi, of which one type was virtually identical to belacan and another was prepared using whole fish. Salt was used in preparing all of these products. The importance of aquatic animals to nutrition took many forms. For most people fish was almost their only source of animal protein, for meat was seldom eaten except on special occasions. It also supplied them with calcium (for tiny dried fish were eaten whole), iodine, and various other essential nutrients. It is important to point out that the amount of fish people consumed varied from one part of the region to another. The 1903 census of the Philippines asserted, for example, that coastal people consumed much more fish than those in the interior of the islands.34 Nevertheless, the overwhelming impression gained from accounts of what people ate at this time is that most people consumed fish in very small quantities. Here a European traveller describes a meal in a Malay house in Malacca:

34

Chapter 2

Cooking operations are simple, for the meal usually consists of boiled rice, small pieces of dried fish heated over the embers of the fire, and a concoction of hot red chillies that have been ground with salt into a paste. The smoking rice is put in the centre of the floor; pieces of dried fish and fiery chillies, ground up with salt are the usual relishes, and around this simple fare the family sit with their legs crossed.35

A more general report from the 1880s conveys a similar impression: Where meat is almost unobtainable, or if obtained is coarse and uneatable, the dried salt fish is the only article of food to be relied upon, and, so far as my experience goes, it is both palatable and nourishing. It is soaked and cut up into small dice, and fried until quite brown. A small quantity of this mixed with boiled rice makes a dish, which Chinese, Malays and Europeans seem equally to relish.36

Per capita consumption of fish was particularly low in parts of Java. Arminius’s survey of the diets of Javans conducted in the 1880s suggests that many of them ate little or no dried fish but that belacan (called terasi in Java) was an important part of their diets.37 Belacan contributed to people’s diets not because it was rich in protein, for it was consumed in tiny quantities, but because its use as a condiment stimulated the consumption of unpolished rice and soya products, their main sources of protein.38 Although our concern is with marine fisheries, it is important to note that the fish and other aquatic life people ate came from rivers, lakes, paddy fields, and irrigation canals, and fresh and brackish water ponds specially constructed for the cultivation of fish as well as from the sea. The relative importance of these sources of aquatic food varied greatly from one part of Southeast Asia to another. Gourou commented in the 1930s that freshwater fishing was much more important than sea fishing in Indochina. Indeed, the Tonlé Sap (“Great Lake”), expanding into nutrient-rich forests as waters from the Mekong flowed up the Tonlé Sap River at the height of the monsoon, supported one of the most productive fisheries in the world. In the mid-1800s the people living in the Irrawaddy and Chao Phraya flood plains consumed far more fish from freshwater than saltwater sources. All of the mainland peoples had developed sophisticated ways of catching freshwater fish, and the leasing of fisheries to the highest bidder was a common practice. In the island world some lakes such as Laguna de Bay in Luzon, rivers, paddy fields, and, particularly

The Fisheries of Southeast Asia in the Middle of the Nineteenth Century

35

in Java, freshwater fish ponds provided significant quantities of fish to local populations. And along the north coast of central and east Java, along the southwest coast of Sulawesi, and in the Philippines brackish water fish ponds were cultivated, mainly for milkfish (Chanos chanos). In Java milkfish fry were collected from inshore waters and placed in the ponds, while in many parts of the Philippines the ponds were “stocked by chance, the proprietors merely opening the gates [to the pond] at flood tide and allowing what will to enter”. Once in the pond these herbivorous fish grew with the minimum of care.39 Nevertheless, we can conclude that the sea was by far the most important source of the aquatic animal life consumed by the people in the island world. Moreover, it is clear that the coastal people of the mainland relied very heavily on the sea for the fish they ate. Crawfurd’s judgement was that “the inhabitants of the coast [of Cochinchina], at least, … must draw a great share of their subsistence” from sea fishing.40 Marine animals provided a multitude of other products in addition to food for everyday consumption. Some of these products had relatively low prices, such as coral, often burnt to produce lime used for making mortar,41 but many others were luxury items of great value in the market. The roes of certain fish were regarded as a delicacy; the salted roes of shad caught in the Panjang Strait fetched a very high price. The swimbladders of a number of species of fish including barramundi were used to make isinglass, “the purest form of animal jelly”, a product in great demand in Europe and China, used in cooking and medicines and in clarifying and “fining” beer and wine.42 Sharks were a source of oil used in lamps, the skins of sharks and rays served as an abrasive in carpentry, and sharks’ fins were the basis of a soup consumed by Chinese. One of the most valuable sea creatures was tripang, also consumed by Chinese in soups and regarded by them as having medicinal and aphrodisiacal properties. The preparation of tripang entailed a careful process of gutting, boiling, and smoke-drying, the result aptly described by Wallace as “looking like sausages which have been rolled in mud and then thrown up the chimney”.43 Crocodile penises were regarded as an aphrodisiac by Chinese.44 At Singkawang squid and a certain kind of crab were used in Chinese medicine.45 In Ternate seahorses were used as talismans.46 Sperm whales were a source of food, oil, which Bennett described as “the purest of all the animal oils employed in commerce”

36

Chapter 2

and therefore the one “most valued for domestic illumination”, spermaceti, which in the West was used as a substitute for wax in making candles, and ambergris, which in the West was used in the manufacture of expensive perfume and which in Asia was used for many purposes including the treatment of blood poisoning and tuberculosis, and ivory.47 Turtles were caught for their flesh, eggs, and, most of all, their shells, used in artwork both in China and Europe and also in medicine in China. A single shell of the caret turtle destined for the China market “may be valued at one thousand guilders [$400] and upwards”.48 And various species of shellfish including trochus and, most importantly, the pearl oyster provided mother of pearl shell, used to make, among other things, buttons and knife handles and to decorate furniture. The pearl oyster was of course also the source of the most valuable marine product of all, pearls. There is one more product of the sea that we must mention even though it did not come from an animal, and that is salt. Next to the fish themselves salt was the lifeblood of fishing. Salt was the key ingredient in the preservation of fish and the preparation of belacan. It was salt that made it possible to trade fish products beyond the immediate vicinity of where the fish was landed. Thus, the availability of large quantities of cheap salt was vital to the fishing industry. There were several ways of making salt at this time. On beaches along the south coast of Java it was made by sprinkling sea water on to ridges of sand, letting the water evaporate in the hot sun, scrapping the salt-laden sand together and then placing it into funnels, over which more sea water was poured; the resulting brine was then boiled until only the salt remained.49 In parts of the eastern island world salt was extracted in much the same way from the ashes left by fires on to which sea water had been thrown.50 But methods such as these could not produce the quantities of salt needed to sustain production of large amounts of preserved fish. By far the cheapest and most effective method of producing large amounts of salt was the evaporation of sea water in salt pans. Along the north coast of Java, sea water was let into a series of shallow compartments, becoming increasingly concentrated in each until, in the last one, all the water evaporated and only salt remained; in Burma the water was allowed to evaporate until it formed a slush, which was then filtered to make brine, which in turn was boiled until only salt remained.51 But it was possible to make salt by

The Fisheries of Southeast Asia in the Middle of the Nineteenth Century

37

evaporation only where there was an extensive area of low flat land next to the shore, the soil was not porous, and there was a pronounced dry season. In Southeast Asia the only places that met these conditions were the north coast of east Java, Madura, the province of Pangasinan in Luzon, the inner part of the Gulf of Siam, and parts of the coasts of Cochinchina and Burma. Because of its commercial value and because it could be produced on a large scale in just a few places, political authorities in the region often turned to salt as a lucrative source of revenue. In Java the government monopolized the distribution of salt and sold it at a high price, which may be the main reason that, according to Veth, so little use was made of salt in drying the fish consumed by Javans.52 In Siam the monarchy taxed salt, but even so the cost of salt to fish processors was very much lower than it was in Java and so they were able to preserve fish far more cheaply than was the case in Java. Because of its relative cheapness and quality, salt produced in Siam was an important export commodity. “It is chiefly by means of [salt]”, wrote Crawfurd, “that Siam maintains, at present, so considerable a traffic with Palembang, the Straits of Malacca, and other portions of the Malay country”, including Singapore, in the neighbourhood of which “not a grain is manufactured”.53 As all this suggests, there was a vigorous trade in marine products at this time. Products for ordinary consumption such as salted fish and belacan were generally sold and consumed close to the areas where the raw materials used to make them were caught, landed, and processed. If there was a big catch at Jepara, for example, some of it would be salted and dried and then sent to the principalities in the interior of Java, while the exports of Semarang consisted of “a very small amount [sent] to nearby places”.54 “Where exporting does occur”, notes the 1882 survey with respect to Sumatra, “it takes place on a small scale; it appears that in most districts fish are only transported from one coastal place to another or from the coast into the interior”.55 The flesh of shad caught in the Panjang Strait, for example, was sent up the Siak River to the highlands of West Sumatra.56 In contrast, more highly priced fish products were often carried long distances. Most notably, “Siam fish”, a relatively highvalue product which was imported into Batavia as early as the 1770s,57 was carried to “all the principal ports of the Archipelago” and was used to supply “the demand for ship stores”.58 Likewise, shad roe produced in

38

Chapter 2

the Panjang Strait was shipped to Singapore and from there all over the island world.59 Other goods that were less perishable as well as more valuable travelled even greater distances. Turtle shell, pearl shell, and pearls were all shipped to Europe. A whole range of products of which tripang, turtle shell, and pearl shell were the most important was carried to China, the great market for the “exotic” products of Southeast Asia. And the whale oil and spermaceti extracted by English and American whalers were carried around the world to markets in London and New England.

Methods of capture The coastal people of Southeast Asia were, as Crawfurd observed of the islanders, “expert fishermen. There is no art which they have carried to such perfection as that of fishing”.60 The basis of their art was a profound practical knowledge of the habitats and behavioural patterns of the animals they wanted to catch. The fishers of the Panjang Strait, for example, believed (consistent with current scientific knowledge) that the male shad turned into a female upon entering the strait.61 And fishers along the west coast of the Malay Peninsula, for example, attributed “the failure or success of a fishing season to the presence and regularity” of the monsoon winds and to “the relative amount of sea-borne sediment resulting from rainfall and river spoil”.62 A related element of the art of fishing was a highly developed ability to locate fish. Schools of Indian mackerel could be detected during moonless nights by the bioluminescence produced by plankton disturbed by their movement just below the surface. Often fishers relied on their hearing rather than their sight. Off the north coast of Java, the east coast of the Malay Peninsula, and probably in many other places fishing experts submerged themselves in the water to listen for the sounds made by different species of fish. A method used in Java to hear whether fish were present was to dip an oar in the water and hold the other end to the ear. Fishers also had devices to gather fish together so that they could then catch them much more easily. The most important device, called a rumpon or tendak in Java, an unjang in the Malay Peninsula, or a payaw or bombon in the Philippines, consisted of a bamboo float held in place by an anchor line to which palm leaves were attached, as shown in Figure 2.1. Tiny fish sheltered in the leaves and soon attracted

The Fisheries of Southeast Asia in the Middle of the Nineteenth Century

39

Figure 2.1 Floating Fish Lures

larger fish so that fishers usually found an abundance of fish under the float a few days after they put it in place, last set their nets at it, or replaced the palm leaves, as they had to do every eight days or so. A method of attracting fish at night was to hold a torch near the surface of the water; torches were used in conjunction with a variety of fishing gears including hooks, nets, and fishing stakes. Yet another method, used in the Riau and Natuna islands, was to shake a string of coconut shells attached to a stick or piece of rattan back and forth in the water or against the side of the boat to make a rattling sound that attracted fish.63 Boats were another essential element of the art of fishing. The fishing boats of Southeast Asia varied greatly in size and design. Perhaps the simplest of these boats was the dugout canoe made by hollowing out the trunk of a small tree. A bigger and much more stable boat could be made by hollowing out the trunk of a large tree and adding an outrigger on one or both sides. An example of such a boat was the perahu jukung (perahu being the generic name for boats in much of the island world) of Madura and east and central Java. The perahu jukung had outriggers on both sides, carried a triangular sail, and was characterized by its very

40

Chapter 2

elaborate decorations. The capacity and seaworthiness of a boat of this type could be increased by making the sides higher, as was done in the Philippines by attaching woven split bamboo screens to the gunwales and then waterproofing the entire hull with the resin of a particular species of dipterocarp.64 The largest indigenous fishing boats were made from planks. An important example of such a boat was the perahu mayang, the boat from which the fishers of the north coast of Java caught great quantities of scads (layang) and other small pelagic fish. The perahu mayang was a broad, flat-bottomed sail boat made of teak planks. The sail was usually rectangular but in some places it was triangular. The perahu mayang was very seaworthy, but because it had no keel — thus allowing it to pass over the bars at the mouth of the rivers along the north coast of Java — it could not tack into the wind and sailed best before the wind. Unlike the perahu mayang, the lis-alis of Madura had a keel, which protruded at both ends of the boat, and so could be sailed much closer to the wind. A particularly durable boat was the vessel known as a téna from which the men of Lamalera on Lembata hunted whales. This boat was made of planks joined to a keel and one another by dowels and held in place by ribs and thwarts lashed to the planks and each other by twisted rattan. “Such a hull”, Hornell remarked of boats constructed according to the same principle in Ternate, “possesses great elasticity and stands bumping in the surf in a way that no metal-fastened boat would long survive”. The téna was rigged with a rectangular sail that carried the boat out to the whales; projecting from the bow was a platform where the harpooner stood ready for the attack.65 The English and American whalers — large three-masted, square-rigged ships capable of venturing into all of the world’s oceans, carrying supplies for three years, and storing vast quantities of whale oil and other products — might appear to be the largest fishing boats to operate in Southeast Asian waters at this time. However, a scrimshaw plaque purporting to depict an English whaler hunting in the Flores Sea shows that the sleek rowboats from which the crew attacked whales were smaller and flimsier though more manoeuvrable than those used by the whale hunters of Lamalera.66 While this brief description conveys some idea of the main types of fishing boats, it is important to realize that across Southeast Asia there were hundreds of types differing from one another in hull construction and rigging according to tradition, purpose, and the materials available to make them.

The Fisheries of Southeast Asia in the Middle of the Nineteenth Century

41

The other essential element of fishing was of course the fishing gear. By the middle of the nineteenth century (and probably very much earlier) the fishers of Southeast Asia had developed a huge variety of fishing gears. The 1882 survey describes about forty different fishing gears used in Java and Madura alone.67 We might classify these fishing gears in any one of several different ways, including the principle by which they captured marine animals, the materials from which the fishing gears were made, whether they were stationary or mobile, whether they cost a great deal or very little to make, whether they could be operated by one person or required the co-operation of many, and, of special importance to the central theme of this book, the kinds of fish they captured and the ecological strata in which they were used. For the moment I will simply use the conventional categories of fishing stakes, portable fish traps, nets, and hooks and refer to a few fishing gears that do not fall into these categories, but as we shall see all the other criteria by which we could classify fishing gears need to be brought in from time to time. There were many different kinds of fishing stakes. Most captured fish by blocking their movements with a barrier of some sort and then funnelling them into a small chamber from which they could be extracted, but beyond this similarity there were some important differences. The sero of Java, the baklad of the Philippines (Figure 2.2), and the poh of the Gulf of Siam could be described as “fish corrals”. These stakes all had a barrier that blocked the movement of fish and then guided them through successively smaller chambers until they reached the smallest one, where they were captured with nets. Typically such stakes were made of split bamboo screens lashed to a fence-like framework driven into the seabed and were built with the barrier set at a right angle to the shore in order to deflect fish swimming parallel to the shore into the chambers.68 A large fishing stake called a jermal that was widely used in estuaries in the Straits of Malacca worked on a somewhat different principle. A jermal consisted of a slanting screen made of woven rattan which hung between a framework of poles driven into the bottom of the estuary where the water was a few metres deep at low water. The structure was positioned so that fish were driven against the screen by the swift current as the tide went out; the operators of the jermal periodically lifted the screen by means of windlasses or pulleys and then scooped out the fish. The effectiveness of this fishing stake was greatly enhanced by two very long

Chapter 2

42

Figure 2.2 A Baklad, a Fish Corral Used in the Philippines

lines of thin poles, placed about half a metre apart, that converged at the entrance of the jermal. According to one theory, fish that came within these wings were frightened by the poles wobbling in the current and, as they tried again and again to swim away from the poles, were eventually swept towards the central part of the trap where they were caught.69 Another large fishing stake was the kelong, used in Riau and the Straits of Malacca. At its core was a chamber containing a screen net that was raised once a lot of fish had gathered above it. A long line of poles placed at the most effective angle in relation to tidal currents guided fish into the chamber. In elaborate forms of this fish stake fish passed through two chambers before entering the one containing the net. In most cases screens lined the sides of the chambers but in some it appears that these were absent. The kelong made its best catches at night when torches placed just above the water in the chamber containing the net helped to attract fish. All of these fishing stakes were located in shallow water and so were usually located close to shore, but they could be fairly far out (“a half hour from shore” in one spot in west Borneo70) where the gradient was very small and long poles were used to construct them.

The Fisheries of Southeast Asia in the Middle of the Nineteenth Century

43

Various forms of portable fish traps, known by the generic name bubu in much of the island world, were widely used. A typical fish trap was a cage made of bamboo and rattan that had an opening that a fish or other animal could enter but through which it could not escape. Most types were placed on the sea bottom. Usually they were used in fairly shallow water, including the waters surrounding coral reefs, but fishers in the Moluccas operated a large fish trap (4 × 2 × 1.8 metres) that they placed in waters up to 300 metres deep along with a weight and length of rope that stretched across the seabed. Seven or eight days later they used landmarks to locate where they had dropped the trap and then (as in the case of the very similar trap shown in Figure 2.3) snared the rope with a grapnel and hauled it up from the bottom.71 Along the southwest coast of Sulawesi flyingfish (Cypselurus species) were caught in traps that drifted along with bundles of palm leaves, which offered the fish an attractive place to lay and fertilize their eggs.72 As a rule, fish traps required much less labour or money than fishing stakes to construct. The 1882 survey remarks with respect to Borneo that, whereas fishing stakes were mainly worked by Chinese, traps were mainly operated by Malays, “who profitably alternate this form of fishing with agriculture”.73 Figure 2.3 A Bubo, Used in the Philippines for Catching Coral Reef Species

44

Chapter 2

Nets provided one of the most important means of capturing fish. A common net for catching fish close to shore was the beach seine, sometimes used with a small boat to help set the net. The tiny shrimps used to make belacan were often caught by push nets, operated by one person wading in shallow water. Casting nets, requiring a great skill to handle, were widely used, both from tiny boats and along the shore without a boat; at night torches were used to attract fish before the net was thrown. Gillnets accounted for a large proportion of the catch in many areas.74 In turbid waters along the west coast of Borneo, shad were caught with a gillnet that was 100 to 400 metres long and 3 to 6 metres deep and was made of ramie fibre imported from China; the net was set in the evening and hauled in the next morning.75 The fishers of Hila in the Moluccas surrounded fish with a net about 250 metres long and then threw stones into the water to frighten them so that they swam into the net and were caught by their gills. This particular net could also be operated like a purse seine, as the fishers could trap fish in a pocket by pulling a rope that passed through lead rings hanging from the lower edge of the net.76 A net widely used off the north coast of Java and Madura and in waters off Aceh and the Malay Peninsula was the payang, which was used to catch small and medium-sized pelagic fish. The payang was a large sack-like net with two long wings bearing some resemblance to a trawl net. The net was made from a fibre that came from the petioles of a particular kind of palm. The upper edge of the net was held in place by bamboo floats, while the lower edge was kept in place by weights. To catch scads and Indian mackerel the payang was always operated in conjunction with a rumpon. At the start of fishing the crew of the fishing boat cast the net and two fishers went into the water to help position it near the rumpon. They then pulled the rumpon up over the edge of the net and back into the water and hauled in the net.77 When the fishing was good, especially when scads were present in great numbers off the north coast of Java and Madura, the fishers could capture as much as a ton of fish in one haul.78 There were many variations on this method. The fishers used the payang without a rumpon to catch anchovies (teri in Malay), and they placed the payang in the water and then tossed bait fish into the water in order to attract small tunas (tongkol ) before capturing them in the net.

The Fisheries of Southeast Asia in the Middle of the Nineteenth Century

45

Hooks of many types were used throughout the region, though they probably accounted for a very much smaller proportion of the total catch of fish than did fishing stakes and nets. Hooks were often baited and then dropped on a line from a boat to the depth inhabited by the species being targeted. Trolling from a sailing craft with an unbaited hook and a lure made of chicken feathers or some other bright material was used to catch pelagic species such as small tunas and Spanish mackerel. Longlines, outfitted with a multitude of hooks, were apparently most widely used in the western part of the island world, where they were commonly known as rawai. At the most general level a longline consisted of a very long main line lying parallel to the surface of the water; from this line hung many short lines, each with a barbed hook at the end. In some cases the main line was held in place at the surface by bamboo floats, but in others it was suspended below the surface. Sometimes the main line was allowed to drift with the current, while in others it was held in place by one or more anchors. Some longlines used baited hooks, but others snagged fish on a curtain of unbaited hooks. The sources from this period convey the impression that longlines were used primarily to catch sharks, rays, snappers, and other fish feeding near the seabed.79 Perhaps the most elaborate form of fishing with hooks was the pole-and-line fishery for skipjack tuna (cakalang) in the Moluccas. The fishing gear was simply a pole and line to which was attached a barbless hook with a piece of feather as a lure. A large boat carrying live fish in seawater and a number of smaller boats used for the actual fishing headed to waters where skipjacks were likely to be found. Once a school was spotted, the boats moved as quickly as they could to position themselves right over the fish before they swam away. The crew of the large boat tossed the live bait into the water, while the fishers in the small boats threw their lines into the water and hauled aboard any fish that got hooked trying to eat the lure.80 Various kinds of harpoons were used to catch rays and other large fish, dugongs, and whales. The sea nomads relied heavily on the harpoon as it enabled them to catch just what they needed for their own consumption. The British and American whalers of course used harpoons to kill whales. So too did the inhabitants of Lamalera on Lembata and Lamakera on Solor. According to a Dutch description of whaling on Solor published in 1849, all the boats of the village would put to sea in

46

Chapter 2

the morning and come together for the attack when a whale was spotted. Having approached the whale, the harpooner on board one of the boats “springs on its back, and drives the harpoon, which is fastened to the boat, with all his force into the animal”. When the whale dived far below the surface dragging the boat with it, the crew of that boat jumped into the water and were rescued by other boats. When the whale eventually surfaced, still dragging the boat, “the surrounding boats approach it and make a second, third and fourth boat fast to the first” in order to slow it down and exhaust it before the hunters finally killed it and towed it to shore.81 There were, in addition, many other ways of capturing marine animals. Stupeficants such as a poison made from the tuba (Derris) root were used to catch fish in relatively confined waters such as lagoons.82 The simplest form of capture was by hand. Huge quantities of shellfish and other animals were collected on mud flats and reef flats at low tide, providing an important source of food without the use of boats or fishing gear; the most important implement used by people collecting molluscs along the inner part of the Gulf of Siam, the western part of the Madura Strait, and in other areas was a board that they used for sliding over the mud.83 Ambergris was collected where it was found washed up on the shore and from boats that happened to come across it floating on the sea as well as being cut from the carcasses of those sperm whales that happened to have it in their intestines.84 In Sulawesi people located tripang in shallow water by feeling them with their feet and then brought them to the surface. In deeper water the primary method of collecting both tripang and pearl oysters was to dive for them, but fishers in the Sulu Archipelago also used a rake dragged along the bottom at the end of a long rope, a method that was much safer than diving and that allowed them to reach depths as great as sixty metres.85 In the Kangean Islands women collected tripang by hand on the reef flats at low tide, while men collected them from boats in deeper water, lowering a weighted, three-pronged spear by rope to a point just above a tripang and then releasing the rope to let the weight pull it to the bottom and impale the animal.86 Turtles were captured in many different ways. The Bajau turned over female turtles when they came ashore to lay their eggs, killed them with clubs, and left them upside down on the beach until they had decomposed sufficiently to easily remove the shell, the only part they were interested in using.87 In the

The Fisheries of Southeast Asia in the Middle of the Nineteenth Century

47

area around Ternate, the common remora (Echeneis remora), which has a suction disk on top of its head, was used to catch turtles; the fishers tied a rope to the fish’s tail and when the fish attached itself to the turtle’s body the fishers hauled in the turtle along with the fish.88 Fishers in the Moluccas and west Java caught a kind of needle fish by dangling a baited noose from a kite made from a large leaf and then ensnaring the fish’s long snout when it took the bait.89 And people in western New Guinea used a bow and arrow to shoot large fish swimming near the surface.90

The impetus to catch At this point we need to step back and consider some of the forces that either drove or enticed people to capture marine animals. Subsistence needs, the demands of overlords, and the goods and money provided by traders all played a part, sometimes separately but often in some combination. A powerful force driving people to capture marine animals was simply the desire for tasty, nutritious food. All along the coasts agriculturalists turned to the sea when they needed animal protein. Even those living inland might make a trip to the coast to procure needed food. The inhabitants of the interior of the Aru Islands, for example, “only go to sea occasionally, and then bring home cockles and other shell-fish by the boatload”.91 Those who specialized in the capture of marine animals provided themselves and their families with marine foods, but they also had to exchange at least part of what they caught in order to obtain the other necessities of life. The sources for the middle of the nineteenth century tell us little about these people, for their lives were outside the world of commerce that preoccupied most European observers, but there are occasional references to such exchanges. The whalers of Lamakera and Lamalera, for example, exchanged blubber for corn grown by people in the interior of the island. Most of the fishers in the Moluccas fished primarily for their own needs but sometimes exchanged fish for sago, tapioca, rice, and other foods.92 And the sea nomads had to exchange sea products for rice and other goods produced on land in order to survive. Political overlords relied on various forms of compulsion to extract goods they wanted either for their own consumption or for trade. In Ternate divers collected pearls for the sultan as a form of corvée labour.93

48

Chapter 2

Crawfurd reported that the people of Pulo Condore (Côn Son) paid tribute to the emperor of Vietnam in the form of live turtles, as well as exchanging live turtles, oil made from turtle fat, dried fish, and some forest products for clothing and rice at Saigon.94 At the time of the British takeover of Singapore the Malay governor of the island ordered the orang laut (“sea peoples”) to sell fish to Colonel Farquhar, who gave them tobacco, rice, clothes, and money in return.95 The strongest form of compulsion was slavery. According to a report from the 1830s, “the Aroo [Aru] people employ their Papuan slaves”, sold to them by Bugis traders, “in diving for the mother o’pearl shell, and in fishing for beche de mer [tripang]”, but the report does not indicate which “Aroo people” owned the slaves.96 Warren’s history of the “Sulu zone”, centred on Jolo, the seat of the Sulu sultanate, and encompassing the Sulu Archipelago, the Sulu and Celebes seas, and the lands bordering these seas, provides the clearest picture of the way political overlords organized the extraction of marine products. In the latter part of the eighteenth century British “country” traders began stopping off at Jolo, where they exchanged European firearms and Indian cloth and opium for tripang, mother of pearl shell, and other marine products as well as jungle products. The traders then sold these goods along with Indian opium in China, thereby giving the East India Company the means to fulfil the ever increasing demand for Chinese tea in the British Isles without having to pay in silver. At the same time Chinese traders based in Manila brought rice to Jolo in exchange for marine and jungle products. The sultan and his chiefs employed the nomadic Bajau Samal Laut and slaves to collect marine products along the extensive coral reefs of the archipelago and the northeast coast of Borneo. As the demand for these products grew in China, the sultan and his chiefs encouraged first the Iranun and then the Balangingi Samal to capture people to provide the labour needed to procure the products. These slave raiders scoured the coasts of the island world and the Malay Peninsula capturing people, whom they carried to Jolo and handed over to the sultan and chiefs in exchange for rice, opium, firearms, and other goods. The sultan and chiefs then put the captives to work alongside the Bajau Samal Laut. Warren estimates that at the height of the trade in the 1830s as many as 68,000 people — even more than the roughly 50,000 “professional” fishers in all of Java and Madura at a

The Fisheries of Southeast Asia in the Middle of the Nineteenth Century

49

somewhat later date97 — were engaged each year in diving for pearl shell, collecting tripang, and preparing these goods for export. About 600 tons of tripang and 730 tons of mother of pearl shell were exported from Jolo each year at this time, giving the sultan and chiefs the means to buy the goods brought by the traders.98 The great emporium for the marine products for the eastern archipelago was Makassar. Every year seafarers who were financed and outfitted by Chinese and other merchants in Makassar sailed south through the archipelago to the north coast of Australia, where they collected and processed great quantities of tripang for the China market.99 A smaller number of Bajau fishers also sailed to the north coast of Australia and returned with turtle shells and other marine products they collected there. At the same time Bugis, Chinese, and other traders conducted a trade centred on Makassar but stretching from the free port of Singapore in the west to Dobo, the main town in the Aru Islands, in the east, following the monsoon winds first one way and then back as the winds reversed direction. The main object of this trade was the “pearl and trepang banks, which lie of the eastern side of the group[,] … extend the entire length of the group, and are often several miles in width”.100 To Dobo (where “every house is a store”) the traders brought British cloth, firearms, iron, and opium that they had acquired in Singapore as well as arrack and rice from Makassar (arrack, “the chief luxury of the Aru people”, was brought by traders from Java as well) and exchanged them for tripang, mother of pearl shell, pearls, turtle shell, and various other natural products to take back to Makassar and Singapore.101 While the bulk of these products came from the Aru Islands, the inhabitants of Seram, New Guinea, and other islands also brought marine and jungle products to Dobo, “it being the only spot in this part of the world where British manufactures can be procured”.102 A comment made by Earl in 1850 illustrates how trade stimulated fishing. Whereas the Aru islanders “did not embark on their fishing excursions until after they had received advances from the traders, who had to await their return”, he observed, they now fished whenever the weather permitted “whether traders were present or not”.103 Sources regarding the trade in fish and other marine animals for everyday consumption tell us little about the traders themselves and their

50

Chapter 2

relations with the producers. As already mentioned, such trade was generally much more localized. It was, moreover, a trade in low-value goods. Even so, the total value of this trade must have surpassed that in the high-value commodities. Moreover, as far as the actual tools of production were concerned, some forms of fishing for everyday consumption entailed a far greater investment than did the procuring of much more valuable products such as tripang and mother of pearl shell. According to the 1882 survey of fisheries in the Netherlands Indies, for example, a 12-metre long perahu mayang and a payang together cost between $400 and $600.104 Although fishers could make some of their equipment with their own labour, large fishing boats were usually purchased from specialist boat makers, such as those in Rembang, where many perahu mayang were built. In some places fishers pooled their resources to engage in fishing operations that they could not have conducted as individuals. For example, at Mempawa on the west coast of Borneo it was common for five or six Malays to own a fishing stake in common and to share the catch.105 In many cases moneylenders and fish dealers promoted fishing by extending credit to the owners of fishing boats and gear. This was certainly true along the north coast of Java and Madura at least up to the 1860s. Here the Dutch authorities farmed out to local Chinese businessmen the right to collect certain taxes on the catching and sale of fish in particular districts. Since the tax farmers were also in business as fish sellers, and since the government granted them the privilege of buying salt for processing fish from the government’s monopoly at about half the normal cost, they tried to encourage the fishers to catch more fish by extending credit to them so that they could buy boats and fishing gear. Thus, fishers handed their catches over to the farmer not only to pay what they owed in tax — one-tenth of the catch — but also to repay part of their debts to the farmer. In this way the fishers were bound to the farmer, but because the farmer made such a good overall profit from the business he was willing to continue extending credit to the fishers despite the risk of the boats and fishing gear being damaged or even lost.106 With respect to Riau the 1882 survey states that in some cases crews working in the seine net fishery would receive an advance from a moneylender on the condition that they would deliver all of their catch to the moneylender “at a price fixed by the moneylender,

The Fisheries of Southeast Asia in the Middle of the Nineteenth Century

51

usually, far below the market value”.107 The same survey describes a similar arrangement in the case of the shad fishery of the Panjang Strait, stating that “the trade is entirely in the hands of … Chinese buyers, who by giving advances often have the fishers in their power, completely control the market price of the product, and extract the greatest profit”.108 The earliest report of which I am aware that deals explicitly with the issue of financing at this time is Day’s report of 1873 on the fisheries of Burma. Day quoted another official as writing that near Rangoon fishing “is … generally conducted by needy men with borrowed capital, and who have to pay high rates of interest”.109 Citing information gathered from Burmese officials in Rangoon, Day stated that “some [fishers] get advances on the promise of supplying a certain quantity of fish at a low rate, and with this money purchase boats and other necessaries; others again hire boats, and some purchase them with their own money”.110 This conveys some sense of the various arrangements possible, but from such sketchy accounts it is hard to say whether they were typical of the rest of Southeast Asia or how long they had been in place. Despite the problems with the sources we can conclude that in the middle of the nineteenth century the impetus to catch came in many forms, that in some areas the capture of marine animals was well established as a commercial activity, and that credit relationships were often central to the process of production. The most heavily capitalized of all fishing activities in Southeast Asia at this time, it is worth noting, stood almost entirely outside the economic life of the region. While British and American whalers sometimes stopped in Kupang and other ports in Timor to exchange the trade goods that they carried for provisions, they were financed by investors in Britain and the United States and took the oil and spermaceti they collected in the region back to their home ports. They were, in today’s jargon, distant-water fishers.

Rhythms and risks One of the most striking features of fishing at this time was its rhythmic nature, oscillating according to the hour of the day, the tides, the phases of the moon, and the seasons of the year, all of which had a bearing both on the presence of fish and on the ability of fishers to catch them. Of crucial importance for those fishers working from sail boats was the daily

52

Chapter 2

alternation of the land and sea breezes. Along the north coast of Java: Nearly every day one can see the prahu mayang … push off from shore at three or four in the morning in order to cast their nets. The land wind carries them quickly out of sight, but at noon they prepare to make use of the sea wind for their return trip, which brings them back to shore at two o’clock, often with a full load.111

The tides shaped the rhythm of fishing in many ways. The rising and falling tide helped carry boats to and from their fishing grounds, fish became more abundant or easier to catch as the tide changed, and certain fishing gears, most notably various fishing stakes, relied on currents generated by the tides to entrap fish. Many forms of fishing were regulated by the phases of the moon, though with great variation from place to place depending both on the behaviour of the fish and the method being used to catch them: … in Tampanuli fishing at night takes place only during a dark moon, whereas, in contrast, at Tanjong Pura (East Coast of Sumatra) it takes place during the full moon … and the first quarter and last quarter …, while in the Brouwerstraat [Panjang Strait] fishing is considered the most favourable during the new and full moons.112

The rising and falling of the tides combined with the phases of the moon to create a cycle within a cycle, as demonstrated by the fact that the ebb tide on which jermal depended was strongest during the new and full moons. Almost everywhere the rhythm of fishing had a seasonal nature, both because certain fish, notably pelagic species, were more abundant at certain times of year and because during certain months the strong monsoon winds made fishing too dangerous. In Sarawak: Large fishing establishments are found at the mouths of all the principal rivers during the S.W., or fine monsoon; the fishermen usually leaving them during the N.E., or boisterous monsoon, and returning to the town, where they pursue other avocations until fine weather again brings the shoals of fish to their shores.113

During the three or four months when the northeast monsoon made fishing impossible the fishers of Trengganu “build and repair their boats and houses, make and mend their nets, do a little planting, and generally pass the time in performing odd jobs”.114 Along the southwest coast of Sulawesi the sero operators dismantled their stakes at the onset of the

The Fisheries of Southeast Asia in the Middle of the Nineteenth Century

53

west monsoon.115 In the Sulu Archipelago the collection of pearl oysters ceased at the height of the two monsoons except at Tawi Tawi, “where the surrounding sandy islands, shoals, and reefs created an inland sea” in which the waters remained calm the whole year.116 Fishers along the north coast of Java and Madura stayed close to shore at the peak of the west monsoon but ventured far out during the east monsoon, when the seas were calmer, there was less danger of a sudden squall, and scads were more likely to be abundant.117 Fishers in Java relied on the stars, changes in the prevailing winds associated with the monsoons, and the flowering and fruiting of the mango tree to predict which species would be most abundant.118 Despite these regularities, uncertainty and risk were always a part of fishing. Fish did not always appear at the time and place they normally did. Sardinella, for example, could be spectacularly abundant in the Bali Strait one year but then be scarce “for years”, while the shad fishery in the Panjang Strait “sometimes experiences very unfavourable years”.119 If the sea breeze did not start at the expected time the morning’s catch would spoil before the boat reached shore. A day’s catch could be lost if the boat overturned in the breakers. A sudden storm might capsize a boat and drown all on board.120 Even operating a fishing stake exposed those who worked on it to “dangers from stray sharks, sawfish and crocodiles, from the deadly sea-snakes, from many kinds of medusae, from fish with venomous fins, from stinging-rays and torpedo-fish”.121 These uncertainties and dangers associated with the natural world may explain why taboos and rituals were an important part of fishing. A common taboo was the prohibition of certain words while at sea. In Aceh, for example, fishers referred to a mountain as “high ground” rather than calling it by its proper name “lest waves as high as mountains should overwhelm their vessel”.122 The principal operator of a large fishing stake along the west coast of the Malay Peninsula would bow to the authority of the spirits of the sea when selecting a site for the stake (“no stakes should be erected at the … extremity of a head-land lest the Lord of the Capes be offended”) to propitiate these spirits and so protect himself and his workers.123 And the communities along the Panjang Strait joined with local notables before the start of fishing to perform an elaborate ceremony to destroy any evil spirits that might prevent shad from appearing in great profusion.124

54

Chapter 2

Fishers also faced risks that had little to do with the natural world. People living in fishing communities were extremely vulnerable to attack by slave raiders such as the Iranun and Balangingi who scoured the island world and parts of the mainland in their swift boats (the Balangingi garay carried “an enormous rectangular sail” as well as being propelled by thirty to sixty oars and it towed a smaller boat that could be used for raiding along the shore and up rivers125) in search of labour for their patrons. In fact, fear of being carried off by raiders discouraged people from engaging in fishing in some areas. In 1834 Begbie wrote that fishers at Linggi on the west coast of the Malay Peninsula had abandoned their fishing stakes for some time because of raids by “pirates”.126 Slave raiders from Johor sometimes came ashore to capture people in the area of Kelantan that Firth later studied; most people lived about a kilometre from the beach, cultivating rice and going to sea only occasionally.127 States had little power to protect coastal communities from raiding. The Spanish authorities in the Philippines set up a system of watch towers and forts, but until the late 1840s raiders from the Sulu Archipelago still attacked with impunity, though there was some predictability in their movements, as they used the monsoon winds to help push their boats along.128 Although the Iranun, the Balangingi, and some other groups devoted themselves exclusively to raiding, cruising throughout the island world, others combined raiding and fishing, particularly the collection of valuable tripang (“the Sultan [of Kutai on the east coast of Borneo] says [240 to 300 tons of tripang ] is procured by pirate prows [perahu], which are always fishing when other game is not in view”129 ), while still others engaged in raiding on some days but were defenceless fishers on others.130 Writing in the 1890s, Clifford claimed that “within the memory of old men upon the [east] Coast [of the Malay Peninsula], the Fisher Folk were once pirates to a man”.131 In short, the fishers of many parts of Southeast Asia faced danger not only from the natural world and the dreaded long-range raiders but also from each other.

Patterns of intensity As we have seen, the intensity of fishing fluctuated greatly according to the rhythms of the natural world. But it also varied according to distance from shore and from one part of the region to another. A brief

The Fisheries of Southeast Asia in the Middle of the Nineteenth Century

55

consideration of these variations highlights some important aspects of fishing at this time. First, most fishing took place close to shore. Indeed, in many areas fishing stakes set in shallow inshore waters were the most important means of capturing marine animals. The Burmese, observed Day, fished “within an easy distance from the shore, sometimes by means of nets, more commonly by fixed engines, and not, so far as I could ascertain, by means of hooks and lines”.132 Fishing stakes were the most important means of catching fish along much of the Straits of Malacca, in the inner part of the Gulf of Siam, along the west coast of Borneo, and at Brunei, where the inhabitants of one fishing village specialized in the operation of a kind of fish corral, which they never placed “in water deeper than 2 fathoms [3.7 metres]”.133 A survey in 1861 of fishing methods used in the Philippines described fishing corrals as “the most popular method used by indigenous people to catch fish of all types and sizes”.134 Fishing stakes were also the most important fishing method in parts of Java, such as in Batavia Bay and along the western shore of the Madura Strait, “where the amount of fish caught by any other means is in comparison completely insignificant”.135 The reliance on fishing stakes in so many areas indicates that many fishers could catch all they needed not only close to shore but also without having to chase after the fish.136 Surveying the fisheries of the north coast of Java and Madura at this time, Masyhuri concludes that offshore fishing “far out-weighed inshore fishing in importance”.137 But these fishers did not go very far from shore, for, as a contemporary source put it, they “seldom go so far that they cannot return within a day”.138 There were several reasons for this limitation. One was that the boats depended on the land and sea breezes to take them out to sea and to bring them back to land. Another was that they needed landmarks in order to locate their fish lures. Thus, fishers from areas where there were volcanoes or mountain ranges or islands were able to fish somewhat further offshore than those living in areas without such prominent features to guide them to their fish lures.139 Yet another reason for these fishers not venturing too far out was simply the fact that if they caught fish too far from shore they would be unable to land their catch before it spoiled. It is clear that in other parts of Southeast Asia as well fishers did not sail far from shore. Every morning along the coast of Cochinchina, noted Crawfurd, “large fleets” of fishing

56

Chapter 2

boats “proceeded several miles to sea” and returned in the evening.140 At the height of the east monsoon fishers along the west coast of Sulawesi “sometimes [sailed] out of sight of land” in pursuit of flyingfish, but otherwise they stayed close to the coast.141 According to the 1882 survey, the inhabitants of Buton, Salayar, and other islands off the south coast of Sulawesi, “journey far out to sea and sometimes travel to very distant places”. They certainly travelled far to collect tripang and valuable shellfish on distant reefs and coasts, but it is not clear how much they fished far out in the sea.142 A second generalization concerns the geographical distribution of fishing intensity. There were a few areas where there was very little fishing simply because there were steep cliffs or the sea pounded the shore for much of the year. Thus, along much of the west coast of Sumatra and the south coast of Java fishing was generally confined to sheltered bays such as those at Cilacap and Pacitan.143 Otherwise, as far as the capture of marine animals for ordinary human consumption was concerned, the intensity of fishing was greatest where there was an abundance of cheap salt for processing, as in the inner part of the Gulf of Siam, and, more importantly, where there were large concentrations of people. Probably the most intensely fished area in all of Southeast Asia at this time was the north coast of Java and Madura, the most populated part of the island world. There was very much less fishing in the Straits of Malacca except near towns (a stretch of coast 20 kilometres long on the mainland opposite Penang “is absolutely studded” with fishing stakes spaced 200 to 500 metres from each other144) and except for the valuable shad in the Panjang Strait. In 1873 the chief commissioner of British Burma wrote that the waters of the sparsely populated Mergui district were “untouched and unvisited by any fishermen”.145 As already mentioned, the distance from landing to consumer was usually not great. Sailing craft provided a risky means of transporting all but very well-preserved fish long distances. In any case, fish were sufficiently abundant virtually everywhere to meet local demand. In contrast, the most commercially valuable marine animals such as tripang, mother of pearl oysters, and turtles were collected wherever they were most abundant. The eastern island world stretching from the Sulu Archipelago to the Torres Strait was where they were most plentiful and where they were most intensely collected. Thus, the distribution of animal life in the sea, the demand for

The Fisheries of Southeast Asia in the Middle of the Nineteenth Century

57

particular products, and the available technology all influenced the pattern of fishing. An intriguing question is whether in some places in Southeast Asia the location and intensity of fishing were in any way regulated by law, whether formal or customary, as they certainly were in some Pacific islands.146 Polunin cites sources that suggest the existence of various forms of marine tenure in the eastern part of the Malay Archipelago: At Salayar Island, in the Flores Sea, Kriebel [1919] mentions how reef areas were tenured and passed from father to son. Around Tanimbar, Kolff [1840] refers to areas which were exclusively used by adjacent villages. In the Kei Islands of southern Maluku [Moluccas], van Hoëvell [1890 … ] describes reserves to which all members of a village had access.147

In Aceh each group of fishing masters had its own fishing territory (called lho, meaning “bay”), separated from the territories of neighbouring groups by boundary marks. Masters from neighbouring territories were, however, free to fish in these waters except during the annual feast, generally held during rough weather when “the fishery enjoys a compulsory holiday”, which was held “to invoke God’s blessing on the labours” of the territory’s fishing masters.148 As we will see in Chapter 4, fishing villages along the north coast of Java had their own fishing territories in the early 1900s, but I have been unable to establish how long these territories had existed. The overwhelming impression is that institutions governing the right to capture marine animals were extremely rare in the mid-1800s. They appear to have been most common — and most clearly defined and rigorously enforced — in the Moluccas, where the livelihoods of many people depended on the collection of tripang and other sedentary species that had a high market value.149 For the most part, however, the creatures of the sea were freely available to anyone with the desire and the means to capture them.

Conclusions The capture of marine animals in Southeast Asia in the middle of the nineteenth century was focused both ecologically and geographically on but a small proportion of the sea. It was most intense in the inshore waters near heavily populated areas and in areas where there were animals of exceptional commercial value. Fish and other animals consumed as ordinary food were sufficiently abundant near populated areas so that

58

Chapter 2

there was little need to try to transport them great distances. Moreover, these animals appear to have been sufficiently abundant for the needs of the time that it was possible in many areas to rely heavily on the use of “passive” fishing devices such as fishing stakes to capture what was needed. Even the most densely populated areas were not so heavily populated that there was any danger of overfishing, and it is quite possible that in the case of Java the high cost of salt for preserving fish further weakened this danger. Moreover, technological limitations greatly reduced the possibility of overfishing except in waters very close to shore. Fishers could only go where the wind or their own muscles allowed them to go. They had to rely entirely on their own strength to set and haul in nets, which, made as they were of natural fibres, became very heavy as they absorbed water. Nets also had to be regularly dried, repaired, and soaked in preservatives. A net used in Sumatra, for example, could be set three times a day at the most, since it had to be dried out every time it was used.150 Somewhat surprisingly from our present perspective, there were, it must be noted, some references to overfishing at this time. A British officer stationed at Akyab on the coast of Burma believed that the fisheries had become “impoverished” during the thirteen years he had lived there due to “the small mesh of the nets and the minuteness of the distance between the split bamboos forming the fixed fishing screens which were placed across every small creek, opening, or available spot. The smallest fly could not escape.”151 The author of a study of shellfish in the vicinity of Singapore commented that “the poorer Malays and Chinese use most kinds of shell fish as food, and search the shores for them with such diligence, that they have caused a dearth of such as are common in less frequented parts of the coast”.152 In 1857 the Dutch Resident at Kupang wrote that “whales are rarely encountered here, as a result of the hunting of them for years by English, American and French whalers”.153 And during his stay in Singapore on his way to Japan in 1853 Commodore Perry was told that dugongs “had become very scarce, if not extinct”.154 I have no information with which to evaluate the first two reports, but the other two deserve some comment. The fact that British and American whalers, who “twice in the nineteenth century … told Kupang authorities that the whales had been overhunted and had moved on”, had practically ceased whaling around Timor by 1857 lends some support to the

The Fisheries of Southeast Asia in the Middle of the Nineteenth Century

59

Resident’s judgement. Barnes suggests, however, that because “we have no idea what the normal fluctuations are over a period of years” it is virtually impossible to assess the impact of English and American whaling on the population and notes other possible reasons for the rapid decline in British and American whaling in this area.155 Even though Perry found it hard to believe,156 the report that dugongs were on the verge of extinction near Singapore perhaps has the most support, for they were already “not unfrequently caught” in the 1820s. 157 Dugongs are particularly vulnerable to human predation, as they are “long-lived with a low reproduction rate” and are easily tracked down in the shallow water they inhabit.158 Whatever the validity of this or any of the other reports, however, what is striking is the extreme rarity of statements expressing concern about the impact of fishing on the marine life of Southeast Asia. There was enormous potential to increase catches as the market expanded, even without changing the methods of capture prevailing at the time and venturing into previously untouched parts of the sea.

Reproduced from The Closing of the Frontier: A History of the Marine Fisheries of Southeast Asia c. 18502000, by John G. Butcher (Singapore: Institute of Southeast Asian Studies, 2004). This version was obtained electronically direct from the publisher on condition that copyright is not infringed. No part of this publication may be reproduced without the prior permission of the Institute of Southeast Asian Studies.Individual articles are available at Chapter 3 60 < http://bookshop.iseas.edu.sg >

3 State, Economy, and Fisheries to the 1930s

In the latter part of the nineteenth century catches of marine animals in Southeast Asia began to increase so that by the 1930s they were several times what they had been in 1850. In order to understand the rise in catches we must first step back and look at the political and economic transformation that took place at this time, for it was in the context of this transformation that catches increased.

The political and economic transformation In 1850 Southeast Asia was made up of many dozens of states and statelets in which power tended to be decentralized. In the latter part of the nineteenth century the colonial powers — the British based in the Straits Settlements and Rangoon, the Dutch based in Batavia, the French from their foothold in Saigon, and first the Spanish and then the Americans based in Manila — and the Thai monarchy cantered on Bangkok extended their reach over more and more territory. In some places this was achieved by military force, as in the case of the incorporation of Aceh into the Netherlands Indies and much of Vietnam into French Indochina, while in others it was accomplished by treaty. However it was done, by 1910 virtually all of Southeast Asia was brought within the boundaries of one of these states. Even more importantly, these states were motivated by a desire to control the activities of the people within their boundaries and, increasingly, they acquired the means to exercise this control. This transformation did not happen immediately. In fact,

State, Economy, and Fisheries to the 1930s

61

one of the features of states in the late nineteenth century was their heavy reliance on the practice of leasing out, usually to Chinese businessmen, monopolies (“farms”) for the collection of certain taxes and the sale of goods such as opium; as far as fisheries is concerned, the most important of these farms was the farm which the Netherlands Indies government granted for the right to sell salt to the fish processors of Bagan Si Api Api in Sumatra. By 1920, however, governments had developed bureaucracies staffed by specialists in a great variety of fields that enabled them to impose their will far more than states had been able to do just a few decades earlier. The transformation of the state had a profound impact on fishing. The new states promoted fishing simply by greatly diminishing the danger of being captured or attacked while out fishing. During a tour of the Selangor coast just after the state became a British protectorate an official commented that as soon as “it was known that protection was afforded” by “a nice, conspicuous [police] Station” the “number of fishermen would greatly increase”.1 More spectacularly, the Spanish, Dutch, and British deployed steam gunboats to crush slave raiding along the coasts of Southeast Asia.2 As states consolidated their control over their territories, they came to possess increasing power both to promote and to hinder fishing by levying taxes, controlling the production and sale of salt, and regulating access to fishing grounds. In the early 1900s several states took it upon themselves to begin exploring the fishery resources of neighbouring seas and to experiment with new fishing gears. Just as importantly, supervision of immigration, investment in transportation, and a multitude of other activities carried out by states that were not directly related to fishing shaped the development of fisheries. The transformation of the state was accompanied by — indeed propelled by — a rapid expansion in economic activity. In particular, there was a great increase in the production of food and raw materials for Europe and North America, then undergoing a period of rapid industrialization, growing prosperity, and population growth. By a whole host of measures — ranging from the reduction of import and export duties and the construction of roads and railways to the offer of land on easy terms — the new states created the conditions in which Chinese, European, and other entrepreneurs invested in mining and plantation agriculture and in turn profited from the revenue generated by their

62

Chapter 3

activities. All along the stanniferous belt stretching from Ranong to Belitung the production of tin increased until by the 1890s this region was the world’s largest producer. In Java annual production of sugar increased tenfold between 1860 and 1910, while on the island of Negros it jumped from 190 to 12,000 tons between 1850 and 1893.3 The area around Deli became the world’s leading producer of high-quality tobacco. Rubber became an important export crop first in Malaya and then in East Sumatra, southern Vietnam, and other places; by the 1910s Southeast Asia produced most of the world’s rubber. This transformation of Southeast Asia into a great producer was made possible by the recruitment of thousands of people to work on the mines and plantations. Most of the workers on the mines and plantations of Malaya were recruited from China and India, the plantation workers of East Sumatra came from China and Java, and the labour force of the plantations of Cochinchina was recruited from Annam and Tonkin. Accompanying the expansion of production was a rapid growth in cities and towns. Much of the trade of Southeast Asia was channelled through Batavia, Rangoon, Bangkok, Saigon, Manila, and, especially, Singapore, the hub of the trade system of the region. Towns such as Kuala Lumpur and Medan sprang into being as a result of their importance in the mining and plantation economy. Between 1870 and 1940 the population of Southeast Asia grew from about 60 million to 150 million (an average rate of 1.3 per cent per annum), as food supplies became more secure, new transport systems made it easier to carry food to places where it was needed, governments gradually took steps to improve public health, and people arrived in the region to find work. The population of Java increased from about 18 million in 1860 to 47 million (nearly a third of the total for the whole region) in 1940, that of Malaya from about 570,000 in 1850 to 5.4 million in 1940, and that of the Philippine Islands from about 4.9 million in 1850 to 16 million in 1940.4 The population of those cities and towns involved in the expanding economy grew even faster than the overall rate of increase. The population of Singapore, for example, leapt from 53,000 in 1849 to 560,000 in 1931 (an average rate of 3.0 per cent per annum).5 The growth of population, particularly of people working on mines and plantations and living in towns and cities, greatly increased the

State, Economy, and Fisheries to the 1930s

63

demand for foodstuffs. By far the most important food was rice, produced on a great scale by smallholders in the Irrawaddy, Chao Phraya, and Mekong deltas and on a much smaller scale in many other places. The operators of mines and plantations depended heavily on the rice produced by these smallholders to feed their workers, as did the growing populations of the cities. Next to rice, the most important food was fish, the main source of animal protein for immigrant Chinese and Indians as well as people indigenous to the region. Many of these people also ate the meat of ducks, pigs, and chickens that had been fed low-grade fish, mussels, and other marine animals. Sources from the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries are replete with examples of the stimulus to fishing provided by the economic changes taking place at this time. In many cases fishing communities supplied nearby markets. “This fish curing all along the [Negri Sembilan] coast cannot but be a profitable employment, judging by the quantity on hand”, wrote a British official in 1874, “and if it is true there are 15,000 Chinamen [mining] at Sungei Ujong then there must be a ready consumption”.6 The 1882 survey of the Netherlands Indies notes that fish caught at Riau were taken to market in Singapore and that fishers along the west coast of Borneo supplied the inhabitants of Pontianak and the gold miners of the interior.7 According to a later source, fishers in the southern part of Bangka caught and then dried fish which they sold to the tin mines elsewhere on the island.8 Fisherfolk in the delta to the north of Palembang produced dried fish for the plantations of Pasemah far upriver as well as for the mines of Bangka.9 Likewise, fishers along the west coast of Sumatra produced dried fish for the mining districts of the area.10 Nevertheless, one of the most striking features of the fishing economy at this time was the rapid growth of production of salted fish and other products for ordinary human consumption for distant rather than nearby markets. Thus, to take the most notable example, fishing communities along the east coast of Sumatra, the Gulf of Siam, and the east coast of the Malay Peninsula all produced fish for sale in Java. The fishing town of Estancia on Panay exported much of its produce to Manila. And Japanese operating from bases in the eastern island world shipped their catches of skipjack tuna to Japan. The exploitation of fishing grounds at great distances from the markets they served was made possible by marked improvements in transportation.

64

Chapter 3

The most conspicuous improvement was the steamship, which carried an ever-increasing proportion of the seaborne trade of the region in the late 1800s. Steamships could carry ordinary salted fish to distant markets before it deteriorated so badly that it was no longer fit for human consumption, though the boats that carried fish had a reputation for being filthy (during the fishing season “numerous ugly and uncleanly steam boats tramp up the [east] coast” of the Malay Peninsula picking up cargoes of dried fish, wrote Clifford in 189711). Moreover, they could carry this bulky low-priced commodity cheaply enough to put it within reach of consumers and, in some circumstances, compete successfully with locally produced fish. Steamships could also carry great quantities of salt long distances to areas where fish was abundant but salt could not be produced at prices that enabled fish processors to compete in distant markets. The steamships that carried fish products and salt within Southeast Asia belonged to both large Western shipping companies such as the Koninklijke Paketvaart Maatschappij (operator of the “caviar express” from Bagan Si Api Api to Java) and the Straits Steamship Company and small Chinese shipping firms. Like steamships, roads and railways expanded the market for fish products, as they made it possible (and profitable) to send fish further inland. Improvements in land transportation widened the market for fresh fish in particular. As early as the 1890s some fish caught off the coast of Selangor was being taken on ice (which had been brought from Singapore) to Kuala Lumpur by rail.12 In the early 1900s traders began buying catches directly from fishers in the Straits of Malacca, landing the fish at Port Swettenham, and sending them in ice (now made in Kuala Lumpur) by rail to Kuala Lumpur. In the early 1900s the Netherlands Indies railway department began operating special freight cars to carry fresh fish (usually not packed in ice except in the case of expensive species) from Pasuruan and other ports along the north coast of Java to markets in the interior.13 In Siam fresh sea fish appears to have been taken (by steamer as well as by rail) no further inland than Bangkok in the mid-1920s, but by 1935 it was being taken by rail as far inland as Konkaen 300 kilometres northeast of Bangkok.14 In Kelantan the construction of a road linking Perupok with the main population centre of the state in the 1920s “altered the fishing economy considerably”, as it made possible a regular bus service and so created a market for fresh fish,

State, Economy, and Fisheries to the 1930s

65

for which the fishers were able to get much higher prices than for the fish they sold for drying.15 Likewise, by the 1930s large quantities of fish caught in San Miguel Bay were packed in ice and sent by rail and road across Luzon to Manila.16 Even in the 1930s the bulk of the marine fish consumed by the people of Southeast Asia had undergone some form of curing. Nevertheless, improvements in transportation were beginning to bring about a shift from cured to fresh fish and with this shift came a growing demand for fish. A predominately Chinese trading network that encompassed much of Southeast Asia helped to promote the production of fish products. Figure 3.1 shows how extensive the trade in dried fish, dried shrimps, belacan, and salt was about 1910. The free port of Singapore was the centre of the trade in fish products and salt just as it was in most other commodities. Chinese trading houses in Singapore imported fish products from Indochina (mainly fish caught in the Tonlé Sap), Siam, the east coast of the Malay Peninsula, and Bagan Si Api Api and exported them to Chinese traders in many places. The most important of these markets was Java, where a powerful group of traders based in Batavia controlled most of the trade in imported fish. Chinese traders in Singapore also imported huge quantities of salt from Siam and the area around the Red Sea and then exported that salt to various destinations including Bagan Si Api Api. Although our focus is on Southeast Asia, we must note the momentous changes that were taking place in China and Japan as well. In China the turmoil of the Opium War, the Taiping Rebellion, and the breakdown of Manchu rule encouraged many people to seek their fortunes overseas, including Southeast Asia, which offered them relative political stability and many opportunities to make money.17 Many Chinese worked, as noted, on mines and plantations or took up jobs in the towns and cities, thereby increasing the demand for foodstuffs. Chinese traders stimulated fishing in many areas by giving credit to fishers; links between traders in small fishing communities and their counterparts in Singapore and other large cities helped to promote the flow of fish products. At the same time many thousands of Chinese became fishers themselves, most notably along both sides of the Straits of Malacca. Events in Japan also had a great impact on the fisheries of Southeast Asia, though in a very different way. As part of their programme of industrialization the leaders

Figure 3.1 Trade in Dried Fish, Salt, and Belacan, c.1910 66

Chapter 3

State, Economy, and Fisheries to the 1930s

67

of Meiji Japan promoted fisheries to increase the supply of food for the growing population of factory workers and city dwellers and to generate income from exports. Under a law enacted in 1898 the government gave various incentives including subsidies to encourage Japanese companies to fish offshore. It also promoted fishing by sending survey ships into the waters of Southeast Asia as well as the South Pacific to gather oceanographic and ichthyological information. And it poured a great deal of money into fisheries schools that produced graduates who worked in Japan and many other areas including Southeast Asia. While the government wished to promote fishing for economic reasons, it also wanted to collect information of a military nature. At what stage this occurred is unclear, but it played an increasingly important part in the government’s support for fishing in distant waters. Japanese began fishing in Southeast Asian waters as early as the 1890s when a small group of them fished briefly in waters around Singapore. They appear to have first established themselves in Manila, where seventeen Japanese boats were supplying fish to the local market by 1903.18 This movement into Southeast Asia, part of a broader movement that included traders, prostitutes, investors, dentists, and photographers, accelerated during the 1910s. After considering a report from a fisheries expert it had sent to Singapore in 1912, the Ministry of Agriculture and Commerce commissioned two fishers to carry out experimental fishing in the area and sent along two fishery trainees to supervise the work. One of the trainees, Tora Eifuku, stayed on in Singapore to set up a fishing company, which the ministry subsidized for several years to ensure its success.19 During and soon after World War I many more companies were set up in the region. At the peak of their involvement in Southeast Asia about 3,000 “fishing emigrants” worked “in more or less permanent ways” in the Philippines, Malaya, the Netherlands Indies, and Siam,20 while many others crewed vessels based in Japan and Taiwan that made forays into region. Especially in the early 1900s European pearling companies employed large numbers of Japanese divers, but otherwise virtually all of the Japanese who fished in Southeast Asia worked for Japanese firms. The governments of Southeast Asia, it is worth adding, did nothing actively to promote the movement of Japanese fishers into Southeast Asia. In fact, it appears that many officials had little idea of what the

68

Chapter 3

Japanese intended to do. The Japanese “started to try and get information about the trade in Kuantan and they have had fishers prowling round our coast last year”, wrote an official on the east coast of the Malay Peninsula early in 1918, “but perhaps they were only charting the sea bottom”.21 Indirectly, however, the colonial states greatly assisted the expansion of Japanese fishing into Southeast Asia. Up until the 1920s they generally welcomed investment from any source, freely issued licences to fish within their territorial waters, had few laws regulating fisheries, and did little to enforce the laws they did have. As we shall see, the colonial states promoted fisheries in many ways, but in keeping with the generally laissez-faire approach to economic development that they pursued at least until the 1920s they did so on a far smaller scale than the Japanese state did. They therefore did little to create conditions that might lead to intense competition over fishery resources between their subjects and Japanese fishers. All this combined with the wealth of marine life in Southeast Asian seas to create the circumstances in which Japanese fishing flourished until the 1930s.

Estimating the rate of increase in catches Table 3.1 gives us a crude estimate of total catches of marine, freshwater, and cultivated fish for all of Southeast Asia in 1938. But no catch or landings data exist that would allow us to trace changes in fish catches over the previous fifty years or even over the previous decade. We must therefore use the available data on consumption patterns in conjunction with an estimate of population growth to infer how much overall catches increased and introduce a number of other considerations to estimate how much marine catches grew. The available evidence suggests that there was very little change in the pattern of consumption between the late 1800s and the 1930s. We can see this most clearly in the case of Java. Van der Eng argues that in the period 1905–20 the supply of protein per capita increased slightly but that “the extra protein came mainly from an abundance of peanuts and soybeans” rather than fish.22 In the 1930s the author of a review of nutrition in the Indies noted that the typical meal in a small shop consisted of “a large quantity of rice, a small piece of dried fish, some vegetables … and a number of native delicacies”, of which we can assume terasi was

State, Economy, and Fisheries to the 1930s

69

Table 3.1 Nominal Catches of Marine, Freshwater, and Cultivated Fish in Southeast Asia, 1938 (thousands of ton) 1990 Netherlands Indies Malaya Philippines Thailand Indochina Burma

476 89 81 161 260 100

Total

1,167

FAO estimated total for Southeast Asia

1,200

Source: For Netherlands Indies (“Indonesia”), Philippines, Thailand, and FAO estimated total for Southeast Asia (all for 1938): FAO, Yearbook of Fishery Statistics, vol. 24 (1967), Table A1–8; for Malaya (1938): Annual Report of Fisheries, Malaya (1938), p. 27; for Burma (1953): FAO,Yearbook of Fishery Statistics, vol. 6 (1955–56), Table A5; for Indochina (1931): L’Institut Océanographique de l’Indochine (Hanoi: Imprimierie d’Extreme-Orient, 1931), p. 186. Figures have not been rounded.

probably the most important.23 And a meticulous survey of a small number of rural families in east Java showed that fish was a much greater source of protein than meat but that rice, maize, and soya products contributed several times as much protein to the diet as fish did.24 In short, the consumption of fish in Java appears to have changed little from the time of Arminius’s survey in the 1880s. The evidence from other parts of Southeast Asia is even more impressionistic than that for Java but still worth noting. The following observation by the director of fisheries in Malaya in 1933 is strikingly similar to the two reports on fish consumption in Malaya in the 1880s quoted in the previous chapter: … practically all the Trengganu, Kedah, Kelantan and Dindings landings of mackerel are reduced to such a low grade product that its main function is to serve not so much as a food but as a highly flavoured salted condiment to enable those consumers to swallow the large quantity of rice which they take daily. Without some such stimulating condiment it would not be possible to take so much rice. … [I]f anyone will take the trouble to make personal enquiries among the working classes in Malaya, he will be surprised to learn what a small amount of fish or meat is available for their meals.25

Likewise, in 1931 Zimmerman referred to the “developed habits” of

70

Chapter 3

the Siamese “of eating large quantities of rice with small amounts of fish”.26 In some places, it should be noted, the consumption of fish did go up. The huge quantities of cheap fresh fish caught by Japanese fishers beginning in the 1920s must have pushed up per capita consumption in Singapore, Batavia, and Manila. We should also note that the greater efforts on the part of several governments to promote the capture, storage, and marketing of fish and the greater availability of fresh marine fish probably began to increase consumption by the late 1930s. It is probably safe to conclude then that per capita fish consumption for Southeast Asia as a whole increased from the late 1800s to the 1930s but only very slightly. This conclusion suggests that between 1870 and 1940 total fish consumption for Southeast Asia increased by just slightly more than the factor of 2.5 by which the population of the region increased during those years. But this crude approximation of the increase in total fish consumption merely provides a starting point for estimating the factor by which marine fish catches increased during that period. On the one hand, not all of the fish consumed by people in Southeast Asia was caught in Southeast Asian waters. In particular, the region imported more and more canned fish, mainly sardines from California until the Depression years when sardines from Japan began to dominate the market. Cheap and easily stored, canned fish found a big market among people with very low incomes all over Southeast Asia.27 It is difficult to estimate what proportion of the fish people consumed was imported canned fish. I would estimate that about 2 per cent of the fish consumed by people in the Netherlands Indies28 and Malaya29 consisted of imported canned fish, while the figure may have been as much as 17 per cent in the Philippines, which appears to have imported little or no fish from other parts of Southeast Asia.30 On the other hand, however, there were two tendencies that suggest that catches of marine fish grew more rapidly than the total population of the region did. First, it is likely that fish caught from Southeast Asian seas formed a greater proportion of the fish people consumed in the 1930s than it did a few decades earlier. Reflecting on the impact the settlement of the Central Luzon plain from about 1815 to 1925, McLennan observed that “because of the effects of deforestation only vestiges remain of the bounty [of aquatic resources] found by the colonizers”.31 In his report on conditions in rural Thailand in 1931

State, Economy, and Fisheries to the 1930s

71

Zimmerman noted “the substitution of forms of imported [shipped from the coast] dried, smoked or salted fish to take the place of the local fresh water supply which has dwindled”.32 The tailings of tin mines greatly reduced fish catches in some rivers along the west coast of the Malay Peninsula, as did discharge from sugar mills in Java.33 Second, Japanese pole-and-line fishers and trawlers captured increasingly large quantities of fish in Southeast Asian seas but landed them in Japan and Taiwan. All these considerations make it impossible to give more than a very crude estimate of how much catches of marine fish increased during this period, but such an estimate at least provides a starting point. Thus, if (1) per capita consumption of fish increased slightly by the late 1930s, (2) marine fish became a somewhat bigger proportion of the fish caught in Southeast Asia that was consumed in the region, and (3) the quantity of marine fish captured in Southeast Asian seas that was landed outside the region was very roughly the same as the quantity of fish imported into the region, then catches of marine fish increased somewhat faster than the population as a whole did or, very roughly, by a factor of 3 between 1870 and 1940, giving a rate of 1.6 per cent per year. Such a rate of increase falls well short of the spectacular rates that occurred in the first thirty years after World War II, but because a decreasing proportion of the population caught the fish they consumed it does imply that the financing and organization of fishing underwent major changes that made it possible to extract more and more fish from the sea. Whatever the overall increase in marine catches, one feature of the fisheries of Southeast Asia at this time is strikingly clear, and that is that catches shot up in some places but stagnated or even declined in others and in some places fluctuated greatly. In the Gulf of Thailand, along the east coast of the Malay Peninsula, and in the Straits of Malacca catches rose, in some places spectacularly, most notably at Bagan Si Api Api. Catches also rose at Estancia and some other parts of the Philippines, and probably increased at a fairly steady rate along the coast of Vietnam. Whether catches increased or declined in Java and Madura has long been a matter of debate, but we can certainly conclude that if catches increased it was at a slower rate than the population did and that in one part of Java, namely, west Java, they declined. Another area where catches fell was Burma. A place where they fluctuated greatly was Sapeken in the Kangean Islands to the east of Madura. From the 1910s to the 1930s

72

Chapter 3

Japanese fishers brought about spectacular increases in catches in the particular places they operated such as Manila Bay and in the areas where reef fish and skipjack tuna were abundant. Part of the explanation for these differences lies in the reduction in transport costs. Producers in an area where fish were particularly abundant and salt was comparatively cheap could successfully compete with producers who did not have ready access to abundant fish and cheap salt. Of these two essentials — abundant fish and cheap salt — the latter was probably more important in the early years when fish were generally abundant and salt was essential for preserving fish. Thus, government policies determining the price and availability of salt account for much of the variation in catches between places and over time. Most notably, the Netherlands Indies government’s salt monopoly that covered Java, Madura, Kalimantan, and south and west Sumatra discouraged processing of fish in those areas because of the high price of the salt it sold, while it encouraged processors in Siam, Bagan Si Api Api, and other places where salt was cheaper to send their produce to the huge Java market, thus generating the flows shown in Figure 3.1. As old fishing grounds became crowded, fish populations declined in some places, and the market for fresh fish or fish processed without salt grew, however, the price of salt becomes less important than the abundance of fish in explaining variations in catches. At the same time new fishing technologies brought about rapid increases in catches in many areas in the 1920s and 1930s. I will try to account for many of these variations in Chapters 4 and 5.

Two processes As we have seen, the opening of mines and plantations and the growth of cities greatly increased the demand for fish, while steamships, railways, and automobiles expanded the trade in fish products. Although new technology helped to expand the trade in fish products, it contributed little to the actual means of catching fish for several decades. In general, fishers caught more fish by fishing much more intensively in the same fishing grounds using the same fishing gears or by fishing with the same gears or larger versions of those gears in new grounds that were ecologically similar to those that they had exploited previously. In Southeast Asia, as in Europe during the first seventy or eighty years of the Industrial

State, Economy, and Fisheries to the 1930s

73

Revolution, the harnessing of steam power to propel fishing boats and haul in nets had little attraction. Fish were plentiful and easily caught with existing methods and without travelling far. They were, moreover, caught far more cheaply by existing methods, for, as Cushing explains, “coal costs money but wind and tide are free”.34 Very gradually, however, new forms of technology — new nets, pumps, powerful lights, and, most importantly, mechanical power — began to play a part in the capture of marine animals. By the late 1930s they contributed to the capture of a large proportion of the fish landed in certain ports in Southeast Asia and of all the fish landed by Japanese fishers outside the region. The great bulk of fish captured in Southeast Asian waters was still caught with fishing gears and vessels that differed little except sometimes in size from those being operated in the mid-1800s. From the point of view of the central theme of this book, however, what is remarkable is the way in which changes in the technology of fishing, many introduced by Japanese fishers, rapidly extended the frontier of capture in Southeast Asian waters. By the late 1930s the area fished had expanded greatly and virtually all ecological strata were exploited at least to some extent, including three strata that previously had been barely fished, namely, reef slopes, the seabed of continental shelves, and the deep sea. Thus, two processes brought about the increase in fish catches from the late 1800s to the 1930s: 1. The more intensive application of existing fishing gears (or somewhat larger versions of those gears) to existing fishing grounds and the application of existing fishing gears (or larger versions) to new fishing grounds that were ecologically similar to old fishing grounds. 2. The application of new fishing technologies to exploit old fishing grounds, new fishing grounds that were ecologically similar to old ones, and particularly ecological strata that had previously been barely fished or not fished at all. It is not always easy to categorize the application of a particular fishing gear in a particular place as clearly belonging to one process rather than the other. Nevertheless, I believe that the two processes are sufficiently distinct to be considered separately. Moreover, considering the second process in a separate chapter helps to highlight the extension of the frontier

74

Chapter 3

of fishing into new ecological strata, for it was the application of new technologies that made that possible. It also serves to highlight the beginning of a transition to the full-scale exploitation of marine animals that took place after World War II. I will therefore deal with the first process in Chapter 4 and the second in Chapter 5.

Reproduced from The Closing of the Frontier: A History of the Marine Fisheries of Southeast Asia c. 18502000, by John G. Butcher (Singapore: Institute of Southeast Asian Studies, 2004). This version was obtained electronically direct from the publisher on condition that copyright is not infringed. No part of this publication may be reproduced without the prior permission of the Institute of Southeast Asian Studies.Individual articles are available at 75 Catching More with the Same Technology, 1870s to 1930s < http://bookshop.iseas.edu.sg >

4 Catching More with the Same Technology, 1870s to 1930s

As the demand for fish products grew, fishers exploited old fishing grounds more intensively with existing fishing gears and gradually moved on to exploit new fishing grounds that were ecologically similar to the old ones and so could be fished with the same fishing gears. For several decades the existing fishing gears and somewhat bigger versions of them caught enough fish to maintain roughly the same level of fish consumption per capita. As mentioned in Chapter 3, however, catches did not increase steadily throughout Southeast Asia. On the contrary, catches soared in some places, grew very slowly in others, fluctuated in others, and fell in at least one place. I will try to explain this phenomenon by examining fisheries in six different areas, namely, the Gulf of Siam, the Straits of Malacca, the north coast of Java and Madura, the Kangean Islands, and, in less detail, the Philippines and Burma. I will then suggest that in some of these areas it was becoming increasingly difficult to keep on increasing catches with the same fishing gears.

Gulf of Siam The main target of the fisheries of the Gulf of Siam (Map 4.1) was Indian mackerel, known locally as pla thu. It was the favourite sea fish of the Thais, and it had long been exported to Singapore and other ports. There are no statistics showing changes in mackerel catches or the number of fish corrals — poh — erected along the coast to catch them, but it is clear that by the 1890s the fishery was very extensive. When Warington

Chapter 4

76

Map 4.1 Gulf of Siam

Smyth sailed along the coast just to the east of the mouth of the Chao Phraya River he found that “here and there fishing stakes dotted the horizon out to the 5 fathom [9 metre] line”1 and along the west coast he found poh in Sawi and Langsuan bays as well as in Chumphon Bay, where there were more than sixty. The practice at this time was for the

Catching More with the Same Technology, 1870s to 1930s

77

government to farm out the right to sell licences to operate poh and to collect a royalty on fish catches. According to Warington Smyth, the royalty amounted to “10 per cent or more” of the catch. Whether the operators of the fishing stakes paid this royalty in cash or in fish is unclear, but either way we can assume that the farmer took an active part in promoting the fishery, since he was able to keep for himself any money that he collected over and above what he had agreed to pay the government. At some stage the government abolished the farm and instead sold licences for the right to erect a poh in a particular place as well as taxing the poh itself. The government also taxed salt used in the fisheries, but in 1923 the government’s revenue from the tax on salt amounted to no more than 10 per cent of its total revenue from fisheries.2 None of the (English) sources I have used suggest that the tax on salt or the final cost of salt to fish processors restricted the expansion of the fisheries in any way. The low cost of salt, nearly all of which came from the salt pans along the inner gulf, enabled the processors to preserve the fish with much more salt than was used in some other parts of Southeast Asia, most notably Java, where in 1911 the price of salt was six times that in Siam.3 The prosperity of the fishery fluctuated wildly as the abundance of mackerel went up and down from year to year, probably due almost entirely to natural changes in the size of the population and its movements. When catches were good, the processing facilities — owned by the owners of the fishing stakes — were hives of activity. Once the fish were landed the leaders of teams of female fish-cleaners bid for the right to prepare the catch for the pickling vats.4 At other times there was little or no activity. When Warington Smyth visited Langsuan Bay in 1896 fish processing had come to a standstill and a dozen Chinese trading boats were waiting for cargo to carry to Bangkok, all because of a lack of fish.5 Nevertheless, the increase in exports of dried and salted fish, of which mackerel formed by far the biggest component, from 1,000 tons in 1870 to 15,000 tons in 1890, 20,000 tons in 1912, and 35,000 tons in 1925 suggests a steady rise over the long term.6 A large proportion of these exports was shipped to Singapore and then on to Java, where even “on the south coast one finds Siam fish in the most remote desas [villages]”.7 Despite the precarious nature of the business, the chance of making a large profit drew into the fishery investors, mainly Chinese, who were prepared to spend the large sums needed to take part in it. In 1896 a poh

78

Chapter 4

cost over $350 to construct; in addition there was the cost of maintaining the boat and crew — a further $280 a year — and of rebuilding the poh when it was damaged by a storm or wayward ships.8 It appears that the number of poh continued to increase. Certainly the farmers and then the government had no interest in limiting the number of poh. Indeed, the government sold more licences than its own guidelines regarding the distance between poh permitted. In his invaluable survey of the fisheries of Siam in 1925 Smith wrote: Fishing almost ceases to be an legitimate industry when, as in Chumporn [Chumphon] Bay, for example, the entire water, inshore and offshore, is filled with overlapping leaders and wings of traps forming a maze which makes the escape of fish practically impossible and of necessity renders the less favorably located traps unproductive.9

Smith wondered whether the series of very poor catches in the early 1920s which had bankrupted some owners could be attributed to the effect of so many poh but noted that 1925 had been a time of “unusual abundance”. Whatever the effect of the poh on fish populations, it is clear that poh were being constructed in new fishing grounds. Smith noted that since about 1919 poh had been operated in the Koh Chang Channel and Tung Yai Bay on the east coast of the gulf during the southwest monsoon, when this was the only section of the coast where the fishery was possible, though the catch consisted entirely of immature mackerel, “enormous quantities” of which “are thrown away each year”.10 As well as being constructed along more of the coastline it appears that poh were being erected further from shore. In the mid-1920s some poh were located in waters up to 18 metres deep and as far as 20 to 25 kilometres from shore.11 In the late 1930s a visitor to Ban Hua Hin at the southwest corner of the inner gulf joined a group of fishers who sailed three hours in the middle of the night on “a fair breeze” before reaching the poh on which they worked.12 In any case, it is clear that the fishery continued to attract investors. A report from the mid-1920s and another from the late 1930s both state that a poh and the equipment needed to operate it cost about 10,000 ticals ($4,500 in 1937).13 The poh were owned by syndicates, who paid the fishers “a small wage and a percentage of the catch”.14 Unlike the poh, which were operated to catch a particular species of fish, several other fishing gears were intended to catch a wide variety of

Catching More with the Same Technology, 1870s to 1930s

79

marine animals, but like the poh most of the important ones were fixed in place so that the animals swam or were swept into them. The pongpang was widely used in and near estuaries as well as in the lower reaches of rivers. This fishing gear consisted of a fine-meshed bag net which was held in place by two stakes. The effectiveness of the net was enhanced by two rows of loose brush stuck in the bottom which formed a V that opened in the direction of the current and converged at the entrance of the net. In the gulf near the mouth of the Chao Phraya “the brush wings form a dense maze extending for miles and serving to divert into the bag nets the rich animal life that is passing seaward with the strong ebb tide”.15 Smith’s investigation of the Chanthaburi River on the eastern side of the gulf found twenty-three pongpang from the mouth of the river to a point 5 kilometres upstream. At one point four pongpang with their long wings stretched across nearly the entire width of the river, and five pongpang were set at the mouths of creeks flowing into the river.16 As well as being set from and hauled into boats, seine nets were fixed in place as barriers “stretching in unbroken lines for miles” along shores exposed at low tide to prevent all but the tiniest creatures from going out to sea on the outgoing tide. Bamboo matting was formed into barriers to catch marine animals in the same way. Shrimp and small fish were made into belacan (kapi in Thai), but the bulk of the animal life caught by these gears was used as fertilizer and food for farm animals, especially ducks. Ducks also consumed a large proportion of the mussels which fishers gathered “in incalculable quantities”.17 In order to convey an impression of the size of the animal population fed on fish Smith noted that 40 million duck eggs had been exported to China “in a single season”.18 It is unclear what impact all this fishing was having on fish populations. It is likely that a large proportion of the mackerel did not come within the reach of the fish corrals, simply because of the physical limitations on constructing them in even deeper water. What does seem clear from Smith’s report, however, is that those marine animals that both fetched high prices in the market and spent part of their life cycle at or passing through spots where they were easily captured were indeed under threat in some cases. Smith feared for the future of green turtles because there was no control on the collection of their eggs by concessionaires.19 He observed that barramundi were “much less [abundant] than formerly” and noted that toli shad, caught by gillnets as they ascended the Chao

80

Chapter 4

Phraya River, “is not now abundant in any Siamese rivers”.20 Both species were extremely vulnerable to capture when they entered rivers to spawn. Thus, the coastal waters and the lower reaches of the Chao Phraya and other rivers were fished intensively. At the same time, however, most of the Gulf of Thailand was barely touched, “there being neither surface fishing nor bottom fishing in the offshore waters”.21

The Straits of Malacca The most rapid expansion took place along the coasts of the Straits of Malacca (Map 4.2). In the 1850s and 1860s small groups of Chinese (sometimes referred to as former pirates in the sources) began settling at many spots along the straits. Along the eastern side of the straits, Chinese set up fishing villages at Kuala Kurau, Tanjong Piandang, Pangkor, Pulau Ketam, and several other places. Along the western side the most important area was the estuary of the Rokan River, where Chinese founded the village of Bagan Si Api Api. Most of the inhabitants of a particular village were often members of a particular language group. Thus, virtually all the people who settled in Bagan Si Api Api were Hokkiens, while the majority of the Chinese fishers living on Pulau Ketam were Hainanese. For the most part the Chinese adopted fishing gears already being used by Malays in the area, including driftnets and, most important of all, various fishing stakes. Those fishing along the eastern side supplied fish to Penang and the rapidly growing mining populations of Perak, Selangor, and Negri Sembilan, while those at Bagan Si Api Api may have shipped what they produced across the straits to Malacca as well as, possibly, up the Rokan River. At first no ruler or government exerted much authority over these villages, but when British officials concluded that the inhabitants of two fishing villages in Perak had committed a range of crimes the police burned down the villages, and in 1886 the Dutch official responsible for the area that included Bagan Si Api Api blockaded the town until the people agreed to pay taxes and follow his orders.22 Chinese fishing villages maintained a reputation for being “a lawless crowd”,23 but the colonial states were at least able to extract revenue from them and keep an eye on their activities. At first there appears to have been some friction between Chinese and Malays, but officials who contributed to a report on the fisheries of the Straits

Catching More with the Same Technology, 1870s to 1930s

81

Map 4.2 Straits of Malacca and Malay Peninsula

Settlements and Protected Malay States published in 1896 indicated that this had become rare. Malays operating jermal along the north coast of Selangor complained to the government when Chinese let their nets drift into their jermal, but the district officer resolved this simply by allowing the Malays to place posts in such a way that they intercepted the nets before they did any harm.24 It is worth noting that the Chinese

82

Chapter 4

at Kuala Kurau “would not think of commencing” the construction of a large fishing stake without asking a Malay pawang laut (“sea magician”) to drive in the first stake and to perform a ceremony to bring the fishers good luck.25 The most spectacular growth in catches took place in the Rokan estuary, a place which was extraordinarily rich in marine life but which was not even mentioned in the 1882 survey of fishing in the Netherlands Indies. In 1898 (the first year for which there is a figure) Bagan Si Api Api already exported 13,000 tons of dried fish; in 1904 it exported 26,000 tons of dried fish and 2,700 tons of belacan.26 There were several reasons for this spectacular increase. To begin with, there was the extraordinary abundance of fish in the estuary. The organic matter continually being brought from the interior of Sumatra by the Rokan River, the constant mixing and oxygenation of the water taking place because of the tidal bore, and the dense mangroves all contributed to the growth of many species of finfish and shrimps. Hardenberg’s investigation of the estuary in 1929 concluded that “the fishes which form the bulk of the catches, and which are therefore the most important for the fisheries, pass their whole life-cycle inside the fished area”. As evidence of this Hardenberg found by examining the contents of the stomachs of fish caught in the estuary that sergestid shrimps were “a very important fish-food”.27 Just as important as the extraordinary productivity of the estuary, however, was the way fishing was organized to produce for the market. The fishers themselves were organized into small kongsis, each headed by a towkay bangliau (literally, “the head or owner of the place where the nets are dried”), who owned the boats, fishing gear, and drying platforms, provided accommodation for the fishers when they were not at sea, and gave the fishers cash advances. Up to the early 1900s, fishing was almost entirely conducted by means of jermal, which were particularly effective because of the very strong current generated by the outgoing tide. The fish immediately underwent a preliminary salting on board the boat bringing the fish to shore; once on shore the fish were placed on extensive platforms to dry. The main product was widely known as ikan busuk or “rotten fish”. The towkay sold the fish to local fish traders, who were Chinese from Java, where the bulk of the town’s products were sold, and then paid the fishers once he had deducted his expenses and his own share. The linchpin for the whole business was the salt farm, which supplied

Catching More with the Same Technology, 1870s to 1930s

83

the vital ingredient needed to preserve fish to be shipped long distances. At Bagan Si Api Api, unlike in those parts of the Netherlands Indies subject to the government’s salt monopoly, the government leased out the exclusive right to sell salt. This monopoly, or “farm”, was held by a syndicate made up of prominent Chinese businessmen on both sides of the straits. In order to keep the industry going, the head of this syndicate — the farmer — imported massive quantities of salt. Usually, he bought salt in Singapore, to which it had been brought from the Red Sea, but on a few occasions when he could not obtain supplies there he shipped salt directly from Aden himself. Because the syndicate held the farm with little or no competition from rival syndicates up to about 1905, the rent it had to pay the government for the farm was low. The farmer was therefore able to sell salt to the fishers at a price well below the maximum stipulated in his contract and much below the price in those parts of the Netherlands Indies subjected to the government’s monopoly. The farmer could, of course, have raised the price of salt to the maximum but apparently chose not to in the expectation that a low price would stimulate fishing. Since the rent he had to pay the government was fixed for the term of each contract, he was able to keep for himself (and the syndicate) whatever he collected over and above that rent. In order to promote fishing still further the farmer supplied salt on credit to the towkays. As well as receiving credit from the farmer the towkays received cash advances from the fish traders, who themselves appear to have received advances from the farmer while they waited for payment for the goods they had shipped. Thus there was an elaborate system of credit, backed up by a powerful syndicate, that lubricated the expansion of the industry. As well as supplying credit, the farmer who was in place in 1908 (and had apparently held the farm for some time) had a family connection with the owners of the shipping line based in Singapore that carried the fish to Singapore and Java. Moreover, under the terms of his contract the farmer had the right to levy an export duty on belacan and dried prawns. The farmer’s profit from all his many activities — selling salt, collecting export duties, collecting interest on loans, and presumably taking a share in the income from the shipping line as well as from the opium and gambling farms of the area — must have been very great. Indeed, the whole enterprise must have become increasingly profitable, since exports of all fish products grew much faster than increases in the rent the farmer

84

Chapter 4

had to pay the government. In 1905 a Dutch report on the fishing industry of Bagan Si Api Api concluded that the fishing industry provided “a good livelihood for the fishers, a great profit for the [Netherlands Indies] treasury, and, certainly, a gold mine for the farmer”.28 In Java the salt fish produced at Bagan Si Api Api had to compete with fish imported from Siam and Indochina via Singapore as well as fish caught locally. In general the consumers of Java preferred “Siam fish” to the “rotten fish” of Bagan Si Api Api and were prepared to pay more for it, both because of its superior taste and because it was packed in so much salt. As a result the price in Java of fish produced in Bagan Si Api Api fell whenever there was a big supply of Siam fish. In the early years the fishery was devoted almost entirely to catching finfish, but in the early 1900s the fishers began interweaving split rattan into the interstices of the rattan screens used in jermal and placing sacking behind the screens (as shown in Figure 4.1) so that their jermal could catch the tiny shrimps used to make belacan as well as larger shrimps, which were dried. At the same time they began fishing with a fishing gear known as an ambai, which closely resembled the pongpang being used in Siam but was especially designed to catch shrimps. At the end of the net was placed a pocket of coarse sacking which captured whatever was forced into it by the current.29 Exports of belacan increased from 100 tons in 1899 to 10,000 tons in 1909.30 Virtually all of this belacan was shipped to Java. In the mean time, exports of dried fish began to decline. One reason for the shift from fish to belacan is that less salt was needed to prepare belacan than dried fish of the same value. This became an important consideration as the farmer began to push up the price of salt to cover the greatly increased rent he had to pay the government. In 1904 the monthly rent rose from $2,500 to $5,500; when the farm was relet in 1907 it rose slightly, to $6,500; and then in 1910 it doubled to $13,000. Why the rent increased in 1904 and 1907 is unclear, but the Dutch records show that there was very intense competition for the farm in 1910 and that the farmer had to put in a very high bid in order to hold on to it. Having retained the monopoly, the farmer might well have continued to sell salt at a low price in the hope of promoting greater catches and therefore greater consumption of salt, but the inner part of the estuary was no longer the seemingly unlimited source of fish that it

Catching More with the Same Technology, 1870s to 1930s

85

Figure 4.1 A Jermal

had been. Since the number of jermal had increased while the catch had declined, we can safely conclude that the amount of fish caught by each jermal was decreasing. Moreover, we should note a fisheries biologist’s observation in 1914 that “already since twelve or thirteen years ago virtually no large fish have been caught, by which I mean not even small individuals of the species of which large individuals were regularly captured”.31 Whether the jermal themselves were the cause is unclear. The fact that about 1908 “a few hundred”32 jermal “stood close together” in the inner part of the estuary, catching “everything carried out with the

86

Chapter 4

ebb tide”,33 would suggest that they were. But we must also consider that the inner part of the estuary where most of the jermal were located was becoming shallower as a result of the continuous discharge of silt from the river.34 It is likely that as the water became shallower the bigger fish moved away from the waters where the jermal were located in order to remain in water of the same depth as before. Thus, it is quite possible that both siltation and the jermal themselves contributed to the decline in catches. It is also possible that intensive fishing brought about a change in the composition of species in the estuary. In particular, the removal of large fish that had preyed on shrimps may have created the conditions in which shrimps became more abundant. In other words, the greater production of belacan may have come about not only because the fishers put more effort into catching shrimps but also because there were more of them to catch. In response to the higher cost of salt and declining catches of finfish some fishers shifted their attention to catching shrimps and some gave up fishing altogether and left Bagan Si Api Api. Many others, however, responded by building new jermal that were both bigger and much further from shore. In 1911 some jermal were so far out to sea from Bagan Si Api Api that it had become necessary to build temporary shelters on them. Near the island of Senebui, at the most easterly fringe of the estuary, wrote one fisheries officer, “one finds oneself in the middle of a sprawling kampong of jermals resembling giant hammocks”.35 In 1914 another visitor reported that “of the about 400 jermals that are in use at Bagan Si Api Api about 200 stand in their original places, the remaining 200 having been built by people who have had to abandon their first jermals”.36 A hydrographic map of the estuary prepared in 1918 shows a few jermal as far as 20 kilometres from shore.37 What is remarkable is that this took place at a time when the farmer and many fish traders were losing money. Following the big rise in the farm rent in 1910, the farmer started supplying huge amounts of salt on credit to the traders rather than selling it directly to the fishers. The fish traders in turn offered this salt to the fishers on credit and competed with one another for the catches. They also began adulterating belacan with large amounts of bran in order to boost production, thereby causing a rise in exports in 1911 and 1912 but bringing down the price of belacan in Java. As it turned out, the farmer suffered great losses, and in 1913 he was replaced by a new farmer

Catching More with the Same Technology, 1870s to 1930s

87

who pursued a much more cautious approach. As for the traders, many of them went bankrupt either when the outgoing farmer demanded repayment or when the new farmer refused to be so generous in giving credit. But the fishers, many of whom had already earned enough to break away from the towkays and conduct business on their own, captured a larger proportion of the profits of the fishery and so were able to invest in larger jermal. In 1916 one of these jermal cost $2,000 to construct, as compared to $630 for a smaller one in 1908.38 The cost was higher partly because so much more wood was needed to construct the larger jermal but also because the wood itself was more expensive. In the early years workers were able to collect all the Rhizophera and other trees they needed for stakes and poles from the mangroves near the town, but because more and more jermal were built and because the stakes in existing jermal had to be replaced as they were destroyed by shipworms, they soon cut down much of the mangrove forest nearby. It is difficult to know whether this had a significant effect on the biological productivity of the estuary (or, for that matter, whether it hastened siltation in the estuary), but at the very least it meant that workers had to go further and further for the materials needed to construct jermal and that the price of these materials therefore rose. Even so, the profits clearly made such a large investment worthwhile. In the 1910s officials in the Netherlands Indies conducted a heated debate about the farm. Most of this debate concerned the question of whether the farm promoted or hindered the fishery. In the end, however, the mere fact that the farm was a farm spelled its doom, for most officials regarded farms as relics of a bygone age. In 1920 the government abolished the farm, but rather than introducing its own salt monopoly it decided to set up a company operated by the main fish traders which would import and sell salt to the fishers.39 The abolition of the farm and with it the export duties on shrimp products, the provision of large amounts of credit by a government bank, the opening of a telegraph link between Bagan Si Api Api and Java all promoted considerable prosperity in the 1920s. And the process of moving further from shore continued. “The active construction of larger jermals further out to sea began about 1917”, wrote Bottemanne in 1929. “This activity resumed with more force about 1922, and in 1926, but especially in 1928, the latest big push began”.40 According to Bottemanne, the great bulk of the jermal catches was taken

88

Chapter 4

by a limited number of larger jermal, each costing between $8,000 and $12,000 to build. Put differently, it was the catches of these new jermal that enabled Bagan Si Api Api to continue exporting so much fish. In fact, the amount of fish caught was somewhat greater than the export figures (21,000 tons of salted fish in 1928) would indicate. In the 1920s the operators of the outermost jermal began selling many of the large fish they caught to traders who took these fish on ice across the straits for sale in Malaya.41 This movement of jermal further from shore continued up to about 1929. When Hardenberg surveyed the estuary in that year he found some jermal as far as about 31 kilometres from shore. At the time of his visit there was a feud between the jermal operators and the driftnet fishers, many of whom were based at Panipahan and Senebui on the fringes of the estuary. The jermal operators accused the driftnetters of scaring away fish that would have been swept into the jermal, while the driftnetters complained that the jermal now extended into their richest fishing grounds. At about this time some fishers had begun using a new gear, the si stji, a bag-shaped net made of tiny mesh at the cod end and wider mesh near the entrance. The net was fixed to the bottom by two stakes and kept open by ropes leading from the upper edge of the entrance to bamboo floats on the surface. The si stji could be easily moved and used on both the incoming and outgoing tides. Moreover, it could be placed in deeper water than the biggest jermal, which were located in water no more than about 16 metres deep.42 By 1933 si stji were being operated as far out as the Aroa Islands, well beyond the outer limit of the jermal. In addition to all its other advantages a si stji was far cheaper to make than a jermal. A row of ten si stji linked to one another could catch as much as one jermal, but the ten nets cost about one tenth as much as a jermal.43 At about the same time shifts in the location of the richest fishing areas in the estuary caused by changes in the currents reduced the catches of many jermal, while the price of fish fell because of the Depression. Quickly seeing the much greater profitability of the si stji, many owners of jermal abandoned them and adopted the new fishing gear. Those who continued to operate their jermal complained bitterly that the si stji were reducing their catches. As a result of these complaints, in 1930 the local fishers’ association introduced rules regulating the distance between fishing gears, but the complaints continued.44 When Hardenberg returned to Bagan

Catching More with the Same Technology, 1870s to 1930s

89

Si Api Api in 1933 he found that the jermal owners were trying to convince the government that the si stji were destroying fish stocks in the estuary and would bring about the ruin of the town.45 In response to all these complaints, Hardenberg argued that there was no evidence of overfishing in the estuary. Whether or not overfishing was occurring, reports from the 1930s suggest that despite the slump in prices during the Depression and competition from Japanese fishers Bagan Si Api Api — by then a town of 15,000 people, of whom 12,000 were Chinese — was fairly prosperous. Indeed, it was one of the biggest fishing ports in the world at the time, exporting 23,000 tons of salted fish, 11,000 tons of belacan, and 6,700 tons of shrimp shells (used as fertilizer) in 1937.46 It is clear, however, that by the 1930s it was no longer possible to increase catches without moving further out to sea and adopting new fishing methods. Unlike the fishers of Bagan Si Api Api, who were oriented towards distant markets, the fishers working on the other side of the straits — Chinese, Malays, and a few Indians — caught fish primarily for nearby markets, particularly the towns, mines, and plantations near the west coast of the peninsula. It appears that catches increased as the population increased, but, according to one estimate made in 1918, catches in local waters accounted for only one-quarter of the fish that the people of the Federated Malay States consumed.47 Most of the dried fish they ate was imported from Siam, Indochina, Sumatra, and Trengganu. It would appear that most of the fresh fish consumed along the west coast was caught in local waters, as suggested by the fact that in 1918 just ten of the 150 iceboats based at Port Swettenham that picked up fish caught by driftnets and the outer jermal in the straits collected fish caught in “Dutch waters”.48 Since the total consumption of dried fish far outweighed the consumption of fresh fish, however, it would appear that catches in local waters accounted for no more than half of the fish eaten by the local population. More precisely, local catches provided a small proportion of the total amount of marine animals directly consumed by people, for people also ate some fish in the form of the meat or eggs of animals that had been fed fish caught in local waters. In fact, one of the most striking features of the fisheries of the west coast at this time was the extent to which it was oriented to feeding animals that were in turn eaten by people and to fertilizing plants, as I shall explain.

90

Chapter 4

Although no catch statistics are available, it appears that the bulk of the fish caught along the west coast from Perak south to Singapore was caught by fishing stakes. According to official statistics, there were 1,500 ambai and belat and 360 jermal and kelong in Selangor in 1916.49 Along the coast of Perak there were fewer kelong and jermal but perhaps twice as many ambai at this time.50 From a commercial point of view, the most valuable animals caught by these gears as well as the many push nets in use were shrimps, particularly the small ones used to make belacan. As far as quantity was concerned, however, a very large proportion of what the fishing stakes and ambai caught was used as manure for sugar cane and other crops and especially as food for pigs and ducks. The owners of most of these devices were Chinese who raised pigs and poultry; they sold the larger fish but fed the rest to their farm animals. In 1904 a member of a committee set up to investigate the fishing industry along the west coast, H.C. Robinson, examined the fish caught by a jermal in the estuary of the Selangor River. He concluded that “the fish caught consisted to a very large extent of quite immature specimens of estuarine and surface-feeding varieties, and, as a rough estimate, individuals of marketable weight formed not more than a third of the total weight”. According to Robinson, jermal located in estuarine waters captured “not only the young fry, but also the breeding stock of those fish that deposit their spawn in brackish and muddy waters which in Malayan seas form a considerable proportion of the fauna”.51 As a result of this report and similar ones from other officials the governments of the Federated Malay States and the Straits Settlements imposed a ban on ambai and stipulated that the screens used in jermal have one-inch interstices. The government enforced this ban rigorously for a few years and as a result there was a great drop in exports of belacan. In 1909 enforcement slackened and exports quickly rose again, but several officials continued to complain about the effects of fine-meshed fishing gears. In 1912 Robinson reported that the belacan fishers were “destroying much of the fry of the larger food fishes”,52 and in 1914 an investigation of a number of ambai at Tanjong Piandang showed that 10 tons of fish were caught during the year for each fisher and that this catch consisted “very largely [of ] fry of good food fishes, none of which is used for human consumption”.53 Several other reports from this time reached the same conclusion. It is hard to know exactly what effect fine-meshed fishing gear actually

Catching More with the Same Technology, 1870s to 1930s

91

had on fish populations at this time. It is possible that the failure of the local fisheries to meet local demand had more to do with the fact that there were so many opportunities for work in other industries at this time. Despite his concern about the effects of fishing gears on stocks, Robinson argued in 1912 that a decline in the number of fishers in Kuala Langat district was probably due to “the greater demand for labour in other fields”,54 and in 1918 the harbour master at Port Dickson asserted that the good pay that “even a Malay” could earn on a rubber estate was responsible for the nearly complete collapse of fishing along the coast of Negri Sembilan.55 Before accepting this view, we would need to know much more about the incomes of fishers as well as of workers in other fields. Fisheries reports from this time suggest that fishing was a fairly profitable activity even if one allowed for the damage storms caused fishing gear from time to time. These reports also accused middlemen of raking off much of the profits, but it is clear from the same reports that fishers found effective ways of evading their obligations to middlemen. For example, driftnetters who were in debt to their financiers sold the best fish they caught directly to the iceboats, thereby earning good incomes while appearing to remain bound by debt. Moreover, in at least one case a group of Malay fishers did well enough to break their ties to fish traders and set up business on their own.56 Thus, it is very difficult to know why local fishers fell well short of meeting local demand. It is reasonably clear, however, that in many areas there was little room left in which to build new fishing stakes and trap nets by the 1910s. In 1918 Robinson wrote that he had stopped issuing licences to build kelong near Pulau Ketam because all the possible locations were already occupied.57 Whatever the actual effects of ambai and other fine-meshed fishing gears, many officials were convinced that they were responsible for a shortage of fish in the markets.58 One of these officials was the Resident of Perak, who in 1920 went so far as to ban the use of ambai in his state. At the same time, however, a few officials challenged the prevailing view about ambai. Thus, when David Stead, who had set up a state-run trawling company in New South Wales during the war, arrived in 1922 to write a report on the fisheries of Malaya he immediately turned his attention to investigating the effects of ambai and similar gears on fish stocks. In his report he strongly rejected the view that ambai were destroying fish stocks. Based on samples collected from ambai in several

92

Chapter 4

places, he argued that only a tiny proportion of the catch consisted of the larvae of commercially important fish and that the ambai may in fact have helped maintain stocks of commercially important fish by removing animals that eat the larvae of these fish. In any case, he concluded, ambai occupied such a tiny fraction of the sea they could not possibly affect fish stocks.59 Following Stead’s report the government either repealed its rules about mesh size or no longer bothered to enforce them. By the time of Stead’s report, however, the number of jermal, kelong, ambai, and other stationary fishing gears had already begun to fall. This was partly because of the restrictions but mainly because of a shortage of the materials needed to build them. Like their counterparts in the Rokan estuary, the operators of fishing stakes along the eastern side of the straits consumed immense amounts of wood. A kelong could be operated for only five months before it had to be rebuilt.60 Much less wood was needed to construct an ambai, but even so hundreds of stakes were needed to form the wings leading to the net, and these stakes had to be replaced continuously. As a result, the forests nearby Chinese fishing villages were “characterized by large blanks and the absence of anything but crooked stems that were useless to the fishermen”.61 In fact, by 1916 Robinson was warning that unless something were done about the supply of stakes “the public must look forward to a large increase in price and a restricted supply of the better quality of salt fish”.62 In 1921 a forestry officer asserted that the fishers at Pulau Ketam had “ruined the more accessible parts of the … forest” and recommended that these areas be closed for ten years.63 The government set aside areas where the fishers could collect the wood they needed, but they had to travel much further to reach them and in many cases these areas could not be reached by boat.64 Yet another challenge faced by the operators of fishing stakes was the clogging up of their stakes by massive quantities of large jellyfish,65 which perhaps had become more abundant because of the removal of a large proportion of their competitors and predators. A fall in the price of pigs during the early part of the Depression further undermined the profitability of fishing stakes. As we shall see in Chapter 5, other fishing gears, most notably the purse seine, captured an increasingly large proportion of the fish landed along the west coast of the Malay Peninsula in the 1930s. Fishing stakes continued to be important in some places. The fact that well over half

Catching More with the Same Technology, 1870s to 1930s

93

the fish landed in Selangor in the 1930s was categorized as “rotten fish” (ikan baja) indicates the importance of fishing stakes in that state’s fisheries, since the great bulk of fish in this category was captured by fishing stakes. Nevertheless, fishing stakes no longer dominated fisheries all along the coast as they had in the early 1900s. Moreover, despite Stead’s report, officials continued to argue that fishing stakes, particularly ambai, were highly destructive devices. In 1931 the head of the fisheries department concluded that while ambai captured “many small fishes of no other economic value” they also destroyed “large quantities of many of our more valuable fishes …, particularly young soles (Solidae [Soleidae]), young ‘Senangin’ and young ‘Kurau’ (Polynemidae [threadfins])”.66 One estuary that the department studied had “not less than ten ambai working and hauling every tide”. The director was, however, also aware of how many people still depended either directly or indirectly on fishing stakes for their livelihood. As far as I can tell, the government took no further steps in the 1930s to discourage their use.

The north coast of Java and Madura In the mid-1800s virtually every aspect of fishing in many places along the north coast of Java and Madura (Map 4.3) was bound up with the fish tax farms. The farmer of a particular district extended credit to the fishers, who handed over their catches to the farmer both to pay the taxes collected by the farmer and to pay off their debts to the farmer. The farmer and the larger organization of which he was a part sold some fresh fish and processed the rest of the catch using salt that the government sold to the farmer at a price much lower than the price at which monopoly salt was usually sold. A central argument in Masyhuri’s history of the marine fisheries of Java and Madura is that the farm brought about a big expansion in fishing.67 From the point of view of many officials of the time, however, the farms stifled fishing and thereby deprived the people of an adequate supply of an essential food. The government therefore abolished the farm in 1864 and instead taxed fishing with the enterprise tax that was levied on all businesses. The abolition of the farm instantly broke the link between credit, processing, marketing, and cheap salt. Fishers and fish salters now had to pay the full price of monopoly salt, and soon the fish salting business

Map 4.3 Java

94

Chapter 4

Catching More with the Same Technology, 1870s to 1930s

95

collapsed. One consequence appears to be that fishers and fish processors made more use of alternative ways of preserving fish. The report of the Prosperity Commission in 1905 listed many areas in Java and Madura where it was common to preserve fish using salty earth or sand from the beach. While claiming that fish preserved in this way was tastier, the report speculated that people had originally been forced to use salty earth and sand “only out of necessity, namely, because the government’s salt is too expensive or hard to get”.68 Another way in which fishing communities circumvented the salt monopoly was to make salt clandestinely. This was easier to do in east Java and Madura, where there were excellent conditions for making salt, than in west Java, where very little was made. Even in east Java and Madura, however, it appears that clandestine salt constituted only a small proportion of the salt used to process fish. The lack of cheap salt in Java and Madura helped to promote the fishing industries of Bagan Si Api Api, Siam, and other places outside Java where salt was relatively cheap. Fish from Siam was particularly popular in Java because it was packed in large amounts of salt, which could be scraped off and used for other purposes. The abolition of the farm also brought about a severe shortage of credit. The farmers had been prepared to lend money to fishers to buy boats and fishing gear, since this increased catches and therefore the taxes they could collect as well as their profits from processing and selling fish. Once the farms were abolished, the fishers turned to indigenous, Chinese, and Arab moneylenders. In general these moneylenders were far less willing to take the risks the farmers had taken, since they did not have the same interest in keeping up the overall business, but in west Java the powerful kongsis of Chinese fish traders based in Batavia seem to have carried on an arrangement that had many of the features of the old farm. These traders, according to Van Kampen: … give advances to the fishers at high interest rates but also at great risk, for if the fishing gear or boat is lost the moneylender … usually loses what he has lent. The debt is settled at the auction at the fish market, which is in the hands of the same kongsi. Because they have easy access to credit the fishers are able to maintain their boats and fishing gear properly; the moneylenders stimulate them — in the interests of both — to greater energy and the business progresses. Fishers from Bantam, Krawang, and Tegal come to Batavia in order to fish there with advances from the kongsis.69

96

Chapter 4

Masyhuri paints a less rosy picture of this arrangement, pointing out that while the kongsis did not demand that the fishers put up any form of security for the loans they received they had agents (buaya, “crocodiles”) out and about to make sure the fishers observed the conditions of the loans,70 but it may nevertheless have promoted fishing. In any case, whatever the situation in Batavia, it does appear that little capital was being invested in the fisheries of Java and Madura in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. The high cost of salt made it difficult to make a profit, while there were many other avenues of investment at this time that promised good returns. Masyhuri argues that a shortage of credit forced those fishers who had operated offshore in relatively large boats to move inshore where they could fish with a much smaller investment. As evidence of this movement he shows that the number of large boats declined significantly in the latter part of the nineteenth century.71 It is likely that in some places a shortage of teak rather than a lack of credit may have contributed to this decline, for by the late 1800s much of the teak forest had been cut down and the government had stepped up surveillance of its forests, the source of much of the wood used by the boat builders.72 At Pekalongan, however, the cost of boats actually fell, but even so the fishers were too poor to buy them. Moreover, an order by the Resident of Pekalongan stopping fishers from landing spoiling fish — fish which could not be sold fresh in the market but which could still be processed into marketable products — prompted some fishers to fish closer to shore, since this greatly reduced the risk of letting their catch spoil and having to dump it before entering the harbour.73 However we explain it, the centre of fishing activity appears to have shifted inshore at this time. In the late 1800s many officials began to express concern about what they regarded as a decline in fish stocks.74 We can see this concern most clearly in evidence presented to the Prosperity Commission in the early 1900s: Along the coast of Tegal: The lack of protection of fish during the spawning season must inevitably diminish fish stocks, as has already happened here and there. The river dwellers are (just as in Europe) the greatest enemies of fish stocks, since they scoop the waters empty as it were with their finemeshed fishing gears.75

Catching More with the Same Technology, 1870s to 1930s

97

Between Gresik and Madura: The fishery has gone down because the fish have been caught away in the narrows of the strait as well as at the west and east entrances by boats in the channel and by fish corrals along the shore, while fishers from Madura try their luck further and further westwards in the fishing ground of this district.76 Along the coast of Probolinggo in the Madura Strait: The decline [in fishing] … has been caused by a decline in the abundance of fish in the past ten years. Certain species of fish that used to be caught in great numbers such as the Indies sardine [Sardinella lemuru], tengara [probably tenggiri, Spanish mackerel], the tongkol [various small tunas], layur [hairtails, Trichiurus species], angi-angi, tangkolok, and bloso [probably gobies] are no longer to be found. … An expert study of the causes (changes in the current and in salinity and turbidity?) is needed. … [I]t also appears that destruction caused by injudicious fishing throughout the year plays a part.77

It is unlikely that “injudicious fishing” had much impact on the oceanic species such as tongkol mentioned in the last report, but all three reports refer to relatively confined waters — rivers and estuaries along part of the heavily populated north coast of central Java, the very narrow strait between Java and the western tip of Madura, and coastal waters in the western part of the Madura Strait — where overfishing would be most likely to occur first. They were, at the very least, waters which were becoming increasingly crowded with fishing gears. In any case, the officials who expressed these concerns were convinced that fish stocks were under threat and so put forward a range of proposals on how to protect fish stocks. These included prohibiting fishing with anything but hooks and wide-meshed nets in waters up to 1 fathom (1.8 metres) deep, prohibiting the placing of fish corrals and traps in or near river mouths, a ban on fishing in all waters less than a fathom deep for two months each year, closing certain areas such as the Thousand Islands for fishing for three years, and prohibiting the collection of fish roe. The commission, however, rejected these proposals. It noted that as early as the 1870s the government had banned the use of fine-meshed nets in Jepara but that this ban was lifted after a few years because it appeared to bring no improvement in catches, while a regulation made by the official in charge of the Karimunjawa Islands in 1895 requiring fishers to use nets with large meshes seemed to make no difference one way or another. According to the commission, fishing posed little danger to fish stocks, because the

98

Chapter 4

fishing gear was so primitive, fishing ceased for a couple of months each year because of rough weather, and the waters in which fishing took place were closely connected with the Indian Ocean, “which is as good as not fished”. In any case, the commission added, the government simply did not have the number of police needed to enforce the sorts of regulations that had been proposed.78 While dismissing proposals to regulate fishing, the Prosperity Commission believed that a great deal could be done to promote the fisheries of Java and Madura. Among other things it recommended that the government provide boat builders with cheap wood, set up banks to give fishers interest-free loans, and set up an institute to undertake fisheries research. Because the government had already been selling salt for processing fish at a much lower price in a few places since 1900, and because salty earth and sand were so widely used, the commission did not believe that a lack of cheap salt had been holding back the fishing industry a great deal. Nevertheless, one of the most important recommendations of the commission was that the government should supply fishers with salt at cost price. As a result of this recommendation the government began setting up sheds where fishers could process their catches using cheaper salt.79 The salt sold at these sheds was still several times more expensive than the salt used by processors along the Gulf of Siam but it cost roughly the same as the salt sold to processors at Bagan Si Api Api. At first, however, the sheds did very little to promote greater catches. Because there were so few sheds — just eleven in Java and Madura in 191780 — many fishers had to travel far to reach one. Moreover, fishers often did not want to make use of the sheds even when one was nearby. One source implies that they resented having to process the fish under the supervision of the government officers who ran the sheds. The same source suggests that the sheds disrupted the division of labour within fishing families, since typically women salted and dried the catch at home while the men were out fishing.81 Yet another restriction was a rule preventing fishers from bringing fish that had begun to spoil into the sheds.82 The fishers might have reduced the chance of their catch spoiling by salting it as soon as they hauled it on board, but for some time the government prohibited them from taking the cheaper salt to sea with them.83 Some fishers did not want to take salt to sea with them anyway, since they believed that fish avoided nets that had come in contact with

Catching More with the Same Technology, 1870s to 1930s

99

salted fish,84 but this does not appear to have been a general concern. Yet another regulation stipulated that fish had to be completely processed before they could be removed from the sheds.85 On top of all this, the government’s salt was impure and only available in one quality.86 Gradually, the government began to introduce policies that encouraged fishing. It opened more salting sheds, especially in the 1930s, the number increasing from thirteen to thirty-three between 1932 and 1938.87 It eased the restrictions on taking the cheaper salt to sea. And it set up credit schemes for fishers and instituted public auctions of fish in order to break the hold of moneylenders and fish traders over fishers. There are no statistics to gauge the increase in catches, but data on the amount of cheap salt sold by the government provide a rough indication. In 1917 the government sold 1,200 tons of salt at its salting sheds. The amount sold stayed at roughly this level until the Depression, when it fell sharply because the price of fish fell greatly while the price of salt remained the same. The fall in salt sales did not mean a corresponding fall in landings, however, since fish processors began to prepare a lower grade of pindang using less salt and to make other products that required less salt.88 In the mid-1930s the amount of salt began to rise sharply, from an annual average of 710 tons in 1930–31 to 2,600 tons in 1937 and, following a reduction in the price, 3,300 tons in 1938.89 This jump in salt sales probably represented a large increase in catches. We should note, however, that the total amount of salt sold in the government’s salt sheds in Java and Madura in 1938 was only about one-sixth of the amount sold to processors at Bagan Si Api Api that year. Thus, even if we allow for fish processors skimping on salt and continuing to use salty sand and for the growth in sales of fresh fish, it would seem that the total catches of Java and Madura was about the same as that of one tiny section of the Sumatran coast. Indeed, this is confirmed by noting that annual landings of marine fish in Java and Madura amounted to between 80,000 and 100,000 tons according to an estimate made in 1938, while in 1938 Bagan Si Api Api exported more than 40,000 tons of fish products, the equivalent of a much greater quantity of unprocessed fish.90 The restrictions that the government still imposed on the use of salt by fishers and processors continued to inhibit fishing in Java and Madura, and producers outside these islands continued to enjoy a competitive advantage. Siam fish remained popular in Java because of the great

100

Chapter 4

amounts of salt that came with it.91 During the 1930s Java imported even more fish (now including large quantities of canned fish, mainly sardines from Japan) than it did earlier in the century. The government might well have imposed a heavy tariff on imported fish, but it did not do so. In 1906 the Prosperity Commission rejected a proposal to increase the import duty (then 10 per cent) on fish produced in other territories or the salt in which they were packed or to impose a duty on fish imported into Java from Bagan Si Api Api on the grounds that such a policy would be “contrary to the interests of the people of the Netherlands Indies in general”.92 Between the 1910s and 1930s the number of boats engaged in offshore fishing increased. Just how big this increase was is unclear, but Masyhuri concludes that “because of the limited extent of investment the number of fishing boats, especially large fishing boats used for catching fish offshore, did not increase much”.93 The investigations of Dutch fisheries experts, however, give us a clearer idea of where these boats operated at different times. In 1910 A. van Roosendaal, the captain of the Gier, which was then conducting a fisheries survey of the Java Sea, delineated the areas where the fishers of Java and Madura captured scads (layang). According to Van Roosendaal, the scad fishing grounds extended from just to the north of the Thousand Islands eastward to slightly north of Bawean and then further east to a spot north of the Kangean Islands. The southern border of the fishing area was about 37 kilometres from shore but was much further from shore in some places. He also noted that in the west scads were caught for only a couple of months each year and were always caught along with other species such as sardinella and Indian mackerel, whereas in the east scads were present throughout the year and captured in great quantities for five months. Altogether, he estimated, about 2,700 boats from about fifty villages to the east of Mandalika were engaged in the fishery. Map 4.4, which Van Roosendaal prepared from information collected from the crews of boats he came across during his surveys, shows where the fishers from particular villages in east Java and Madura fished. More specifically, it shows where these fishers located their floating fish lures, known in this area as rumpon. “Each village has … its own fishing ground”, Van Roosendaal explained, “and will not leave it, even if more fish are being caught in neighbouring areas”.94 He added that attempts had been made (presumably by officials)

Map 4.4 Van Roosendaal’s Map of the Fishing Grounds of Villages on the Northeast Coast of Java and the North Coast of Madura in 1910

Catching More with the Same Technology, 1870s to 1930s 101

102

Chapter 4

to change this arrangement but that “so far they had only brought about conflict between the vessels of neighbouring places”. Van Roosendaal argued that the observance of the boundaries would prevent the growth of the fishery, for “competition and mutual emulation can only work for the good”. To highlight what he regarded as the irrationality of the existing system, Van Roosendaal pointed to the case of the fishers of Blimbing. During the east monsoon a perahu mayang could sail across the southeasterly land breeze to take it northeast to reach the fishing ground by dawn, while the sea breeze coming from the northeast later in the morning would push it directly back to Blimbing. During the west monsoon, a boat could easily reach the fishing ground on the southwesterly land breeze, but when it came time to return to Blimbing a west to northwesterly wind accompanied by squalls made “returning home … very difficult, in fact often completely impossible”, since the boat was incapable of tacking into the wind. As a result, the boat was driven to some point east of Blimbing and the day’s catch spoiled before it could be landed. When these conditions lasted several days, the fishers of Blimbing and many other villages would abandon the layang fishery and instead fish closer to shore. According to Van Roosendaal, the only exception to this pattern was the fishers of Sarang, who moved their rumpon to the west during the west monsoon and so had little difficulty returning home after fishing. “At the end of December their boats are the only ones which we came across in the layang grounds, and we found them with their nets cast in heavy winds and high seas”.95 Presumably the fact that Sarang was near the western end of this series of fishing villages made it much easier for the fishers from that village to shift their rumpon to the west when they wanted to. It is, however, possible that fishers from other villages did not lose their catches as often as Van Roosendaal implies, for he mentions that fish buyers bought up much of the catch in many of the fishing areas, including Blimbing’s. These fish buyers positioned themselves so that they could sail directly from the area where they bought fish to the market, sailed in vessels (usually lisalis) that were capable of tacking into the wind, and sometimes processed the fish into pindang while underway. In any case, Van Roosendaal makes it clear in his article that some fishers had recently moved beyond the areas shown on his map into new fishing grounds. Since about 1900

Catching More with the Same Technology, 1870s to 1930s

103

Madurese fishers had been placing their rumpon close to Bawean, where they were able to capture great quantities of fish between April and June. They had apparently stepped up their fishing in 1907; the number of boats taking part in this fishery jumped from 82 in 1909 to 166 in 1910. All of their catch was processed on Bawean, apparently by Madurese, as the people of Bawean did not take part in this fishery except to hire out the sheds in which the fish were processed into salt fish and pindang. The bulk of the products of this fishery was shipped to market in Java. All this may not necessarily contradict the picture of a moribund offshore fishery conveyed by Masyhuri’s meticulously researched study, but it does imply that some fishers were finding their work reasonably profitable and were moving into new fishing grounds.96 In 1938 H. van Pel prepared a map of the areas fished by the perahu mayang from villages along the north coast of Java and Madura. Map 4.5 shows the section of his map that coincides with the area covered by Van Roosendaal’s. Although his map is less detailed than Van Roosendaal’s, we can call upon some observations made by Bottemanne to see what changes had taken place by the late 1930s. The first thing that is apparent was a shift in the location of the fishing grounds. While the fishing grounds of villages in east Madura were now located only slightly to the west of where they had been, the fishing grounds of most of the other villages were now further from shore. In particular, these fishing grounds had shifted towards Bawean. In other words, the movement towards Bawean that Van Roosendaal had mentioned as a recent phenomenon was now well established. Presumably, the fishers operating very close to Bawean landed their catches on that island, but there was also a very rapid expansion of the practice of selling catches to fish traders while still at sea,97 thus enabling fishers to operate further from shore and to stay at sea much longer if their catches were good. It is important to add that seaborne fish traders, particularly those based in west Madura, began processing more and more fish while still at sea. Up to the late 1920s they usually made the fish into pindang, but when the market for the relatively expensive pindang fell during the Depression they simply salted the fish instead.98 By processing the fish at sea the fish traders did not have to land the fish as quickly and so could pick up the catches of fishers further from shore. Van Pel’s map suggests that as the perahu mayang shifted their

Map 4.5 Van Pel’s Map of the Fishing Grounds of Villages on the Northeast Coast of Java and the North Coast of Madura in 1938 104

Chapter 4

Catching More with the Same Technology, 1870s to 1930s

105

operations further from shore the clear identification of particular villages with particular fishing grounds that is so pronounced in Van Roosendaal’s map began to break down. Madurese as well as crews from Weru now fished to the north of Bawean. Crews from many different villages along the western part of the north coast of Madura fished to the southeast of Bawean, fishers from Palang, Tambakboya, and Tuban all operated in the same fishing ground, and the fishers of Weru shared one fishing ground with fishers from Kranji as well as another with Madurese. As Bottemanne put it, the whole business had become more “international”. 99 Unfortunately, my sources give few hints about how these changes happened. Despite the antipathy to the old arrangement that Van Roosendaal showed, there is no evidence that in the years following his comments Dutch officials pursued a policy of trying to destroy it, nor is it likely that a decline in catches pushed fishers further out to sea.100 An increasing demand for fish, the growing practice of selling the catch at sea, and the rapid growth of the waters around Bawean as a fishing ground well away from the home villages of all the participants all helped to bring about both the movement further from shore and a weakening of old arrangements. There was a great deal of room to expand fishing with existing technology, but, as I will show in Chapter 5, the motorization of a few perahu mayang in the 1930s contributed to this outward movement as well.

The Kangean Islands The Kangean Islands (Map 4.6) are located on the southeastern fringe of the Sunda Shelf. The marine animal life of the islands included fairly large pelagic fish such as skipjack tuna characteristic of the much deeper waters to the east as well as scads, sardinella, and other small pelagic species commonly captured by the offshore fishers of Java and Madura. Surrounding many of the islands were very extensive coral reefs inhabited by tripang, turtles, and a myriad of species of fish. In the middle of these islands is the tiny island of Sapeken, which in 1906 had a population of about 6,800,101 mainly Mandarese, whose livelihoods depended on fishing. In keeping with the ecological diversity of the waters around the islands, the fishers of Sapeken and nearby islands employed virtually the full range of the methods available at the time — nets, fish corrals, traps,

Map 4.6 Kangean Islands

106

Chapter 4

Catching More with the Same Technology, 1870s to 1930s

107

hooks, and spears — to capture marine animals. From the point of view of the quantity caught, the most important fishing gear was the payang, operated, usually in conjunction with a rumpon, to capture sardinella, scads, and other small pelagic fish. Next in importance were various kinds of hooks, used to catch larger pelagic fish and crimson snappers (bambangan, Lutjanus erythropterus),102 and driftnets, mainly used to catch reef fish. Virtually all of the fish caught by the fishers of Sapeken had to be processed in one way or another, partly because the fishers themselves ate salted rather than fresh fish but mainly because nearly all of what they caught was exported. The catch of the payang fishers was made into pindang (prepared and sold in kerosene cans) or kanas, a product similar to “Siam fish” that required a great deal of salt to prepare. When the price of fish fell too low to make a profit from preserving the fish with a lot of salt, the fish were simply dipped in brine, left in the sun, and sprinkled with salt water every day. The result of this process was a lowgrade product that fetched very low prices.103 The fish caught by the hook-and-line fishers were salted and dried, as were the catches of the driftnetters. The hook-and-line fishers and the driftnetters both roamed considerable distances. The hook-and-line fishers fished as far away as Sakala, the Polo Islands, and the waters around Noko Reef (Takat Noko). They set up temporary camps on reefs, sandbars, and uninhabited islands where they could salt and dry their catches and sell the processed fish to traders who sailed around buying up fish. The driftnetters fished on all of the many reefs in the Kangean Islands and even sailed as far east as the Paternoster Islands, 140 kilometres from Sapeken (Map 4.7).104 As all this suggests, the fishers and fish processors of Sapeken needed large amounts of salt to sustain their business. They also needed to be able to carry salt to sea with them either to give their catch a preliminary salting or to prepare the final product. Up to 1907 the fishers and fish processors of Sapeken got small amounts of salt in the form of briquettes from the government’s monopoly, but the vast bulk of the salt they used came from Sulawesi. This salt cost about one-ninth as much as the salt the government had just begun selling in its salting sheds in Java and Madura.105 Administratively, Sapeken was part of a district in eastern Madura and therefore subject to the government’s salt monopoly, but officials turned a blind eye to the importation of salt from Sulawesi. Blessed with an abundance of fish, very cheap salt, and even a plentiful

Map 4.7 Flores Sea

108

Chapter 4

Catching More with the Same Technology, 1870s to 1930s

109

supply of teak from nearby islands for building boats, Sapeken flourished as a fishing town. Large traders engaged in the business of buying up, processing, and exporting fish, but because salt was cheap and its use was subject to no restrictions fishers and their families themselves did a great deal of fish processing and “nearly every payang fisher was to some extent also a fish trader”.106 The main export market was Bali. This was partly because there was a ready market for fish there, but geography was also an important consideration. The north coast of Bali is only 130 kilometres from Sapeken, about half the distance to ports in east Java. Moreover, the large boats that carried fish could easily sail between Sapeken and Bali during both monsoons. During the west monsoon they could sail across the northwest wind both ways, while during the east monsoon they could do the same with the southeast wind. When the conditions were good a boat could make the voyage to Bali in twelve hours. Sapeken was not bound to the Bali market, however. When prices were low there but high in east Java, boats would carry processed fish to Panarukan and sometimes as far as Probolinggo in east Java even though they were likely to face headwinds on one leg of the trip.107 In 1907 Sapeken’s prosperity was shattered when the government suddenly decided to block imports of cheap salt from Makassar. The fishers and fish processors of Sapeken now had to pay the full monopoly price for salt, since the government did not simultaneously set up a salting shed where its salt could be sold at a lower price for processing fish. As a result, “fishing came to a standstill; there were shortages because there were no fish with which to pay for the necessities of life, all of which Sapeken must import; many abandoned the island and set up elsewhere”; and the population of Sapeken fell to 3,700.108 In 1909 the government set up a salting shed on Sapeken, but, as mentioned, the salt sold at the government’s sheds was much more expensive than Makassar salt. Moreover, the government at first prohibited fishers from taking any salt to sea with them and prevented fishers and processors from using the salt anywhere except in the shed. With the introduction of the salt monopoly, according to Van Roosendaal, both the hook-and-line fishers and the driftnetters were “sentenced to death”. They could only preserve their catches on the islands near where they fished if they paid the full monopoly price for salt, but by doing this they could not compete with Makassarese who landed fish at Sapeken after preserving them with salt they bought in Sulawesi.109 As for the payang fishers, they too felt the full

110

Chapter 4

force of the new regime. Their business was undermined by the great increase in the price of salt, since they caught fish that needed a great deal of salt to preserve properly but fetched relatively low prices. Moreover, since they were unable to take the salt sold in the salting sheds to sea with them, they could no longer fish in many fishing grounds that they had previously exploited. During the east monsoon they could extend their range to the southeast by gradually making their way to the windward to the fishing ground, set their nets, and bring their catch back to Sapeken as quickly as possible on the southeast wind. If, however, they were becalmed or met a headwind on the homeward journey, their catch spoiled by the time they returned to Sapeken.110 During the 1910s the government relaxed some of the restrictions on the use of salt. In 1910 it allowed boats to carry 6 kilograms of salt per fisher per month (just enough to convert 15 kilograms of fresh fish into one can of pindang ) and later increased the amount to 15 kilograms. Under a regulation introduced in 1914 large boats that towed sampans out to the fishing grounds were allowed to take an extra 80 kilograms of salt for each sampan up to a maximum of five sampans; in order to carry as much salt as possible the crews of these boats towed more sampans than they actually needed for fishing. Finally, in 1916 the government also lowered the price of salt slightly. As a result of these measures exports gradually recovered, but in 1914 the total value of exports was still only about half of what it had been before 1907.111 The price of salt was still several times the price of Makassar salt, and many restrictions on its use remained in place. A consequence of the upheaval in 1907–08 was that the whole business of processing and trading fish became centralized in the hands of four big traders, since fishers could no longer freely process their catches when and where they chose. These traders appear to have tied Sapeken even more closely to the market in Bali, since they worked out deals by which they could sell fish there at a fixed price. It is likely that a smaller proportion of the overall profit from fishing went to the fishers themselves than it had before 1907.112 Exports of fish reached a peak in 1926 but then plummeted during the Depression, as the prices of fish products fell sharply while the price of salt remained high. Exports of pindang, the most important product by weight, fell from 640 tons in 1926 to 120 tons in 1933; in the early 1930s exports of kanas, the product requiring the most salt to prepare,

Catching More with the Same Technology, 1870s to 1930s

111

were about one-tenth of what they had been in the mid-1920s.113 We can assume that the big fall in exports represented a corresponding fall in actual catches, since virtually all of the catch was exported. The high cost of salt had an even greater impact at Sapeken than it did in Java and Madura, since there were no large urban markets where some of the catch could be sold fresh and since fish was bound to spoil before it reached distant markets if processors skimped on the amount of salt they used.114 In the late 1930s exports increased considerably. On the one hand demand rose, while on the other the government reduced the price of salt slightly, issued licences for the sale of salt outside the government’s salting shed, allowed some licence holders to prepare pindang in their own sheds, and allowed fishers to take unlimited amounts of salt to sea with them. Nevertheless, the fishers of Sapeken were still at a disadvantage in relation to those who had access to cheaper salt. Among their competitors were Makassarese who fished for crimson snappers in waters near Sapeken. Because these fishers carried Makassar salt with them to their fishing grounds they were able to preserve their catches more cheaply than the fishers based at Sapeken could. Thus, exports of crimson snappers from Sapeken hardly increased at all in the late 1930s.115 From the limited evidence available we can see that catches fluctuated greatly between 1900 and the 1930s. In some years there was a great abundance of fish, while in others fish were scarce. In 1914 and 1915 there was such a scarcity of fish that the payang fishers abandoned their usual fishing grounds and sailed to the Paternoster and Postilion islands far to the east of Sapeken, and in some other years they sailed to the Bali Strait to fish near Banyuwangi and particularly in Pangpang Bay.116 It is, however, very unlikely that the activities of the fishers themselves had any appreciable effect on the abundance of fish. The only limits on fishing at this time were those imposed by natural fluctuations in fish populations, the pattern of the winds, the fishing gear, and the availability of cheap salt.

The Philippines Fish corrals were the most important fishing gear in much of the Philippines (Map 4.8) throughout this period just as they had been in

Chapter 4

112

Map 4.8 Central and Northern Philippines

Catching More with the Same Technology, 1870s to 1930s

113

the mid-1800s. In 1901 corrals were “the method most extensively used” in the islands.117 Thirty years later corrals were “the most important and numerous” “native” (as opposed to Japanese) fishing device in San Miguel Bay, “literally dotting the shores along the western and southern coasts during the southwest monsoon and along the eastern coast during the northeast monsoon”.118 Another report from the 1930s described corrals as “commercially the most important fishing apparatus in the Visayan region”.119 Yet another report described corrals as “the most common fishing apparatus” used in Zamboanga province; corrals here and elsewhere along the coast of Mindanao sometimes caught immense quantities of skipjack tuna, yellowfin tuna, and other large pelagic fish when they came close to shore during their migrations.120 Just as fishers in the Gulf of Siam and the Rokan estuary built larger fishing stakes in deeper water, so too did their counterparts in the Philippines. In the 1930s the deeper corrals in San Miguel Bay were placed in water up to 14 metres deep, while in the Visayas some corrals stood in water as deep as 25 metres.121 One such deep sea corral, the hasang moderno, an intricate structure with four entrances for entrapping fish, was considered “the most effective of all fishing corrals in the Visayas”.122 All of these large corrals represented large investments on the part of their owners. In 1932 a hasang moderno built in water about 15 metres deep cost $1,500, while the largest corral, in water 25 metres deep, cost $4,000.123 Large corrals required a much larger investment than a large net-fishing unit did, especially since corrals often had to be rebuilt every year. However, the operating costs were very much lower, presumably because far fewer workers were needed. Motivated by such considerations, the owners of some net-fishing units at Estancia switched to fishing with deep sea corrals, following the lead of some Tagalog migrants who had already erected large fish corrals near the town.124 Large corrals built in deep water were, it must be noted, not always more productive than corrals in shallow water. In San Miguel Bay, according to Agustin Umali, who investigated several fisheries in the Philippines during the 1930s, the corrals in shallow water caught more fish than the deep waters corrals did during periods of heavy rain when the great quantities of nutrients discharged into the bay by rivers made the inshore waters ideal feeding areas for many fish and shrimps.125 Nevertheless, the trend was towards larger corrals set in deeper water, but by the 1930s it

Chapter 4

114

appears that this trend had gone about as far as it could. Referring to Estancia in the early 1930s, Szanton mentions that “for some time catches of the punót [large fish corrals] had been declining”.126 Accounts of net fishing show the same pattern of intensification and expansion. For example, Martin relates how the fishers of Dalaguete on the southeast coast of Cebu began catching flyingfish using floating traps in the 1890s, but “after years of observation” they developed a method of catching flyingfish with gillnets and at some stage began using a kind of purse seine as well.127 By the time of his visit in 1936 these waters were still intensively fished, but “years of unrestrictive fishing have caused the flyingfish fishery of this region to decline”. As catches declined, and as the number of people trying to catch fish in this area increased, some of the fishers extended their fishing to northwestern Cebu, where they were the first to catch flyingfish in this area, and to Negros and Bohol. By 1936 many fishers from Dalaguete had gone to Leyte and Samar to fish. To give another example, sometime in the 1890s sapyaw crews from Capiz began to operate in the waters off Estancia when “vast schools” of fish were discovered in the area. A sapyaw, shown in Figure 4.2, was a large dustpan-shaped net made of abaca fibre that was used to catch pelagic fish on nights with little or no moonlight when a school could be spotted by the luminescence created as it swam just below the surface. Figure 4.2 A Sapyaw

Catching More with the Same Technology, 1870s to 1930s

115

The crew of twenty-eight to forty-eight men operating in two singleoutrigger dugout canoes (sapyaw-an) would position the net under the fish and then pull on ropes attached to the front edge of the net, thereby trapping the fish in a great bag. The crew would set and haul in the net four times a night. Working in this way, they captured huge quantities of fish, mainly sardines (Sardinella lemuru128), which they carried to shore, where the fish were preserved and prepared for shipment to Manila and other cities. In the mid-1920s, by which time many owners had given up their sapyaw to build fish corrals instead, some operators adopted the kubkuban, a kind of purse seine operated from a single large doubleoutrigger boat. The net itself was about 240 metres long and 20 to 40 metres deep and had a very large mesh, since a fine-meshed net would have been too heavy for the crew of twenty-two to thirty men to handle. Because of the size of the mesh the net caught relatively large fish such as mackerel. Interviewed in the late 1960s, one fish dealer recalled “a catch of 50,000 mackerels in a single night”.129 Although these “native” methods caught more and more fish, they accounted for a smaller proportion of the fish consumed in the Philippines in the 1930s than they did in 1900. Japanese fishers landed large catches at Manila and other cities, as we shall see in Chapter 5. Imports of canned fish from the United States and Japan increased from 3,000 tons in 1916130 to 17,000 tons just before the Pacific War.131 At the same time the output of fishponds increased markedly. According to the 1918 census, “the majority of nipa groves” — on the best land for fishponds — had been converted to fishponds because of the heavy tax imposed on nipa spirits by the Internal Revenue Law of 1904.132 A marked increase in the productivity of fishponds took place as the area devoted to fish cultivation increased. Owners carefully stocked their ponds with milkfish fry collected from the sea rather than simply opening the gate during a flood tide and letting a great variety of species into the pond, and they developed ways of fostering the growth of milkfish, described in 1929 as “by far the leading fish in Manila markets”.133 Catches by Filipino marine fishers fell relative to these other sources of fish for many reasons. Many municipal authorities taxed fisheries very heavily either because they regarded fisheries solely as a source of revenue or because they used taxation to discourage the operators of new fishing gears when they had an interest in fishing themselves.

116

Chapter 4

Salt was plentiful, but the poor quality of the salt was partly responsible for the “poor to wretched” quality of much of the dried fish produced in the islands.134 The attraction of owning a fishpond may have drawn some investment away from the capture fisheries.135 Finally, it is possible that more intensive fishing had begun to have an impact on marine resources in the Philippines just as it had in other parts of Southeast Asia. The continual movement of the Dalaguete fishers certainly suggests that they put great pressure on flyingfish populations, and Szanton’s observation about the declining catches of corrals suggests that this fishing gear had begun to have an impact on fishery resources at least at Estancia, but various reports asserting that fish stocks were being overly exploited tell us little. In his report on San Miguel Bay, Umali claimed in 1937 that “indiscriminate catching of the different species” regardless of size or maturity “has resulted in a decrease of the supply that is now beginning to be felt more acutely by the individual fishermen”,136 but he gave no details. In 1940 Porter argued that fishery resources in inshore waters were “being rapidly depleted” but she too provided no information about catches or catch rates.137 At the very least, however, we can accept Herre’s judgement that population growth had “thrown a burden on the shore fisheries that in many places they cannot sustain without marked depletion”.138 As I will show in the following chapter, Filipino fishers adopted and invented several new fishing methods to capture fish in the 1920s and 1930s, but many of these, most notably the use of dynamite, intensified pressure on the inshore waters where most fishing already took place.

Burma There are few sources on the marine fisheries of Burma from the late 1800s to the 1930s, but the few that exist suggest that marine fish catches declined sharply during this period. One historian’s assertion that “seafishing died out and only inland fishing remained”139 may exaggerate the extent of this decline, but there is no doubt that it became an insignificant part of the economy. As early as 1880 an official enquiry concluded that the marine fisheries of Thongwa and Bassein had “for some years been declining”.140 In 1918 Christie declared that “the sea coast of Burma … is almost deserted”,141 while U Khin painted this

Catching More with the Same Technology, 1870s to 1930s

117

picture of the marine fisheries of Burma just before the Japanese occupation: [The] fishing industry all along the Burma coast is … poorly developed. It has had neither attention nor capital commensurate with its potential resources devoted to it. … [T]he long sea coast of Burma is practically deserted except in the vicinity of commercial ports, where the demand for fresh fish ensures continuity of employment to local fishing communities. The fishermen are generally poor. …142

The sketchiness of the available sources makes it difficult to make sense of this phenomenon, but certainly the government’s tax on salt contributed to the decline. Up to the 1870s salt was much cheaper in Burma than in other parts of British India because it was taxed much less heavily, but “the Burma rates were subsequently raised to the general Indian level”.143 In 1874 the Indian government began setting up fishcuring yards in Madras, Bombay, and Bengal where fish curers could buy salt free of tax for the purpose of processing fish within the yards,144 but no such yards were established in Burma. In the late 1860s the steamships that carried Burma’s rice exports began importing large quantities of salt which they carried as ballast, but this did not stimulate fish processing. Though cheaper than locally produced salt, imported salt was still very expensive because of a heavy import duty, and in any case the processors preferred local salt for preparing ngapi.145 During the late 1800s the population of southern Burma grew rapidly as more and more land was opened for rice cultivation and there was a general improvement in standards of living. Even so, the consumption of salt for processing fish fell “considerably” in the late 1800s.146 The high cost of salt appears to have had a bigger impact on the marine fisheries than it did on the inland fisheries simply because marine fish were generally caught far from population centres and therefore needed to be preserved in some way. The difficulty of transporting fish to distant markets further hampered the marine fisheries. Even in the 1920s fishing communities along the coast of Burma, unlike those along the Gulf of Thailand, the west coast of the Malay Peninsula, or the north coast of Java, had few road or rail links with inland markets, while the coastal shipping service was poorly developed.147 Contemporary reports attributed much of the decline of marine fishing to the hold of moneylenders over fishers. In the early 1880s the

118

Chapter 4

government, taking the view that “virtually many of the craftsmen are serfs … to … money-lenders”, experimented with lending money to fishers to buy new boats and fishing gear. This scheme was soon abandoned, however, when officials found that many fishers gave up fishing as soon as they had made some money. “Our efforts to resuscitate the industry practically results in its decay”, one official wrote. “Government is occupying an anomalous position in attempting to support an industry which is repugnant to the fishermen”.148 In a report on the fisheries of Burma published in 1904, F.D. Maxwell rejected this view of fishers. According to Maxwell, anyone visiting coastal villages would find “dozens of men, possibly hundreds, whose families have been engaged in seafishing for years and generations. These men will never leave the industry.” Even if some did leave after accumulating some capital, he argued, the government should be grateful that fishing had enabled them to begin cultivating some crop or to start a business.149 Maxwell therefore shifted attention back to the power of moneylenders and recommended that the government make another attempt to lend to fishers.150 Apparently little came of this, however, for U Khin renewed the attack on moneylenders forty years later. Fishers in coastal areas, he claimed, “are mercilessly exploited by middlemen, who advance them long-term as well as short-term loans”. As a consequence, he argued, boats and fishing gear were “of the cheap and inefficient kind”, thereby confining fishing to inshore waters.151 Since the pernicious middleman was a common theme in fisheries reports in other parts of Southeast Asia as well, it is difficult to know how much weight to put on these remarks. Although it is likely that moneylenders did make large profits, they also faced considerable risks, while the high price of salt and difficulties in transporting fish to markets gave them little incentive to try to use their capital to expand fishing. As Christie noted, the rice, rubber, and mining industries all offered far more attractive returns on capital than the fishing industry did.152 However we explain it, marine catches appear to have reached a peak in the 1860s and then steadily declined right up to the Pacific War. As catches fell, imports rose. Imports of dried and salted fish increased from 1,300 tons in 1878/79 to 7,600 tons in 1897/98, at which time Burma also imported 7,800 tons of ngapi,153 and then to 13,400 tons in 1913/14.154 During the Depression Burma annually imported about

Catching More with the Same Technology, 1870s to 1930s

119

9,000 tons of dried and salted fish, most of which was produced in India or came from various places in other parts of Southeast Asia by way of Singapore.155 Thus, the people of Burma ate a great deal of fish caught elsewhere, while the rich fisheries resources of the Andaman Sea and the Bay of Bengal were left largely untapped.

Reaching a limit The great variations in fish catches from place to place and over time must be understood in the context of the revolution in transportation that took place from the mid-1800s to the 1920s. Since fish could be carried great distances at little cost, producers who had access to lots of cheap salt and an abundance of fish could compete in distant markets. Moreover, they did not have to be close to an area where salt was made in order to obtain cheap salt, since salt too could be shipped great distances — even across the Indian Ocean — at little cost. As long as fish were abundant, then, a crucial consideration for Southeast Asian fish processors was whether the government taxed salt, the essential ingredient for preparing fish products at this time. The high price of salt sold by the Netherlands Indies government salt monopoly dampened fishing in Java and Madura in the late 1800s, but when the government reduced the price of salt used for processing fish and gradually relaxed restrictions on its use catches increased. The government’s decision in 1907 to enforce its monopoly over the sale of salt in the Kangean Islands devastated the fishing industry there, but the industry gradually began to recover when the government introduced changes similar to those in Java and Madura. The high tax on salt in Burma appears to have remained in place throughout the colonial period and served to discourage the marine fishing industry. While high taxes imposed a burden in some areas, other areas had ready access to an abundance of cheap salt. It was in these areas that catches shot up. Salt was lightly taxed in the Gulf of Siam, thus enabling fish from there to be sold cheaply in Java, where the salt it was packed in heightened its appeal to consumers. Salt was more expensive at Bagan Si Api Api but still cheaper than it was in Java and Madura up to about 1910. Moreover, at least up to about 1910 the salt farm, itself a government creation, provided the holder of the farm with an incentive to stimulate fishing with huge amounts of credit. The government’s

120

Chapter 4

decision to set up a company to import and sell salt rather than subject Bagan Si Api Api to the salt monopoly helped promote the industry there after 1920. Salt policies were not the only means by which governments influenced the intensity of fishing. Tariffs on food products were generally low. This allowed producers in one territory who had access to cheap salt to sell their products cheaply in other territories. In this context of relatively free trade in fish products those governments that exercised monopolistic control over salt or taxed salt heavily stifled fishers in their own territories and helped those in territories free of such burdens to flourish. Low tariffs of course also promoted the sale of canned fish from California and Japan throughout Southeast Asia, thereby providing poor people with cheap fish but perhaps also slowing the growth of catches within Southeast Asia slightly. At the same time, heavy taxes on fisheries in many municipalities in the Philippines probably discouraged fishing there. Government policies do not explain all the spatial and temporal variations in the quantity of fish caught — we cannot ignore, for example, the fact that the Chinese who constructed jermal in the Rokan estuary tapped into one of the richest marine environments in the world — but they certainly account for much of the variation. The overall increase in catches in Southeast Asia and the rapid increase in certain places in certain periods resulted from the greater application of existing technology. From the point of view of my central theme the important point is that this phenomenon was characterized by movement. Fishers moved into areas that had been barely fished before, as when Chinese began building jermal in the Rokan estuary, Javanese and Madurese gradually moved further from the coast until the area around Bawean became an important fishing ground, and the flyingfish fishers of Dalaguete shifted to the northwest coast of Cebu. In the Gulf of Siam, the Philippines, and the Rokan estuary investors made larger fishing stakes so that they could place them in deeper water further from shore. At the same time fishers clearly did modify their fishing gears as time went by, so much so that the process of expansion using existing fishing methods that is the subject of this chapter merges with the process of extension using new technology that is the subject of the following chapter. Thus, the fishers of Bagan Si Api Api refined their jermal and adopted the ambai so that they could catch shrimps and later introduced the si tji so that they could capture fish in deeper water.

Catching More with the Same Technology, 1870s to 1930s

121

As we have seen, the sources contain many statements that marine animals in certain waters were being overly exploited. In his report on the fisheries of Siam, Smith stated that toli shad and barramundi had become much less abundant and feared that green turtles were endangered; Robinson and several other officials along the Straits of Malacca believed that jermal and ambai were destroying fish stocks; several officials who gave evidence to the Prosperity Commission stated that fishing had depleted fish stocks in their areas; Martin believed that “unrestrictive fishing” had caused a decline in the flyingfish industry of Dalaguete; and Umali wrote that “indiscriminate catching of the different species” had decreased fish numbers in San Miguel Bay. It is difficult to conclude whether some form of overfishing was in fact occurring in these areas. It is possible that the destruction of large areas of mangroves and the discharge of mining and other wastes into the rivers were, at the same time, undermining biological productivity in some of these areas. In 1921 Charlton Maxwell, an official with a lifelong enthusiasm for fish and fishing, made the following observation about shad on the west coast of the Malay Peninsula: Within the past few years the writer has, on several occasions, picked up these fish by hand in a dying condition apparently choked by silt [discharged by tin mines] in their attempt to ascend the rivers. Failing to ascend the rivers the Shad must either spawn in the sea or in the polluted lower reaches and in either case the eggs perish.156

Whether such pollution had any effect on those fish captured in fishing stakes, placed as they often were in or near estuaries, is unclear. What is clear, however, is that it was becoming increasingly difficult for individual fishing units to increase or even to maintain their catches in the areas where they were located if only because they had become so crowded with fishing gears. This was certainly the case in those areas where fishing stakes were an important fishing gear, as they were in all of the areas just mentioned except where the Dalaguetnons operated. In many places where fishing stakes were operated the only place to go was further from shore, but the poles that were used to construct them were becoming more expensive. In any case there was a limit on the depth of water in which a fishing stake could be constructed simply because the trees used to make the poles only grow to a certain height. Any marked increase in demand would have to be met by other gears operated in new

122

Chapter 4

fishing grounds. As it turned out, the growing population particularly on mines and plantations and in cities, the (at least relative) decline of freshwater fisheries, and the voracious appetite of the Japanese for fish all continued to push up the demand for Southeast Asian marine animals. As I will show in the following chapter, this growing demand had already combined with the policies of the colonial and Japanese governments, greater investment in fisheries, and the inventiveness of the fishers themselves to bring about the introduction of many new fishing gears, including several capable of capturing fish in ecological strata that had previously been untouched.

Reproduced from The Closing of the Frontier: A History of the Marine Fisheries of Southeast Asia c. 18502000, by John G. Butcher (Singapore: Institute of Southeast Asian Studies, 2004). This version was obtained electronically direct from the publisher on condition that copyright is not infringed. No part of this publication may be reproduced without the prior permission of the Institute of Southeast Asian Studies.Individual articles are available at http://bookshop.iseas.edu.sg > 123 Technological Change and the

168

Chapter 6

6 The Great Fish Race

The Japanese occupation of most of Southeast Asia from 1942 to 1945 had a devastating effect on fishing just as it did on most other economic activities. By the end of the war a great deal of equipment — boats, fishing gear, and ice plants — had been destroyed or badly damaged, imports of twine, nets, sail cloth, hooks, wire, and other materials needed for fishing had been cut off, transport and marketing systems had been disrupted, and the purchasing power of consumers had been greatly diminished. There is no direct way of measuring the course of catches during this period, but there are many indicators of the scale of the collapse. According to official statistics, fish landings in Malaya in 1946, when the industry had already begun to recover, amounted to 46,000 tons, as compared to an average of 85,000 tons in 1936–40.1 The number of trawlers operating in Manila Bay fell from seventy-one in 1940 to two by the end of the war.2 At Estancia subsistence fishing continued during the war, but commercial fishing came to a halt.3 Nearby on tiny Botlog Island “fishing activities … experienced a drastic change, since [the people] had to hide from time to time”.4 At Perupok fishing was severely disrupted, as the Japanese took people away (“the men with promise of work and the women as prostitutes”), paid little or nothing for the fish they wanted and appropriated much of the local rice harvest.5 The long-distance trade in fish products came almost to a standstill. Exports from Thailand fell from 17,000 tons in 1941 to 26 tons in 1945.6 The collapse in the longdistance trade meant that consumption of fish in areas such as Java and the west coast of the Malay Peninsula that had long depended on imports

The Great Fish Race

169

fell much more than the drop in local catches would suggest. At the same time the trade in salt, essential for the preservation of fish not consumed immediately after landing, virtually disappeared during the occupation. Exports of salt from Thailand fell from 139,000 tons to 2,000 tons between 1941 and 1945.7 Presumably the importation of salt from across the Indian Ocean ceased altogether right at the start of the war. Japanese fishing, now oriented almost entirely to the needs of the military, most notably at Pelabuhan Ratu, where sharks were captured to produce shark liver oil to lubricate airplane engines,8 continued during the war, but it too declined once the war began to turn against Japan. In Singapore the military conscripted all Japanese men under forty and began requisitioning fishing boats.9 And as the Allies began their assault on Japanese positions in Southeast Asia beginning with the Philippines, Japanese ships and boats became the targets of torpedoes, bombs, and guns. By the end of the war most large Japanese fishing vessels in Southeast Asia as well as the Pacific and in Japan had been destroyed. The period following the Japanese surrender in August 1945 was one of great political turmoil and, in some areas, of armed conflict as colonial rule gave way to independent nation-states. It is therefore remarkable how quickly fish catches returned to pre-war levels. In Malaya fish landings had recovered to their pre-war level by 1948, though they then fell slightly due to various restrictions imposed during the Emergency.10 In Indonesia the struggle between the nationalists and the returning Dutch (and, very briefly, between the nationalists and Chinese at Bagan Si Api Api11) hindered recovery, but by 1951 catches appears to have been back at the 1940 level.12 The recovery was particularly fast in the Philippines. Most of the governments of the region, whether they proved to be permanent or transitory, devoted a great deal of their energies to restoring fisheries as well as agriculture, in part because their survival depended on being able to feed their populations. “The critical food situation is still our main pre-occupation”, declared Lord Killearn in January 1947 in a message to a fisheries conference held in Singapore that included delegates from Burma, the Malayan Union, Thailand, and what then existed of the Netherlands Indies. He expressed the common view that the fisheries of the region provided “a potential source for the cheap and nutritious foodstuffs which are so vitally necessary”.13 By rebuilding the infrastructure of ports, railways, and roads, by building

170

Chapter 6

ice plants and markets, and by facilitating imports of engines, gear, and materials governments created the framework in which catches quickly returned to pre-war levels. The high prices caused by scarcity gave the owners of boats and gear an incentive to fish and gave others an incentive to invest in fishing gear. Japanese fishers, it needs to be noted, made no contribution to this recovery. Right after their return to Malaya the British authorities, desperate as they were to increase food production, considered the possibility of employing Japanese fishers interned in India to restart the fishing industry but decided not to, for it would have “justif[ied] a claim on the part of the Japanese to economic rights” in the post-war fishing industry.14 Thus, by the early 1950s at the latest catches had recovered to prewar levels virtually throughout the region. But catches did not merely continue to increase at the rate at which they had before the occupation. They skyrocketed. Between 1956 and 1980 nominal landings of marine fish shot up by a factor of 3.7 from a total of about 1.6 millions tons to about 5.8 million tons. The period of most phenomenal growth was from the late 1950s to the early 1970s when landings tripled. There was, indeed, an explosion in catches at this time. At the most general level this explosion was the result of a new outlook on the part of governments. The delegates who took part in the regional fisheries conference held in Singapore hoped not only to restore catches to pre-war levels but also to increase the fish supply by four or five times “in the near future”.15 The ethos of the new states of the 1950s was “development”. Governments, whether capitalist or socialist in outlook, began promoting agriculture, industry, and education first to achieve national self-sufficiency in the production of food and other necessities and to eradicate poverty and provide jobs and then, increasingly, to earn foreign exchange. In the case of fisheries the primary goals were to increase catches as quickly as possible to provide cheap food for fast-growing populations, to improve the welfare of fishing communities, and to increase the nation’s export income. Motivated in part by the desire to combat communism, the national aid agencies of the Federal Republic of Germany, the United States and other countries in the West and international aid agencies dominated by the West promoted production, and helped to foster this developmental ethos, by providing expertise and funds to make fishing more efficient and to improve the landing,

The Great Fish Race

171

handling, and processing of fish. Particularly in the 1960s the combined efforts of national governments and aid agencies brought about a surge in catches that accompanied the Green Revolution in agricultural productivity. The surge in catches was stimulated and sustained by demographic changes taking place at this time. Between 1945 and 1980 the population of Southeast Asia grew at 3 per cent per year from about 130 million to 360 million, pushed along by a sharp decline in infant mortality rates mainly because of the control of malaria and other diseases.16 The nutrition provided by fish contributed to population growth, and population growth in turn created an ever-increasing demand for fish products. The emergence of a middle class made up of civil servants, professionals, and business people contributed to the growth in demand. From the late 1940s to 1980 nominal fish landings increased more rapidly than the population grew. As the data in Appendix 3 show, per capita supply of fish for human consumption was higher in 1980/81 than it was in 1960/61 for Indonesia, Malaysia, the Philippines, and Thailand, though the per capita supply remained relatively low in Indonesia. Except in Malaysia, which imported large quantities of fish from other parts of the region, the per capita fish supply did not increase as rapidly as catches increased, however. In the case of Thailand the per capita supply actually fell during the 1970s.17 This was partly because an increasing proportion of fish landings was used to make fishmeal and other products not directly consumed by people, but it was also because an increasing proportion of the catch was exported from Southeast Asia to other parts of the world. Demand from markets outside the region in fact contributed a great deal to expanding catches. The most important of these markets was Japan. In the 1960s Japan became a major consumer of shrimps as the economy boomed, import restrictions on shrimps were lifted, women — entering the paid workforce in greater numbers but still expected to look after the family cooking — appreciated the speed with which dishes containing shrimps could be prepared, and import firms, supermarkets, and restaurants vigorously promoted shrimp products. Between 1965 and 1975 imports of frozen shrimp increased from 21,000 to 110,000 tons, and between the mid1960s and the mid-1980s the consumption of shrimps per capita rose by a factor of 2.5.18 Southeast Asia rapidly became one of the major

172

Chapter 6

suppliers of these shrimps. From the early 1950s to the 1970s the demand in Japan for chilled and frozen tuna initially for canning and then, as Japan prospered, for sashimi rose quickly, and again Southeast Asian waters supplied a large part of Japanese imports, though it was often Japanese fishers who captured the fish. Consumers in Europe and especially North America provided another source of demand for Southeast Asian seafoods. In particular, the United States became a big importer of frozen shrimps and tuna from the Philippines. A comparison of Figure 6.1 with Figure 3.1 shows that by the 1970s the trade in fish products differed radically from that before the Pacific War. In the early 1900s pearl shell exported from the region was an important trade item, but otherwise the trade in marine animal products was dominated by salted fish and belacan. The long-distance trade in these goods revived briefly after the war, with Singapore again at its hub, but it then virtually disappeared. Although salted fish remained a very important food, it was for the most part consumed within the countries where it was produced. Java continued to import large quantities of salted fish from the east coast of Sumatra, and Kalimantan became an increasingly important source of this product, but the flow of fish products from Thailand, Indochina, and Malaya that had been such a feature of the pre-war trade faded away during the 1950s and early 1960s.19 A far more important trade item between countries in the region was fresh fish, which flowed mainly to Malaysia and Singapore, both large consumers of relatively high-grade fish. As the diagram shows, the main feature of the trade system in 1978 was trade between Southeast Asian countries and countries outside the region rather than trade within the region. Indonesia and particularly the Philippines and Malaysia imported large amounts of canned fish, as they had in the 1930s, but the total value of exports to countries outside the region far exceeded that of imports, as Malaysia, the Philippines, and particularly Indonesia and Thailand exported more to countries outside the region than they imported. The bulk of the exports from the region consisted of highvalue commodities, particularly tuna and shrimps, sent to Japan and other countries with high standards of living in North America and Europe. Mainly because of demand from markets outside the region the proportion of total fish landings in Southeast Asia that entered international trade jumped from just 4.7 to 14 per cent between 1970

Figure 6.1 Trade of ASEAN Countries in Fish and Fish Products, 1978

The Great Fish Race 173

174

Chapter 6

and 1980.20 As we shall see, the prospect of selling fish products to affluent countries was a powerful force driving greater fishing effort and investment in new fishing technologies. Technological change was crucially important in bringing about the upsurge in catches. New technologies made it possible to meet the growing demand, and in many cases they created the possibility of making large profits. The prospect of profits stimulated fishers and entrepreneurs to invest in more efficient methods of capturing and handling fish, and often it was this prospect that promoted further innovations in technology. We can list the technological changes that took place one by one — motorization, devices to detect fish, new fishing gears, nets made of synthetic fibres, the greater use of ice, the construction of cold storage facilities, improved land transport, and so on — but it was the combination of various changes that brought about the rapid rise in catches. Firth’s account of the dramatic changes in technology at Perupok in the early 1960s demonstrates the effect of one such combination: Greater power in the fishing fleet gave greater range, but this would not have yielded full advantage without ice to keep the fish fresh at sea. Nor would the much larger catches have been easy to handle by relying as formerly on public transport; private vans were advisable, and feasible because of the greater availability of such vehicles and the great improvements in the road system.21

In fact, technological change did not always take place this smoothly. In Negros Occidental in the 1970s, for example, “it is not uncommon to see large tunas covered with banana leaves spoiling under the heat of the sun”, since the drivers of the public buses on which these fish had to be carried to market were not always willing to accept “dripping, fishy cargo”.22 Nevertheless, the general trend was for increases in catches to promote improvements in transportation and handling and for these improvements in turn to promote greater fishing effort. Although the fishing industry surged from the late 1940s to the 1970s, the magnitude and timing of this surge differed greatly from country to country. Catches shot up in the Philippines immediately after the war, but in other countries they did not do so until the 1960s. The most spectacular increase took place in Thailand. In 1960 Thailand ranked well behind the Philippines, Indonesia, and Vietnam in marine landings, but according to FAO data landings increased at 22 per cent a year over

The Great Fish Race

175

the next decade.23 By the late 1960s Thailand was in fact the leading marine fishing country in Southeast Asia measured by total landings. In Malaysia total landings increased at 8.5 per cent a year during the 1960s and 1970s, shooting up at 13.3 per cent a year between 1964/65 and 1968/69. In Indonesia landings did not grow quite so spectacularly, but they increased fairly rapidly beginning in the late 1960s. Between 1967/ 68 and 1977/78 landings grew more quickly in Indonesia (at 5.4 per cent a year) than they did anywhere else except in Thailand (8.6 per cent) and Malaysia (6.1 per cent). It is likely that actual catches in Indonesian waters increased more rapidly than landings, since a great deal of fish caught in these waters was landed elsewhere or simply thrown overboard. In Vietnam landings increased very rapidly, at 18.9 per cent a year, between 1957/58 and 1963/64 mainly because of greater catches in South Vietnam, where the U.S. government supported investment in the fishing industry. It appears that landings continued to increase in South Vietnam during the Vietnam War even though many coastal areas were closed to fishing but then fell sharply following the withdrawal of U.S. forces in 1973. When the war ended and Vietnam was reunified, landings for the country as a whole stagnated mainly because about half of the fishing craft based in the south left the country carrying refugees. In Cambodia landings plummeted when the war spilled over the border from Vietnam and the Pol Pot regime took over the country. As for Burma, the FAO data suggest that marine landings underwent no surge but instead increased steadily at 3.5 per cent a year between 1967/68 and 1979/80. From the mid-1960s onwards Thai vessels ventured along the coasts of Cambodia, southern Vietnam, and Burma, landing their catches in their home ports and thereby raising the total for Thailand. In this chapter I will begin by looking at the Philippines and then move on to discuss the fisheries of Thailand, Malaysia, and Indonesia. This was roughly the sequence in which the fisheries of these countries underwent a rapid increase in catches. In fact, the transfer of the technology of trawl fishing from one to another largely accounts for this sequence of spurts in catches. A comment by Porfirio Manacop, one of the pioneers of trawling in the Philippines both as a fisheries officer and as a businessman, that the introduction of trawling gear was “primarily instrumental in the development of mechanized fishing” in the

176

Chapter 6

Philippines applies to Thailand, Indonesia, and, to a less extent, Malaysia as well.24 I will therefore focus on trawling, but we will see how trawling often gave way to various forms of pelagic fishing. The process of shifting from one gear to another and exploiting previously barely touched ecological strata provides the central theme of this account. In pursuing this theme I will focus primarily on the activities of fishers based in Southeast Asia, but fishers from Taiwan and particularly Japan were also part of this story. While Taiwanese were fishing in Philippine waters soon after the war, the Japanese disappeared from Southeast Asia for many years. The first MacArthur Line confined fishing vessels to waters close to Japan (the furthest point being about 1,300 kilometres southeast of Tokyo). The area in which they could operate was rapidly expanded until the fourth and final MacArthur Line, imposed in 1950, encompassed most of the Pacific Ocean north of the equator and west of the international date line, but Southeast Asia and many other areas where Japanese had fished before the war remained out of bounds. Thus, when the MacArthur Line was lifted at the time of the peace treaty in 1952 Japanese fishing vessels surged into Southeast Asian waters, the Indian Ocean, and the South Pacific and within a few years reached as far as the North Atlantic.25 Hoping to increase the supply of food while reducing the pressure that had been imposed on coastal fisheries as a result of the MacArthur Line, the government tried to divert fishing boats and surplus fishers into the distant water fishery, and it offered various incentives such as soft loans for the purchase of new vessels to promote distant-water fishing. At the same time the Japanese Fisheries Agency in the Ministry of Agriculture and Forestry strictly regulated the number of distant-water fishing vessels of different types and determined where they could operate. The first Japanese vessels to operate in Southeast Asia after the lifting of the last MacArthur Line appear to have been tuna longliners. They were soon followed by pole-and-liners in search of skipjack. And in the late 1960s a few shrimp trawlers began to operate in Indonesian waters. These trawlers operated from bases in Indonesia, but nearly all of the longliners and many of the pole-and-liners operated from Japan and landed their catches there. It is worth emphasizing that these catches did not appear in figures for fish landings in Southeast Asia.

The Great Fish Race

177

The Philippines Fighting between American armed forces and the Japanese military at the end of the Pacific War left Manila and many other cities and towns in ruins. In Manila piers, docks, and virtually all buildings fronting the bay were destroyed along with much of the rest of the city. Fishing boats and fishing gear were also destroyed in the fighting. The war therefore destroyed much of the fishing industry, but it also left in its wake many military boats and electrical generators and large stocks of explosives, all of which could be used to capture fish. According to one source, explosives were widely used in the immediate post-war period, because fish prices were very high and other means of capturing fish had been destroyed; indeed, “the majority of fish coming into the Manila market were obtained by this method”.26 Since the same source adds that explosives were mainly used to kill fish inhabiting coral reefs, explosives in effect took the place of muro ami fishing. First used as an expediency, explosives soon became an entrenched element in Philippine fisheries. Szanton recounts how fishers at Estancia developed a regular fishery using explosives and fuses obtained first from war-surplus dealers and then from other sources; chemical fertilizers, widely available as a result of the Green Revolution of the 1960s, were easily made into explosives. Explosives were dangerous but they cost little to buy, could be used by just one or two men in a small boat, and killed lots of fish. The fishers paddled out to rocky or coralline areas 9 to 18 metres deep, where they searched for large demersal fish including groupers and jacks. Once they had located some fish, they lit the fuse, tossed the explosive (“packed in a beer bottle or quart oil can”) overboard, and in this way killed fish up to 45 metres away. After waiting for sharks to busy themselves eating some of the dead fish, the fishers dived into the water and collected fish from the seabed with a handnet. Operating in this way, fishers captured huge quantities of fish, but they also destroyed more and more of the ecosystem, since the explosives killed fish eggs, immature fish, and corals as well as marketable fish. Szanton’s observation that “most of the once prolific offshore shallows which initially brought Estancia its fame are now underwater wastelands” describes what happened in many parts of the Philippines in the post-war years. Although the government legislated against the use of explosives in fishing, they

178

Chapter 6

continued to be widely used until President Marcos declared martial law in 1972 and the military began enforcing the ban on explosives.27 This clampdown must have been short-lived, however, for there are many reports from the 1980s indicating that explosives were widely used then.28 The use of explosives accounted for much of the increase in catches immediately after the war, but trawling soon became the most important commercial fishing method. As soon as the war was over Filipino operators took up beam trawling, which of course the Japanese had long practised. Indeed, because of the great profits to be made by supplying fresh fish to Manila “every available craft was placed in this industry”.29 The availability of boats and engines discarded or sold as surplus by the U.S. army and navy made possible a rapid expansion in the fleet of beam trawlers. By 1947 there was already a motley collection of ninety-seven beam trawlers fishing in Manila Bay and a further twenty fishing elsewhere in the islands, and catches from these trawlers had already surpassed those of the Japanese before the outbreak of the Pacific War.30 Together with explosives and various pelagic gears beam trawling quickly restored catches to pre-war levels. It was, however, the otter trawl that soon pushed up catches far beyond that level. Fisheries entrepreneurs and government agencies combined to bring about this upsurge. Although various attempts had been made to introduce otter trawls, the first commercially successful use of this gear appears to have taken place in 1946 or 1947 when a fishing company managed by Manacop experimented with a stern-set otter trawl of the type used on the west coast of the United States and made large profits from their catches. At about the same time fisheries officers in the Philippine Bureau of Fisheries and the Philippine Fishery Program set up by the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service as part of the post-war rehabilitation programme began a survey of the waters surrounding the islands to explore their suitability for trawling. Their main purpose was to discover which waters contained the richest stocks of marketable fish and shrimps, how the abundance of these animals varied according to the depth of the water, whether the composition of the seabed was suitable for trawling, and whether war debris would obstruct trawling. Even before the publication of the results of this research, however, members of the survey team, which included Manacop, conducted demonstrations of the otter trawl in order to encourage more operators to adopt it. As a result of these demonstrations

The Great Fish Race

179

as well as the company’s successful adoption of the otter trawl, the operators of beam trawlers quickly converted their boats to the new net. This was a time of considerable experimentation. Trawl operators tried to find the right combination of engine, gears, and propellers for the available hulls and to design a net that allowed them to catch both shrimp and fish, but right from the start they made large profits. By 1953 all beam trawlers had been converted to the otter trawl, and as early as 1949 some entrepreneurs began building boats specially designed to operate otter trawls. Although the sources say nothing about the individuals and companies involved in trawling at this time, they clearly had access to substantial funds. According to an article published in 1955, the cost of a 25-GT otter trawler made from a reconditioned tugboat, powered by a 225-horsepower Gray marine diesel engine, and serviced on shore by a used jeep came to $13,000, while the monthly operating costs — salaries and wages for the crew of eight, salaries for a manager, accountant, net mender, driver, and helpers on shore, fuel, food for the crew, repairs, and depreciation on the hull, engine, and gear — came to $1,600. The prospect of a monthly net income of about $670, however, made the investment a profitable one.31 By the time the results of the survey were published in 1950 the otter trawl was already well established in Manila Bay. The authors of the report, Herbert Warfel of the U.S. Fisheries and Wildlife Service and Manacop, described in detail most of the possible trawling grounds of the Philippines, and they estimated the number of trawlers that each of these grounds could sustain without severely depleting stocks. Thus, for example, they suggested that San Miguel Bay, which was the richest of all the grounds they surveyed and where there were no trawlers at the time of their survey, could sustain three or four small trawlers and that Carigara Bay could “possibly” sustain that number, while Tayabas Bay could sustain one or two.32 These findings as well as their discovery that war debris provided little hindrance to trawling opened up many new fishing grounds for the otter trawl operators. The publication of the report came, in fact, just at the time catch rates were beginning to fall in Manila Bay. As can be seen from Table 6.1, the catch per vessel per day of 800–1,200 kilograms in 1945 was much higher than the rate in 1941, largely because the drastic decline in fishing during the war had allowed

Chapter 6

180

Table 6.1 Number, Catch Rate, and Length of Fishing Trip of Trawlers Operating in Manila Bay, 1941–53 Year 1941 1942–44 1945 1946 1947 1948 1949 1950 1951 1952 1953

Otter Trawl

Beam Trawl

Total

Normal Catch per Vessel per Day (kg)

Length of Fishing Trip (days)

— — — 1 3 14 19 48 75 64 60

71 15 2 82 97 51 91 84 56 35 —

71 15 2 83 100 65 110 130 130 99 60

200–280 — 800–1,200 600–800 400–600 320–400 240–320 160–240 160–200 120–200 120–200

1–2 — 1 1 1 1–2 2 2–3 2–3 3–4 3–4

Source: Porfirio R. Manacop, “Commercial Trawling in the Philippines”, Philippine Journal of Fisheries 3 (1955): 173.

populations to recuperate. As the number of trawlers multiplied over the next few years the catch per vessel quickly fell below the pre-war level to 120–200 kilograms in 1953. Since the size and power and hence the cost of these vessels had gone up considerably during these years, this decline must have represented an even steeper drop in profitability. The operators of trawlers in Manila Bay reacted to the falling catch rates in a number of ways. Taking advantage of the information supplied by the survey, many of them began fishing outside the bay but continued to land their catches at Manila. Others moved their operations to San Miguel Bay, the Visayan Sea, the Samar Sea, and other fishing grounds in the Visayas and then further to the south to Palawan. In 1953, according to one estimate, 57 per cent of the fish marketed in Manila came from Malampaya Sound in northwestern Palawan and the northwestern Sulu Sea.33 Within a very short time trawlers were operating in most of the grounds identified by Warfel and Manacop. In fact, the total number of trawlers soon far exceeded the number suggested by Warfel and Manacop. While noting the possibilities for expanding trawl fishing, Warfel and Manacop had gone to some lengths to stress that the trawlable area of the Philippines was quite small because of the narrow shelf surrounding the islands, that demersal fish did not exist in nearly as

The Great Fish Race

181

great abundance as in the fisheries of temperate climates, and that unlike in the waters of the English Channel and off the west coast of the United States few fish were to be found at depths greater than 80 metres. They argued that it was only because the demand for fresh fish was so great that it had been possible “to exploit such low-producing areas with profit”.34 Pointing out that it took three to four years for stocks to recover in waters that had been trawled, Manacop calculated in 1950 that the 224 registered trawlers then operating in Philippine waters had the capacity to fish the entire trawlable area of the islands in just ninety days.35 By the late 1950s not only the catch per vessel but also the total catch of commercial trawlers operating in Manila Bay had fallen.36 Writing generally about the Philippines, two fisheries officers had argued as early as 1950 that “if the average Filipino continues to depend on fish for his animal protein food” the government would have to find ways to regulate the existing trawl fishery and to investigate the possibility of trawling in the South China Sea and the Gulf of Thailand.37 The data on catches of ponyfish in the central Visayas shown in Table 6.2 help us to see the rapidity with which trawlers exploited new fishing grounds and then moved on to new ones. There were already twenty to twenty-four trawlers operating in the Guimaras Strait in 1949. In 1951, the first year for which catch figures are available, trawlers fishing in the strait captured 4,200 tons of ponyfish, but over the next three years their catches of this fish and the total catch from the strait declined very sharply. According to Rasalan, otter trawlers based within the strait “operate continuously throughout the year”, shifting from one side to the other depending on the wind. As catches fell, however, some of these trawlers began to move out of the strait and began to fish in the Visayan Sea, the Asid Gulf, and other areas, thus lengthening their fishing trips from a day to five days. Some trawlers based in Luzon were apparently already fishing in these areas. With this movement into new fishing grounds the trawlers landed more and more fish. Part of the catches landed by the trawlers probably consisted of fish that would have been caught by local fishers using traditional fishing methods. In fact, as the trawlers swept through the inshore waters they destroyed many traps, fish corrals, and gillnets, forcing many local fishers to abandon fishing. In other words, at least part of the growth in landings by trawlers represented a shift in the gear catching the fish rather than an actual

Chapter 6

182

Table 6.2 Landings of Ponyfish (Leiognathidae) by Commercial Fishing Boats in the Central Visayas, 1951–54 (thousands of tons) No. of Trawlers Fishing Ground

1951

1952

1953

1954

1949

1955

Guimaras Strait

4.2 (11)

2.9 (7.0)

2.0 (4.3)

1.8 (4.8)

20–24

106

Visayan Sea

2.4 (12)

4.9a (20)

5.4a (18)

7.6a (27)

5–10b

40

Asid Gulf

0.1a (0.7)

0.3a (1.2)

0.4a (1.3)

0.7a (4.3)

5

Note: Figures within parentheses are total landings. Indicates that this was the largest single component of the catch in that year. b This figure is for the “West Visayan Sea”, but a map in Warfel and Manacop, Otter Trawl Explorations in Philippine Waters, p. 11, suggests that there were no trawlers in other parts of the Visayan Sea in 1949. a

Source: Santos B. Rasalan, “Marine Fisheries of the Central Visayas”, Philippine Journal of Fisheries 5, no. 1 (January–June 1957): 54, 59, 69, 73, 81; Herbert E. Warfel and Porfirio R. Manacop, Otter Trawl Explorations in Philippine Waters, Fish and Wildlife Service, Research Report 25 (Washington: United States Government Printing Office, 1950), p. 10, for number of trawlers in 1949.

increase in landings. Nevertheless, the trawlers also operated in offshore waters not fished with traditional fishing gears and in any case captured fish that would have escaped the traditional gears. The trawlers therefore increased the intensity of fishing enormously. I have no data on catches in these grounds after 1954, but Rasalan noted a predominance of immature fishes in the catches of the trawlers operating in the Visayan Sea and Asid Gulf and argued that “the demersal fishes are undergoing depletion which requires immediate attention”.38 One area for which there is clear evidence of the impact of trawling over a fairly long time is San Miguel Bay. Apparently no trawlers were operating in the bay in 1948,39 but in 1980 as many as eighty-nine of various sizes fished there.40 The largest type of trawler operating within the bay in 1980 was about 18 metres long and had a 200-horsepower diesel engine. An analysis of the results of various trawl surveys shows that the “trawlable biomass” in the bay, namely, the total quantity of fish and other animals accessible to trawlers, fell at a rate of about 5 per cent

The Great Fish Race

183

a year from 8,900 tons in 1948 to 1,600 tons in 1980. From an economic point of view a remarkable change in the composition of demersal species in the bay partially compensated for the drastic decline in biomass. Exactly 60 per cent of the fish captured during the 1948 survey were ponyfish, whereas in 1980 trawl catches were dominated by more valuable species such as croakers, squids, and shrimps. The very high turnover rate of the species that now made up fish populations in the bay — in 1980 trawlers caught 3.6 times as much as the trawlable biomass of the bay — helped to sustain trawling as well. Nevertheless, a study of the profitability of various fishing gears used in San Miguel Bay in 1980–81 found that the largest trawlers were operating at a loss and that operators of trawlers of all sizes as well as of other fishing gears “complained of being caught between declining catches and increasing fuel costs”.41 The decline in catches and hence the profitability of trawling for shrimp and demersal fish stimulated the capture of pelagic species such as anchovies, scads, sardines, and mackerels. In 1950–51 the operators of medium-sized trawlers in Manila Bay, the Samar Sea and Ragay Gulf began installing bagnets (basnig), sometimes in place of and sometimes in addition to the trawl net. At about the same time some PT boats, submarine chasers, and other war craft that had been converted into fish carriers were converted once again to operate the basnig. One of the features of the basnig was that it could be operated from boats ranging in size from small outrigger canoes to converted submarine chasers. Use of former warcraft such as PT boats, which were capable of speeds up to 40 knots, enabled “Manila Bay fishermen to increase their radius of operation and reach as far as the fishing grounds in eastern and western Palawan”,42 which, as Table 6.3 shows, soon became the main fishing ground of commercial basnig operators. The catching power of the basnig depended in large part on the brightness of the lights used to attract fish to the waters just below the boat before the net was lifted. Mantle petrol lamps (such as the Coleman lamp) were used for these lights until about 1947 when all of the operators of basnig and similar nets installed electric generators, as in the case of the basnigan shown in Figure 6.2. By the early 1950s some of the larger basnigan were equipped with as many as sixteen 1,000-watt bulbs. The number of commercial basnigan increased rapidly from about 160 in 1948 to about 650 in 1952, while the number of commercial trawlers reached a peak of about 300 in 1951 and then

64,000 15,000 100,000 48,000 240,000

Fishing Gear

Bagnet Muro ami Purse seine Otter trawl

Total (all gears)

62

74 84 87 33

Quantity Caught in “Sulu (along Palawan Waters)” as % of Quantity Caught in Philippines by Commercial Vessels Using This Gear

Source: Bureau of Fisheries, Fisheries Statistics of the Philippines 1971 (Manila: Economics and Information Division, Bureau of Fisheries, [1972?]), tables 12 and 13.

Note: The precise meaning of “Sulu (along Palawan waters)” is not clear. Since the source also gives data for the Sulu Sea, the term presumably refers only to waters fairly close to Palawan. It certainly includes waters along the eastern side of the island as far north as Dumaran Island. It probably also includes areas to the west of the island but not Malampaya Sound, for which there are separate data.

Quantity Caught in “Sulu (along Palawan Waters)” (tons)

Table 6.3 Catches of Commercial Fishing Vessels in “Sulu (along Palawan Waters)” by Fishing Gear, 1971

184

Chapter 6

The Great Fish Race

185

Figure 6.2 A Basnigan Equipped with Electric Generator for Lighting

declined slightly. In 1952 trawlers accounted for 30 per cent of total commercial landings, while basnigan contributed 57 per cent.43 During the period 1959–63 the two gears accounted for 83 per cent of total commercial landings in the Philippines.44 Explosives played a part both in pushing basnigan into more distant fishing grounds and in the actual operation of the fishing gear. As mentioned in Chapter 5, one of the main reasons the owners of fishing enterprises in Estancia had adopted the basnigan in the late 1930s was that it caught large quantities of fish without the expense of buying and operating a motor. The owners of basnigan continued to rely on sails to carry the boats to the fishing grounds in the immediate post-war years. In the early 1950s, however, the destruction of inshore fishing grounds caused by the use of explosives forced owners of basnigan to adopt inboard

186

Chapter 6

engines so that they could travel to “the remaining fishing grounds … in deep waters far offshore”.45 At the same time the basnigan operators of Estancia and other places in the Central Visayas also made use of explosives. In fact, Rasalan claimed that they always used explosives. The basnig, he explained, “is effective in the catching of pelagic species only when explosives are used”, since big fish could easily escape as the net was lifted. Thus, basnigan crews used explosives to stun the fish that were attracted to the light just before they raised the net.46 According to Szanton, these explosives did little harm, since only a small amount was used and the explosions took place near the surface in fairly deep water,47 but Rasalan asserted that because basnigan in fact often operated in “sheltered waters where spawners and fry are usually found” the combination of lights and explosives was very destructive. Whatever the ecological impact of explosives, Szanton found when he revisited Estancia in 1974, two years after the imposition of martial law, that the basnigan operators had been forced to stop using explosives, that basnigan were no longer in use, and that gillnets had become the dominant fishing gear.48 As already mentioned, the decline in the catch rates of demersal fish discouraged the use of trawl gear, but it also prompted technical changes in the trawl fishery. In the late 1950s some fishing companies began constructing trawlers powered by twin 225-horsepower engines as well as converting single-engine to twin-engine trawlers. Because of the extra power the trawl swept through the water at a greater speed and so tended to ride higher in the water rather than dragging on the bottom. As a consequence of this innovation pelagic rather than demersal species made up the bulk of the catch of these vessels.49 At the same time trawling underwent yet another innovation, namely, the miniaturization of the otter trawl for use by dugout canoes. These canoes fished in very shallow waters where the larger trawlers did not operate. Because the cost of a small canoe, a 6 to 9-horsepower engine, a set of trawl nets, and the other equipment needed amounted to about $270 trawling was suddenly placed within reach of “small independent fishermen”. Small dugout canoe trawlers were in fact usually owned and operated by one man, while larger ones were worked by two men, of whom one was often the owner. As of 1954 there were about five hundred dugouts actively fishing in Manila Bay and the gear was rapidly spreading to other fishing grounds

The Great Fish Race

187

in the Philippines,50 at the very time that the larger operators were concentrating more and more on the capture of pelagic fish. The capacity to capture pelagic fish accelerated greatly in the 1960s with the spread of purse seining. In 1951 a large dugout powered by a Gray marine diesel had been outfitted with a purse seine and a winch for pursing the net. Although catches were five times greater than those of non-mechanized purse seiners, the project had been abandoned because of the high cost of maintaining the cotton net. During the 1950s purse seining techniques were “revolutionized” by U.S. tuna fishers operating in the eastern tropical Pacific. In order to meet the competition from tuna imported from Japan they outfitted their vessels with nylon nets and power blocks (invented in the mid-1950s) to haul in these nets, making purse seining “the most efficient tuna fishing method known”. During the 1950s and 1960s the Japanese government kept a close eye on these developments and promoted the development of purse seining based on the American model.51 And so too did a few Filipino operators. Thus, in 1962 a company based at Navotas launched and successfully operated a purse seiner and soon built another five. Very quickly some trawlers and other boats were converted to purse seining. In keeping with recent advances, most of these boats used nylon nets (about 500 metres long for catching sardines), power blocks, and electric fish detectors as well as winches for pursing the net. Following the example of the basnigan, they concentrated on fishing at night. Both the purse seiners themselves and the fish carriers that worked with them used as many as eight 1,000-watt bulbs not only to attract but also to manipulate fish: “fish that has been attracted to the light can be compacted and brought to the surface by dimming, slooping and using red lights. Fish can also be transferred slowly from one light boat to another if the distance is short and direction of transfer is with the current”.52 One of the great advantages of purse seining was that it required less fuel than trawling did. Whereas trawlers dragged their nets through the water hour after hour capturing whatever happened to be in their path, purse seiners spent long periods still in the water waiting for nightfall or waiting for fish to be attracted by the lights before setting their nets. Thus, sudden rises in fuel costs such as took place in the 1970s contributed to the switch from trawling to purse seining. Various government agencies vigorously promoted the introduction of this new technology. U.N.

188

Chapter 6

experts and Philippine fisheries officers advised operators on how to convert their boats to purse seining, a U.N. Special Fund project helped organize the importation of nylon nets and other equipment, and, not least, the government granted exemptions on the import duty on boats and other equipment not made in the Philippines, thus encouraging operators to import, among other things, second-hand purse seiners from Japan. As a result of all these inducements there were already forty-eight purse seiners, averaging about 90 GT each, in operation in the Philippines by May 1966. As Table 6.3 shows, they soon targeted the rich stocks of small pelagics near Palawan Island. The huge quantities of fish landed by these boats brought down prices in Manila in the mid-1960s. Dinglasan advocated the construction of more ice plants, cold storage facilities, and fish-processing plants to help keep prices up.53 At the same time, however, he warned that because virtually all of the purse seiners were concentrating on the capture of small pelagic species there was a danger that stocks would soon collapse unless some of the fishing effort was shifted to the capture of tuna. Such a shift in fact began to take place in the 1970s. As early as 1950 Martin and Warfel described tuna as “the only relatively unexploited segment of the fisheries of the Philippines”,54 but attempts by Philippine companies to exploit tuna commercially at that time were not successful. In 1950 a company began operating two longliners which they had brought from Taiwan, but the company folded the following year because of their dependence on consumers in Manila, who “are not familiar with the fish and are even afraid to eat them”.55 The turning point came about 1970 when a number of companies constructed freezing and processing facilities in the hope to obtaining tuna for export to Japan. These companies promoted the capture of large yellowfin tuna by providing fishers with small boats (typically 8-metre long “pumpboats” powered by 16-horsepower petrol engines) and handlines and giving them money to meet operating expenses so that they could fish in the offshore waters of Mindoro, Palawan, Negros, and Mindanao. At General Santos City, the centre of this activity, fishers were landing about 40 tons of tuna every day by the late 1970s. This tuna was immediately purchased by the exporting firms (presumably at prices determined by the firm when debts had to be paid off ), and these firms then transported the fish packed in ice in vans to Davao for freezing.

The Great Fish Race

189

In order to obtain a steady supply of tuna and to ensure its freshness these companies also operated a fleet of large carrier vessels that picked up tuna directly from the fishers while in the fishing ground.56 In 1975 one of the largest fishing companies in the Philippines, the R.J.L. Martinez Corporation, developed a method that instantly increased tuna catches manyfold. This method was to operate a purse seine in combination with a floating fish lure, widely known in the Philippines as a payaw. The payaw shown in Figure 6.3 was simply a larger, more elaborate, and, mainly because of the great length of nylon rope used, more expensive version of lures that Filipino fishers had long used to attract small pelagic fish in inshore waters. Payaw of this type were set between 35 and 110 kilometres from shore, about 11 kilometres apart from each other, in water up to 3,000 metres deep.57 Aprieto describes how this fishery was conducted in the late 1970s: Figure 6.3 A Payaw of the Type Used in Tuna Fishing

190

Chapter 6

Small scout boats with fish finders and ship to shore communications monitor the rafts for fish concentration sizeable enough for purse seining operations. When “harvestable” rafts [payaw] are identified, the scout boat contacts the catcher vessel and gives it the position of the rafts. The catcher vessel immediately proceeds to the fishing area and prepares for purse seining operations. The vessel ties up to the raft and drifts with it during the remainder of the day. At dusk, the vessel turns on its floodlights usually of 4 x 400-watt mercury lamps or 1,000-watt bulbs to attract further small fish which accumulate around the vessel and the raft and serve as live bait for tuna. At about 0400 hours, two gas lamps are fixed onto the vessel’s small service boat which is then lashed to the raft. Simultaneously, the floodlights are gradually turned off. The raft and the service boat drift away from the vessel with the small fish beneath them, including round scads and sardines which have been attracted by the lights on the vessel and serves as the live bait for the tunas. The vessel keeps watch on the fish under the shelter by sonar and when a good concentration of tuna is detected, the raft is disengaged from the anchor line which is marked by a buoy. Thereafter, purse seine fishing operation begins. … Usually, rafts are harvested every five or six days. Depending on the season, up to 100 tons of young yellowfin and skipjack, mainly one to two years old, and a mixture of smaller tuna (frigate tuna and eastern little tuna) and mackerel are hauled in during a single purse seining operation.58

One of the most remarkable aspects of this fishery was the symbiotic relationship that quickly developed between the purse seiners and the handliners fishing from small boats. The purse seiners targeted skipjack tuna, juvenile yellowfin tuna, and the adults of smaller species such as sardines and roundscads which tended to feed high in the water column. In contrast, the handliners targeted the large adult yellowfin and bigeye tuna that preyed on the smaller fish but tended to swim at depths out of reach of the purse seine. While large companies paid for the construction and maintenance of the payaw used by their purse seiners, handliners on good terms with a particular company would help to watch over and protect that company’s payaw in return for the privilege of fishing at them.59 Moreover, there was little competition between the two groups in the market, because the large fish caught by the handliners were consumed as sashimi when they were of sufficient quality while the relatively small fish caught by the purse seiners were primarily sent to canneries either in the Philippines or overseas. Following Martinez’s success, several fishing companies not only converted their purse seiners to catching tuna or adapted them so that

The Great Fish Race

191

they could catch either tuna or small pelagics depending on which happened to be most abundant but also acquired more boats that they outfitted for purse seining. One of the most profitable of these companies was Frabelle Fishing Corporation, which had begun fishing in the 1960s with two trawlers that were later converted to purse seiners. According to its founder, the key to the company’s success was to purchase secondhand boats of about 90 GT that had been discarded by Japanese fishing companies because of the high cost of the labour needed to maintain them at a time when many of his competitors were buying new boats that were as large as 2,000 GT. The cost of a second-hand boat amounted to about 10 per cent of that of a new boat, even when the cost of remodelling was included, since labour costs were so much lower in the Philippines than in Japan, and a purse seiner could catch just as much as a superseiner, since it could handle a net of the same size. It was, however, essential to have a large number of carrier boats because of the limited storage capacity of a small boat. By shuttling back and forth between fishing ground and market the carrier boats enabled the purse seiners to fish without interruption for months at a time. By 1979 Frabelle operated twelve purse seiners, all of which could be converted from catching tuna to catching mackerel and then reconverted according to fishing conditions, twenty carrier boats, twenty-six scout boats, 150 payaw in various waters including the Sulu Sea, the Celebes Sea, and the Moro Gulf, and an ice plant and maintained a full time repair crew.60 Other companies soon followed Frabelle’s lead in buying second-hand boats. The combination of purse seiners and handliners brought about a spectacular increase in tuna catches in the Philippines, from 23,000 tons in 1973 to 220,000 tons in 1977.61 According to official statistics, between 1971 and 1980 exports of tuna increased from 17 tons to 60,000 tons,62 but this represented only a small proportion of the total catch of a fish primarily captured for the export market. Aprieto suggested that exports of tuna from ports other than Manila were not being recorded. As we shall see later in this chapter, Japanese longliners and pole-and-line vessels operated around the Philippine islands and carried all of their catch back to Japan. It is also likely, as some local exporters complained, that some boat operators were selling their catches on the fishing ground directly to vessels from foreign countries in order to escape paying various fees and taxes, in which case their catches would not have been included in

192

Chapter 6

either the landings or the export figures.63 In short, the level of exploitation of tuna stocks probably was far greater than official figures indicate. At the same time that handliners and purse seiners were beginning to exploit tuna a family based in southwestern Cebu had already begun to capture huge amounts of fish from the waters near coral reefs. In the first fifteen years or so after the Pacific War fishers had caught reef fish using a simpler version of the muro ami used by Japanese fishers before the war, but about 1960 Apolonio Abines Sr, who had some experience of muro ami fishing, conceived the idea of applying this method on a massive scale. Since he needed large boats to transport fishers, fishing gear, supplies, and the catch, he and other members of his family entered into an alliance with the Frabal Fishing Corporation of Navotas. Frabal supplied the 400-GT “motherships” used for fishing and the carrier boats that transported ice, food, and other supplies to the motherships and then returned to Manila with the catch. For their part, the Abines family supplied nets and the small boats used when setting and hauling the net. Most importantly of all, the Abines family recruited the small army of divers and swimmers needed to undertake this form of fishing on such a large scale. Each ship carried between 20 and 40 divers and 300 to 350 swimmers. With no equipment except for goggles the divers attached the net to the coral in water up to 30 metres deep; the swimmers then swam towards the net with the weighted scare lines. Most of these divers and swimmers were young men and boys recruited locally from poor families. The Abines family handed over large amounts of cash to the head fisher on each boat, and he in turn extended credit to the families of those who agreed to work for him. During the ten months that a worker was away from home his family received advances in cash and kind, and at the end of his contract he was paid whatever remained after deducting the value of the advances; if his pay did not cover the advances he was expected to return to sea for another tour. In the mid-1980s, and presumably earlier as well, the base of operations was tiny Talampulan island in the western part of the Calamian group between Palawan and Mindoro.64 Their main fishing grounds were the fringing and shoal reefs of western Palawan and in the South China Sea, particularly the Paracel Islands and Macclesfield Bank.65 In 1980 the Abines-Frabal alliance operated seven mother boats in these waters and captured a total of 12,000 tons of fish, giving these boats the highest catch per vessel of any fishing

The Great Fish Race

193

method of the time.66 It is likely that these fishing operations destroyed vast areas of coral, since “branching, rose-like, and encrusting or platelike corals”67 were very easily damaged by the weights at the end of the scare lines. Thus, between the end of the Pacific War and the late 1970s catches increased enormously as fishers based in the Philippines extended capture into ever deeper and more distant waters by applying new techniques and new versions of old methods and by doing so at a rate faster than that at which fish populations were depleted and ecosystems disrupted. One of the most remarkable aspects of this flurry of innovation is that for many years it took place in isolation from the rest of Southeast Asia. Particularly surprising was that for a long time fisheries officers elsewhere appear to have had no awareness of the way in which first beam and then otter trawlers had contributed to a sudden surge in catches. Whatever its cause, this isolation suddenly broke down in the late 1950s, when Klaus Tiews, a fisheries scientist from the Federal Republic of Germany who spent many years in the Philippines doing research there, began advising the government of Thailand on how it might increase fish landings in that country.

Gulf of Thailand Table 6.4 provides an overview of the marine fisheries of Thailand in the 1950s. The largest category of the catch were molluscs, mainly mussels collected from the poles of fish corrals as well as from mussel beds.68 Table 6.4 Percentage Distribution of Marine Catches in Thailand, 1953–59 Group Indian mackerel Sharks Other finfish Prawns, shrimps, crabs Molluscs Total (1,000 tons)

1953

1954

1955

32 1 20 7 40

33 1 21 8 37

32 1 22 8 37

148

166

151

1956

1957

1958

1959

32 1 22 8 37

34 2 20 10 34

31 2 26 7 34

24 2 28 9 37

152

171

145

148

Source: Calculated from Department of Fisheries, Ministry of Agriculture, Fisheries in Thailand (Bangkok, 1961), table 3, p. 46.

194

Chapter 6

Next in importance were mackerels, principally the highly desired Indian mackerel. During the 1950s the marine fishers of Thailand continued to concentrate their efforts on the capture of this fish, using fish corrals and purse seiners outfitted with cotton nets. As the table shows, however, mackerel catches fell in 1958 and 1959, even though the number of purse seiners increased and the number of fish corrals stayed about the same.69 The decline in mackerel catches may have been caused by a periodic downturn in populations that had little to do with fishing. Whatever the explanation, however, the fall in mackerel catches brought down the total catch of the marine fisheries and caused great concern to the government. Thus, when in 1958 Klaus Tiews recommended that trawling might open an untapped source of fish, the government responded enthusiastically. In 1961, under a bilateral aid agreement between the Federal Republic of Germany and Thailand, Tiews and other German fisheries experts combined with Thai fisheries officers to introduce the otter trawl as part of the Sarit government’s National Economic and Social Development Plan. This was not the first attempt to introduce otter trawling. In 1952–53 a Thai company had experimented with the otter trawl but without success, partly because of their lack of knowledge of where best to fish and partly because consumers much preferred mackerel to demersal fish. Soon after this failure, however, another company, guided by a Japanese expert, successfully began pair trawling, as did another in 1959, and a method of catching shrimp by means of beam trawlers operated in the vicinity of estuaries quickly spread from Samut Prakarn to other provinces.70 Thus, even though no boats were operating otter trawls, the idea of trawling was well established when the project began work in 1961. The project’s first task was to design an otter trawl that would not get stuck in the soft mud characteristic of the bottom of much of the Gulf of Thailand. One crucial modification was to replace the heavy iron otter boards used in the original net with iron frames into which wooden planks were inserted.71 The Thai and German fisheries experts then began demonstrating the new gear on the boats of Thai fishers. According to one of the officers involved in the project, the department of fisheries would charter a normal fishing boat. The department would pay for the fuel, and one of the experts would give the owner and other fishers who had been invited to go along as observers advice on how to operate the

The Great Fish Race

195

gear. The owner paid his crew himself and kept the catch. The fishers also received instructions on how to tailor nets themselves.72 At the same time the Pramong II and other research vessels began a thorough survey of the demersal resources of the Gulf of Thailand. Equally important, the department of fisheries undertook a campaign to convince Thai consumers of the benefits of demersal species in order to stimulate demand for what the trawlers caught. At some stage very early in the project it became clear that trawling offered the potential for huge profits. Thai fishers began converting their purse seiners to trawling. And, more significantly, entrepreneurs based in Bangkok who had no previous experience of fishing began investing in the construction and operation of trawlers. Tiews’s comment that investors poured their money into trawling “without regard to possible losses later on” captures the atmosphere of the time. “Profits were so large that most of the fishing boats had been paid for in a few years”.73 Accompanying the expansion of trawling was a boom in boat building and other activities associated with catching and handling fish. At the same time the government improved landing facilities to handle the growing number of boats. Between 1960 and 1966 the number of trawlers shot up from 99 to 2,700, and the catch by trawlers increased from 59,000 to 360,000 tons, which represented about 57 per cent of total landings.74 While most of the trawl catch was sold for human consumption, 40 per cent or more was regarded as “trash fish”,75 which consisted both of species people were unwilling to eat and immature specimens of the desired species. The bulk of this fish was sold fresh to duck farms or to mills that processed it into fishmeal to feed chickens and other animals. In fact, the sudden expansion of trawling brought about a big increase in the number of fishmeal mills and in the production of ducks, chickens, and other animals. The growth of these activities in turn further encouraged the expansion of trawling by helping to sustain the price of that portion of the catch that might otherwise have been discarded. The increase in catches that took place during the early 1960s was driven along not only by the huge increase in the number of trawlers but also by the extension in the number of hours they operated. In the beginning trawlers only fished during the day, but soon they began to operate around the clock, stopping only to haul in and empty the net and to take the catch to shore once the cold storage facilities on board were full.

Chapter 6

196

Along with the rapid rise in catches, however, the amount of fish that a trawler caught in an hour began to decline rapidly. In 1963 a trawler could catch about 230 kilograms of fish in an hour; by 1967 the catch rate had fallen to half of that figure.76 At the same time, the proportion of the catch regarded as trash fish began to increase, a sign that an increasing percentage of many of those species sold for human consumption was being captured before reaching maturity. In short, the total catch increased as the number of trawlers multiplied and as they operated more hours in a day, but both the amount and the value of the fish that a trawler caught in an hour dropped steeply during these years. Analysis of the results of the trawl surveys conducted by the Pramong II during the 1960s and early 1970s shows in more detail the impact of intensive trawling on fish populations. Particularly striking was a marked change in the composition of the catch in the inshore areas less than 50 metres deep (areas I–IX on Map 6.1), as shown in Table 6.5. Not surprisingly, the catch rate of large, long-lived zoobenthos feeders — rays and sharks — fell sharply as the intensity of trawling increased. The catch rate of ponyfish (Leiognathidae), comprising about a third of the total catch when trawling first started, fell more sharply than those of most other fish, including many species classified as “scrap fish”. Pauly Table 6.5 Catch Composition by Year in Kilograms per Hour of Trawling by R/V Pramong II throughout the Gulf of Thailand (areas I–IX) Group of Fish

1963

1967

1971

Sharks Rays Leiognathidae Carangidae Loligo species Shrimps Good fish Scrap fish

2.1 15 72 20 6.1 0.6 220 29

1.6 4.8 11 9.1 9.1 0.12 100 12

0.60 1.4 3.0 3.9 11 0.26 54 12

Total

250

120

66

Note: This table simply highlights some the data presented by Tiews, who gives data on forty groups for 1963 and every year from 1966 to 1971. Source: Extracted from Tiews, “Fishery Development and Management in Thailand”, table 3, p. 277.

The Great Fish Race

197

Map 6.1 Gulf of Thailand

argues that when trawling reduced the number of ponyfish the remaining predators of these fish concentrated their efforts on capturing those that remained, thus accelerating their decline.77 In contrast, the catch rate of shrimps fell but then began to recover, while that of squids (Loligo species)

198

Chapter 6

nearly doubled. In both cases the main reason was that trawling had removed fishes that had competed with shrimps and squids and, even more importantly, preyed on the eggs and larvae of these invertebrates. Shrimps in particular were targeted by the trawlers, but the offspring of those that lived to adulthood now had a much greater chance of not being eaten by a fish.78 Nevertheless, the Gulf of Thailand provides the classic example of “ecosystem overfishing”, for the increased biomass of squids and the partial recovery of shrimps in no way made up for the decline in the total biomass of exploitable animals.79 Despite the marked decline in the catch rate the Thai trawling industry, far from declining, continued to expand at a rapid rate. The profitability of inshore trawling declined, but high prices for shrimps and the increasingly abundant squid as well as the ever-growing demand for trash fish (the number of fishmeal plants increased from six in 1967 to sixty in 197380) still gave operators an incentive to fish in these waters. More importantly, declining catch rates set off a great diaspora of Thai trawlers. Early in 1965 Tiews estimated that about “80 per cent of the present fishing effort is concentrated more or less in areas I–V” on Map 6.1.81 By this time, however, many trawl operators had already begun to move into new fishing grounds. Writing in 1968, Menasveta traced this movement: Interviews with fishermen have indicated that in 1961 the major trawling grounds were in areas IV, V, and VI. … The fleet then moved to area I in 1963, and later in 1964, southward to areas VIII and IX. In 1964 the Thai fleet started fishing off the territorial waters of Malaysia and South Vietnam.82

According to Menasveta, “large numbers of threadfin (Polynemidae) and other fish of economic value have been caught” along the west coast of Vietnam,83 but it appears that this bonanza did not last long, since the movement of Thai vessels into these waters coincided with a rapid expansion of the South Vietnamese fishing fleet in the late 1960s and early 1970s. In 1974 fishers based at Rach Gia “indicate declines in catch per unit of effort during the past five years” and the coastal fishery resources of southern Vietnam were described as “heavily exploited”.84 By 1968 some Thai trawlers had left the gulf altogether and begun fishing in the Andaman Sea.85 This movement into the Andaman Sea is indicated by the big increase — from 4 to 28 per cent between 1961 and

The Great Fish Race

199

1969 — in the proportion of Thailand’s demersal fish catch that came from the Andaman Sea. It may have been at this time that Thai trawlers first began fishing off the coast of Burma. In the meantime, other trawlers continued the movement southward. A paper written in 1974 noted that two particularly “rich and valuable” fishing grounds for Thai trawlers were around Tioman Island and off the coast of Sarawak and that their fishing grounds even included waters “off the east coast of Java”.86 While all this was happening, the number of trawlers continued to grow, from 1,900 in 1967 to 6,300 in 1977,87 and so too did the total landings of Thai trawlers, from 0.45 to 1.1 million tons during the same period.88 According to one estimate, between 40 and 60 per cent of the total catch of Thai vessels (trawlers landed over half of this total) “came from outside the Thai territorial waters” in 1977.89 At the same time some Thai fishing boats began landing their catches at ports outside Thailand. For example, Marr reported that “some Thai boats apparently fish off the east coast of West Malaysia and land their catches directly in Singapore”.90 In order to understand the diaspora of the Thai fishing fleet we must look at the policies of the Thai government at this time. In 1965 Tiews warned that “some fish species obviously cannot stand a larger trawl fishery” and argued that the only way to prevent overexploitation was to restrict effort. In his view total fishing effort should be allowed to increase by no more than 25 per cent, which could easily be achieved simply by converting purse seiners into trawlers and pair trawlers into otter board trawlers (thereby more than doubling the catch per boat) rather than by building any new boats.91 In 1967 Tiews and two Thai fisheries officers rejected the possibility of attempting to regulate the mesh size of trawl nets because such a high proportion of the catch — fish used for human consumption as well as trash fish used for “industrial purposes” — consisted of tiny fish. Instead, they proposed that “no new boats should be licensed for trawl fishing in the Gulf of Thailand, or at least in certain parts of it” and that some of those boats then fishing in the gulf should be shifted to the Andaman Sea or to other areas outside the gulf. They even suggested paying fishers premiums to break up their boats and retire from fishing.92 The government, however, took no action because of the impact such steps would have on those groups now firmly entrenched in the trawling economy. “The shipbuilding industry does not wish to stop building ships, which would mean new unemployment”, wrote Tiews in

200

Chapter 6

1972, “the trawlers do not want to be shifted to other harbours because this would mean changing their domicile; and certainly nobody is interested in stopping fishing and losing his job”. 93 Instead, the government put in place a range of measures that promoted the construction of larger boats that could fish outside the overfished areas. Outfitted with “more sophisticated navigation equipment, echo sounders for locating fishing grounds and radars for detecting pirates and the patrol vessels of neighbouring countries, as well as armaments for selfdefence”,94 these new boats represented very large investments, but the government granted loans for the construction of such boats, offered tax privileges that encouraged investment in capital-intensive fishing, and allowed operators to import equipment free of duty. The availability of an abundant supply of young men from the northeast of the country who were willing to undertake long fishing trips for low wages further helped to propel the expansion of Thai trawling outside the gulf. The dramatic increase in the price of oil in 1972–74 was only a temporary setback. While the operators of smaller vessels (particularly those involved in pair trawling, since two boats, each powered by an inefficient petrol engine, were used to pull one net) suffered losses, the operators of bigger ones soon recovered as they pushed out into new trawling grounds.95 Meanwhile, in the early 1970s, as the trawlers moved into new fishing grounds, there was a great increase in fishing for pelagic species within the gulf using purse seines. The main reason was the drastic decline in trawl catches in the gulf, but the sudden rise in oil prices in 1973–74 was also significant, as it prompted the adoption of fishing techniques that require less fuel than trawling does. Crucially important too was the sheer abundance of pelagic fish in area. Gulland described the Indian mackerel stock in the gulf as “heavily fished”, particularly in the inner gulf,96 but most pelagic populations in the gulf and nearby waters had been barely fished, as suggested by the following observation from aboard the research vessel Kyoshin Maru somewhere off the southern coast of Vietnam in 1969: … several large shoals of pelagic fish were sighted, looking like vast dark clouds in the clear waters. These, I was told, were small in comparison with some shoals that had been observed on earlier cruises. One school of mackerel extended over an area 45 by 30 miles.97

The Great Fish Race

201

According to one source, the total pelagic catch in the Gulf of Thailand jumped from 63,000 to 480,000 tons between 1971 and 1977.98 During this period the total number of purse seiners appears to have remained fairly steady, but catches soared for two reasons. First, the type of purse seine long used in the gulf was replaced by “luring purse seines” beginning in 1973. Thai purse seiners adopted anchored and unanchored floats much like the payaw of the Philippines and a lure known as an oun sung, which “compris[ed] luring LPG lamps, attached to buoys of styrofoam used for bomb crating which became available during the Vietnam war”.99 Second, these luring purse seiners moved into new fishing grounds. The sources state that they operated in the central part of the gulf, where trawlers had been unable to operate because of the uneven seabed, but it is likely that they went somewhat further afield as well. In any case, they targeted species that previously had made up a very small proportion of pelagic catches in the gulf, namely, scads and sardines. It was largely because of the leap in pelagic catches that total fish landings continued to rise in Thailand in the mid-1970s, reaching a peak of 2.1 million tons in 1977. Like the boom in demersal catches within the gulf, however, the bonanza in pelagic catches did not last long, for pelagic catches fell steadily to 290,000 tons in 1980 even though luring purse seiners continued to replace the older type of purse seiner.100 An assessment of the marine fisheries of Thailand in the mid-1980s concluded that “the use of attraction devices caused unlimited over-exploitation including the young of these [pelagic] species”.101 Just as catches of pelagic finfish were falling, however, there was a rush to catch squids. This rush appears to have been initiated by small-scale fishers, who attracted squids with electric lights powered by 3-kilowatt onboard generators and caught them with casting nets and lift nets. When these fishers began to make big profits, many trawl operators adopted the same method, though presumably they used more powerful lights as well as much larger nets.102 Landings of cephalopods, of which squids were the most important component, increased from 64,000 tons in 1976 to 130,000 in 1983.103 It was fortunate for the fishers of the Gulf of Thailand that a commercially valuable animal such as squid had thrived as a result of intensive trawling and so helped to sustain the profitability of fishing within the Gulf of Thailand in the face of the massive decline in the abundance of finfish.

202

Chapter 6

Peninsular Malaysia After a slight drop in the early 1950s because of restrictions imposed on fishing during the Emergency total fish landings in peninsular Malaysia rose from 110,000 tons in 1957 to 150,000 tons in 1961 and then more than doubled by 1968.104 This increase can be attributed almost entirely to technological change. The number of licensed fishing boats in peninsular Malaysia increased from 16,000 to 23,000 between 1947 and 1950 but then stayed virtually constant until the mid-1970s.105 The catching power of these boats, however, increased enormously during these years. Of paramount importance was the rapid mechanization of the fishing fleet. In 1947, when just 1 per cent of all fishing boats were mechanized, the use of engines was confined almost entirely to the purse seiners operating in the Straits of Malacca. By 1965, when 55 per cent of all licensed boats were mechanized, engines were used in a wide variety of fishing boats on the east as well as the west coasts of the peninsula. Mechanization took many forms. In the early 1950s many fishers attached outboard engines to existing craft for driftnetting and handlining. At the same time motor-driven fish carriers not only transported catches in ice to market but also towed the boats they served out to the fishing grounds. During the 1950s more and more boats were specially built to be powered by inboard engines, a trend encouraged by “the introduction of smaller marine diesel engines capable of being installed in moderate sized boats”.106 And during the 1960s some trading boats powered by inboard engines were converted to fishing boats. Thus, by 1965 the number of fishing boats with inboard engines was twice that of boats using outboard motors. Mechanization contributed to increased catches in several ways. Most obviously, it enabled boats to spend more time fishing and to reach more distant fishing grounds. According to the fisheries report for 1958, mechanization had greatly extended the fishing grounds nearly everywhere around the peninsula, but particularly on the east coast, where “the area covered by local craft has been more than doubled since 1953”. Referring specifically to Malay fishers, the report also observed that “it is now common for the fishermen to follow the shoals of fish round the coast of Malaya, remaining away from home for lengthy periods, a practice which was virtually non-existent before the introduction of engines made the boats largely independent of the vagaries

The Great Fish Race

203

of the wind”.107 Motorization also allowed fishers along the east coast to adopt the purse seine, a much more powerful means of catching pelagic fish than the lift nets that they had relied on up to that time. Another technological change that contributed greatly to the increase in catches was the adoption of nets made from nylon and other synthetic fibres. These nets were much more expensive but lasted longer, were less visible to fish, were much more easily handled, and required little or no drying. The fisheries report for 1958 noted that “drift net catches in the Malacca Straits have doubled with the replacement of cotton by synthetic fibres resulting in increased supplies of ‘Tenggiri’ [Spanish mackerel] and ‘Parang’ [wolf herring, Chirocentrus species] to the west coast markets”.108 Accompanying these technological changes was a marked decline in the number of fishing stakes, which had been the most important fishing gear along the west coast of the peninsula in the early 1900s. Operators of fishing stakes complained bitterly that motorized boats damaged their stakes and captured fish that they might otherwise have caught, but they received little sympathy from the fisheries department, which regarded mobile fishing gears as more efficient and had never found a way to ensure that abandoned stakes were removed. The government took steps to phase out fishing stakes, but it appears that the declining profitability of fixed fishing gears did more to hasten their decline. Between 1953 and 1964 the number of fishing stakes in peninsular Malaysia fell from 4,500 to 1,400. Most striking was the demise of jermal, kelong, and the other large fishing stakes that had once been such a feature of the west coast. In Perak the number of large fishing stakes set in water at least 3 fathoms [5.5 metres] deep collapsed from 1,100 to 48 during the same period.109 Up to the early 1960s fish dealers, eager to increase supplies when demand was growing quickly, played the biggest part in promoting the adoption of new technology. According to a report prepared in 1956, fish dealers on the west coast provided fishers with boats and gear and extended credit to the fishers who operated them, in return for which they received fish at a price fixed by the owner. “There seems to be little intention on either side that the debt should be repaid.” On the east coast fishers generally owned their own boats and gear and sold their catches to whoever offered the best price just as they did when Firth did his research there in 1940.110 However, by the time Firth returned to

204

Chapter 6

Perupok in 1963, shortly after fishers there had adopted inboard diesel engines and the purse seine, he found that most of the local entrepreneurs were “middlemen, particularly fish-dealers, who themselves did not go to sea but let the net be taken under the command of a hired juruselam [fishing expert]”.111 The government was beginning to provide some financial support directly to fishers during these years. More importantly, however, it created the conditions in which expansion took place by building roads, conducting fisheries research, demonstrating new fishing methods, and tapping sources of foreign aid, as when it received a Colombo Plan grant to build eight fish and ice depots along the east coast.112 From the government’s point of view the great hope of increasing catches in the long term lay with industrializing fishing. The premise behind a trawl survey conducted by the Colonial Office on behalf of the governments of Malaya in 1955–56 was that because “inshore ‘subsistence’ fisheries are now saturated”, “producing as much fish as they [are] capable of ”, it was necessary to look to “hitherto unexplored extraterritorial [meaning, at that time, beyond the 3-mile limit] waters” to feed “the very rapidly growing population” and that these new fishing grounds could only be exploited by means of powerful long-range vessels.113 The report of this survey concluded that only a vessel of the size and power of the research ship, the 208-GT Manihine, which was powered by two 220-horsepower engines, could possibly engage in otter trawling, since only such a vessel could extract the net when, as often happened during the survey, it got stuck in the mud and hauled up the sponges and other marine life with which the bottom was “heavily overgrown”.114 It also concluded, however, that not even such a vessel could make a profit, because of the huge capital costs, high running expenses, the low prices of fish (no mention is made of shrimp in the report), and, not least, the fact that demersal fish were not particularly abundant. In May 1956, when the Manihine was still conducting its survey, a special committee set up to investigate the fishing industry concluded that “experiments have all demonstrated the unsuitability of western gears for use in Malayan waters”.115 When the captain of the ship fell ill in August 1956, the research work stopped abruptly, since the federal government had already indicated that it would soon cease to contribute to the running expenses of the survey. The fisheries department still hoped to introduce industrial

The Great Fish Race

205

fishing, but by 1958 this hope appears to have been focused on exploiting tuna in the Indian Ocean, for “the fish stocks of these waters offer the only realistic hope for the rapid increase in fish supplies to the Federation to meet the ever-increasing demand of the growing population”.116 In keeping with this outlook some Malayan business interests and a Japanese company established a joint venture, Malayan Marine Industries, in 1959 to fish for tuna in the Indian Ocean. In the mid-1960s this company had eight longliners that fished in waters near Mauritius and carrier boats that transported their catch to the company’s cold storage plant and cannery in Penang.117 Despite the government’s rejection of trawling as a way to increase catches, however, trawling quickly became the most important fishing gear in peninsular Malaysia, accounting for 48 per cent of total landings of 440,000 tons in 1974.118 Accounts of the introduction of trawling in the Straits of Malacca differ considerably in detail, but we can piece together a rough picture of how this remarkable turnabout took place. The conflict between Indonesia and Malaysia over the formation of Malaysia in 1963 brought to a halt the lucrative “barter” (in other words, smuggling) trade between the Malay Peninsula and Sumatra carried out by Chinese businessmen based in Malaya. Some of these traders latched on to the idea of converting their boats, which varied in size from 30 to 50 GT, to trawling. Some accounts state that some of these businessmen sent their boats to Thailand to learn about trawling, while others report that they learned about trawling from Thai fishers visiting Malaysia, but all agree that the introduction of trawling in Malaysia had a Thai connection. It was presumably the otter trawl developed by the German and Thai experts in Thailand that was adopted in Malaysia at this time. In any case, those who took up trawling instantly made large profits and soon this fishing method, in the words of one observer, “spread like wildfire”.119 Government officials appear to have been taken by surprise. Although the fisheries act of 1963 restricted trawling to waters at least 12 miles (22 kilometres) from shore and 15 fathoms (27 metres) deep, trawl operators ignored these regulations right from the start and fished close to shore and in so doing came into conflict with operators of other gears. A government minister who took part in an investigation of the trawl fishery at this time later described the process by which trawling spread northward from Pangkor and southward from Penang:

206

Chapter 6

The trawler fishermen, after intensive exploitation of their customary coastal fishing grounds (where prawns, in addition to fish, are found) discover that their catches are dropping. In the search for new fish grounds, they encroach on the backyard of the neighbouring fishermen. A terrific hue-and-cry is raised against the poachers by the affected in-shore fishermen. Clashes occur periodically. Because of (i) the alleged inability of government’s enforcement agencies to keep out the raiders, and (ii) the temptation of large and quick returns, a portion of the enraged fishermen (particularly those with the means to purchase higher-powered boast) convert to trawling themselves — to the dismay of the others. After intensive exploitation of their own inshore waters, these new converts then invade the next neighbour’s backyard and the process is repeated.120

This process took place so rapidly and with so much violence that the government imposed a ban on all trawling while it decided what to do. In 1965 it announced regulations that confined trawling to boats of more than 50 GT and stipulated that these boats had to operate in waters that were both more than 12 miles from shore and more than 15 fathoms deep.121 In response, the operators of many purse seiners based at Pangkor raised the decks of their boats to gain the required tonnage, thereby making their vessels unstable and unsafe. At the same time many other operators flouted the rules, apparently with little hindrance from enforcement officers in the fisheries department and the maritime police, who “were accused of turning a blind eye toward trawler violations in return for bribes from towkays who were said to be reaping huge profits from illegal trawling”.122 There was also a proliferation of small trawlers in the inshore waters and further clashes between trawl fishers and those using other gears, but instead of enforcing the law the government relaxed the regulations to allow trawlers of less than 25 GT and 60 horsepower to fish anywhere beyond 3 miles from shore. The total number of trawl licences in Perak soared from 53 in 1970 to 1,700 in 1971; most of these licences were for mini-trawlers of about 10 GT with 10 to 24-horsepower engines.123 Within just a few years of trawling beginning there were signs of severe depletion. The average monthly shrimp catch per boat fell, the size of the shrimp dropped markedly, and the percentage of the catch classified as “trash” fish rose sharply.124 As in Thailand, these trends did not bring about a collapse of trawling, but whereas many Thai trawlers spread out into deeper and more distant waters their Malaysian

The Great Fish Race

207

counterparts continued to concentrate their efforts in the same waters. According to Yap’s analysis of the fisheries of the Dindings, the base of the largest number of trawlers, this happened for two reasons. The first was the readiness of fish dealers to lend money to fishers in order to establish regular sources of fish supplies. The other was the steep rise in the price of fish, particularly shrimps, then undergoing a strong growth of demand in Japan. In 1965 the wholesale price of shrimps was about $0.58 per kilogram; by 1970 many of the frozen shrimp companies “were buying all prawn landings at the fixed price of [$1.80 per kilogram] exbeach”. Rising prices therefore completely offset the effects of the fall in landings. Despite the rise in prices trawling was generally regarded as a speculative rather than long-term undertaking. Thus, much of the investment was in small boats powered by engines used in land vehicles. Such boats were less efficient than larger vessels outfitted with marine engines, but they cost much less and so could be paid off during the short period stocks were expected to last.125 Gibbons suggested that a lack of knowledge of where other fishing grounds might be located was a further reason operators did not venture further afield. “You tell me where the fish are and how to catch them and I’ll go!”, replied one operator who was asked why his boats did not trawl in deeper waters.126 During the 1970s the Malaysian government invested a great deal of money into helping Malays become involved in trawling off the east coast of the peninsula, but the trawlers launched under this scheme took short fishing trips, thereby adding to the pressure on inshore stocks in these waters.127 Trawl surveys show just how much the surge in trawling depleted demersal populations on both sides of the peninsula. Off the east coast catch rates fell from 520 to 160 kilograms per hour between 1970 and 1981, whereas in the northern part of the Straits of Malacca, already intensively trawled for several years, catch rates fell from 130 to 55 kilograms per hour during the same period.128 In both areas, it is worth noting, Thai trawlers contributed to the depletion of fish populations.

Indonesia As Table 6.6 shows, fish catches doubled in Indonesia between 1951 and 1967. In the early 1950s Indonesia imported nearly as much fish as the

0.11 0.76 2.2 3.4

80 130 195 240

Non-motorized (thousand) 80 130 200 250

Total (thousand) 315 460 800 840

No. of Fishers (thousand) 320 420 530 640

Total Catch (1,000 tons) 4.0 3.2 2.7 2.6

Catch per Boat (tons)

1.0 0.9 0.6 0.8

Catch per Fisher (tons)

Source: Sulaeman Krisnandhi, “The Economic Development of Indonesia’s Sea Fishing Industry”, Bulletin of Indonesian Economic Studies 5, no. 1 (March 1969): 51–2 (tables 1 and 2). Some of the figures for the total catch given here differ slightly from the FAO data in Appendix 1.

1951 1956 1961 1967

Motorized (thousand)

No. of Boats

Table 6.6 Data on the Marine Fisheries of Indonesia, 1951–67

208

Chapter 6

The Great Fish Race

209

Netherlands Indies had just before the war, but by the early 1960s imports had virtually ceased. Despite this fall in imports and the rapid increase in population, catches increased enough during these years to bring about a slight increase in the per capita consumption of fish, though consumption in Java was very much lower than in the other islands. As the table indicates, the number of motorized fishing boats increased by thirty times between 1951 and 1967, but this increase probably contributed very little to the doubling of catches. By the mid-1960s the total number of motorized vessels was still very small. Moreover, a large proportion of them spent much of their time out of commission, among other reasons, because of a shortage of spare parts and ice. Instead, the doubling of catches came about mainly because of three-fold increases in the number of fishers and non-motorized “traditional” fishing craft. There is also evidence that the number of fishing stakes increased greatly. For example, stationary lift nets known as bagan were introduced to Jakarta Bay in 1957; 1,200 of them, nearly all owned and operated by Bugis and Makassarese immigrants, were in operation by 1971.129 As the table makes clear, the catch per boat and per fisher fell during this period, but the increase in the number of fishers and non-motorized “traditional” fishing craft boats — and probably the number of fishing stakes — was so great that sheer numbers, rather than technological change, brought about the doubling of yield. This phenomenon, aptly described as “static expansion”,130 makes sense when seen in relation to the general political and economic turmoil of these years as well as a lack of modern fish processing and storage facilities, an inefficient transport system, and an expensive fish marketing system firmly in the hands of a syndicate based in Jakarta. Because of the growing demand fishing provided opportunities for profit, but few people had either the capital or the confidence to invest in large motorized boats employing new methods. Instead, they invested in more and more boats and gears of the type already in use. Thus, in the mid-1960s fishing was still confined almost entirely to “fishing grounds that lie in shallow water or close to shore”.131 It was, moreover, still concentrated along the north coast of Java and the Straits of Malacca. Beginning in 1966, however, Indonesian fisheries underwent a radical transformation with the introduction of trawling. In the 1950s the Directorate General of Fisheries had experimented with trawling for finfish in the Madura Strait and the Java Sea. Although

210

Chapter 6

these trials were regarded as successful, “local fishermen did not respond, among other reasons, due to the difficulty of obtaining engines and spare parts” at a time when the economy was becoming increasingly unstable.132 As it turned out, it was Chinese fishers based at Bagan Si Api Api who, in 1966, introduced commercial trawling to Indonesia shortly after they learned about the financial success of trawling on the other side of the straits. Between 1966 and 1971 the number of Indonesian trawlers, typically “wooden sampan-like motorized vessels of 5–20 GT employing a single Gulf [of Mexico]-type shrimp trawl of 40 feet head-rope”, operating in the Straits of Malacca increased from 8 to 830.133 This sudden adoption of trawling may be partly attributed to the example provided by Malaysian trawlers, but, more importantly, it was driven along by the growing demand for shrimps in Japan. Indeed, the trawlers based at Bagan Si Api Api targeted shrimps right from the start, though soon trawl operators marketed the fish they caught as well. The establishment of the New Order regime in Indonesia in 1966–67 helped to sustain and propel the expansion of trawling, partly by ending the long period of political turmoil and partly by creating conditions that encouraged investment in fisheries just as they did in logging, mining, and manufacturing. Beginning in 1967 the expansion of trawling took two forms. First, business people based at Bagan Si Api Api and then in Java invested in the construction of more and more small trawlers of the type first used at Bagan Si Api Api. The sources are almost universally silent about who these investors were, but one comments that many trawl owners were Chinese businessmen who “seek to diversify their business interests” and who, “partly as a result of this, … look upon trawl fishing as another business venture without real concerns or commitments for the long term viability of the enterprise”.134 Second, the foreign and domestic capital investment laws of 1967 and 1968 promoted the investment of large sums in the shrimp fishery. The foreign capital investment law granted foreign companies tax holidays and allowed them to import equipment free of import duty, while the domestic capital investment law gave similar privileges to Indonesian companies. Fisheries companies taking advantage of these laws had to agree to set up processing and storage facilities as well as to construct and operate fishing boats. Initially, foreign companies were able to operate entirely on their own or as part

The Great Fish Race

211

of joint ventures with Indonesian companies, but in 1969 the government stipulated that foreign companies had to enter into joint ventures in order to fish in Indonesian waters. Though the sources are typically circumspect on financial matters, it is likely that Japanese companies provided most of the capital; according to Unar, the joint ventures set up in 1968 involved the “four biggest Japanese fishing companies”.135 For their part, the Indonesian partners in these ventures probably contributed some capital but more importantly called on connections with the government to obtain fishing licences. Between 1967 and 1971 one wholly Japanese company and about ten joint ventures began operating in the Straits of Malacca, the waters off Kalimantan, and the Arafura Sea. However they were financed, these enterprises were large vertically integrated undertakings. In 1971 a company based at Kotabaru in southeastern Kalimantan and fishing in nearby waters operated a fleet of one 80-GT, three 60-GT, and twentytwo 10 to 20-GT trawlers and a 400-GT ship used for collecting and processing the catch, and in that year it constructed a cold storage plant. Two Japanese companies fishing in the Arafura Sea operated forty-two vessels, of which about thirty were in the 100-GT class and twelve were in the 300-GT class. Towing nets attached to booms extending from both sides of the vessel, these “double-rigged” trawlers were powerful shrimp catching machines. In 1971 the two companies installed two cold storage plants at Ambon and another at Sorong.136 By 1976 foreign investment in Indonesian fisheries, mainly for the capture, processing, and storage of shrimp, totalled $46 million.137 The construction of freezing and cold storage facilities first by these companies and then by local entrepreneurs — by the end of 1976 there was a total of fifty-one plants138 — contributed to a rapid rise in catches. These facilities provided the independent trawlers with a ready market for their catches and in so doing stimulated the construction of more trawlers. In any case, the construction of more and more plants brought about a great increase in catches and exports during the 1970s. Exports of frozen shrimp from Indonesia rose from 5,600 tons in 1969 (when the f.o.b. value of these shrimp was $156 a ton) to 35,000 tons in 1979 (valued at $5,740 a ton).139 Catches increased as new shrimping grounds were opened and exploited more quickly than older ones were overfished. In 1970–71

212

Chapter 6

fifty trawlers moved from Sumatra to the north coast of Java, “because, according to the operators, the catch rates in the Malacca Strait have been dwindling rapidly”, and a Japanese company based in Palembang moved its operations to east Kalimantan “owing to low catches”,140 but in these areas too catches fell in the 1970s. The decline was particularly marked in the waters off the north coast of Java, where shrimps were concentrated even closer to shore than in most other areas because of the absence of large rivers discharging nutrients far out to sea141 and where both trawlers and numerous small-scale fishers tried to capture them. In late 1960s and early 1970s the most valuable shrimping ground was the vast expanse of shallow water off the south coast of Irian Jaya, but here too there were soon signs of overfishing. Between 1970 and 1973 the number of trawlers — mostly double-rigged vessels in the 100 to 300-GT range — operating in the Arafura Sea increased from seventeen to seventy-nine and the total shrimp catch jumped from 810 to 6,900 tons. Over the next three years, from 1973 to 1976, a further forty-one trawlers entered the fishery, but the total catch fell to 5,600 tons and so each trawler’s catch fell from 87 to 46 tons.142 Referring to the situation in the early 1980s, Unar and Naamin commented that in the Straits of Malacca, south and east Kalimantan, Cilacap and the Arafura Sea the size of the individual shrimps caught “has decreased tremendously”, thus providing “an independent confirmation of the severe effects of fishing on the stocks”.143 At the same time trawling for shrimp had a great impact on the abundance of finfish. In their search for shrimps trawlers caught and killed even greater quantities of fish, including a high proportion of very small ones because of the small mesh of the cod end of the net. Trawlers operating around Sumatra and Java tended to sell those fish regarded as edible to nearby markets. In contrast, the crews of the industrial trawlers fishing off Kalimantan and in the Arafura Sea, well away from large markets, kept some fish for their own consumption but dumped the rest into the sea.144 Virtually all of those fish thrown overboard were dead. In 1976 a team of Canadian fisheries experts speculated that “the wasted trash fish may be important as feed for the shrimps”,145 but when Evans and Wahju studied a shrimping operation in the Arafura Sea in 1992 they observed that seabirds and dolphins following the trawler ate “a high proportion” of the dumped fish:

The Great Fish Race

213

It is unlikely that much of it re-enters the benthic ecosystem at low trophic levels as a result of degradation by microbial action. … Effectively therefore the fishery is continuously removing organic production from the benthic system without replacing it. Although this is of undoubted benefit to the seabirds which scavenge on it, it must be to the long-term cost of the benthic ecosystem and therefore to the fish stocks which use it as a source of food.146

Evans and Wahju found that that the quantity of shrimp caught in one day of trawling had not fallen since the 1970s. Although they presented no data on bycatches that might test their hypothesis about the long-term impact of shrimping on fish stocks in the Arafura Sea, trawl surveys and falls in landings per trawler showed that in many areas trawling brought about an immediate decline in finfish populations whether or not they were the target of the trawlers.147 At the same time that trawling was bringing about big increases in the capture of demersal species there was also a rapid expansion of pelagic fishing, largely because of the adoption of the purse seine. The most detailed account of the introduction of the purse seine that I am aware of simply states that “purse seining was introduced into the Java Sea in 1968, through interactions between gear technicians [employed by the] RMIF [Marine Fisheries Research Institute], Jakarta[,] and Mr Jajuri, a leading fisher of Pemalang (east of Tegal), the first to adopt the new technology”.148 The purse seine was far more efficient than the payang long used along the north coast of Java and elsewhere in the archipelago. Like those boats operating payang, a purse seiner made use of a rumpon to attract fish, but it had the great advantage that rather than having to manoeuvre carefully to aim the net at the school of fish gathered around the rumpon it simply surrounded the school with its wall of netting and then closed in on it.149 Among the first to see the advantages of the new fishing gear were some “Chinese” businessmen in Muncar. These businessmen built canneries, bought purse seines and boats outfitted with outboard motors, and hired people to operate the new fishing units. These small purse seiners caught large quantities of Bali sardinella (Sardinella lemuru) which they transported quickly to the canneries. Their success aroused enormous resentment among local fishers working payang and other long-established fishing gears. These fishers believed that the purse seiners were threatening

214

Chapter 6

their livelihood by capturing a large proportion of the stock and that the purse seiners were depressing the price of their catches, which reached shore in a less fresh state. In an effort to calm the fishers the government temporarily banned the use of purse seines in the strait and prohibited “nonindigenous persons or enterprises” (this category referred to Indonesian citizens of Chinese ancestry and companies belonging to these people) from fishing in the area. It also bought boats and purse seines and made plans to sell them to local people on extremely easy terms, but when they discovered that the main beneficiaries of this bonanza were to be friends and relatives of government officers, local fishers destroyed all the boats, engines, nets, and other equipment bought by the government as well as purse seines that the Chinese companies had put in storage. Nevertheless, after many fishers were sentenced to terms in prison, the government persevered with its programme, and by 1977 the purse seine, operated from motorized boats, had become the dominant fishing gear. The purse seine combined with a favourable turn in the ENSO cycle to bring about a spectacular increase in catches — from 6,000 tons in 1973 to 39,000 tons in 1977 — before catches fell for a short time, probably as a result of another turn in the cycle rather than increased fishing pressure.150 Government programmes to introduce purse seining in other areas went much more smoothly. By the late 1970s there were about 800 purse seiners — mainly small boats powered by outboard motors — operating in the Java Sea and catching about 49,000 tons of small pelagic species each year, which amounted to 28 per cent of all small pelagic landings at ports along the north coast of Java.151 By this time purse seining had also been widely adopted in South Sulawesi, North Sulawesi, and the Moluccas. In the meantime the fisheries of Indonesia was being extended in yet another direction as the government began to turn its attention to the capture of tuna in the eastern part of the country and in the Indian Ocean. Before we trace this extension, however, we must pause to consider the resurgence of Japanese tuna fishing in the post-war period.

Japanese tuna fishing Japanese fishing companies began longlining operations in Southeast Asia soon after the last MacArthur Line was lifted in 1952. In that year

The Great Fish Race

215

the Japanese fisheries agency designated an area encompassing the waters of Southeast Asia south of 6°N and a large section of the Indian Ocean south of Java as one of two areas in which mothership operations could take place (the other was an area in the central Pacific straddling the equator).152 The first longliners in this area did in fact operate in conjunction with motherships. There were two types of mothership operations. In the first of these, fairly large longliners sailing under their own power accompanied a mothership to the fishing ground. Soon after the lifting of the MacArthur Line ten longliners began operating in the Celebes, Banda, and Molucca seas together with a 2,900-GT mothership, the Kaiko Maru, while in 1954, by which time the fisheries agency appears to have extended the area in which it allowed mothership operations, five longliners fished south of Java with their 3,700-GT mothership, the Saipan Maru. In the second type of mothership operation, the mothership carried small (less than 20 GT) catcher boats on its deck to the fishing ground and then lowered them into the water and either lifted them back on board or towed them when moving to a new fishing ground. Thus, in 1954 the Ginyo Maru (3,800 GT) worked with ten small catcher boats south of Java, while the Tenyo Maru (3,700 GT) operated with sixteen catcher boats in the Andaman Sea and near the Nicobar Islands.153 While it appears that the first longlining operations in Southeast Asia took place in conjunction with motherships, at some stage longliners operating independently of motherships also entered Southeast Asian waters, but here I will focus on mothership operations. Both types of mothership operations involved the most advanced fishing technologies of their time, a great deal of capital, and a high degree of organization, as I will show by briefly describing the first type of operation. The longliners involved in mothership operations varied in size from 20–50 tons to over 200 tons, but a general account published in 1963 states that they were typically between 100 and 200 GT.154 According to this source, a 112-GT steel-hulled vessel carrying a crew of twenty-two men was 27 metres long, had a 405-horsepower diesel main engine and two small auxiliary engines, had manual hydraulic steering, had a cruising speed of 18 kilometres per hour, had a snap freezer, a 73 cubic metre fish hold, and an evaporator for supplying fresh water, and was equipped with radar, an echo sounder, a 125-watt radio transmitter, and two radio receivers as well as machinery for handling the fishing gear. Larger vessels

216

Chapter 6

had electric hydraulic steering, automatic pilots, more powerful engines and radio transmitters, and more room for storing fish as well as larger crews. A fleet of as many as sixty longliners accompanied the mothership to the fishing ground, where the mothership was the centre of operations: The mother ship receives the catches of the fleet on the fishing grounds, supplies them with fuel, oil, water, stores, bait and ice and keeps in daily radio contact receiving details from them of daily catch, fishing conditions and oceanographical and meteorological information. The director of the operation advises the catchers of the most suitable fishing areas and arranges the time for each catcher to transfer its catch to the mother ship. He may also direct several of the catcher boats to search for better fishing areas.155

Fishing started at about 4:00 AM when the crew began to set the longline, three sections or “baskets” of which is shown in Figure 6.4. While some crew members brought the lines (usually made of kuralon in 1963) from one storage bin and the glass floats and dan poles from another and a conveyor belt brought the bait fish from the hold, other crew members joined the various pieces together, baited the hooks, and threw the line into the water as the vessel moved forward at a steady rate. Since different species of fish tend to swim about at different depths, the crew varied the depth at which the hooks would set according to the species they were targeting. By speeding up the rate at which they threw the line into the water they could put more slack into the line and thereby set the hooks at a greater depth. Longliners operating in the Banda Sea and in the Indian Ocean near Java in the 1950s and 1960s primarily targeted yellowfin tuna (but also caught much smaller numbers of bigeye tuna and marlins in the process) and so set the hooks at depths between 100 and 180 metres below the surface. Setting the gear lasted until about 8:00 AM, by which time the longline consisted of as many as 350 baskets and 1,800 hooks and stretched as far as 70 kilometres.156 The longline was then left to “soak” for about four hours while fish were given the chance to take the bait and get hooked. At noon the crew began to haul in the longline using a mechanical hauler. As the line came in, they removed any fish that had been caught, quickly gutting and cleaning them and then putting them in the snap freezer, and also disassembled the fishing gear and stored it for the next day. This work continued until about 10:00 PM. Because the work lasted so many hours the crew members took turns resting and doing the most arduous tasks. The longliner

Figure 6.4 A Tuna Longline

The Great Fish Race 217

218

Chapter 6

continued operating according to this routine for several weeks before it transferred its catch to the mothership, picked up supplies, and then resumed fishing. A refrigerator ship shuttled back and forth between the home port in Japan and the mothership bringing fuel, food, and other supplies to the fleet and carrying fish back to Japan. In this way fishing went on for many months before the fleet had filled its quota set by the fisheries agency and returned to Japan. The great bulk of the tuna caught by Japan’s longliners at this time was exported to canneries in the United States. Although demand was growing in Japan for sashimi, the refrigerator systems on board longliners were not capable of preserving the fish well enough for it to be sold in the form of sashimi. Map 6.2 shows how rapidly Japanese longliners moved further and further into the Indian Ocean. Even in 1952 they covered the Banda Sea and the area between the Sunda Islands and the northwest coast of Australia. Just two years later they were fishing in virtually the whole of the northeastern section of the Indian Ocean, and over the next few years they extended their operations to nearly all of the Indian Ocean north of about 30°S. By 1959 Japanese longliners were catching large numbers of albacore in the central and central-western parts of the ocean (particularly south of 10°S and west of 105°E), and by 1967 they were catching southern bluefin tuna — the most valuable tuna species — in large numbers in the southeastern section of the ocean (mainly south of 35°S and east of 80°E). By the mid-1960s Taiwanese and Korean longliners had begun operating in the Indian Ocean on a large scale as well. When Japanese longliners first began to operate in Southeast Asia virtually all of their fishing took place in international waters. Even the Banda Sea was generally considered part of the high seas when longlining began in the early 1950s, as open to Japanese vessels as to those from the islands that made up the state of Indonesia. All this began to change in 1957, however, when the Indonesian government declared Indonesia to be an archipelagic state, claiming all of the sea enclosed by straight baselines drawn between the outermost points of the outermost islands as Indonesia’s internal waters, as much a sovereign part of Indonesia as a lake or a river. First in 1957 and again in 1960 the Japanese government protested that this declaration violated the traditional rights of the Japanese to fish in the archipelago, but the Indonesian government refused

Map 6.2 Spread of Tuna Longlining in the Indian Ocean, 1952–60

The Great Fish Race 219

220

Chapter 6

to reconsider its position and began detaining Japanese fishing vessels. During negotiations between the two governments the Indonesians pushed for some form of joint venture between Indonesian and Japanese firms, but the Japanese government was not interested, since such an arrangement might be taken as implying recognition of Indonesia’s declaration. In the end the two governments agreed that Japanese longliners would be allowed to fish in a clearly defined area that included (as shown in Map 6.3) most of the Banda Sea but excluded waters within 30 miles of Ambon. Under the agreement the longliners paid the Indonesian government a fee, which the Indonesians took as recognition of the archipelagic principle but which the Japanese regarded as payment to enter the port where they had to report their catches. In yet another step to avoid implying recognition, the Banda Sea Agreement of 1968 was signed on the Japanese side by the National Federation of Fisheries Cooperatives of Japan and the Federation of Japanese Tuna Cooperative Associations rather than the Japanese government. The agreement was renegotiated and renewed each year until 1975. During this period, the Japanese longliners caught about 40,000 tons of tuna worth about $20 million. The Indonesian government received a mere $150,000 in fees. In what amounted to a subsidy to the politically powerful Japanese fishing industry the Japanese government gave Indonesia $9.8 million in grants and credit as part of the agreement, but even so the agreement was highly unsatisfactory from the Indonesian point of view.157 By this time, as I shall explain in the following section, the Indonesian government had decided to try to profit directly from the tuna stocks within Indonesian waters by setting up its own longlining company, PT Perikanan Samodra Besar (PSB). In 1975, just as PSB was beginning operations on a small scale, the Indonesian and Japanese governments reached a new agreement regarding Japanese fishing in the Banda Sea. This agreement, which took the form of an arrangement between PSB and the same two Japanese fishing organizations, placed many restrictions on the Japanese. It stipulated that they could operate no more than 100 vessels, of which any number could be less than 80 GRT but of which no more than thirty could be in the 80 to 300 GRT category, and set a maximum catch of 8,000 tons per year. It also prohibited fishing within 15 miles of several groups of tiny islands in the Banda Sea and required more rigorous inspection of the

Map 6.3 Eastern Indonesia

The Great Fish Race 221

222

Chapter 6

vessels and verification of catches. In contrast to the original agreement the new one gave PSB a share of the profits. As it turned out, the Japanese sent far fewer boats than the agreement permitted and caught an average of just 3,000 tons of tuna each year, while declared profits were so low that PSB’s share did not even cover its costs in administering the agreement, though it also received a repair shop under the agreement and the Indonesian government received a training vessel. In 1979 the two governments reached yet another agreement. This agreement gave Indonesia a percentage of the value of the catch rather than a share of the profits. It removed the southern part of the Banda Sea from the area covered by the agreement. And it prohibited the longliners from operating in conjunction with motherships, since the Indonesian government hoped that the Japanese would build processing facilities in Indonesia. Despite these changes, the new agreement proved to be just as disappointing to the Indonesians as the earlier ones and it lapsed after just one year. The final years of the Banda Sea Agreement coincided with a major change in Japan’s overseas tuna fishery. As labour costs rose rapidly as a result of Japan’s economic boom, catch rates fell, and demand for canning tuna declined, Japanese fishing companies began to wind down their longlining operations in many areas even before fuel prices shot up in the 1970s. Longlining continued but it was oriented to supplying the sashimi market rather than canneries. Japanese longliners, now equipped with refrigeration systems that preserved the quality of fish by freezing them much more quickly and keeping them at extremely low temperatures, therefore concentrated on the capture of those species that fetched the highest prices in this market such as bigeye tuna (the price of which rose fourfold in the mid-1970s158) and particularly southern bluefin tuna rather than yellowfin tuna. These longliners took their catches directly to Japan in order to avoid any unnecessary handling that might reduce the quality of the tuna.159 This was one aspect of the way Japanese longliners operated that the Indonesian government found unsatisfactory and a reason that the Banda Sea Agreement lapsed. This change in the Japanese longlining industry helps to explain a striking change in the composition of catches in the Banda Sea during the final years of the Banda Sea Agreement. Up until 1974 yellowfin tuna comprised about three-quarters of the catch of the Japanese

The Great Fish Race

223

longliners, while bigeye tuna made up most of the rest of the catch. Between 1975 and 1980, however, bigeye tuna made up between a half and three-quarters of the catch. Bigeye tuna also became a much greater proportion of the catch in the Indian Ocean to the south of the line of islands from Java to Timor and to the west of Sumatra and (apparently somewhat later) along the Pacific coast of the Philippines.160 This change in the catch came about because the longliners adopted “deep longlines” that were specifically designed to reach further down into the water to capture bigeye tuna, which generally swim in or below the thermocline. Each segment of the main line hanging between two floats in a deep longline was about twice as long as such a segment in the “subsurface longlines” that the Japanese had long used. The floats were therefore about twice as far apart and the main line sagged to a greater depth, allowing the hooks to settle between 100 and 300 metres below the surface.161 In this way Japanese longliners extended the frontier of capture further down the water column. Longlining was not the only form of fishing undertaken by the Japanese in Southeast Asian waters in the 1950s and 1960s. Pole-andline fishing was also important in some areas. According to one source, pole-and-line vessels from Makurazaki began fishing off Okinawa, Taiwan, and the Philippines soon after the lifting of the MacArthur Line.162 In 1960 a Japanese company established a base on Si Amil Island, one of the main skipjack fishing bases before the war. Though the operation, which involved six fishing vessels and a 4,000-ton freezing ship, was described as “a great success”, it was shut down after a “pirate raid” on the island in 1962.163 The sources available to me give little idea of how the size and location of Japanese pole-and-line fishing changed before 1970, but Japanese Fisheries Agency data suggest that at least in the early 1970s the main centre of activity was an area encompassing the Philippines and the northern tip of Borneo and that pole-and-lining was much less important in the South China Sea and insignificant in the neighbourhood of the Banda Sea.164 It is worth emphasizing that unlike longliners pole-and-line vessels could not operate far from land. Although skipjack are found over large areas of the deep ocean, the small fish used for bait are most abundant in inshore waters and generally had to be used in chumming the same day they were collected. The crew of a poleand-line vessel had to obtain these fish themselves in inshore waters by

224

Chapter 6

attracting them with lights and then collecting them in a bag net hung from the vessel or they had to buy them from local fishers. They were therefore particularly dependent on the goodwill of the governments of the areas in which they worked. This may explain the low level of Japanese pole-and-line operations in eastern Indonesia. One way for Japanese fishing companies to avoid such problems was to form joint ventures with Indonesian firms, as occurred in 1974 when Nichiro Gyogyo Kaisha and Mitsubishi joined with an Indonesian company to form PT East Indonesia, 80 per cent of the capital of which came from the Japanese partners. Nichiro Gyogyo Kaisha had had a chance to gauge the potential of this fishery in 1971 when it conducted a survey of skipjack resources off the north and northwest coasts of Irian Jaya on behalf of the United Nations Development Program (UNDP). The survey found that skipjack tuna were abundant near Sorong and Waigeo Island and, just as importantly, that these fishing grounds “were not too far from the bait fishing grounds”. Although PT East Indonesia was based at Ternate, where it had a cold store, its two 190-GT pole-and-line vessels in fact operated around Waigeo Island. Every night they collected bait in the bays around the island and then fished to the north and west of the island. They returned to Ternate periodically to unload their catch.165 During the period 1978–81 these two vessels landed a total of about 6,400 tons of skipjack tuna. PT East Indonesia was but a tiny part of Japan’s overseas skipjack fisheries. PT East Indonesia was in fact founded just at the time the Japanese government was beginning to take steps to replace pole-and-line fishing with purse seining, which as noted earlier had become an extraordinarily powerful means of capturing fish. Having promoted the development of purse seining techniques, the government went a step further in 1971 when it established the Japan Marine Resources Center (JAMARC) and set it to work developing a distant-water purse seine tuna fishery. During the 1970s JAMARC sent purse seiners into the equatorial waters of the western Pacific to survey possible fishing grounds, study the effectiveness of different net designs, and learn the best ways of setting the nets. As a result of this work JAMARC developed nets that reached down nearly twice as far as those used by American fishers, thus enabling purse seiners to capture adult yellowfin tuna as well as skipjacks and juvenile yellowfin tuna. And it developed techniques for capturing as many fish as possible

The Great Fish Race

225

when the net was set. One method was to set the net around a school of fish gathered under a floating log, which (as the observations from the Tuscan quoted in Chapter 2 illustrate) serves as a powerful fish lure; the crew set the net just before dawn, captured the fish, and then spent the day searching for more logs. Another method, requiring a great deal of skill, was to set the net around free-swimming schools of fish. Since purse seiners do not have to carry live bait to the fishing ground the way pole-and-line vessels do, they were free to roam far from shore and to operate on the fishing ground continuously for many days or even weeks. Indeed, purse seining proved to be far more profitable than pole-andline fishing. Purse seiners were much more expensive to build, but labour costs were lower and, most importantly, catches were very much higher. Sometimes a “set” yielded few fish, but other times the catch was as much as 50 tons. In 1979 the purse seiners operating north of Irian Jaya and Papua New Guinea caught 15 tons of fish per fishing day as compared to a figure of 4 tons for PT East Indonesia’s pole-and-line vessels.166 By 1980 ten 499-GT purse seiners and four other purse seiners were operating north of Irian Jaya and Papua New Guinea with JAMARC’s support.167 Between December and March, when a current flowing eastsoutheastward causes strong upwelling along the north coast of New Guinea, these purse seiners operated close to and occasionally within the territorial and even the internal waters of Indonesia.168 Based as they were in Japan, they faced little risk of being captured by Indonesian patrol boats. Thus, by 1980 Japanese fishers had greatly extended the frontier of fishing. As part of this process they had captured large quantities of tuna in and near Indonesian waters. As I will now show, Indonesians were beginning to take steps to capture these fish themselves.

Indonesia (continued ) Immediately after the war the Dutch rebuilt the Japanese pole-and-line fishing base at Aertembaga. By 1947 several vessels based in Aertembaga caught skipjack tuna in nearby waters; most of their catch was trucked in ice to Manado for sale in the market there.169 The Indonesian government took over this operation in 1950 and it also set up a poleand-line fishing company at Ambon in 1961. In 1957 a 68-GT longliner

226

Chapter 6

owned by the government explored fishing grounds in the Indian Ocean up to 110 kilometres from the coast between Sumbawa and northern Sumatra. In 1962 the government formed its own longlining company, which had two longliners based in Jakarta that fished as far out into the Indian Ocean as Christmas Island. None of these state companies captured large quantities of tuna or produced much income. As we have seen, it was the Japanese who took the initiative in exploiting the rich tuna stocks within and near the waters the Indonesian government claimed as internal waters in 1957. In the late 1960s, however, the New Order government began to consider ways of profiting from these riches. The government soon decided that in order to establish a domestic tuna fishing industry it would have to set up its own companies, just as the Old Order government had, but it intended to sell them off to private investors once they were well established. Because the government did not have the expertise or funds required to set up large-scale tuna companies it turned to international aid agencies for help. In 1970 the Overseas Technical Cooperation Agency of Japan studied the feasibility of setting up a longlining company, and, as mentioned, the UNDP (with the help of Nichiro Gyogyo Kaisha) explored the potential for a skipjack fishery off Irian Jaya. The government then negotiated with the World Bank, the ADB, and the Japanese government to gather together the capital needed to set up a number of tuna fishing companies. In the end the government established one company that engaged in longlining and three others that conducted pole-and-line fishing. The government invested $17 million in these companies and borrowed $6 million from domestic sources including its own bank, while external funding agencies lent a total of about $20 million.170 The government also encouraged the formation of joint ventures between Indonesian firms and foreign tuna fishing companies, but PT East Indonesia was the only one established at this time. All four of the state companies started on a grand scale. By 1980 the longlining company, PT Perikanan Samodra Besar (PSB), operated seventeen 111-GT vessels from its bases at Benoa in Bali and at Sabang off the northern tip of Sumatra. Each longliner was equipped with an echo sounder, radar, and a freezer and was capable of fishing forty days at a time, and at each of its bases the company had a cold store, ice factory, and docking facilities. The largest of the three pole-and-line fishing

The Great Fish Race

227

companies was PT Usaha Mina, which operated twenty-seven small (30 GT) and two large (100 and 300 GT) pole-and-liners, six bait-catching boats, and two fish carriers from its base at Sorong in Irian Jaya. The other two companies grew out of the state pole-and-line companies established in the 1950s at Aertembaga and Ambon. Between them these two companies had a total of forty small and two large pole-and-liners, while the company based at Aertembaga also had a carrier boat. All three pole-and-line fishing companies had large cold stores (the largest being PT Usaha Mina’s with a capacity of 1,300 tons) and their own docking facilities and workshops.171 Well funded as they were, the four state companies appeared ready to catch and export a lot of tuna and make profits. As it turned out, the companies did catch more and more tuna; total catches increased from 1,700 tons in 1973 (the first year in which all of them were operational) to 11,000 tons in 1980. And most of the catch was exported; the four companies exported $11 million worth of tuna in 1980. Far from generating profits, however, the companies made losses. One of the main reasons was that they began as large-scale enterprises rather than gradually expanding as they gained a better idea of how best to conduct their business. According to McElroy, their vessels “from the outset … suffered from poor design, construction deficiencies and high operating costs”.172 Nevertheless, government subsidies enabled the companies to continue to operate and even to expand. Fortunately for the companies, they were losing money at the same time that the government’s revenues increased markedly as a result of the sharp increase in oil prices. Nationalizing the exploitation of fish within Indonesian waters mattered more than immediate profit. The state companies did not extend fishing into new fishing grounds. PSB at first concentrated its longlining operations just south of Java, Bali, and Lombok and then shifted its focus to the Banda Sea. Whereas the Japanese longliners fishing in these waters at this time had just adopted deep longlines to catch bigeye tuna for the sashimi market, PSB’s vessels used subsurface longlines. Yellowfin tuna therefore made up between 60 and 70 per cent of their catch.173 The three pole-and-line companies operated in virtually the same areas where the Japanese and the early state companies had fished or where PT East Indonesia had begun fishing. The necessity to buy live bait from local fishers or collect it themselves in inshore waters prevented pole-and-line vessels from venturing far from

228

Chapter 6

their bases. In fact, two of the companies found it difficult to obtain enough bait to maintain their operations. At first PT Usaha Mina’s vessels bought much of their bait from the operators of raft nets when they were fishing near Sorong, but the raft netters then began selling most of their catch to dealers who sold the fish in Surabaya. The pole-and-line vessels then had to catch more of the bait they needed themselves, but they found this difficult near Sorong because the raft fishers were operating in these waters. As a result, the quantity of bait fish per day of fishing declined slightly between 1978 and 1982. The company based at Ambon faced similar difficulties. The proliferation of raft nets in Ambon Harbour forced the company’s pole-and-liners to fish more and more along the northwest coast of Seram, where bait fish were abundant in the bays.174 The difficulties experienced by the pole-and-line companies probably explain why in 1980 the government began exploring the possibility of purse seining in waters north of Irian Jaya where Japanese purse seiners had been active for several years. While the government was trying to establish an Indonesian tuna fishing industry, two ancient fisheries were coming under great pressure, namely, those for shad and flyingfish. The age-old demand for shad roe appears to have revived in the 1960s, pushed along as in the past by traders in Singapore. In the Panjang Strait, where great quantities of shad had been caught since at least the early 1800s, fishers adopted monofilament gillnets. Strong, thin, and translucent, these nets entangled fish much more effectively than nets made of natural fibres. According to research conducted in the 1990s, fishers recalled a marked drop in catches in about 1970. Fishery scientists are, however, unsure to what extent catches fell because of more intensive fishing and to what extent because the fish, which are filter feeders like other clupeids, began ingesting large quantities of sawdust discharged by the many sawmills up the Kampar and Siak rivers.175 Off the southwest coast of Sulawesi, Mandarese and other fishing communities continued to capture flyingfish during the east monsoon as they long had by enticing them to deposit and fertilize their eggs in floating traps. The object of the fishery was the fish themselves, which were salted and dried and then sold locally, in other parts of Sulawesi, and in Kalimantan, while the eggs “were merely a savoury byproduct” which the fishers consumed themselves or gave to their neighbours. Beginning in 1971, however, demand for flyingfish

The Great Fish Race

229

roe in Japan pushed up the price of roe until it reached $48 per kilogram in 1973. Financed by middlemen, fishers immediately targeted the fish for their roe and stepped up their efforts to capture them. They designed larger and more effective traps and began catching the fish with gillnets as well. Catches reached a peak in 1976 but fell to half that level by 1983. By 1990, according to one estimate, the flyingfish population off the southwest coast of Sulawesi was about one-third of what it had been in 1970.176

Conflict at sea Conflict over the riches of the sea has a long history in Southeast Asia, but one of the most marked features of the explosion of fishing in the 1960s was a dramatic increase in the incidence of conflict. The development of trawling and purse seining provided the means to capture such huge quantities of marine life in such short periods of time that it created the possibility of depleting fish stocks and so undermining the livelihoods of those using much less powerful fishing gear. Moreover, because of the size and power of their vessels the operators of trawlers and purse seiners could easily destroy any small nets or boats that happened to get in their way. The development of trawling and purse seining thus created the conditions for widespread and bitter conflict over the riches of the sea. The fishing gear that engendered the most conflict was the otter trawl. Since the richest shrimp populations were frequently located close to shore, trawlers often pursued their prey in the same waters where small-scale fishers operated, often with non-mechanized boats. As already mentioned, inshore fishers along the west coast of Malaya reacted violently to the introduction of trawling in what they regarded as their traditional fishing grounds. Trawlers, often fishing at night, caused a great deal of damage to inshore gears, particularly bag nets (pompang) and driftnets. In December 1966 fishers made their way in a thousand small boats to Weld Quay in Penang with the intention of burning down the office of the trawl owners co-operative. Although they were turned back with promises that the regulations barring trawlers from their fishing grounds would be rigorously enforced,177 very little was done and in fact the existing regulations were relaxed when it became clear to the government

230

Chapter 6

that they were not being enforced. Between 1964 and 1976, according to official records, sixty-two vessels were sunk and thirty-four fishers killed in clashes between trawlers and inshore fishers. Virtually all of these clashes occurred in the waters of Perak and Penang, the location of the richest shrimping grounds on the eastern side of the Straits of Malacca.178 In 1977 fishers in seven sail boats attacked a trawler operating off the east coast of Sumatra within the 6-mile limit set by the Indonesian government and killed its captain, and near Cilacap on the south coast of Java there were similar clashes.179 The intensity of violence appears to have been greatest along the north coast of Java, because the shrimps were concentrated relatively near to shore here and because so many fishers depended on these waters for their livelihood. An account of two fishing villages on the north coast of central Java, where the provincial government had granted “traditional” fishers the sole right to fish up to ten miles from shore, describes this conflict: When the high priced and sought after shrimp are being caught by the local traditional fishermen within the 10 mile strip, every boat including the trawlers will quickly cover the area disregarding the regulation. In the melee of catching, nets are entangled and torn, and almost always the trawlers get the biggest share. At night the trawlers sometimes enter within this restricted zone without any lights [and] covering their license numbers. … During these clandestine operations many nets of the local fishermen are torn and the local fishermen have nowhere to complain.180

Trawlers were not the only source of conflict. In the same area of central Java traditional fishers operating payang complained that their fish lures (tendak) “had been hauled up by … purse-seiners or had been wrecked by their fishing operations”.181 And, as mentioned in the previous chapter, it was purse seiners that enraged the majority of the fishers of Muncar, for in their view “the new technology endangered the resource and threatened their own survival”.182 Nevertheless, in most areas it was trawlers that aroused the greatest animosity. During the 1960s and 1970s the governments of the Philippines, Thailand, Malaysia, and Indonesia all introduced a multitude of regulations to restrict the number of trawlers and to prevent them from operating within various distances from shore, but these proved ineffective, for several reasons. Fisheries officers and marine police often lacked the boats needed to enforce these regulations. For example, at Sungsang, where trawlers based in Jakarta were operating

The Great Fish Race

231

in 1979, “the police do not even have a motor-powered boat at their disposal”.183 Enforcement agencies and courts were not always committed to enforcing fisheries regulations, as suggested by Panayotou’s observation that “trawlers, operating in broad daylight within a few hundred metres from shore[,] are seen frequently throughout coastal Thailand”.184 Finally, trawl captains could, unless caught red-handed, claim that their catch came from outside the restricted zone. Thus the introduction of new regulations did little to remove the basis of conflict between trawlers and inshore fishers. Also generating conflict was the movement of fishing boats into the fishing grounds of other countries. Up to the 1950s the widely accepted principle was that states had the right to claim territorial waters extending 3 nautical miles from their coastlines. In the case of Southeast Asia this left vast areas where vessels were free to fish according to international law. But all this began to change in 1957. In that year Indonesia not only declared itself to be an archipelagic state but also claimed territorial waters extending 12 nautical miles (22 kilometres) out from the baselines used to demarcate its internal waters. In 1961 the Philippines also declared itself to be an archipelagic state and claimed as its territorial waters the very large expanse of sea between its archipelagic baselines and limits set by treaties made during the colonial period. Over the next few years all of the other states of Southeast Asia except Singapore and Brunei claimed territorial waters 12 nautical miles wide. In some cases, they did so from baselines that greatly expanded the extent of their claims. Most notably, in 1968 the Burmese government made its claim after first drawing baselines that encompassed the Mergui Archipelago and the Gulf of Martaban. The upshot of all these claims was that by the 1970s all the waters within the island world and along the coasts of the mainland had come under the jurisdiction of the various states of the region. Put differently, a very high proportion of the richest fishing grounds, including virtually all of the inshore waters where shrimps and many species of fish were most abundant, was, at least according to the claims made by these states, potentially off limits to foreign fishing vessels. The Indonesian government detained Japanese tuna vessels as early as 1960, but it was the outward push of Thai trawlers that created the most antagonism. Tension over access to fishery resources provided a further dimension to the many political and ideological differences that already existed between

232

Chapter 6

the Thai government and the governments of Vietnam, Cambodia, and Burma, in the waters of all of which Thai trawlers were very active. For the most part, Thai trawler captains were able to fish more or less wherever they wanted, since the governments of most of Thailand’s neighbours had very little power to prevent foreign fishing vessels from entering their waters. But the Burmese government in particular enforced its claims vigorously. Between 1965 and 1976 the Burmese arrested over 200 Thai fishing vessels as well as fishing vessels from Singapore and Taiwan and even a fisheries research vessel from Singapore.185 The scramble to claim the sea and the fish within it had begun.

The end of an era Between the 1950s and the 1970s fish catches increased by leaps and bounds. Panayotou and Jetanavanich aptly describe the process by which this occurred as a “race”.186 New technology made it possible to capture stocks that previously had been barely touched and to capture them efficiently. The possibility of great profits provided by this new technology attracted investors with other business interests into fishing. In some cases the adoption of new technology and the application of this technology to new fishing grounds took place with the active encouragement of governments, while in others it happened more or less in spite of them. However it got underway, the availability during the early years of fish to anyone with the vessels, gears, and skills to capture them drew more and more fishers into the fishery in search of profits. Trawling was the primary form of fishing that brought about the initial burst in catches, but under intensive trawling demersal population densities fell not only because trawlers captured such large quantities of fish but also because trawling disturbed the benthic ecosystem on which many species depended. As population densities fell so too did the catch per hour or per vessel and consequently profits fell as well. Falling catch rates were sometimes offset by a ready market for trash fish, rising prices for the most valuable species, particularly shrimp, or the flourishing, at least in relative terms, of certain species with fairly high market values, but generally falling catches meant reduced profits. In order to maintain their catches many trawlers moved on to new fishing grounds, as Thai trawlers did when they moved out of the Gulf of Thailand. At the same

The Great Fish Race

233

time, there was in many areas a transition towards various forms of pelagic fishing such as basnig fishing and purse seining. It was the growth of pelagic fisheries combined with the movement of trawlers into new fishing grounds that sustained the upward surge in the total catch through the 1970s. But there were limits to how far this process could go. By the late 1970s even bigeye tuna, swimming at great depths far from shore, were being captured in large numbers. As far as fishing over the continental shelves was concerned, the last virtually untouched area in 1980 was off the coast of Burma. An FAO report concluded that Burma, whose waters already enticed Thai trawlers even at the risk of being captured by the Burmese navy, “is one of the few countries in Southeast Asia (if not actually the only one) in which potential yields do exist, i.e., in which fleet expansions appear possible”.187 By about 1980 there were already signs that the frontier was beginning to close.

Reproduced from The Closing of the Frontier: A History of the Marine Fisheries of Southeast Asia c. 18502000, by John G. Butcher (Singapore: Institute of Southeast Asian Studies, 2004). This version was obtained electronically direct from the publisher on condition that copyright is not infringed. No part of this publication may be reproduced without the prior permission of the Institute of Southeast Asian Studies.Individual articles are available at Chapter 7 234 < http://bookshop.iseas.edu.sg >

7 The Closing of the Frontier

The late 1970s and early 1980s may be taken as an important turning point in the history of the extension of the frontier of fishing in Southeast Asian waters. It was at this time that the Indonesian government banned trawl fishing in most of the sea under its jurisdiction and that governments throughout Southeast Asia claimed their offshore waters as exclusive economic zones. Both events, arising as they did out of conflict over access to living marine resources, indicate that the period of freewheeling extension was ending. During the 1980s and into the 1990s the demand for fish products continued to grow rapidly. The population of Southeast Asia — the single most powerful source of demand — grew at 2 per cent a year to 480 million in 1995, while living standards rose as the economies of many countries, particularly Singapore, Malaysia, Thailand, and Indonesia, were restructured towards the export of manufactured goods. At the same time, the economic success of Taiwan and Hong Kong and the emergence of a class of rich business people in the People’s Republic of China renewed the centuries’ old demand from China for the marine exotica of Southeast Asia, and the markets for tuna and shrimp continued to grow in Japan, North America, and Europe. At least in the short term this growing demand was matched by increasing catches. Between 1980 and 1997 nominal fish landings rose from 5.8 to 11 million tons, contributing (along with supplies from freshwater sources, aquaculture, and imports) to a general increase in the per capita supply of fish to the people of Southeast Asia. There were, however, limits to how much the sea could yield to meet the ever-increasing demand. During the 1990s

The Closing of the Frontier

235

total landings increased less rapidly than they had during the 1980s.1 In the Philippines, the first country to take part in the fish race, landings ceased to increase during the 1990s, while in Thailand, the second country to join the race, they increased much less rapidly than they had during the previous three decades. This slowing took place even though, as we shall see, large-scale operators in both countries landed large quantities of fish caught in the waters of other countries. By the 1990s even the tuna fishery, targeted at the last substantial, commercially important fish stocks, was beginning to undergo some of the changes that had already occurred in numerous other fisheries, while fish populations were collapsing around coral reefs in the remotest parts of the island world. Coinciding with — indeed in large part propelled by — the closing of the frontier was a rapid increase in the importance of aquaculture. The Indonesian trawl ban provides a useful starting point for understanding these momentous changes.

The trawl ban and its aftermath In July 1980, following many unsuccessful attempts to restrict trawling, President Suharto issued a decree banning trawling from the waters surrounding Java and Bali as of October of that year and from the waters surrounding Sumatra as of January 1981. As the director general of fisheries explained, the banning was a “political decision”, made with the “aim of reaching social peace and stability, by way of providing better protection to the poor traditional fishermen masses”.2 The All-Indonesia Fishermen’s Association, a functional group within Golkar, the government’s main electoral vehicle, had put considerable pressure on the government to ban trawling. At the same time many in the government believed that various programmes to improve the welfare of fishing communities would come to nothing unless the resources on which they depended were protected from trawlers. Unlike earlier attempts to restrict trawling issued as ministerial decrees, the ban carried the full weight of the president and the military. Moreover, it was much easier to enforce a total ban on trawling than to restrict it. Anyone operating a trawl could no longer claim to have been fishing outside areas where trawling was prohibited, and because the trawlers were large enough to be dependent on port facilities any vessel rigged for trawling

236

Chapter 7

could be easily spotted. The ban was extended to the waters around Kalimantan and Sulawesi in July 1981 and finally, in 1983, to the rest of Indonesia except for the far east of the country, where shrimp trawlers were allowed to continue to operate under certain conditions. By 1987 “widespread violations” of the ban were being reported in local newspapers in Sumatra and Kalimantan,3 but in the short term the ban appears to have stopped trawling almost completely in the waters around Java and reduced it to a fraction of previous levels elsewhere. One of the most immediate effects of the trawl ban was a drop in catches of finfish and shrimp. At Pekalongan and Semarang, the home ports of a large number of trawlers, total landings fell by about half. Landings of shrimp in Indonesia fell sharply, from 39,000 tons in 1980 to 22,000 tons in 1981 in the case of banana prawns (Penaeus merguiensis), the most valuable species on the export market.4 Within just three or four years, however, shrimp catches and exports reached the same level as they had been just before the ban. Aside from an expansion of shrimp cultivation, considered later in this chapter, the main reason for this rapid recovery was that people operating small boats and fishing with other types of nets began supplying much greater quantities of shrimp to the exporting firms, who now had to depend on these fishers for most of their supplies. At the time of the ban the government extended huge amounts of credit on easy terms for the purchase of small boats, outboard motors, and fishing gear both to small-scale fishers so that they could take full advantage of the ban and to trawl crewmen who had been thrown out of work. Thus, by banning trawling the government transferred inshore demersal fishery resources from trawl owners to the small-scale fishers. The effect of the ban on shrimp and fish populations is unclear, however. The gill and trammel nets used by small-scale fishers had just a fraction of the fishing power of trawl nets and were more selective in what they captured, but the government imposed no limits on any form of fishing except trawling. The enormous increase in the number of boats and fishers — the number of outboard and inboard motors increased by 133 per cent and 73 per cent respectively and the number of fishers increased by 33 per cent during the early 1980s — as a result of easy credit from the government and illegal fishing by foreign vessels in Indonesian waters “diluted” the effect of the trawl ban.5 This may explain the observation made by a visitor to two fishing villages in Cirebon, west

The Closing of the Frontier

237

Java, in 1984 that because of motorization (there were 1,500 motorized fishing boats in the two villages) “the fishermen can now go to sea every day, windy or not. But most of the year their catch is limited to a kilo of shrimp at best. They work under conditions of permanent scarcity”.6 The results of trawl surveys, however, convey a rather different picture of the impact of the trawl ban on fish populations. Off the coast of Semarang in central Java, for example, the catch rate jumped from 110 to 300 kilograms per hour between 1979 and 1986. Likewise, the estimated density of demersal fish in the Straits of Malacca rose from 1.2 to 3 tons per square kilometre between 1983 and 1985.7 Thus, fish populations recovered remarkably at least in some areas. Whatever its effects on demersal species, the trawl ban speeded up the exploitation of pelagic fish in and near the Java Sea. In order to make the ban palatable to trawl owners, who comprised “some of the country’s powerful and influential fishing businessmen”,8 as well as to cover the shortage of fish expected as a result of the ban, the government provided large amounts of credit to promote the capture of pelagic species. As a result, many trawlers were converted to operate purse seines, and new purse seiners designed for fishing further afield were constructed. Between 1975–79 and 1984–87 the average number of purse seiners based in Java increased from 810 to 2,100. Moreover, the number of large purse seiners increased; between 1984 and 1987 the number of boats between 30 and 50 GRT based in central Java increased from 140 to 300, while the number over 50 GRT increased from 4 to 8.9 The hulls of most of these purse seiners were built in shipyards at Bagan Si Api Api and then towed to Java, where they were outfitted. The government promoted the construction of large purse seiners by building new fishing ports along the north coast of Java; the biggest of these ports was at Pekalongan, which became the home port of most of the large purse seiners based in central Java. At the same time, as can be seen in Map 7.1, the large purse seiners extended their operations into the eastern part of the Java Sea. As a result of all this activity the average annual landings by the Java Sea purse seine fleet increased from 49,000 tons in 1975–79 to 140,000 in 1984–87.10 The rapid rise in landings came to an abrupt halt in the mid-1980s. This was mainly because of the heavy exploitation of the fishing grounds, but it may have been partly the result of a reduction of salinity

Map 7.1 Extension of Fishing Grounds of Large Purse Seiners Based in Java 238

Chapter 7

The Closing of the Frontier

239

in the fishing grounds caused by a weak east monsoon. Between 1985 and 1988 the average landings per trip increased, but as the boats took longer and longer trips — up to forty days for the larger boats — the average annual landings per vessel fell so much that total landings fell markedly, by 35 per cent at Pekalongan. Because of the rise in the price of fish brought about largely by the decline in supplies, however, the average income per vessel per trip more than doubled with the result that gross annual receipts per vessel did not fall low enough to discourage purse seine operators from fishing.11 In any case, the downturn in landings spurred a new round of innovation and extension. Beginning in 1986 the largest purse seiners moved out of the Java Sea into the southern part of the Makassar Strait and the waters between the Malay Peninsula and Borneo. The purse seiners also made much more use of lights to attract fish. The usual practice was to use kerosene pressure lamps in conjunction with rumpon, but electric light became the primary means of attracting fish beginning in 1987 when many owners installed generators, which were used to light up twelve to thirty-six 200 to 1,000-watt lamps. At first they used mercury lamps but increasingly turned to halogen lamps.12 At the same time the purse seiners pursued a new fishing strategy. Previously, each boat had worked on its own, but now several boats belonging to one company fished in a pack, co-ordinating their movements by radio. As soon as one boat had found a promising fishing ground, “it calls the others which then concentrate on this area. When the catch decreases they spread again on several fishing grounds in order to find the fish. With this expansioncontraction strategy they can survey two or three fishing grounds during the trip”.13 The research vessel Bawal Putih I observed a cluster of 107 fishing boats south of Matasiri Island in October 1992 and a cluster of ninety-six south of Midai Island in the South China Sea in April 1993; in such clusters the distance between the purse seiners varied from less than a kilometre to a maximum of 7.4 kilometres, while the average distance from one boat to the next was 2.6 kilometres. By working in packs, Potier and Petit explained, the purse seiners “can exploit a fishing ground to its maximum level” “even if their fishing zone is not located over areas where the fish abundance is the highest”.14 As well as allowing purse seiners to work in packs radio communication made it possible for owners to order their boats to return to port earlier than planned if

240

Chapter 7

prices were particularly high. Beginning in 1994 many purse seiners were being equipped with global positioning systems (GPS) as well. As this account suggests, the large purse seiners treated the Java Sea and neighbouring waters like a mine, extracting as much of the fish in one area as possible and then moving on to another, but it is important to emphasize that there were limitations on how much they could in fact extract. First, the length of boats was limited by the insistence of owners that the keel be made from one piece of wood, since they believed that a keel made by joining two or more pieces would be much weaker. Second, many of the harbours along the north coast of Java still could not accommodate larger vessels. Third, the fishing method, powerful though it was, still required the boat to sit in the water for long periods waiting for fish to be attracted to the lights rather than actually catching them. And finally it is likely that some small pelagic species breed outside the areas fished by the purse seiners in the oceanic waters east of the Java Sea. None of these limitations arose from any desire to conserve stocks, but they may explain why earlier warnings about a collapse of the small pelagic fishery did not materialize. Nevertheless, the leaders of the Java Sea Pelagic Fishery Assessment Project observed in 1995 that total catches had stagnated around 150,000 tons for the previous three years. They argued that any further increase in fishing pressure or another weakening of the east monsoon could result in a big drop in catches, simply because by this time the entire Java Sea (as well as some areas beyond it) had been “prospected”.15 In the meantime, a resurgence of trawling brought demersal fish populations under renewed pressure in many of the areas where the trawl ban had been imposed in 1980–81. At some point the government began issuing licences to operate trawl nets, euphemistically called “fish nets”, in the Straits of Malacca and apparently in certain other areas as well. Holders of these licences were prohibited from fishing close to shore in waters reserved for small-scale fishers. Many other vessels that had no such licences but apparently had the approval of local authorities or elements within the military also began trawling. Whatever their legal status, these trawlers frequently operated near the coast. In 1994 “traditional” fishers in East Kalimantan called on the government to stop trawlers from exploiting their fishing grounds close to shore. In 1996 small-scale fishers based in Jakarta claimed that 200 trawlers were

The Closing of the Frontier

241

fishing within a kilometre of the coast. A report from 1997 states that 340 trawlers had been “poaching” along the west coast of North Sumatra. In the same year small-scale fishers along the west coast of Aceh complained that trawlers had destroyed “hundreds” of their rumpon.16 From time to time the navy and police took steps to enforce the law, as when the navy destroyed 167 trawlers near Medan in 1995,17 but these actions did little to stop trawling. In 1996 a navy patrol detained four trawlers near Mursala Island off the west coast of Sumatra, but within two years 125 trawlers, “owned by big businesses”, were reported to be operating in the same area.18 Since the authorities were either unable or unwilling to suppress trawling, small-scale fishers often took it upon themselves to do so. In 1997 Acehnese fishers attacked a Taiwanese trawler chartered to a company in Jakarta; in 1998 small-scale fishers burnt two trawlers along the east coast of Sumatra near Medan and a dozen trawlers moored in Cilacap harbour on the south coast of Java; and in 1999 they set fire to at least five vessels using a trawl-like net in Jambi.19 Elsewhere, as at Pelabuhan Ratu on the southwest coast of Java, the threat of violence by small-scale fishers kept trawlers from intruding.20 To my knowledge the vehemence with which small-scale fishers insisted that trawlers were ruining their livelihoods provides the only evidence of the impact of trawling on demersal stocks during the 1990s. The value of this evidence is tempered by the fact that the small-scale fishers were themselves exploiting the same fishing grounds, as were medium-scale fishers not using trawl nets. In the case of the east coast of Sumatra several hundred jermal, now worked by teenage boys who were confined to these platforms for weeks at a time, contributed to the pressure on fish populations.21 What is certain is that by the mid-1990s the trawl ban had ceased to have much effect except in so far as small-scale fishers were able to enforce it themselves. As mentioned, the trawl ban did not apply to the area to the far east of Indonesia, where small-scale fishers were far less numerous and politically important to the government than they were in the west. The double-rigged shrimp trawlers of joint-venture and wholly Indonesian companies that operated in the Arafura Sea were now required to use nets designed to reduce the “bycatch” of turtles and fish, but they disregarded this regulation “because it reduced the shrimp catch”.22 Also operating in this area were Indonesian and foreign “fish net” vessels.

242

Chapter 7

One of the regulations that applied to these vessels stipulated that the size of the mesh at the cod-end of the net be at least 2.5 centimetres. Gillett found, however, that the fish net vessels he observed at Merauke “had trawl nets on deck with cod-end mesh considerably smaller” than that, enabling them to “catch more shrimp than ‘shrimp net’ vessels” did.23 As we shall see, regulations meant little in the waters of eastern Indonesia, where many of the last remaining lightly tapped fishing grounds of Southeast Asia were located.

Carving up the sea Following the lead taken by Iceland at the time of the Cod War, the states of Southeast Asia joined with other states around the world in claiming for themselves the sole right to exploit the living and non-living resources in the sea bordering their territorial waters. Specifically, they declared exclusive economic zones that extended seaward to 200 nautical miles (370 kilometres) from their coasts or other baselines forming the inner edge of their territorial waters. Although the Third United Nations Conference on the Law of the Sea was set up to create an orderly framework in which states would define and manage their zones, most states made their declarations while the conference was still in session. In April 1977 Burma became the first state in Southeast Asia to declare an exclusive economic zone (EEZ). It was followed by Vietnam a month later, Cambodia and the Philippines in 1978, and Indonesia and Malaysia early in 1980. These declarations had an immediate impact on Thailand’s fishing industry, since, at least on paper, they deprived the huge Thai fleet of access to vast tracts of sea off the coasts of Cambodia, Vietnam, Burma, Malaysia, and Indonesia in which it had been fishing since the mid-1960s. At first, the Thai government held back from declaring an EEZ of its own since this would have implied recognition of the zones declared by other states. However, in June 1980, when it appeared that the concept of EEZs would be adopted by the Conference on the Law of the Sea, it too declared an EEZ. Although the United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea, signed at Montego Bay in December 1982, did not become a formal part of international law until it was ratified by the required number of states in 1994, it was immediately regarded as part of customary international law by most states and by the International

The Closing of the Frontier

243

Court of Justice. The convention was particularly important for Indonesia and the Philippines since it legitimized their longstanding claims to be archipelagic states. As a result of these momentous changes, all of the waters within Southeast Asia and out to 200 nautical miles from baselines around the coasts of the Philippines and Indonesia facing the Pacific and Indian oceans had come under the jurisdiction of one or another of the states of the region or had been claimed by one or more of these states. This nationalization of the seas of Southeast Asia, almost entirely classified as international waters just twenty-five years earlier, established the structure in which the final flurry of fisheries expansion took place in the 1980s and 1990s. It must be emphasized that this structure was anything but tidy. In cases where two countries were not far enough apart for each to have a full 200-nautical-mile EEZ, the principle was that their zones should be divided by a line equidistant between their respective baselines. But disputes about such things as the ownership of certain islands and whether various islands were large enough to be used for establishing baselines generated several overlapping claims, most notably in the South China Sea and the Gulf of Thailand.24 Nevertheless, the structure, shaky though it was, was now in place. This new regime immediately created an imbalance between those states with large fishing fleets but poor fishery resources and those with relatively abundant resources but without the capacity to exploit them as fully as it was believed they could be. More specifically, it set up an imbalance between Thailand and the Philippines on the one hand and Cambodia, Vietnam, and particularly Burma and Indonesia on the other. According to the U.N. convention, the fishing fleets of those countries that had traditionally fished in waters now part of the EEZs of other countries should be given access to these waters as long as these other countries lacked the capacity to exploit them fully. At the same time, however, the convention grants states the right to determine whether their waters in fact contain “surplus” fish and, if they believe such a surplus exists, to determine the conditions under which foreign boats may operate. Those states possessing zones rich in fish have therefore been free to regulate access to their zones on their own terms, sometimes using what they regard as their unrestricted right to control access as a bargaining chip in diplomatic negotiations unrelated to fisheries matters. Soon after the signing of the convention the governments of Southeast

244

Chapter 7

Asian countries enacted legislation regulating access to their EEZs. Whether these laws were enforced depended not only on the number of patrol boats and surveillance aircraft devoted to enforcing them but also on whether officials and those assigned the task of enforcing the laws wanted to do so. It is useful to highlight this point by looking at the case of Indonesia, because its enormous EEZ attracted fishing vessels from Thailand, the Philippines, Taiwan, and Japan. Following the declaration of its EEZ, the Indonesian government took a series of steps designed to prevent foreign fishing vessels from catching fish when and where they pleased and taking their catches directly back to their home ports.25 After the Banda Sea Agreement lapsed in 1980 the government allowed Japanese longliners to operate in the Pacific section of its recently proclaimed EEZ without any restrictions, but in 1984 it closed Indonesia’s EEZ to all foreign fishing vessels in an attempt to encourage direct foreign investment in the tuna industry. This ban appears to have done little to discourage foreign fishing vessels, however. McElroy concludes that thirty-nine Japanese purse seiners fished north of New Guinea during the mid-1980s and estimates that about half of their annual catch of 40,000 to 60,000 tons in this area was taken in Indonesian waters.26 At the same time Japanese and Taiwanese longliners fished within Indonesian waters. In 1986 the government removed the ban and instead required foreign fishing vessels to take out licences to fish within Indonesia’s EEZ. At about the same time it also put in place a lease-purchase scheme that made it possible for Thai fishing companies to operate their trawlers in partnership with Indonesian companies, thus enabling their vessels to fly the Indonesian flag. Only a small number of foreign vessels took advantage of these new arrangements. In March 1988 fourteen longliners, of which nine were Taiwanese, and one U.S. superseiner were licensed to operate in the Pacific section of the EEZ, while for a number of years only one Thai company had entered into a lease-purchase scheme. It appears that by far the great majority of foreign vessels fishing in Indonesian waters did so without licences. The chances of being arrested, particularly in the great expanse of ocean north of Irian Jaya, were very small, since the navy had only four patrol boats policing these waters, but there was some risk. Between 1984 and 1988 the navy arrested about a hundred foreign fishing vessels, of which most were Taiwanese longliners and gillnetters. When the owners of these vessels

The Closing of the Frontier

245

failed to pay the fines imposed, the government handed the vessels over to the state fishing companies or sold them to private companies, thus enabling them to expand their fleets. In 1988 the government imposed a range of new conditions on foreign fishing vessels. In June it decreed that new licences would be granted only to foreign fishing vessels that engaged in line fishing, that these vessels had to land all their catch at Indonesian ports, and that at least 30 per cent of the crew of each vessel had to be Indonesians. In December the government imposed the same conditions on all existing licences. At the same time it required all foreign fishing vessels to obtain their licences through Indonesian companies. The owners of foreign vessels could do this either by entering into joint ventures with Indonesian companies or by “chartering” their vessels to Indonesian companies. The hope was that all these regulations would bring about an influx of capital, promote the building of landing and processing facilities, boost exports, and generate employment for Indonesians both at sea and on shore. This apparently neat structure for regulating foreign fishing vessels soon began to unravel. In 1989 a ban on the importation of fishing vessels that the minister of research and technology, B.J. Habibie, had decreed as a way of building up the Indonesian shipbuilding industry came into force. The shipbuilding industry was, however, unable to build vessels either quickly or cheaply enough to satisfy Indonesian fishing companies. In these circumstances these companies obtained the vessels they needed by taking advantage of the 1988 regulations. Some fishing companies formed joint ventures with foreign companies, while others entered into charter arrangements. At the same time a much greater number of Indonesian companies with little interest in fishing took the opportunity to offer themselves as fronts for foreign companies eager to exploit Indonesia’s wealth of fish. In 1996 the chairman of the Indonesian Fishery Club stated that “only about 3 per cent of companies are operating under true charter arrangements. The foreign partners are only looking for someone to supply the permits, the fuel and the food. We’re really only being used. We act as agents and most of the fish is never landed here”.27 In some cases the operators of foreign vessels circumvented the process altogether by buying “unofficial fishing rights”,28 as for example when fifty vessels from the People’s Republic of China that operated around Irian Jaya received permission to fish from “corrupt harbour

Chapter 7

246

officials” at a port in east Java.29 Yet another source of fishing rights was the Indonesian navy, which had its own company for chartering foreign vessels and which, several sources imply, assumed the authority to grant its own permits. Finally, foreign vessels often obtained licences from provincial authorities. These authorities had the power to issue licences to vessels not greater than 30 GT but often licensed larger vessels, including many from outside Indonesia. Whatever the arrangement, the Indonesian government did little to regulate the activities of foreign vessels operating within Indonesia’s EEZ. As Gillett wrote in 1996, There are no burdens placed on foreign vessels by observer programmes, catch reporting requirement[s] are not rigidly enforced, there are no radio reporting requirements, vessels are able to disregard marking requirements, and (at least for the fish net fleet) the gear regulations appear to be unenforced. … Chartering to local companies and the disposal of catch in an Indonesian port is … required in principle but not strictly enforced.30

The enforcement agencies did arrest foreign vessels for violating fishing regulations. In 1993, according to official figures, foreign vessels committed 902 violations, of which 470 were for fishing without a licence, thirty-five were for fishing outside the specified areas, and nearly 200 related to using fishing gears not covered by the licence. But the most important agency, the navy, appears to have enforced the regulations both spasmodically and selectively. As well as having what it regarded as more pressing priorities and not being trained to handle fishery issues, the navy, as Gillett pointed out, “may have some conflict of interest in enforcing EEZ regulations”.31 In any case, it appears that violations seldom led to successful prosecutions, since those charged with an offence could often pay some “tea money” or, in the case of the vessels working closely with Indonesian companies, call upon connections in Jakarta to have the charge dropped. Among those who sailed into this world of great opportunity tinged with risk were the operators of Thai trawlers and Filipino purse seiners.

The continuing diaspora of Thai trawlers Partly because of the declaration of EEZs by neighbouring countries but also because of a sudden increase in the cost of diesel fuel, fish landings in Thailand fell from 2.1 to 1.6 million tons between 1977 and 1980.

The Closing of the Frontier

247

They soon recovered, however, reaching a new high of 2.3 millions tons in 1986 and continuing to climb. It seems likely that nearly all of this increase came from the capture of fish in the territorial waters and EEZs of other countries, particularly since sewage and industrial pollution combined with intensive fishing pressure to reduce fish populations in the gulf still further. According to the Asian Development Bank (ADB), as much as a third of the fish landed in 1982–83 came from outside Thai waters (contrary to a government figure of just 5 per cent),32 and it is probable that that proportion increased in the following years. In the early 1980s most Thai vessels operating outside Thai waters simply entered the EEZs and territorial waters of other countries in search of fish without the permission of the governments of those countries. Between 1980 and 1984 the marine authorities of these other countries confiscated a total of 275 Thai fishing boats (in 1983 Vietnamese patrols confiscated forty-nine Thai boats, while the Burmese seized thirty-nine, and the Malaysians and Indonesians ten each), but this represented a tiny proportion of the Thai fleet. In 1983 a total of 769 foreign trawlers were “sighted” in Malaysian waters, but fishery officials estimated that “at any one time there are at least 200 foreign trawlers in Malaysian waters”.33 Moreover, some of the biggest fishery businesses reduced the risk of capture by investing in faster vessels, sophisticated detection equipment, and weapons to avoid arrest by the patrol boats of neighbouring countries as well as attacks by pirates.34 For their part the crews of Thai fishing boats willingly faced the risks associated with their work, since they were paid according to the value of the catch. Beginning in the mid-1980s the costs of intruding on the fishing grounds of others grew as the governments of several countries introduced legislation granting themselves extensive powers to control access to their zones and improved their capacity to apprehend intruders. In 1985 the Malaysian government enacted a law that required foreign fishing vessels seeking to pass through Malaysia’s EEZ to notify Malaysian authorities of their route, to keep all fishing gear stowed, and to sail through without stopping. Under this law, which was aimed at Thai vessels, any boat not conforming to these regulations was presumed to have broken the law and so could be seized and subjected to stiff penalties. In order to enforce this law the government acquired spotter planes to patrol its zone.35 According to a Thai source, Malaysian patrol craft arrested over a thousand

248

Chapter 7

Thai fishers in 1986 and early 1987.36 At about the same time the Burmese government stepped up its ability to keep out unwanted boats when it entered a joint venture agreement with a Japanese company, Nikata. In order to protect their commercial interests the Japanese provided the government with helicopters and patrol boats to spot and seize Thai boats attempting to fish in the area granted to the company.37 As a direct result of these actions the quantity of fish landed at Ranong, which had flourished as Thai trawlers moved into the waters off the coast of Burma in the early 1970s, fell by 40 per cent in 1986. According to a U.S. consular report compiled that year, “limited poaching” persisted only at the height of the southwest monsoon “when the Burmese refuse to brave the high seas”.38 The same report noted that “fishing in Vietnamese waters has long been too risky”. And yet falling fuel prices and rising fish prices continued to tempt many trawl and purse seine operators to fish in the zones of other countries, while their belief that the fish in the sea should be freely available to whoever wanted to catch them and had the means to do so justified what the fishers and governments of other countries regarding as poaching and their own government regarded as an impediment in its efforts to establish cordial relations with neighbouring states. In December 1993 the Vietnamese government seized eleven Thai trawlers and held them and their crews until it had received $370,000 in fines.39 In January 1994 “hundreds of local fishermen” in “dozens of small boats” attacked some Thai fishing vessels operating off the coast of Aceh with petrol bombs and other weapons.40 In July 1994 the secretary general of the fishing pier at Pak Phanang in southern Thailand claimed that Malaysian authorities seized at least two Thai boats a day.41 And in late September 1994 the Bangladesh navy impounded two Thai (as well as two Indian) fishing boats.42 In March 1994, at the time the governments of Thailand and Vietnam agreed to set up a joint committee to examine fishery relations between the two countries, the director general of fisheries in Thailand identified the fundamental reason Thai boat owners and fishers continued to risk severe penalties when he commented that “there are more fish anywhere else than in our territorial waters”.43 As the costs of intruding on the waters of neighbouring countries increased, the Thai fishing industry turned increasingly to licensing and joint-venture agreements and less formal arrangements to gain access to the fish in these waters. As early as January 1980 a fleet of 113 trawlers

The Closing of the Frontier

249

began operating in Bangladesh’s EEZ as part of a joint venture.44 In the same year the Maha Nakorn Fishing and Cold Storage Company concluded a joint venture agreement with the People’s Republic of China in order to fish in the Gulf of Tonkin. While company officials were not entirely satisfied with the terms of the agreement, they decided to go ahead with it anyway “because otherwise they would have no place to deploy their vessels”.45 In 1985 the Malaysian government, hoping to repay the Thai government for its co-operation on several border issues, was on the verge of giving a small number of Thai trawlers permission to fish off the east coast of the peninsula. When Malay fishers, who complained that Thai boats were catching their fish and destroying their fish lures, threatened to close off estuaries along the east coast in protest, the government cancelled the plan.46 At about the same time, however, it agreed to an arrangement making it possible for Thai trawlers to operate in waters straddling the Malaysia-Thailand border. Malaysians secured part ownership of Thai trawlers in return for which these jointly owned vessels, which had Thai crews, were able to buy cheap Malaysian fuel, “fish with impunity in Malaysian waters”, and then sell the most valuable part of their catch in Malaysia.47 Within the space of a few years Thai fishing companies entered various other arrangements that took their boats to the waters off Indonesia, Burma, Australia, India, Oman, and other countries bordering the Indian Ocean. For our purposes the most important of these arrangements were those that enabled them to fish in Burmese and Indonesian waters. In 1990 a number of Thai fishing companies joined together to enter into an agreement with a company set up by the military rulers of Burma to fish in specified areas in the Andaman Sea. This agreement specified that the Thais had to employ some Burmese as crew and had to land their catches in Burma and it banned trawlers from carrying sophisticated communications equipment. In 1995 the military rulers banned all Thai trawlers from operating in Burmese waters after some Thai fishers killed some Burmese crew members for having informed the Burmese authorities that they had violated the terms of the agreement. This did not stop Thai trawlers from fishing in Burmese waters, however. At least three companies based in Ranong incorporated themselves in Singapore in order to circumvent the ban, 48 some companies entered into arrangements with various elements within the Burmese military, and

250

Chapter 7

others paid protection money to rebel groups that at various times controlled areas in the south of the country. Such deals did not overcome all the risks, since permission granted by one body might not be recognized by another, Burmese officials sometimes used their positions to extract money from Thai operators, and the Thais often ignored whatever conditions they had agreed to. Moreover, many trawlers ventured into Burmese waters without deals of any sort. But the captains used radio communications to keep each other informed about the movements of the Burmese navy and “the big boats have rocket-propelled grenades and heavy machine guns”.49 Most of the “hundreds of boats” that, according to a Burmese diplomat, air patrols spotted fishing in the Gulf of Martaban every day in 1997 apparently were Thai trawlers.50 In the meantime, many Thai trawlers operated their “fish nets” in Indonesian waters. Most of those belonging to relatively large companies trawled in and around the Arafura Sea under the more or less formal arrangements described in the previous section. Although their vessels flew the Indonesian flag and therefore enjoyed such benefits as subsidized fuel, the companies shipped their catch to Thailand aboard freezer ships operated by Thai companies. The Thai trawling and shipping companies gave virtually no records of this catch to either Indonesian authorities or their Indonesian partners, whose function in most cases was simply to handle dealings with officialdom. It is clear, however, not only that they caught great quantities of snappers and other fish in high demand but also that this bonanza did not last long. Fegan reported in 2001 that fishing trips “became 50 per cent longer over the decade of the 1990s”, the “catch per boat day [had gone] down, [the] catch composition [had] changed greatly towards less valuable and smaller fast breeding species”, and, unlike in earlier years, the crews no longer discarded fish.51 While the relatively large Thai companies operated in the far eastern part of Indonesia, a large number of trawlers that were generally owned by small operators simply ventured into the waters around northern Sumatra, the southern part of the South China Sea, the Karimata Strait, and in the Java Sea. Their captains hoped that their speed and arms would save them if they were pursued and that bribes would secure their release if they were apprehended. Beginning about 1995 some of these vessels set up a base on a tiny island off the west coast of Kalimantan where they obtained supplies.

The Closing of the Frontier

251

As this brief account suggests, the somewhat fragmented nature of the Burmese and Indonesian states helped make it possible for Thai trawlers (as well as other vessels) to exploit the marine riches of Burma and Indonesia. At the same time, the inability of the Thai fisheries department to slash the number of boats operating within Thai waters helped to maintain the outward pressure. In 1989 the government gave the owners of unregistered vessels three months to register them. It threatened to impose heavy penalties on those owners who failed to register their vessels, but in 1996 it granted a pardon to the owners of all unregistered vessels.52 By about 2000 there were some signs that Thai trawlers were beginning to face much greater difficulties in operating in the waters of other countries. Late in 1999 the military rulers of Burma announced another ban on Thai trawlers in retaliation for what they regarded as the Thai government’s lenient treatment of Burmese dissidents who had seized the Burmese embassy in Bangkok. By late 2001 a few Thai companies had gained permission from the regime in Rangoon to operate in Burmese waters but they were now required to operate as part of joint ventures, invest in fishery-related businesses based in Burma, sell their catch in Burma, and pay a large monthly fee according to the size of the storage capacity of their vessels.53 The regime also removed the power of regional commanders to issue licences and stepped up its campaign against rebel groups. In the meantime, the Indonesian government moved to end fishing by foreign vessels in Indonesian waters in an effort to capture some of the income that had been going to both legal and illegal foreign operators. In 1996 it lifted the ban on imported fishing vessels, just when one of President Soeharto’s sons announced plans to set up a huge fishing enterprise based at Tual in a joint venture with a Taiwanese company. The government also decreed that chartering would cease by the end of 1999 and that the companies chartering foreign vessels would have to buy them if they wished to stay in business. 54 Particularly after Abdurrahman Wahid became president in 1999 and set up a separate ministry for marine affairs headed by an energetic minister the government accelerated moves to eliminate fishing by foreign vessels. As of January 2002 foreign companies could still obtain fishing licences but only if the fisheries department had determined that Indonesian companies were not already fully exploiting the resource, their vessels

252

Chapter 7

observed strict conditions, and they paid high licence fees. It remained to be seen how rigorously this new scheme would be enforced, but because the department had required all fishing companies and all vessels over 30 GT to reregister it had, for the first time, the basis for monitoring their activities. It also appeared that the Indonesian navy had stepped up its efforts to enforce fishery department regulations. Most spectacularly, in November 1999, when, following the ban imposed by the regime in Rangoon, the trawler fleet based at Ranong was desperate to find new fishing grounds, the navy arrested fifty-six trawlers along with about 1,300 crew members for fishing in Indonesia’s territorial waters off the coast of Aceh even though the owners had been led to believe that the navy had given its approval for them to operate there.55 There were still some avenues for expansion. In 2000 some large Thai companies signed deals with the vice-president of Puntland that enabled them to trawl in the waters controlled by the rulers of that area,56 and in 2002 at least one company was trawling around Madagascar. But at least within Southeast Asia the era of free wheeling expansion was now over. The other Southeast Asian country most restricted by the new oceanic regime was the Philippines. As well as legitimizing the Philippines as an archipelagic state, the U.N. Convention on the Law of the Sea confirmed its claim over a very large EEZ, although its exact boundaries were yet to be recognized because of overlapping claims made by Vietnam, China, and Malaysia in the South China Sea and Indonesia south of Mindanao. The Philippines fishing industry was, however, already exploiting the richest fishing grounds within this realm to such an extent that in the early 1980s Filipino operators began to seek new fishing grounds outside of their EEZ just as their counterparts in Thailand did. We can understand this movement most clearly if we consider it in relation to the great expansion in the tuna industry that took place after 1980.

Tuna, the last great fishery By 1980 many of the demersal and small pelagic fisheries of Southeast Asia had been exploited to the point that catches had fallen sharply. In contrast, the tuna fisheries of the region appeared to offer huge scope for expanding catches. During the early 1980s low tuna prices caused by a glut on the world market at a time of recession and high fuel costs

The Closing of the Frontier

253

discouraged investment and even prompted some operators to withdraw from tuna fishing, but as prices recovered and the cost of fuel fell the process of expansion regained momentum. World landings of tuna increased from 1.8 to 2.6 million tons during the 1980s.57 It is impossible to calculate how much the internal waters and EEZs of Southeast Asia contributed to this increase. The FAO Yearbook of Fishery Statistics gives separate statistics for landings of skipjack and yellowfin tuna in the Philippines and Indonesia. These figures show that between 1980 and 1991 total landings of these two species in these countries tripled (to 510,000 tons) but that landings increased much more in Indonesia than in the Philippines. Even if we assume that the FAO figures accurately represent the quantity of tuna landed in Indonesia and the Philippines, however, they give us a poor idea of how much tuna was caught in the waters of these countries. On the one hand, they do not include tuna caught in Philippine and Indonesian waters by Japanese, Taiwanese, and other foreign vessels but landed in their home countries. On the other, they include fish landed in either the Philippines or Indonesia but actually caught in the waters of other countries. In particular, large quantities of tuna included in the landing figures for the Philippines were captured outside the Philippines’ EEZ. We therefore need to keep our eyes on the sea as we trace changes in the location and intensity of tuna fishing after 1980. I will begin in the waters around the Philippines. In 1980 the tuna industry of the Philippines was enjoying a boom. More and more vessels were entering the fishery, the Philippines was by far the leading exporter of canned tuna in Southeast Asia, and new canneries were being built or planned. As one of the leading members of the industry put it, the industry was “growing, dynamic and … full of hope for the future”.58 During the early 1980s, however, the growth in tuna catches slowed markedly, many purse seiners lay idle, and the canneries operated far below their full capacity. The downturn of the Philippine tuna industry was partly caused by the worldwide slowdown, but the industry faced other problems as well. Most importantly, catches began to decline in the main fishing grounds around southern Mindanao. This may have been partly due to natural fluctuations in abundance, but there was growing evidence that the great increase in fishing pressure resulting from the widespread use of payaw was having some effect. The great bulk of fish caught at the 2000 or so payaw deployed in 1981

254

Chapter 7

consisted of small pelagic fish and immature skipjack and yellowfin tuna. In General Santos City, according to Floyd and Pauly, “about 100 tons of small skipjack, weighing 70–100 g[rams] each, were unloaded daily in the 1981 season”.59 Substantial though this figure is, data on catches and landings underestimate the impact of the new fishing method on immature skipjacks and yellowfin tuna for two reasons. First, it appears that predation on juvenile yellowfin tuna by adults of the same species increased dramatically. Analyses of the stomach contents of adult yellowfin tuna showed that they seldom ate juvenile yellowfins before the introduction of payaw but that they began to do so on a large scale when they began feeding at payaw. In fact, the introduction of payaw appears to have changed the migration pattern of adult yellowfin tuna, as they could now feed at payaw rather than travelling great distances in search of food. Second, handliners fishing at payaw used large quantities of juvenile skipjacks and yellowfin tuna as bait for catching adult yellowfins.60 Thus, the surge in catches, increased predation, and the use of juveniles as bait all greatly increased the mortality of juvenile yellowfin tuna and skipjacks. The exact nature of the impact of payaw on tuna populations is still a matter of debate. In 1984 Floyd and Pauly suggested that “payaos have apparently contributed to growth overfishing in the Philippines because they render small tunas accessible to fisheries which were previously not accessible to them”.61 A few years later Aprieto agreed that payaw were “causing the rapid removal of young juveniles of skipjack and yellowfin from the stocks”, but she also argued that they did not do so disproportionately, simply because payaw were placed in waters where tuna passed through their juvenile stage before leaving the area (and returning as adults). She also speculated that payaw had enabled the Philippines “to share competitively in the fishery and market of a resource that heretofore has been the monopoly of rich countries, especially those with long distance fleets”.62 In other words, she implied, payaw had little effect on stocks, since they enabled Philippine operators to catch fish that otherwise would have been taken by the larger and better equipped vessels of Japan, Taiwan, and the United States within Philippine waters or in the western Pacific. Although the debate about the effects of payaw is inconclusive, we should note that the leading operators were themselves concerned that purse seining in conjunction with payaw might be

The Closing of the Frontier

255

depleting tuna stocks. As a result they expressed their willingness to increase the minimum mesh size in their purse seines and to conform to a regulation stipulating a minimum distance between payaw.63 Whatever the government’s policy, however, it appears that these operators took it upon themselves to stop the deployment of more and more payaw in the areas where they fished. Accepting the notion that a payaw attracts fish within a radius of about 4 miles (7.4 kilometres), they reached “a gentlemen’s agreement” that no payaw should be closer than 8 miles (15 kilometres) to another.64 An implication of this agreement was that there was little room left in the existing fishing grounds where more payaw could be placed. Indeed, Pastoral observed that newcomers had to “shy away” from those areas where the pioneer companies had placed their payaw,65 most notably the Moro Gulf, where according to an estimate published in 1991 there were “about 3,000 payaos”.66 As catches declined, and as the main fishing grounds became more crowded, a big movement of tuna vessels into more distant fishing grounds might have been expected. Even if fishing companies had not been concerned about declining catches, they might still have ventured into new fishing grounds in order to catch fish during the months when, even at the best of times, catches were very low in the waters off southern Mindanao. But most fishing companies did not send their vessels further afield. Most of the purse seiners were “very old and … not destined and fit for fishing in the high-seas”, and most fishing companies did not have the capital needed to buy more seaworthy vessels. The shortage of capital became particularly acute during the political and economic turmoil following the assassination of opposition leader Benigno Aquino in 1983. A regulation that regarded fish caught by Philippine vessels outside Philippine waters as imports and therefore subject to a duty further discouraged fishing companies from fishing beyond the Philippines’ EEZ. Thus, while Philippine vessels were largely confined to waters around southern Mindanao, and while Philippine canneries were operating well below capacity much of the year, Japanese and U.S. fleets were catching record amounts of tuna just 600 kilometres or so to the east and transporting their catches to canneries in Japan, California, and Puerto Rico. The canneries hoped to overcome their problems by importing frozen tuna for processing when local landings were small, but the government permitted this only spasmodically mainly because of pressure

256

Chapter 7

from some fishing companies, and even when imports were allowed the canneries often did not have enough foreign exchange to pay for them.67 Imports of frozen tuna amounted to a mere 1,300 tons in 1984, while none at all was imported in 1985.68 Some canneries adapted to the shortage of tuna suitable for canning for the export market by canning more and more of the small pelagic fish and juvenile skipjacks and yellowfin tuna for the local market. A ban on imports of canned mackerels and sardines imposed in August 1983 helped canneries to make this transition. At the same time some processors began making fish paste from small tuna mainly for sale in the interior of Mindanao, where poor people welcomed the new source of protein.69 The development of these new markets for small fish helped to maintain pressure on the existing fishing grounds. Although the great majority of companies continued to fish in the same fishing grounds, a few began to extend their operations into more distant waters. This movement began on a small scale no later than 1982 but appears to have gained momentum in the latter stages of the Marcos regime, when the government abolished the regulation under which an import duty was imposed on fish caught by Philippine vessels outside Philippine waters and granted a customs duty drawback on fuel oil used for fishing outside Philippine waters.70 And it continued as the Philippine economy improved and more companies were formed in the late 1980s and early 1990s. By 1994 most of the purse seiners based at General Santos City and Navotas operated at least part of the year well beyond the fishing grounds around southern Mindanao. Technological changes were part and parcel of this movement. In the late 1980s many purse seiners adopted power blocks for tightening the rope at the base of the net and then hauling in the net. The use of power blocks in new fishing grounds increased catches and prompted companies to acquire larger fish carriers. In the early 1990s a few companies bought second-hand superseiners of 1,000 or more GT and in turn acquired fish carriers with even larger capacities. 71 Running parallel to these changes were fundamental changes in the design of payaw, particularly the floats. In the 1980s bamboo floats, which were not very durable and were easily vandalized, were replaced by flat pontoons made of sheet metal. But when it was found that handline fishers often rested and cooked on these floats fishing companies replaced them with cylindrical floats, which

The Closing of the Frontier

257

required less metal to make and were stronger as well as unsuitable as platforms for cooking. By 1994 a payaw made with a cylindrical float and anchored to the seabed by 6,600 metres of nylon rope attached to seven or eight oil drums filled with concrete cost about $3,000 to construct. Some of the companies at General Santos City made these payaw in their own workshops.72 As Philippine purse seiners moved into new fishing grounds they were followed by the handline fishers in their pumpboats. These pumpboats continued their symbiotic relationship with the purse seiners, dropping their lines next to the payaw of the big companies to catch yellowfin and bigeye tuna and providing some surveillance of the payaw in return. In order to fish in more distant waters the financiers enabled the owners to build larger pumpboats capable of making longer journeys and storing much more tuna. By 1994 the largest pumpboats, costing about $11,000, were about 15 metres long, had steel outriggers, were powered by two diesel engines, and had three or four large ice boxes for storing tuna. These boats continued to land large quantities of yellowfin and bigeye tuna on the beach at General Santos City, where the best tuna were sold to exporters, who trucked it to Davao and then shipped it by air to Japan, but they were now travelling great distances to catch fish that had been abundant inside Sarangani Bay in the 1960s.73 The new fishing grounds that Philippine purse seiners and pumpboats moved into stretched from Borneo to the Solomon Islands. Some of the largest companies negotiated access arrangements with the Federated States of Micronesia, Papua New Guinea, and the Solomon Islands to enable their purse seiners to fish in the EEZs of these states. Data compiled by the South Pacific Commission (SPC) show that the number of Philippine purse seiners fishing in the EEZs of Papua New Guinea and the Solomon Islands increased from three in 1984 to fifteen in 1991, during which time the catches of Philippine purse seiners in these waters increased from 1,600 to 26,000 tons.74 According to Aprieto, three companies had access arrangements with the Federated States of Micronesia and Papua New Guinea in 1991. These companies had a total of seventeen purse seiners and carrier vessels ranging in size from 139 to 500 GT operating in the waters of these countries and each year paid $35,000 for each catcher boat for the privilege.75 A map produced by the SPC shows that the twelve Philippine purse seiners operating

258

Chapter 7

within the SPC statistical area in 1996 concentrated their fishing in the western part of Papua New Guinea’s EEZ and just north and south of New Britain.76 The SPC data indicate an important feature about the way Philippine purse seiners operated in the South Pacific. Korean, Japanese, Taiwanese, and U.S. purse seiners all caught much more tuna than the Philippine purse seiners did. This is hardly surprising, since there were far more Korean, Japanese, Taiwanese, and U.S. purse seiners than Philippine purse seiners operating in the South Pacific and some of them (particularly those from the United States) were very much larger, but Philippine purse seiners maximized their catches by fishing more than a hundred days more each year than their Japanese and U.S. counterparts did.77 As the president of one of the companies operating in the South Pacific explained, the crews on large U.S. purse seiners sailed to the fishing ground, fished until they had filled up their holds, and then returned home. In contrast, Philippine purse seiners operated continuously while carrier boats shuttled back and forth bringing supplies to the crews and transporting fish back to the home port. In this way the purse seiners made the most economical use of fuel as well as time, giving them a catching power much greater than their size or numbers would suggest.78 Important though the South Pacific was for a few companies, by the early 1990s Philippine fishing companies sent far more vessels into the territorial waters and EEZ of Indonesia. According to a report published in 1994, “more than half of the tuna processed in General Santos [City] canneries comes from the Indonesian-controlled parts of the Celebes Sea”, at least forty of the city’s seventy-five purse seiners operated in Indonesian waters, and five fishing companies based in Navotas sent vessels into Indonesian waters as well.79 As the purse seiners moved out of Philippine waters they were often accompanied by the handliners in their pumpboats. In 1994 the owner of several pumpboats based at General Santos City and the financier of many more stated that his boats fished near Tawi Tawi in December and January (taking thirty-six hours to reach this area) and north of Irian Jaya (he pointed on my map to the area around the St David Islands, about 1,100 kilometres from the city) from March to August. He added that his boats also fished in the Celebes Sea where the Indonesian and Philippine EEZs overlapped and near Palau but avoided the Moro Gulf because of the danger of being attacked by

The Closing of the Frontier

259

pirates.80 It is hard to judge the relative importance of these different fishing grounds for the pumpboats, but a report in 1997 would suggest that they often operated in the area around northern Sulawesi.81 The great attraction of the waters of eastern Indonesia, for pumpboat fishers as well as the operators of purse seiners, was simply that there were more fish there. According to a source published in 1998, fishing companies reported that catch rates in Philippine waters were “about half ” those in Indonesia.82 Although declining catch rates provide much of the explanation of the push of Philippine tuna fishers into Indonesian waters, we must also explain how they were able to fish in these waters and why tuna were apparently far more abundant there. We therefore need to shift our focus to the Indonesian tuna industry. During the 1980s the Indonesian government continued to encourage the formation of joint ventures and to support the state companies. For several years PT East Indonesia had been the only tuna fishing joint venture. Its pole-and-liners caught less tuna than PT Usaha Mina, the state company based at Sorong, did, but in 1980 it bought a 600-GT purse seiner and began fishing in the waters north of Irian Jaya where the Japanese purse seiners had been making such big catches. PT East Indonesia’s success may have encouraged the formation in 1982 of the second tuna fishing joint venture, PT Multi Transpêche Indonesia, which was established at Biak with French capital. This new company operated a 750-GT purse seiner, also off the north coast of Irian Jaya, as well as four 300-GT pole-and-line vessels, and it built a cannery, which began production in 1988. As for the state tuna fishing companies, all of them continued to lose money. In 1986, when falling oil prices were rapidly reducing the government’s ability to subsidize the companies, a committee recommended that they be privatized. They survived, however, partly because they were so firmly entrenched within the New Order state but mainly because they had begun to concentrate on promoting the development of fairly small-scale private ventures in a way that shifted some of the risk of fishing onto these operators. Adopting a biological model first applied to the plantation sector, each state company became a “nucleus” while private ventures formed the “plasma”. The state company lent private operators money to buy boats and fishing gear, supplied them with fuel, ice, bait, and hooks at or below cost price, and provided motherships, storage and processing facilities, and a marketing network.

260

Chapter 7

For their part, the private operators caught the tuna and sold it to the state company at prices set by the company. By 1989 the four state companies had a total of about 550 vessels linked to them in arrangements of this type. Based for the most part in ports between the west coast of Sulawesi and the north coast of Irian Jaya, these vessels included about 200 small outriggers used to carry handline fishers to and from rumpon deployed by the companies and over 300 pole-and-line boats ranging in size from 3 to 30 GT.83 Zerner describes how a scheme set up by the PSB to capture yellowfin tuna off the west coast of Sulawesi worked: When tuna are caught [by handline fishers] they are quickly killed, weighed on the roppong [rumpon] and sold to PSB representatives who arrive in a motorized collection boat when a red flag is raised on the roppong. Tuna are carried from the roppong to the mother-ship where they are cleaned, processed, and stored for shipment (fresh or frozen) to the cold storage facility. … They are then trucked to Ujung Pandang [Makassar], and flown via Bali or Jakarta to Japan.84

In the late 1980s a number of private companies joined the state companies in adopting nucleus-plasma schemes. By 1989 about half of all the tuna landed in Indonesia was caught under such schemes. At least in the initial stages it appears that skipjack tuna caught by pole-and-line fishers formed the bulk of the tuna landed in Indonesia by all types of enterprises. It is worth mentioning that the adaptation of rumpon to pole-and-lining sometime in the 1980s significantly increased the productivity of this form of fishing. Pole-and-line fishers continued to chum with live bait collected from inshore waters but they captured more fish and reduced their operating costs when they did this next to a rumpon. At some point companies began deploying rumpon specifically to increase catches by pole-and-line vessels.85 Beginning in the late 1980s, just when catches of tuna by Indonesian fishers were increasing rapidly, there was a surge in the number of foreign vessels fishing for tuna in Indonesian waters. Many of these vessels were “chartered” to Indonesian firms, a few were nominally part of joint ventures, some obtained “licences” of dubious legality, and others made no pretence of operating within Indonesian law. The most numerous foreign vessels targeting tuna were Taiwanese longliners and Filipino purse seiners and pumpboats. By the early 1990s a large number of Taiwanese longliners were

The Closing of the Frontier

261

operating out of Jakarta and Benoa and catching tuna mainly for the sashimi market in Japan. Beginning in 1990 they increased their hook rate — generally expressed as the number of fish caught per thousand hooks set — by two to four times by using live rather than frozen milkfish as bait.86 Their main fishing grounds were in the Indian Ocean. No source that I am aware of states exactly where they fished. Presumably they exploited waters within Indonesia’s EEZ, but it is extremely likely that, like their counterparts based at Penang, they also set their lines far out in international waters, especially in the area between Java and Sri Lanka, one of the three main bigeye fishing grounds in the Indian Ocean.87 There are virtually no data on what longline fleets based in either Indonesia or Taiwan caught in the Indian Ocean during the 1990s. However, a comment by an Indian Ocean Tuna Commission (IOTC) working party that “these vessels are thought to be taking at least 40–70 per cent of the total Indian Ocean catch (in weight) of bigeye tuna in the 1990’s” suggests that their catches were substantial.88 In the meantime, Filipino purse seiners, faced with declining catches within Philippine waters, jumped at the opportunity to fish in Indonesia’s EEZ. Filipino purse seiners began operating as part of a joint venture in 1990 and almost immediately installed about 200 payaw in the EEZ and, in contravention of their licences, in Indonesian territorial waters. Most of these payaw were located off the north coast of Sulawesi — in many cases as close as 5 to 10 nautical miles (9.3 to 19 kilometres) from the coast — and to the west of the Sangir Islands, but there were also many between the Sangir and Talaud islands and in the Molucca Sea (Map 7.2). Typically, one group was made up of one catcher boat of 50 to 150 GT, two or three searcher boats of 5 to 15 GT, and two carrier boats of 30 to 100 GT.89 A report on the tuna fisheries of northern Sulawesi describes how these boats worked: The searcher boats patrol the rumpon [payaw] primarily to identity those that have attracted tuna schools. Searcher boats may also assist catcher boats by using powerful lights to attract tuna at night, making the tuna more vulnerable to purse seining. … Catcher boats are directed by searcher boats to rumpon that have attracted large schools, and the fish caught are passed directly to carrier boats for transport. … The searcher boats play a most important role as it takes some time for a rumpon which has provided a successful set [of the purse seine] … to attract sufficient fish to justify a new set. … Routine patrolling ensures that catcher boats do not waste time

Map 7.2 Location of Payaw Deployed Near Sulawesi by Philippine Operators

262

Chapter 7

The Closing of the Frontier

263

searching around rumpon that have attracted only small schools. The support given by the rest of the group allows the catcher boats to spend most of their time fishing.90

There appear to be no data on how much fish the Filipino purse seiners captured, but catches were certainly substantial. The six groups that one company deployed in Indonesian waters in July 1993 captured a total of 650 tons of fish.91 Although the Indonesian government required that their catches be landed in Indonesian ports, most of what these purse seiners caught was carried directly to the Philippines. Catches from Indonesian waters, combined with an improvement in tuna prices and the decision by Corazon Aquino’s administration to lift the ban on imported tuna, helped to bring about a resurgence in the Philippine tuna canning industry in the late 1980s and early 1990s. In the meantime, Filipino purse seiners had greatly reduced the catches of Indonesian pole-and-line fishers trying to catch skipjack in the same area. According to the report on North Sulawesi, Filipino fishers often “interpose their larger boats between the smaller Indonesian coastal vessels and the rumpon around which the skipjack and yellowfin tend to aggregate”.92 The annual catch of Indonesian pole-and-line vessels based at Manado fell from 40–80 tons per boat in the 1980s to 15–25 tons per boat in 1992–95.93 Unable to tap the greatest concentrations of fish, the owners of many pole-and-line boats voluntarily withdrew from the fishery during the early 1990s while others had their boats repossessed by banks when they failed to meet their debts. By the mid-1990s there were signs that catch rates for Philippine purse seiners operating in Indonesian waters were beginning to fall as well.94 Moreover, the owners of these vessels had already begun to worry about how long they would continue to enjoy access to Indonesian waters. The study of the fishing industry of General Santos City conducted in 1994 concluded that “not a few commercial operators” in General Santos City had begun to “anticipate the banning of Filipino fishermen in Indonesian waters, even if there are existing charter arrangements”.95 Up until 1995 the Indonesian authorities tolerated the activities of Philippines fishing vessels, including those holding licences of dubious legality, but late that year Indonesian navy patrols began confiscating Philippine fishing vessels and arresting their crews. And, like other foreign operators, Philippines fishing companies soon

264

Chapter 7

had to face the challenge posed by the Indonesian government’s plan to abolish chartering arrangements.96 While the Philippine tuna industry experienced these ups and downs, Thailand suddenly emerged as the leading exporter of canned tuna not only in the region but also in the world. During the 1970s and early 1980s the government of Thailand promoted the development of the canning industry by encouraging foreign investment in this industry and building up the infrastructure of the country, particularly in transportation and communications. The first tuna cannery, Safcol (Thailand) Ltd, was established in 1972 as a joint venture between Safcol Holdings Ltd, the largest seafood processor and exporter in Australia, and investors in Thailand and Hong Kong. Unicord, which was founded by two families in the distillery business, began canning in 1978 using equipment from an abandoned Bumble Bee factory in Hawaii and soon began supplying canned tuna to Bumble Bee, which Bumble Bee sold under its label. By 1983 there were thirty to thirty-five canneries oriented to the export market, most of which had been promoted by the Board of Investment.97 When these canneries began offering high prices for tuna many Thai purse seine operators started targeting the abundant stocks of small tuna — longtail tuna (Thunnus tonggol ), kawakawa (Euthynnus affinis), and frigate tuna (Auxis thazard thazard ) — found in the Gulf of Thailand. By the mid-to late 1980s the typical tuna purse seiner was 25– 30 metres long, was equipped with satellite navigation, radar, and sonar, and had a crew of thirty to forty men to handle a net about a kilometre long and 100 metres deep. By 1991 some operators had adopted power blocks both to reduce their labour costs and to handle even larger nets. In order to maintain their catch rates the tuna purse seiners moved rapidly from one part of the gulf to another. They concentrated first, in about 1982, on stocks in the northeastern part of the gulf, shifted to the western side and then out into the middle of the gulf, and finally moved out into the South China Sea. A report from 1991 indicated that “Thai purse seiners are fishing off Malaysia and the Natuna Islands”.98 Longtail tuna were much more vulnerable to the great catching power of the purse seiners than the other species of small tuna were. Whereas frigate tuna spend part of their life cycle in oceanic waters and have a life span of about two years, longtail tuna spend their whole life in waters over the continental shelf and live about five years. Thus, longtail tuna made up

The Closing of the Frontier

265

a smaller proportion of the catch as time went by. As the purse seiners pushed out into new fishing grounds total catches of small tunas jumped from about 20,000 tons in 1981 to 170,000 tons in 1992 but then, as they ran out of new areas to exploit, catches began to decline.99 One consequence of this assault by Thai purse seiners on small tunas in the gulf was that catches by Malaysian trollers operating off the east coast of the peninsula plummeted. Although Thai vessels greatly increased their catches of tuna, they could not keep up with the tremendous growth in canning capacity, particularly as the canneries became more and more oriented to the export market in the early 1980s. The canneries overcame this shortage by importing more and more frozen tuna both from other parts of Southeast Asia and from more distant sources. Whereas 31 per cent of the 40,000 tons of tuna processed by Thai canneries in 1982 was imported, imports made up 79 per cent of the 630,000 tons processed in 1991.100 Although they were forced to rely on imports, the canneries succeeded in gaining an increasing share of the world market during the early 1980s. They were able to meet the stringent standards imposed by importing countries. They wasted nothing: tuna blood and flesh regarded as unsuitable for canning were made into pet food, the water in which the tuna was cooked was used to make a concentrated soup, and bones were ground into fertilizer.101 And they paid low wages to their workers, nearly all of whom were young women hired on a daily basis. Since canning tuna is a highly labour-intensive process — skinning the tuna and cutting the loin meat from the fish must be done by hand — this gave Thai canneries a great advantage over many of their competitors. At the same time Philippine canneries were unable to fill orders (in part because Philippine fishing companies exported some of their catch to Thailand to earn foreign exchange to buy equipment), and canneries in the United States were faced with rising costs. Figure 7.1 shows the rapid growth of both imports of unprocessed tuna into Thailand and exports of canned tuna from Thailand between 1985 and 1989. During this period Thailand’s share of world exports rose from 35 to 51 per cent, the bulk of which was consumed in North America and Europe. During the same period exports from the Philippines nearly doubled and the Philippines became the second largest exporter in the world, but with 11 per cent of world exports it remained a long way behind Thailand,102 as did Indonesia even though

Chapter 7

266

Figure 7.1 The Tuna Trade of Thailand, 1985 and 1989

its canneries did not have to import tuna. Thailand’s domination of the world market was consolidated when Unicord bought Bumble Bee in 1989.103 By the early 1990s Thai, Philippine, and Indonesian canneries collectively produced the great bulk of the world’s supplies of canned tuna. Since they now competed with each other rather than canneries in Japan and the United States where labour costs were much higher,

The Closing of the Frontier

267

however, many of them began to experience financial trouble as they tried to maintain their share of the market.104 It is difficult to assess what impact the upsurge in tuna fishing during the 1980s and 1990s had had on populations by the late 1990s. On the one hand there was some reason to believe that there was room for further exploitation. As an FAO report explained, “the principal market tuna species are highly resistant to exploitation”.105 They are extremely fecund, are distributed over immense expanses of the ocean, and spend at least some time out of the reach of existing fishing gears. In the case of most tuna populations, fishing could severely reduce the number of fish in a particular area, as happened in many Southeast Asian tuna fishing grounds, but it probably had a less profound impact on the total biomass of the stock, distributed as it was over a vast area.106 On the other hand, however, fishers were rapidly developing the capacity to track down and capture tuna over more and more of their range. Information from satellites began to guide purse seiners to the most promising fishing grounds. During the El Niño of 1997–98 the powerful European Union purse seine fleet that normally operated in the western Indian Ocean shifted as far east as 100°E. They undertook this long journey because satellite readings showing a cooling of the surface water in the eastern Indian Ocean indicated that the thermocline was nearer the surface than usual and that tuna were therefore likely to be higher in the water column and easier to catch.107 In 1997 or 1998 Frabelle’s purse seiners operating in the western Pacific began using satellite sensing of plankton distribution and water temperature to show them where tuna were likely to be feeding.108 Some operators began using radar sensitive enough to pick up flocks of birds, whose presence indicated that tuna were likely to be feeding on small fish near the surface of the water just as the birds were. The power of sonar and echosounding devices to detect fish was rapidly improving. At the same time purse seine operators began to deploy freefloating fish aggregating devices (FADs) to cut down on the time spent chasing after tuna. By making their nets deeper they captured fish further down the water column, and by devising ways to let these nets fall through the water more quickly they made it harder for fish to escape. Up to the early 1990s bigeye tuna made up a very small proportion of purse seine catches in the Indian Ocean, but the combination of FADs, deep nets, and sonar brought about a “spectacular” growth in catches of bigeye

268

Chapter 7

tuna in purse seines. At the same time catches of bigeye tuna by Taiwanese and other longliners grew rapidly during the 1990s. In order to gauge the impact that this intensification of fishing had had on stocks of the larger species of tuna the IOTC working party made use of the records kept by Japanese longliners since the 1950s. Analysis of these records showed that the hook rate fell at least 64 per cent between 1954 and 1998, suggesting a marked decline in numbers. So great was the working party’s concern in the case of bigeye tuna that it recommended that “the increase in catches … from all gears should be halted immediately”. The shorter-lived skipjack, the principal target of the purse seiners, gave the working party much less concern. But it noted that the quantity of skipjack caught per successful set on FADs declined by “nearly 50 per cent” between 1992 and 1997, perhaps simply because so many FADs were being used that the effectiveness of each one was reduced.109 In the late 1990s there were still tuna to be caught but there were no more treasure troves waiting to be found.

Scouring the nooks and crannies In the mid-1800s, as we saw in Chapter 2, fishers gathered large quantities of tripang, turtle shell, and other marine products for which prices were very high in the West and particularly in China. During the 1970s there was a resurgence in demand for the luxuries of the sea. This demand came from many sources. There was a large market for many kinds of shells, most notably trochus shells used to make buttons for expensive garments, in the United States, Europe, Japan, and South Korea. Far more important, however, were wealthy consumers in Taiwan, Hong Kong, southeastern China, and, to a less extent, Chinese communities in Southeast Asia. The appetite of Greater China for the luxuries of the sea brought about a great increase in the demand not only for many of the same products that Chinese had long imported from Southeast Asia such as tripang but also for some new ones such as live coral reef fish. Rising prices set off a whirlwind of activity that intensified fishing for many species that had been relatively untouched during the great fish race. While the demand for common food fishes, shrimps, squids, and tuna extended fishing across great areas of the sea, the demand for marine exotica intensified it in most of the remaining nooks and crannies.

The Closing of the Frontier

269

The most spectacular of the luxury fisheries was that for live reef fish to be supplied to restaurants. When they have been able to afford it, the people of Hong Kong and southeastern China have long liked to eat fish that has been killed just moments before it is cooked and served to them. Up to the late 1960s the demand for live fish was mainly met by fish that had been cultivated or captured locally, but in 1968 Hong Kong fishers began capturing reef fish on Pratas Reef, 300 kilometres southeast of Hong Kong, using droplines, longlines, and gillnets and then bringing part of their catch home alive. When stocks on this reef were exhausted, the fishery shifted to the Paracel Islands and the Spratlys in the South China Sea. Then, when stocks were depleted in these places as well, it moved to reefs in the Philippines and Indonesia,110 where groupers (particularly Epinephelus and Plectropomus species), humphead wrasse (Cheilinus undulatus), and other species highly prized for their colour, taste, and texture were abundant. During the 1980s and into the 1990s prices rose as supplies had to be taken from more distant reefs, demand in Hong Kong continued to rise, and importers forwarded a growing proportion of catches to mainland China. In 1995 humphead wrasse was being sold in Hong Kong restaurants at up to $180 a kilogram.111 For fishers the opportunity to capture live coral fish represented a bonanza since a live fish was worth many times a dead fish of the same species. Reef fish were caught by a variety of means, but by the mid-1980s the most common method was to stun them with cyanide despite the fact that all governments banned this form of fishing. Large amounts of cyanide were sometimes used to kill fish. For example, McManus observed Philippine fishers pour a 55-gallon drum of cyanide into shallow reef waters and then collect the dead fish.112 Fishers who hoped to keep their catch alive, however, had to take greater care. To do this they worked under water using a “hookah” — a compressor that pumped air through a tube to a face mask — to breathe and flippers to help them move about the reef. They stunned the fish by squirting a cyanide solution into holes and crevices where they took refuge. Once the fish were brought to the surface they were placed in floating holding pens where they were fed and treated with antibiotics and other substances to help keep them alive. In a large operation a large catcher vessel deployed several teams of fishers in small boats equipped with compressors to collect the fish and to bring them back to the vessel. In small operations divers worked on their own

270

Chapter 7

but took their catches to a holding pen for sale. Special transport vessels, which sometimes also operated as catcher vessels, carried the fish to Hong Kong, where most of them were based. In 1995 there were about fifty catcher and transport vessels shuttling between Hong Kong and reefs in Southeast Asia and the western Pacific. In the 1980s the typical transport vessel was less than 30 metres long and was capable of carrying no more than 7 tons of live fish, but by the mid-1990s, by which time it was necessary to travel much further to obtain large quantities of reef fish, some were more than 40 metres long and had a capacity of 20 tons.113 Crucial to the success of this business was keeping the fish alive in the holding pens and during the voyage to Hong Kong. According to Johannes and Riepen, “the mortality rate of fish between their pickup by [transport vessels] and their delivery is rumoured in the industry to range between 10 per cent and 50 per cent and occasionally reaches 100 per cent”.114 At some point a number of traders started shipping highly valued specimens to Hong Kong by air in plastic bags containing oxygenated seawater to reduce the risk of losing their cargo. Several aspects of the behaviour and life cycle of coral reef fish heighten their vulnerability whether they are targeted with cyanide, hook and line, or some other fishing gear. As the fishers soon learned, the most valuable reef fish gather together to spawn in a few locations at particular times. By the 1990s some operators were using GPS to record spawning locations so that they could return to these spots to capture more fish. Moreover, because these fish are also extremely long lived — a humphead wrasse weighing 180 kilograms may be as much as a hundred years old115 — even light fishing pressure soon takes its toll. The removal of a few old females can be particularly destructive, since they produce vastly more eggs than an equivalent weight of younger ones.116 For these reasons stocks of coral reef fish are quickly depleted regardless of what method is used. Cyanide fishing had a particularly great impact, however. Cyanide kills corals and other invertebrates as well as small fish, including juveniles of the same species being targeted. By killing corals, it destroys the habitat of reef fish: Within 30 seconds of exposure to cyanide, corals show a typical stress response. Their polyps contract and they emit a thick mucus. The mucus disappears after a few hours, the polyps may expand once again, and the corals may appear to have recovered. But often, according to cyanide

The Closing of the Frontier

271

fishermen, they subsequently die, sometimes after appearing healthy for several weeks. As they die, they turn white. But soon, they are overgrown by a scum of filamentous algae. In extreme cases, the reef becomes almost deserted.117

Since explosives were also being used to capture fish in many of the areas where the cyanide fishers worked, large areas of coral reef were quickly destroyed in the 1980s and 1990s. Those engaged in the live coral reef fishery therefore had to move rapidly from one reef to another in order to maintain their catches. The larger operators, with their large boats, collapsible holding pens, and, at least for some of those fishing in Indonesia, connections with elements in the military, did this easily. Writing in 1995, Johannes and Riepen made the point that “the region’s most remote and pristine reefs are among the industry’s most tempting targets” both because of their abundance of fish and because the fishers could, as one participant in the industry put it, go about their work “away from prying eyes”. In 1994, for example, “more than 50 live fish boats from elsewhere” were using cyanide in Bonerate Atoll (Taka Bonerate) in the middle of the Flores Sea even though it was a marine park. Faced with competition from these boats, local fishers soon began to use cyanide themselves.118 By 1997 large operators were “believed to be efficiently targeting spawning aggregations of groupers” in Komodo National Park; a film made in 1997 provides evidence that small operators continued to use cyanide in the park despite the efforts of police, rangers, and soldiers to stop them.119 As the demand for live coral reef fish grew so too did that for snappers, for which resorts, hotels, and affluent consumers in Singapore were prepared to pay very high prices. As noted earlier, Thai trawlers caught snappers in and around the Arafura Sea, but the high price of snappers also drew other fishers into the search for these fish. The most important of these were Hokkien-speaking fishers based at the town of Tanjung Balai on Karimun Besar, an island in the Riau Archipelago in Indonesian waters just to the west of Singapore. The main gear that they used for capturing snappers was the bottom longline, which unlike the longline used to catch tuna is set so that the baited hooks hang just a short distance above the seabed. The three species of snappers that these longliners targeted were the Malabar blood snapper (Lutjanus malabaricus), the crimson snapper (Lutjanus erythropterus), and the goldbanded jobfish

272

Chapter 7

(Pristipomoides multidens). While these demersal fish are sometimes found over soft bottoms, they are most abundant over rocky or coralline bottoms and inhabit waters as deep as 150 metres (in fact, as deep as 245 metres in the case of the goldbanded jobfish). They often dwell, in short, at depths beyond the reach of most trawl nets used in Southeast Asia and over seabeds that can snag or shred any trawl net able to reach far enough below the surface. In contrast to trawl nets, bottom longlines can be set over very rough bottoms at great depths. They are also much more selective, since they capture only fish that are attracted to the bait and are large enough to be caught on the hooks. In addition, the vessels themselves are cheaper to build and operate. Their engines do not have to be powerful enough to drag a trawl net through the water. And because their engines are both smaller and not constantly operating near full capacity they consume much less fuel. During the 1980s, the bottom longliners operated in the Straits of Malacca and the South China Sea, but as their catches declined many shifted their base eastward to Probolinggo and other ports in Java to exploit stocks in the Java Sea and nearby waters. As catches fell there as well, many longliners, which by the late 1990s ranged in size from 30 to 120 GT and were often equipped with GPS, radar, sonar, and electric longline winches, moved further east to ports in Sulawesi, the Moluccas, and Timor and around the Arafura Sea. There they fished in waters where trawlers rarely operated because of the depth of the water and bottom conditions. In this way the longliners not only avoided having their lines swept up by trawl nets but also exploited the stocks of snappers out of reach of the trawlers. Profits were big and as a result more and more longliners were built at Tanjung Balai. By 2001 about one thousand were operating in Indonesia. But by then there were also signs of depletion around the Arafura Sea and pressure mounted yet again to move on to richer fishing grounds. Few new fishing grounds remained within Indonesian waters, but one skipper observed that “there are more and bigger fish on the Australian side of the line, where he could fill his boat in a week instead of 2 months”.120 During the 1980s and 1990s rising demand in Greater China and other parts of the world revived the ancient practice of collecting tripang and various shellfish for distant markets. Whereas fairly large amounts

The Closing of the Frontier

273

of capital were needed to capture reef fish and particularly to transport them alive to Hong Kong, the collection of tripang and shellfish required very little capital and only the simplest of technology. At the same time, however, this activity did not generate great profits considering the physical dangers involved. Among these dangers were violent storms, shark attacks, the bends, and, at least off the west coast of Sumatra, hypothermia induced by a sudden influx of cold water from the depths of the ocean.121 One of the leading wholesalers of dried marine animal products in Singapore explained to me in 1993 that tripang were plentiful along the east coast of peninsular Malaysia but that few Malaysians were desperate enough to want to collect them.122 Thus, it was mainly various relatively poor island communities who seized the opportunity provided by the renewed demand for these animals. Some groups, notably the Bajau Laut, had engaged in collecting for centuries, but the number of collectors increased greatly as prices rose and populations grew rapidly on some islands such as those near Buton. Although those engaged in collecting needed little capital, they did need boats and, as time went by, many of them adopted the hookah so that they could dive deeper and stay under water longer. Some of the groups involved in collecting needed gillnets and longlines as well, since they also captured sharks, for the meat as well as for the fins in great demand in Chinese markets. Middlemen and exporters, many of whom were of Chinese descent, extended credit to those involved in collecting and fishing to help them buy boats, equipment, and supplies and then bought their harvests.123 Makassar was the centre for the trade in tripang and shellfish for much of the eastern island world just as it was in the 1800s and even earlier. Zamboanga and Cebu City dominated the trade in these products in the Philippines. Southeast Asians had collected shellfish and tripang for the long distance trade for many centuries, but during the late 1900s populations of these animals collapsed in many places both because so many people took part in collecting and because new technology enabled them to harvest far more efficiently. A report on the trade in seashells in the Philippines describes what happened in two places: Compressor divers from Bantayan Island now must descend to depths of 18 m to 23 m to gather specimens — averaging one kilogramme of assorted shells — where 10 years ago they could expect to catch 25 kg a day each, at

274

Chapter 7

depths of only 1.5 m. A fisher from Katakian Island in Quezon province who once harvested clams measuring 60 cm in length, stated that most specimens now average 15 cm in length.124

In the Moluccas a village that had harvested trochus shells once every three years began collecting the shells every year in 1987; soon afterwards, the average amount of trochus collected per year fell from 1,100 to 400 kilograms.125 In general, it appears that tripang stocks withstood the increased pressure better than shellfish did, but Erdmann reported in 1995 that “the most valuable species [of tripang] are now virtually extinct” in the Spermonde Archipelago.126 The age-old movement of certain groups of collectors from reef to reef accelerated as prices rose and stocks of certain species were quickly depleted in one area after another. Reid describes the movement of a group of Butonese whom he interviewed in 1991: With the increase in price [of trochus shell] in recent years, and the progressive exhaustion of trepang and giant clams, trochus have become the most important item in the economy of the fishermen of all three islands [that is, the tiny islands near Buton Island that they came from]. The first major target of these outside southeast Sulawesi waters was the north coast of Flores, which was fished extensively for trochus in the 1970s and 1980s. As these stocks became exhausted, they moved further east in the 1980s, to the reefs of Maluku [the Moluccas] (notably Tanimbar) and Irian, and also to northern and central Sulawesi. The high prices of trochus have led to its being gathered to the point where it is scarce everywhere. … Irian was said to have the best remaining supplies of trochus in Indonesia, but my informants were frightened by the ferocity of coastal Irianese in protecting their reefs.127

As Reid suggests, the Butonese could not roam wherever they pleased, but they had free rein in most areas. Among the areas they visited were the reefs over which the people of Amaya village on Damar Island in the southern part of the Banda Sea claimed ownership and which they had long harvested in accordance with rules designed to ensure a regular income year after year. The villagers could do nothing to stop the Butonese from removing trochus shell, tripang, and turtles from their reefs. In 1986 a dozen members of the civil police of the village planned an attack on a Butonese boat anchored just outside a reef but turned back at the last moment.128 But even the Butonese soon began to run out of places to go, as more and more reefs were depleted not only by various groups of collectors but also by cyanide and blast fishing. At the same time

The Closing of the Frontier

275

those fishers who targeted sharks soon experienced declining catches partly because of their own activities but more because of fishing by much larger vessels. During the 1980s and 1990s the price of shark fin rose to spectacular heights, boosted by “the opening of China as a seemingly unlimited market”. The average unit price of fins imported into Hong Kong jumped from $11 in 1980 to $40 in 1992. One of the main shark fishing grounds was the Arafura Sea, which was inhabited by many species of sharks including the one with the highest-priced fins in the world, the giant guitarfish (Rhynchobatus djiddensis).129 Taiwanese vessels began operating here in the early 1970s at the latest, fishing off the coasts of Indonesian islands and all along the coast of Australia from the Northwest Shelf to Cape York.130 When, in 1979, the Australian government proclaimed a 200-nautical-mile Australian Fishing Zone, it granted licences to Taiwanese vessels allowing them to fish in most parts of this zone, but it restricted the number of vessels to a maximum of thirty and limited catches to 10,000 tons a year. The main fishing gear used by the Taiwanese was the gillnet, which they made larger and larger in order to increase the catching power of each vessel. In 1979 their gillnets were, on average, 7.5 kilometres long and 15 metres deep, but by 1986 they were 16 kilometres long and 20 metres deep. Concerned both that sharks were being overly exploited and that many dolphins (“perhaps over 2,000” a year according to one source131) were being caught in the nets, the government limited the length of the nets to 2.5 kilometres in 1986. At this point, the gillnetters shifted northward into Indonesian waters. In 1994 fifty-five Taiwanese vessels were licensed to fish in the Indonesian section of the Arafura Sea; it is likely that others fished in this area without licences. At the same time an unknown number of Indonesian vessels targeted sharks in the Arafura Sea. There is probably no way of knowing the quantity of sharks captured in this area or anywhere else in Indonesian waters. FAO data show that landings of sharks and rays for all of Indonesia increased from 31,000 tons in 1979 to 90,000 tons in 1993.132 Even if these figures accurately reflect landings, however, they greatly underestimate catches in Indonesian waters, since the Taiwanese did not land their catches in Indonesia and, even more importantly, both the Taiwanese and the larger Indonesian operators usually cut off the fins before throwing the sharks dead or alive back into the sea. In 1997,

276

Chapter 7

according to an Indonesian source, an official in Papua New Guinea complained that the sea near the border between the two countries was “filled by decomposed shark bodies” thrown overboard by Indonesian fishers who took only the fins and the livers, presumably for the oil.133 Thus, there are no reliable data on catches, but it is clear that the combined pressure of Taiwanese and Indonesian fishers quickly depleted shark stocks in the Arafura Sea. Rose explains that “long life cycles, delayed sexual maturation, and low fecundity rates severely limit the rate of sustainable harvest” for many species of sharks and rays.134 Another creature targeted because of its great value was the tiny seahorse (Hippocampus species and their relatives), several species of which are found in coral reefs, seagrass beds, and mangroves. Live seahorses were eagerly sought by hobby aquarists in Europe and North America, but the main impetus to catch them arose from their use in Chinese medicine. Seahorses are used to treat many illnesses including asthma and skin disorders, served as a kidney tonic, and are believed to be an aphrodisiac. The principal markets were Singapore, Taiwan, and especially Hong Kong and mainland China. As seahorses became increasingly rare along the coast of China, the Philippines, Thailand, Vietnam, and India became the main sources of supply. The price of seahorses soared higher and higher — reaching $880 per kilogram in Hong Kong in 1995135 — and small-scale fishers devoted more and more effort to catching them. Some aspects of the behaviour and biology of seahorses make them highly vulnerable to fishing. Because they inhabit shallow waters close to shore and swim very slowly they are easily caught by hand or with little nets. Because seahorses are attached to particular sites a fisher can easily capture all of them in a particular area. Male seahorses carry the fertilized eggs of their partners in their pouches until they hatch. During this period they move about very little and are especially easy to catch. And because seahorses are monogamous and form long-term bonds the capture of one partner often means the loss of the other’s reproductive capacity for a long time. For all these reasons the intensification of fishing for seahorses quickly depleted populations in many parts of Southeast Asia, while trawling and the degradation of their habitats accelerated the decline. In the waters off the village of Handumon on Jandayan Island, for example, the number of seahorses a fisher caught in a night fell from over forty as late as 1985 to twenty in 1992 and then no more than ten in 1999.136

The Closing of the Frontier

277

Fishers and traders in Vietnam reported in 1998 that “seahorses are becoming scarcer and smaller compared with only a few years ago”.137 Finally, a marine scientist stated in 1996 that seahorse populations in the Gulf of Thailand had “dwindled drastically in the past decade”.138 During the 1990s Amanda Vincent, the leading authority on seahorses, called attention to the collapse in seahorse populations around the world but argued against a ban on trade in them for fear that it would encourage a clandestine trade and deprive many fishers of an essential source of income. Instead, she worked with environmental groups and fishers to set up seahorse sanctuaries starting with one at Handumon.139 In several places in this section I have shown how the search for valuable fish and invertebrates greatly increased fishing pressure on and near coral reefs, but it is worth emphasizing that reef fish intended for everyday consumption came under intense pressure as well. This was particularly the case in the Philippines and the South China Sea, where the Abines family renewed its assault on fusiliers and other fish inhabiting the waters off reef slopes with a modified form of muro ami fishing. During the 1980s first groups critical of the exploitation of the children who made up the bulk of the labour force and then environmentalists concerned about the devastation to coral reefs caused by the scare lines called on the Philippines government to ban muro ami fishing. Shortly after President Aquino took office the government did issue a ban, but experiments were conducted to modify muro ami to make it less destructive. The result of this experimenting was pa-aling, which resembles muro ami except that, rather than using scare lines, “each swimmer dangles a leaded plastic hose that is attached to an air compressor aboard a skiff ”, creating a curtain of air bubbles that the swimmers use to drive the fish into the net. Although pa-aling did much less damage to the coral, fisheries officials were extremely concerned about the extraordinary power of the new method, in which a single drive, covering up to four hectares, captured as much as 20 per cent of the fish biomass in a reef. Therefore when, in 1994, the government did permit pa-aling fishing it imposed various conditions to prevent fish stocks from being overly exploited. A study completed in 2001 concluded, however, that stocks had in fact been heavily depleted in many areas, including around the isolated reefs in the South China Sea where enforcement was weak, allowing operations to be conducted “continuously and exhaustively”. The authors of the

278

Chapter 7

study recommended a complete ban on pa-aling.140 In the meantime the Department of Labor and Employment made a number of recommendations to prevent the hiring of minors,141 on whom the main operators, of which the biggest was a company that had been allied with the Abines family but was now a bitter rival, depended for the 200–300 workers needed to sustain each of their outfits.142 One further fishery is worth mentioning if only to show the lengths some were prepared to go to extract animals from the sea. In 1996 a company apparently owned by a high official in the Indonesian government who had connections with a Taiwanese firm erected a series of nets that nearly blocked the deep strait between the northeastern tip of Sulawesi and Lembah Island. These nets led to a trap measuring about 50 metres wide and 30 metres deep that was suspended from floats. Into this trap a boat chased migrating fish, mammals, and turtles trying to pass through the strait. According to one source, this device captured “1,424 manta rays, 577 pilot whales, 789 marlin, 326 sharks, 257 dolphins, 84 turtles, 18 whales and 9 dugong” over a period of ten months before it was dismantled either on the order of the Indonesian minister for the environment or by local fishers acting on their own. Both local fishers and recreational divers reported drastic declines in the abundance of animals in the strait.143

The lure of Australian waters As finfish, shellfish, and tripang became less abundant within Indonesian waters, the fishing and collecting grounds off the north coast of Australia (Map 7.3) became increasingly attractive to a variety of groups in Indonesia. When the price of trochus rose in 1990 the Butonese Reid interviewed set off for King Sound in northwest Australia, where from their point of view “the abundance of trochus … seemed remarkable”.144 As we saw in Chapter 2, Makassarese, Bajau Laut, and other peoples had sailed to the north coast of Australia to collect tripang and other animals long before European colonization. Under a memorandum of understanding signed by the Australian and Indonesian governments in 1974 Ashmore Reef (Pulau Pasir to Indonesians), Cartier Islet (Pulau Baru), and three other small points in the Timor Sea that were part of Australian territory were open only to “traditional fishermen”, defined

Map 7.3 Timor Sea

The Closing of the Frontier

279

280

Chapter 7

as “fishermen who have traditionally taken fish and sedentary organisms in Australian waters by methods which have been the tradition over decades of time”. These fishers were allowed to collect trochus, tripang, green snail and abalone but not turtles. An implication of the memorandum was that they could not collect or fish anywhere else within Australia’s exclusive fishing zone, which extended 12 nautical miles from a baseline around Australia. Beginning in 1979, the Australian government took several steps that limited Indonesian fishers even more severely. The upshot of these steps was that by 1989 Indonesians were almost entirely prohibited from fishing on the Australian side of the Provisional Fisheries Surveillance and Enforcement Line (PFSEL) running through the middle of the Timor Sea. There was only one exception to this prohibition: fishers sailing in “traditional”, non-motorized vessels were allowed to collect or fish within a clearly defined area just to the south of the PFSEL. This area encompassed all of the reefs covered by the memorandum but collecting was now prohibited on Ashmore Reef and Cartier Islet, where according to Australian officials Indonesian fishers had killed turtles and contaminated the wells.145 The new regulations had several consequences. Since it no longer mattered whether fishers or their ancestors had “traditionally” visited the area, the regulations opened the way for a large number of (often unseaworthy) non-motorized boats to exploit the area where collecting and fishing were allowed. At the same time the regulations meant that any Indonesian found operating a motorized vessel within that area or found in any vessel anywhere else on the Australian side of the PFSEL could be prosecuted for violating Australian law. Fishers sailing in “traditional” vessels had neither motors nor navigational aids to ensure that they stayed within Indonesian waters or within the area where the Australian government permitted fishing. In some cases fishers in this category appear to have made no effort to stay within the area assigned to them. Thus, some of those targeting sharks ventured outside that area after shark populations “dropped dramatically” there during the 1990s.146 As for the crews of motorized vessels, they hoped that the opportunity of striking it rich — or at least paying off a heavy debt — outweighed the risk of being caught and then being imprisoned and having their boats destroyed. The more technologically advanced vessels in fact found ways of reducing this risk. Some bottom longliners of the type that originated

The Closing of the Frontier

281

on Karimun Besar, for example, made dashes into Australian waters and relied on radar to detect fast-approaching patrol boats in time to get back across the border.147 But since the early 1980s Australian authorities have apprehended several hundred Indonesian boats. In 1999, to give just two examples, a navy patrol boat arrested an 18 metre boat at the entrance to King Sound that was carrying about 3,000 kilograms of trochus shell (worth about $12,000 in Indonesia) and a fisheries patrol arrested three shark-fishing vessels further south along the coast of Western Australia.148 Even so, the relative abundance of sharks, trochus, tripang, snappers, and other marine animals in Australian waters continues to tempt the operators of Indonesian vessels to fish and collect there.149

Farming the sea Aquaculture is an ancient practice in Southeast Asia, but in the 1970s it began to grow spectacularly. One of the main reasons for this was the increasing pressure on naturally occurring marine populations. As early as 1953 Villaluz argued that because of the depletion of fishery resources as a result of intensive fishing and the use of explosives and poisons, fish farming offered the only prospect for greater yields in the Philippines. Likewise, in 1973 Tiews ended a report on the rapid decline in trawl catch rates in the Gulf of Thailand by proposing that the development of aquaculture should become the main focus of fishery research in Thailand.150 The governments of the region looked to aquaculture as a source of cheap protein and as a source of employment, particularly for fishers no longer able to make a living at sea because of the depletion of marine populations. In keeping with this outlook many of the early attempts to develop aquaculture focused on expanding the production of foodfish for local consumption. Both in the Philippines and in Java the main fish cultivated was milkfish (Chanos chanos), the fry of which were captured in coastal waters and then placed in brackish water ponds. In Thailand salt pans abandoned when the export market for Thai salt collapsed were used for the cultivation of shrimps,151 while massive quantities of mussels were harvested from poles set in the sea near the shore. In the 1970s, however, a major change took place as prices for penaeid shrimp soared in Japan, North America, and Europe. As the marine populations of these shrimp declined as a result of overfishing,

282

Chapter 7

and as access to the remaining stocks in Indonesia was severely limited by the ban on trawling in all but the far eastern part of the country, more and more investors looked to shrimp farming as a way of making large profits. Thus, the objective of aquaculture shifted from supplying food to the local population to earning foreign exchange. During the 1970s and into the 1980s vast areas of mangrove forest were cut down to be transformed into shrimp ponds. Aquaculture differs from capture fisheries in fundamental ways. First, the pond or the patch of sea containing a pen or cage for finfish or stakes to which oysters and mussels attach themselves is controlled by a single person or company. In the case of ponds the person or company either owns the land on which it is located or leases it from the owner, which may be a private person or the government. In the case of fish cages and pens and stakes some form of leasing from the government is the usual arrangement. This control, whatever form it takes, has important implications. Most importantly it means that those who control the “farm” can exclude others from access to that farm, though often guards, dogs (to scare away animals as well as human intruders), and watch towers are needed to enforce this right. This in turn enables those who control the farm to harvest their “crop” when they see fit, taking into account the maturity of the crop and the price of that crop in the market, unlike in capture fisheries, where the objective usually is to catch the most one can before anyone else catches it, regardless of the maturity of the animals being caught. Control over the farm also gives the owner both the incentive and the opportunity to influence the maturation process and increase the density of the stock in a way entirely absent in capture fisheries. It was this feature of aquaculture that enabled the owners of shrimp ponds to greatly intensify shrimp farming in the 1980s and early 1990s. Up to the 1970s Southeast Asian shrimp farmers operated their ponds in a very simple fashion. They opened the gates to their ponds to let them fill with water as the tide rose and then let the larvae that entered with the water grow to a harvestable size, and they occasionally replaced water in the pond with fresh seawater both to keep the water clean and to maintain a fresh supply of food for the growing shrimp. In the 1970s and early 1980s they gradually improved productivity by a number of methods such as deepening their ponds, collecting juvenile shrimp in

The Closing of the Frontier

283

the wild, controlling the stocking density, supplementing the natural food supply, more carefully regulating the quality of the water, and finding better ways to exclude predator species from the ponds. In the meantime, shrimp farmers in Taiwan, the world’s biggest exporter of cultivated shrimps in the mid-1980s, were pioneering methods of cultivating shrimps by which they increased yields in their ponds dramatically. Beginning in 1987 Southeast Asian shrimp farmers rapidly made the transition to the new “intensive” form of cultivation. In intensive aquaculture berried female shrimp captured at sea are sold to a hatchery where the shrimp release their eggs into a tank. In the hatchery the shrimp larvae are fed on brown algae (which take nutrients from fertilizers put in the water) and brine shrimp (Artemia), while oxygen levels and other key variables are carefully regulated. Once the larvae have reached a certain size they are sold to shrimp farmers to put in their ponds. The operator of a pond speeds up their growth by aerating the water with paddle wheels powered by electric motors, using pumps to change the water (more frequently as the shrimp grow and produce more waste), giving the shrimp a specially formulated feed (changing in size and composition as the shrimp grow), giving them exactly the right amount of this feed so as not to contaminate the water with uneaten feed, and installing pipes on the bottom near the centre of the pond to draw off waste (the paddle wheels are set up in a pattern that generates a current such that this waste tends to move towards the centre and then sink). While doing all this, the operator must constantly monitor and regulate the water quality. If, for example, the water becomes too acidic, as it often does when ponds are carved out of the acid sulphate soils typical of mangrove forests, the operator must add lime. By taking all these steps and continually refining them, the operator of a shrimp pond can harvest several times as many shrimps as can be harvested from a pond of the same area in which there are no “inputs”.152 By the early 1990s the intensive cultivation of shrimps closely resembled the mass production of chickens. Intensive shrimp aquaculture requires a great deal of money to set up and operate. Capital is needed to construct the ponds and to buy pumps, aerators, and generators, the last of which are essential where an unreliable local electricity supply might put the aerators out of action and so deprive the shrimps of oxygen. There are also heavy running costs, the biggest of which, amounting in fact to “40–60 per cent of the

284

Chapter 7

production cost”,153 is for the feed given to the shrimps. But the promise of financial and other rewards attracted substantial investment. International aid agencies lent money to help develop aquaculture, governments provided some of the infrastructure as well as made it easy for investors to acquire coastal land, and business people poured money into aquaculture. Shrimp feed companies played a crucial part in promoting the expansion of the industry by experimenting with new techniques, supplying credit to owners, giving operators technical advice, and forming vertically integrated business groups with hatcheries, the owners of ponds, and processing plants. The biggest of these business groups is the CP Group, which began in Thailand but soon had interests in Indonesia, Malaysia, and Vietnam.154 Beginning in the mid-1980s cultivated shrimp production increased by leaps and bounds. Between 1985 and 1995, according to FAO data, total production of cultivated penaeid shrimp in Thailand, the Philippines, Indonesia, Malaysia, and Vietnam jumped from 90,000 to 560,000 tons. The increase was most spectacular in Thailand, where production increased from 16,000 tons (18 per cent of the total for the five countries) to 260,000 tons (47 per cent). By the early 1990s Thailand was the world’s biggest exporter of shrimps. The vast bulk of its exports consisted of cultivated shrimps, for by this time shrimp farms produced more than double the quantity of shrimps landed by Thai fishing vessels. Next to Thailand the biggest producers of cultivated shrimps in 1995 were Indonesia (with 26 per cent of the total) and the Philippines (16 per cent).155 Although the area devoted to cultivating shrimps increased, production rose much more rapidly than the area did because of the great increases in yields. In Thailand, for example, the area devoted to shrimp cultivation increased roughly three times between 1980 and 1994, but production increased by about twenty-five times.156 As production increased, shrimp farmers throughout the region concentrated more and more on the most valuable species in the export market, namely, the giant tiger shrimp, Penaeus monodon. In 1995 this species comprised 87 per cent of total penaeid shrimp production for the five countries as compared to 50 per cent in 1985; in Thailand the proportion skyrocketed from less that 1 per cent to 99 per cent during the same period.157 In 1995 Southeast Asia accounted for 96 per cent of the world’s production of giant tiger shrimp.158

The Closing of the Frontier

285

By stocking each pond with more and more shrimps farmers increased yields greatly, but as the density of animals of the same genus and usually in fact of the same species grew so too did the possibility that diseases could spread rapidly from one animal to the next, especially if faeces and other wastes were allowed to build up in the pond. In 1988 an outbreak of disease caused a 60 per cent drop in production of giant tiger shrimp in Taiwan.159 This event gave a big boost to Southeast Asian producers, but in 1993 disease killed most of the shrimps in ponds in East Java, and in Thailand the shrimp industry suffered heavy loses from disease in 1995.160 Producers fought disease by using antibiotics, covering empty ponds with lime to help kill bacteria before refilling them, and paying even more attention to water quality, though this was becoming more and more difficult as the inshore waters from which they took their water supplies became increasingly polluted. The growth of aquaculture has had a great impact on the marine fisheries of Southeast Asia. Most obviously, it has contributed to the rapid destruction of mangrove forests. In the Philippines the area of mangroves fell from 400,000–500,000 hectares in the 1920s to about 140,000 in the late 1980s; most of this loss resulted from the construction of ponds originally used to raise milkfish but often later converted to shrimp cultivation.161 According to one estimate for Thailand, shrimp farms accounted for about a third of the mangrove area destroyed between 1961 and 1993, as the total area covered by mangrove forests fell from 370,000 to 170,000 hectares.162 The shrimp farming industry in Thailand consumed vast areas of mangrove forest as it expanded not only because the area under cultivation grew but also because many ponds along the northern and eastern coasts of the gulf were abandoned when they became unproductive. In Sumatra large sections of mangrove forests have been transformed into shrimp ponds along the east coast from Aceh to Lampung, where the world’s largest shrimp farm, consisting of 18,000 ponds separated from the sea by a narrow strip of mangroves, was constructed in the 1990s.163 Wherever mangroves are cut down, their removal destroys the nursery grounds of many species of finfish, crustaceans including shrimps, and molluscs and, by removing a major source of detritus, lessens the quantity of basic nutrients available for plankton to grow in nearby waters. The continuing destruction of mangroves even threatens the viability of shrimp farms, since producers

286

Chapter 7

depend on berried female shrimp captured in the wild to stock their ponds, though some progress has been made towards breeding shrimp in captivity. At the same time the discharge of waste water from shrimp ponds into the sea alters the marine environment. On the one hand, certain species of fish and invertebrates may thrive because of the extra growth of plankton caused by the addition of further nutrients to the water. On the other hand, however, the addition of too much nutrientrich waste can cause such an outburst of algae that the water is robbed of oxygen as algae decompose, thus making it impossible for fish to survive. Moreover, the waste discharged by shrimp farmers contains various chemicals such as lime that pollute the surrounding marine environment and undermine the health of fish and other animals. Ultimately, writes one expert on the situation in Java, “the shrimp ponds pollute their own water supplies”.164 In recent years some operators have begun discharging waste water into ponds stocked with bivalves such as mussels, which extract nutrients from the waste, and seaweed, for which the excrement of the bivalves is a good fertilizer, and then returning the “biofiltered” water to the shrimp ponds.165 This attempt at replicating natural processes greatly reduces the amount of waste discharged into the sea, but it does not remove all of it, and in any case has been adopted by only a small proportion of operators. The growth of aquaculture has had a less obvious but still powerful impact on marine fisheries in the way it has sustained the capture of “trash fish”. Substantial amounts of trash fish are fed directly to some species of fish such as groupers and barramundi being raised in pens and cages, while far larger quantities are processed along with various other ingredients to make shrimp feed. Thus, with the notable exception of milkfish, which are herbivores, the cultivation of high-price species in pens, cages, and ponds depends on trash fish, helps push up the price of trash fish, and so promotes the continued capture of tiny, immature fish. The relationship between the capture and aquaculture sectors prompted this bitter commentary from a team of fishery experts after a visit to Thailand: Intuitively, it does not appear entirely rational for 4 tons of live weight fish to be turned into feed to raise 1 ton of high export value shrimp, with no direct contribution to the domestic fish supply of a country. Furthermore, even if it is considered economically justified, the catch of the trash fish

The Closing of the Frontier

287

used for feed should not be added to the production of shrimp to show an overall increased production. It would be more rational to deduct it since 4 tons of input equals 1 ton of output.166

Thus, aquaculture greatly increased production of certain species. Heavily focused as it was on producing high-price species for the export market, however, it did little to supplement the local food supply. It also did nothing to alleviate the pressure of capture fisheries on fish populations. In fact, it intensified the capture of immature fish and contributed to the degradation of coastal ecosystems. In the case of Thailand, it is worth adding, it even degraded inland areas, where, following the abandonment of many coastal sites due to disease and environmental damage, paddy fields were converted into ponds to raise giant tiger shrimp acclimatized to low levels of salinity until the government banned the practice in 1998.167

The closing of the frontier The frontier of fisheries closed with remarkable rapidity. During the 1960s great populations of fish lay untapped ready to be exploited when existing populations were depleted. By the late 1990s fishers were capturing virtually the full range of harvestable fish, crustaceans, molluscs, and holothurians in all ecological strata throughout the seas within and around Southeast Asia. As we have just seen, even great tracts of mangrove forest had been transformed into ponds in order to sustain yields of marine shrimps. Mesopelagic species inhabiting deep basins such as the Banda Sea form the greatest untapped fish stock. As noted in Chapter 1, their total biomass is immense. These species are unlikely to attract fishers, however. A few aggregate within the upper 100 metres when feeding at night, but most are out of reach of existing fishing gears. More importantly, there is no incentive to try to catch them, since the “high wax ester … content of most mesopelagic species renders them unfit for direct human consumption, at least in unprocessed form”.168 During the 1990s fisheries officials and experts tried to identify potential sources of expansion. Indonesian officials frequently expressed their belief that the waters within and around Indonesia offered enormous scope for greater catches. This view, however, disregarded natural fluctuations in populations, took little or no account of the gross understatement of

288

Chapter 7

catches reported by licensed vessels and the great quantity of fish caught by unlicensed vessels, and ignored declines in catch rates in many fisheries.169 In Thailand, the minister of agriculture hoped to reorient Thai operators towards capturing tuna in the Indian Ocean in order to reduce the canning industry’s dependence on imported tuna, “spare Thai fishermen from being arrested in the territorial waters of neighbouring countries”, allow the “severely depleted” fish stocks in Thai waters to recuperate, and ultimately benefit small-scale fishers. The minister noted, however, that European, Japanese, and Taiwanese vessels were already exploiting tuna in the Indian Ocean and said that catches would be subject to a quota system.170 Much more promising are oceanic squid in the South China Sea and demersal fish dwelling at depths beyond the reach of most trawlers now operating in Southeast Asia. But even those who hope that these stocks will help meet the growing demand for fish warn that the exploitation of these resources “should be strictly controlled”.171 The years of freewheeling expansion are indeed over. The frontier has all but closed. Recalling the descriptions of the marine life of Southeast Asian in the mid-1800s cited in Chapter 2 highlights how momentous a change had taken place. Fragmentary and vague though many of these descriptions were, we could at least conclude that the sea was characterized by great abundance and spectacular biological diversity. In the 1990s it was still possible to visit markets and see a splendid variety of fish and other marine life, but because of intensive fishing or environmental degradation or a combination of the two many species were much less abundant than they had been in the 1800s or even much more recently. By the 1980s Thai fisheries scientists were expressing grave concern about the future of Indian mackerel, especially since they had just discovered that the fish captured in the Gulf of Thailand did not, as they had believed, originate in the Gulf of Tonkin and migrate to Thai waters but spent their entire life cycle within the Gulf of Thailand.172 By the mid-1990s the “resource biomass” in the Gulf of Thailand and Manila Bay was about one-tenth of what it had been before the great fish race began.173 In 1938 “exceptionally large shoals of Terubok [shad] … appeared” off the coast of Perak, but by the 1980s shad were “very rarely found” along the Malay Peninsula.174 In the Panjang Strait, once the site of the most lucrative shad fishery, one species (Tenualosa toli) that had once been

The Closing of the Frontier

289

common had virtually disappeared, while the population of the other (T. macrura) had fallen dramatically since about 1970.175 Large, relatively long-lived, and commercially valuable fishes such as sharks, rays, various groupers, and humphead wrasse had become much less abundant in many areas. Crocodiles had “now seriously declined in numbers and distribution”.176 Indeed, in the Malay Peninsula, where Tenison-Woods had once observed that “the mud is almost alive” with crocodiles, estuarine crocodiles had as early as 1949 been “persistently hunted and large specimens [had] become rare”.177 Populations of sea turtles, often caught as by-catch by trawlers as well as targeted for their shells and meat, had fallen markedly.178 Seahorses, trochus, and giant clams had become much less plentiful. Dugongs, perhaps already under threat near Singapore as early as the 1850s, had become very rare, often the victims of trawlers operating close to shore as well as the destruction of seagrass beds.179 Even the most wide-ranging species, notably the tunas, showed signs of depletion in some areas. Most dramatically, the discharge of sewage and industrial waste and sedimentation caused by deforestation and mining had, along with blast fishing and cyanide poisoning, killed much of the coral on the reefs of Southeast Asia, thereby reducing the abundance of the myriad of species associated with living coral. By the mid-1990s just 29 per cent of the reefs in Indonesia were in “good” condition,180 and according to an estimate made in 2001 blast fishing and siltation had “severely damaged” 70 per cent of the reefs in the Philippines.181 The underwater world of corals, sponges, and other animals in Ambon Harbour which had bedazzled Wallace in the 1850s was almost devoid of life by the 1980s,182 while surveys conducted in the mid-1990s showed that “many of the reefs in Jakarta Bay that were in serious decline in 1985 are now entirely dead”.183 In 2001 the coral reefs surrounding the Raja Ampat Islands off the northeastern tip of New Guinea could still be described as a “paradise” but even they showed signs of damage from blast and cyanide fishing as well as siltation caused by logging.184 In the meantime, many short-lived species such as shrimps, squids, and jellyfish had, of course, held their own or even proliferated as intense fishing removed those species that competed with them for food sources or those higher in the food chain that preyed on them. At the same time, other species such as anchovies appear to have thrived on the plankton blooms caused by the discharge of extra nutrients. Indeed, such changes in the

290

Chapter 7

composition of species helped to sustain catches — or at least prevent them from falling even more drastically — in areas subjected to intensive trawling such as the Gulf of Thailand.

Towards a new frontier Although the great cost of catching the few remaining members of a particular species protects most marine animals from extinction, the capacity of humans to locate and capture fish — and to kill them by means of pollutants, habitat destruction, discarded fishing gear, and so forth — continues to improve. Intensive fishing not only drastically reduces populations but also “selectively remov[es] the larger, fast-growing individuals” from these populations.185 It is therefore possible that humans have already greatly diminished the genetic variability of many species, thereby increasing the risk of extinction if they are exposed to a natural disaster or an outbreak of predators or pathogens.186 At least for the time being, however, marine life retains a remarkable capacity to rejuvenate itself.187 Ecosystem modelling has demonstrated how the trophic structure of the Gulf of Thailand, perhaps the most heavily exploited large body of water in the region, could return to something like the structure existing in 1960 if there were a great reduction of fishing effort.188 But we need not rely entirely on modelling to see the effects of reducing the intensity of fishing. Off the north coast of Java demersal populations recovered quickly following the ban on trawlers in 1980. And a ban on trawling within 7 kilometres of the coast as well as rising fuel costs brought about a doubling of the biomass of fish in the Samar Sea in just one year before the combination of ringnet vessels, deep-sea fish corrals, blast fishing, and siltation again devastated fish stocks.189 Attempts at setting up small marine reserves and sanctuaries where all fishing is prohibited have also demonstrated the capacity of ecosystems to rejuvenate. As Bohnsack explains, “The concept of marine reserves is simple: if protected from human interference, nature will take care of itself ”.190 The reserve and sanctuary that Johannes visited in Zambales Province were “characterized … by large numbers of young corals recolonizing the previously degraded reef. And, in some parts of the sanctuary, reef fish were strikingly more abundant and of much larger average sizes than those seen in surrounding waters”.191 By giving the

The Closing of the Frontier

291

spawning biomass of many species the opportunity to rebuild, such sanctuaries supply fish (often in the form of larvae) to adjacent waters and in this way increase catches outside their boundaries.192 Since the larvae of finfish and invertebrates are often carried considerable distances by the currents, many fishery scientists have argued for the establishment of networks of sanctuaries.193 The stories of those marine sanctuaries that already exist have shown that, small though they are, the co-operation of national governments, local authorities, and fishing communities has been vital for success but extremely difficult to achieve. The task of setting up a network of reserves, especially one involving several states, would be even more formidable. Moreover, a network of small reserves would do little to preserve populations of highly mobile pelagic fish. But it could be part of an even broader vision of how to sustain fisheries for coming generations. Imagination, skill, and a great deal of daring brought about the extension of fishing into new ecological strata and increased catches spectacularly. Now that there are virtually no new populations to exploit, the people of Southeast Asia face a new frontier: finding a way to exploit the seas in a way that preserves habitats and species while providing the people of the region with an essential source of protein decade after decade. Conquering this new frontier requires, in its own way, just as much imagination, skill, and daring. Many fish populations are shared by two or more countries, and pollutants discharged into the waters of one country often flow into those of another. In the meantime, the human population of the region continues to grow and so too does the demand for fish. The interests of different fishing groups often clash according to the size and type of gear they operate, while the goal of “development” often conflicts with that of sustaining fisheries over the long term. In addition to all this, some national governments have little control over what enforcement agencies and local authorities do on the maritime fringe. Complicating matters still further, fishery statistics often provide little guide to the changes taking place in fish populations. In addition, scientists still have much to learn about how fishing transforms the complex interactions between living organisms in the sea. Particularly since 1982 governments have instituted a variety of regimes to regulate fishing and control pollution, but so far they have not, except in certain localities, transformed the way marine animals are exploited or stopped

292

Chapter 7

the degradation of the marine environment. Thus the challenge posed by the new frontier is immense. It is made all the more daunting by the pressure on fish populations in other parts of the world, the international character of the trade in fish products, the movement of pollutants around the planet, and the effects of global warming, the likely cause of widespread coral bleaching during the El Niño episode of 1998.194 But many people in the region — scientists, government officials, nongovernment organizations, companies, and fishing communities — and others outside have taken up the challenge. Most importantly, in November 2001 the fisheries ministers of all ten members of the Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN) committed themselves to working towards “sustainable fisheries”. The ministers resolved to work towards the conservation and rehabilitation of aquatic habitats, find ways to enhance fish stocks, promote “responsible” fishing, and, in order to make all this possible, aim to eliminate unrestricted access to fishery resources.195 Thus many have accepted the challenge. Unless it is met, the late twentieth century, when the physical frontier had virtually closed, will soon be remembered as a golden age of fisheries, and few will be able even to imagine how the seas of Southeast Asia had abounded with animal life just a few decades earlier.

Reproduced from The Closing of the Frontier: A History of the Marine Fisheries of Southeast Asia c. 18502000, by John G. Butcher (Singapore: Institute of Southeast Asian Studies, 2004). This version was obtained electronically direct from the publisher on condition that copyright is not infringed. No part of this publication may be reproduced without the prior permission of the Institute of Southeast Asian Studies.Individual articles are available at < http://bookshop.iseas.edu.sg > 293

Notes

Chapter 1: Introduction 1. Guxman, aged 64, interviewed by Cynthia Neri Zayas and Lilian C. de la Peña, Granada, Gigante Norte, October 1992, in Cynthia Neri Zayas, “Pangayaw and Tumandok in the Maritime World of the Visayan Islanders”, in Fishers of the Visayas: Visayas Maritime Anthropological Studies I: 1991–1993, edited by Iwao Ushijima and Cynthia Neri Zayas (Quezon City: College of Social Sciences and Philosophy, 1994), p. 98. 2. Donald K. Emmerson, Rethinking Artisanal Fisheries Development: Western Concepts, Asian Experiences, World Bank Staff Working Paper no. 423 (Washington, D.C.: World Bank, 1980), p. 48. 3. Arthur F. McEvoy, The Fisherman’s Problem: Ecology and Law in the California Fisheries, 1850–1980 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1986). 4. Alan Longhurst, Ecological Geography of the Sea (San Diego: Academic Press, 1998), p. 326. 5. Klaus Wyrtki, Physical Oceanography of the Southeast Asian Waters, Naga Report, vol. 2 (La Jolla: Scripps Institution of Oceanography, 1961), pp. 159–61. 6. Kenneth Ruddle, “The Supply of Marine Fish Species for Fermentation in Southeast Asia”, Bulletin of the National Museum of Ethnology (Osaka) 11 (1986): 1001. 7. Agustin F. Umali, “The Fishery Industries of San Miguel Bay”,

294

8.

9.

10.

11.

12. 13. 14. 15.

16. 17.

Notes to Pages 9–14

Philippine Journal of Science 63, no. 2 (1937): 232. Claude Roy, “Variability of Sea Surface Features in the Western Indonesian Archipelago: Inferences from the COADS Dataset”, in Baseline Studies of Biodiversity: The Fish Resources of Western Indonesia, edited by D. Pauly and P. Martosubroto (Manila: ICLARM, 1996), p. 17. Longhurst, Ecological Geography of the Sea, p. 295. Longhurst may be including the Ganges River in “Southeast Asia”. See Alan R. Longhurst and Daniel Pauly, Ecology of Tropical Oceans (San Diego: Academic Press, 1987), p. 8, figure 2.1, which shows silt yields for different parts of the world. Siebren C. Venema, “Results of Surveys for Pelagic Resources in Indonesian Waters with the R/V Lemuru, December 1972 to May 1976”, in Baseline Studies in Biodiversity, edited by Pauly and Martosubroto, pp. 105–6. See the trophic models in Daniel Pauly and Villy Christensen, “Stratified Models of Large Marine Ecosystems: A General Approach and an Application to the South China Sea”, in Large Marine Ecosystems: Stress, Mitigation and Sustainability, edited by K. Sherman, L.M. Alexander, and B.D. Gold (Washington, D.C.: AAAS Press, 1993), chap. 15. Longhurst, Ecological Geography of the Sea, p. 295. Venema, “Results of Surveys for Pelagic Resources in Indonesian Waters”, p. 107. William MacNae, Mangrove Forests and Fisheries (Rome: Indian Ocean Fishery Commission, FAO, 1974), p. 15. Daniel Pauly, “Problems of Tropical Inshore Fisheries: Fishery Research on Tropical Soft-Bottom Communities and the Evolution of Its Conceptual Base”, in Ocean Yearbook 6, edited by Elisabeth Mann Borgese and Norton Ginsburg (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1986), p. 37. Alan T. White, Coral Reefs: Valuable Resources of Southeast Asia (Manila: ICLARM, 1987), pp. 6–7. Longhurst, Ecological Geography of the Sea, colour plates 1–4.

Notes to Pages 16–21

295

18. Longhurst, Ecological Geography of the Sea, p. 290. 19. See Longhurst and Pauly, Ecology of Tropical Oceans, pp. 208–18. 20. J. Gjøsaeter and K. Kawaguchi, A Review of the World Resources of Mesopelagic Fish, FAO Fisheries Technical Paper no. 193 (Rome: FAO, 1980), p. 127. The authors note that certain larger mesopelagic species were not included in the estimate because they avoided the nets used to collect samples. 21. Peter Rudolph and Chris Smeenk, “Indo-West Pacific Marine Mammals”, in Encyclopedia of Marine Mammals, edited by William F. Perrin, Bernd Würsig, and J.G.M. Thewissen (San Diego: Academic Press, 2002), pp. 617–25. 22. John C. Marr, Fishery and Resource Management in Southeast Asia (Washington, D.C.: Resources for the Future, 1976), p. 9. 23. This is taken with very slight changes in wording from Pauly and Christensen, “Stratified Models of Large Marine Ecosystems”, p. 151. See also Christensen and Pauly, “The South China Sea: Analyzing Fisheries Catch Data in an Ecosystem Context”, Naga, ICLARM Quarterly 14, no. 4 (October 1991): 7–9. 24. Just how far they are taken depends, according to recent research, not only on the currents but also the biogeographic history of the area. See, for example, Paul H. Barber et al., “A Marine Wallace’s Line?” Nature 406 (17 August 2000): 692–93. 25. A. Ghofar and C.P. Mathews, “The Bali Straits Lemuru Fishery”, in Baseline Studies in Biodiversity, edited by Pauly and Martosubroto, p. 146. 26. R.D. Guerrero III, “The Impacts of El Niño on Philippine Fisheries”, Naga, ICLARM Quarterly 22, no. 3 (July–September 1999): 14–15. 27. Indian Ocean Tuna Commission, Report of the First Session of the IOTC Working Party on Tropical Tunas, Victoria, Seychelles, 1–4 September 1999, pp. 5–7. 28. Steven A. Murwaski, “Definitions of Overfishing from an Ecosystem Perspective”, ICES Journal of Marine Science 57 (2000): 652. For a review of various types of overfishing, see Daniel Pauly, Geronimo Silvestre, and Ian R. Smith, “On Development, Fisheries and

296

29.

30.

31.

32. 33. 34. 35. 36.

37.

Notes to Pages 22–25

Dynamite: A Brief Review of Tropical Fisheries Management”, Natural Resources Modeling 3 (1989): 307–29. Daniel Pauly, “Fisheries Management”, in Encyclopedia of Life Sciences (London: Nature Publishing Group, 2002). Available at www.els.net, p. 3. Among these are books and articles by Masyhuri, Hiroshi Shimizu, David E. Sopher, Alexander Spoehr, David L. Szanton, James Francis Warren, and Yap Chan Ling, and a RAPA report of 1988, all listed in the bibliography. An insightful article by two fisheries scientists, Daniel Pauly and Chua Thia-Eng, “The Overfishing of Marine Resources: Socioeconomic Background in Southeast Asia”, Ambio 17 (1988): 200–6, is the nearest thing to a general history of the marine fisheries of Southeast Asia in the twentieth century. Nicholas V.C. Polunin’s “The Marine Resources of Indonesia”, Oceanogr. Mar. Biol. Ann. Rev. 21 (1983): 455–531, contains many historical insights and a wealth of citations to sources from the 1700s to the early 1980s. Works by Conner Bailey and J.K. McElroy have a strong historical dimension. Among these are two splendid works of scholarship, Malay Fishermen: Their Peasant Economy (New York: W.W. Norton, 1975) by Raymond Firth and Sea Hunters of Indonesia: Fishers and Weavers of Lamalera (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1996) by R.H. Barnes, both of which are partly historical. Pauly, On the Sex of Fish and the Gender of Scientists, p. 185. Letters of 14 and 21 May 1938, British Advisor Kelantan 1118/ 1937 (NAM). Pierre Gourou, Land Utilization in French Indochina (New York: Institute of Pacific Relations, 1945), p. 402. See Table 3.1. Inocencio A. Ronquillo, “The Philippine Tuna Fishery: An Overview”, Fisheries Newsletter 11, no. 1 (January–March 1982): 17; interview with a fisheries officer, General Santos City, March 1994. Dayton L. Alverson, Mark H. Freeberg, Steven A. Murawski, and J.G. Pope, A Global Assessment of Fisheries Bycatch and Discards, FAO

Notes to Pages 25–29

297

Fisheries Technical Paper no. 339 (Rome: FAO, 1994), especially pp. 20–22, 26. 38. ASEAN-SEAFDEC Conference on Sustainable Fisheries for Food Security in the New Millenium: “Fish for the People”, 19–24 November 2001, Bangkok, Thailand — Technical Document (Bangkok: ASEANSEAFDEC, 2001), section 2.4.

Chapter 2: The Fisheries of Southeast Asia in the Middle of the Nineteenth Century 1. Spenser St John, Life in the Forests of the Far East, 2 vols. (London: Smith, Elder and Co., 1862), vol. 2, p. 253. See also Hugh Clifford, “Expedition to Trengganu and Kelantan”, Journal of the Malayan Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society 34, no. 1 (1961): 91. 2. On the value of anecdotal evidence, see Daniel Pauly, “Anecdotes and the Shifting Baseline Syndrome of Fisheries”, Trends in Ecology and Evolution 10 (1995): 430. 3. John Crawfurd, History of the Indian Archipelago, 3 vols. (Edinburgh: Archibald Constable and Co., 1820), vol. 3, p. 439. 4. John Anderson, Political and Economic Considerations Relative to the Malayan Peninsula, and the British Settlements in the Straits of Malacca (Prince of Wales Island: William Cox, 1824), p. 158. 5. Hugh Clifford, In Court & Kampong, 2nd edition (London: Richards, 1927), p. 139. 6. J.H. Moor, ed., Notices of the Indian Archipelago (Singapore, 1837), appendix, p. 18. 7. Hugh Low, Sarawak: Its Inhabitants and Productions (1848), pp. 88– 89. 8. Francis Day, Report on the Sea Fish and Fisheries of India and Burma (Calcutta: Office of the Superintendent of Government Printing, 1873), p. cxxvii. 9. “Zeevisscherijen langs de kusten der eilanden van NederlandschIndie”, Tijdschrift voor Nijverheid en Landbouw in NederlandschIndie 26 (1882), p. 158. The two fish I am unable to identify are badar and majo.

298

Notes to Pages 29–32

10. Ibid., p. 163. See also J.S.G. Gramberg, “De visscherij en bezwering van troeboek”, Indische Gids, tweede jaargang (1880), II, p. 333. 11. Abdullah bin Abdul Kadir, The Hikayat Abdullah, translated by A.H. Hill (Kuala Lumpur: Oxford University Press, 1970), pp. 144– 45. 12. J.E. Tenison-Woods, “Geographical Notes in Malaysia and Asia”, Proceedings of the Linnean Society of New South Wales, 2nd series, vol. 3, part 2 (1888), p. 613. 13. Alfred Russel Wallace, The Malay Archipelago, the Land of the OrangUtan and the Bird of Paradise: A Narrative of Travel with Studies of Man and Nature, 10th edition (London: Macmillan, 1890), p. 226. 14. Day, Report on the Sea Fish and Fisheries of India and Burma, p. cxxvi. 15. Alvin Seale, “The Fishery Resources of the Philippine Islands: Part I: Commercial Fishes”, Philippine Journal of Science 3 (1908): 518. 16. Hugh McCormick Smith, A Review of the Aquatic Resources and Fisheries of Siam, with Plans and Recommendations for Their Administration, Conservation, and Development (Bangkok: Ministry of Lands and Agriculture, 1925), p. 9. All references are to the reprinted edition. 17. Frederick Debell Bennett, Narrative of a Voyage around the Globe, from the Year 1833 to 1836, 2 vols. (London: Richard Bentley, 1840), II, pp. 65–66. The position was 0°56′S, 140°E. 18. James F. Munger, Two Years in the Pacific and Arctic Oceans and China (Fairfield, Washington: Ye Galleon Press, 1967), p. 75. 19. Thomas Beale, The Natural History of the Sperm Whale … to Which Is Added, a Sketch of a South-Sea Whaling Voyage … (London: John van Voorst, 1839), pp. 190–91; Janet West and R.H. Barnes, “Scrimshaw by William Lewis Roderick”, The Mariner’s Mirror 76, no. 2 (May 1990): 136, 138; Bennett, Narrative of a Voyage around the Globe, II, p. 98. 20. “Zeevisscherijen langs de kusten der eilanden van NederlandschIndie”, p. 300. 21. John Crawfurd, A Descriptive Dictionary of the Indian Islands & Adjacent Countries (1856), p. 137.

Notes to Pages 32–34

299

22. Pierre Gourou, Land Utilization in French Indochina (New York: Institute of Pacific Relations, 1945), p. 402. 23. W.A. Graham, Siam, 2 vols. (London: Alexander Moring, 1924), vol. 2, p. 38. 24. “Zeevisscherijen langs de kusten der eilanden van NederlandschIndie”, p. 143. 25. United States Bureau of the Census, Census of the Philippine Islands Taken under the Direction of the Philippine Commission in the Year 1903 (Washington: U.S. Bureau of the Census, 1905), vol. 4, p. 534. 26. John Crawfurd, Journal of an Embassy from the Governor-General of India to the Courts of Siam and Cochin China (London: Henry Colburn, 1828), p. 554. 27. United States Bureau of the Census, Census of the Philippine Islands … 1903, vol. 4, p. 536. See also Crawfurd, History of the Indian Archipelago, I, p. 97. 28. R.C. Cole and L.H. Greenwood-Barton, “The Preservation of the Catch by Simple Processes”, Tropical Science 7, no. 4 (1965): 171. 29. “Zeevisscherijen langs de kusten der eilanden van NederlandschIndie”, p. 190. 30. Crawfurd, History of the Indian Archipelago, III, p. 440. 31. Graham, Siam, vol. 2, p. 43. 32. Gourou, Land Utilization in French Indochina, pp. 404–5. 33. Crawfurd, History of the Indian Archipelago, I, p. 197. 34. United States Bureau of the Census, Census of the Philippine Islands … 1903, p. 534. 35. Ambrose B. Rathborne, Camping and Tramping in Malaya: Fifteen Years’ Pioneering in the Native States of the Malay Peninsula (London: Swan Sonnenschein, 1898), p. 31 36. J.E. Tenison-Woods, “Fisheries of the Oriental Region”, Proceedings of the Linnean Society of New South Wales, 2nd series, vol. 3, part 1 (1888), pp. 191–92. Author’s emphasis. 37. Arminius, “Het budget van een Javaanschen landbouwer”, Indische

300

38.

39.

40. 41. 42.

43. 44. 45. 46. 47.

48.

49. 50.

Notes to Pages 34–36

Gids, 11 (1889), part II, 1685–1720, 1885–1917, 2149–86. It is of course possible that fish consumption had been declining since 1850, a possibility that would require further research to confirm. Tadashi Mizutani, Akimitsu Kimizuka, Kenneth Ruddle, and Naomichi Ishigi, “A Chemical Analysis of Fermented Fish Products and Discussion of Fermented Flavours in Asian Cuisines”, Bulletin of the National Museum of Ethnology (Osaka) 12 (1987): 803 (English summary). E.J. Reintjes, De Vischteelt in Zoutwatervijvers (Weltevreden: Landsdrukkerij, 1926); Albert W. Herre and José Mendoza, “Bañgos Culture in the Philippine Islands”, Philippine Journal of Science 38, no. 4 (1929): 460 (quote). Crawfurd, Journal of an Embassy from the Governor-General of India, p. 480. “Zeevisscherijen langs de kusten der eilanden van NederlandschIndie”, pp. 190, 195, 286, 329. Day, Report on the Sea Fish and Fisheries of India and Burma, p. clx. See also “Zeevisscherijen langs de kusten der eilanden van Nederlandsch-Indie”, pp. 176, 178. Wallace, The Malay Archipelago, p. 329. “Zeevisscherijen langs de kusten der eilanden van NederlandschIndie”, p. 201. Ibid., pp. 261–62. Ibid., p. 328. Bennett, Narrative of a Voyage around the Globe, pp. 223–28; “Zeevisscherijen langs de kusten der eilanden van NederlandschIndie”, p. 272. “The Tortoise Shells of Celebes”, JIA&EA 3 (1849): 272. This source does not make it clear at what point in the trade the shell was given this value. Crawfurd, History of the Indian Archipelago, I, p. 200. James Francis Warren, The Sulu Zone, 1768–1898: The Dynamics of External Trade, Slavery, and Ethnicity in the Transformation of a Southeast Asian Maritime State (Singapore: Singapore University

Notes to Pages 36–38

51.

52. 53.

54. 55. 56. 57. 58. 59. 60. 61.

301

Press, 1981), p. 71; Anthony Reid, Southeast Asia in the Age of Commerce, 1450–1680, Vol. 1: The Lands Below the Winds (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1988), p. 28. Crawfurd, History of the Indian Archipelago, I, p. 199; Gazetteer of Burma (Rangoon: Government Press, 1880 [reprinted Delhi: Cultural Publishing House, 1983]), I, p. 416. P.J. Veth, Java, Geographisch, Ethnologisch, Historisch (Haarlem: Erven F. Bohn, 1875), eerste deel, p. 208. Crawfurd, Journal of an Embassy from the Governor-General of India, pp. 155, 545. Crawfurd mentions that some of the salt consumed in this area came from Cochinchina. On the salt trade up to the early 1800s, see G.J. Knaap and L.W. Nagtegaal, “A Forgotten Trade: Salt in Southeast Asia 1670–1813”, in Emporia, Commodities and Entrepreneurs in Asian Maritime Trade, c.1400–1750, edited by R. Ptak and D. Rothermund (Stuttgart: Steiner, 1991), pp. 125–57. “Zeevisscherijen langs de kusten der eilanden van NederlandschIndie”, p. 106. Ibid., p. 174. Ibid., p. 175. Gerrit Knaap, Shallow Waters, Rising Tide: Shipping and Trade in Java around 1775 (Leiden: KILTV Press, 1996), p. 87. G. Windsor Earl, “Handbook for Colonists in Tropical Australia”, JIA&EA n.s., 4 (1863): 175. “Zeevisscherijen langs de kusten der eilanden van NederlandschIndie”, p. 174. Crawfurd, History of the Indian Archipelago, I, p. 195. “Zeevisscherijen langs de kusten der eilanden van NederlandschIndie”, p. 161. Tenualosa macrura start out life as males and make an unknown number of trips from the Straits of Malacca into and out of the sheltered coastal straits where this species spawns during new and full moons before turning into females when they are about twelve months old. The females then continue moving back and forth between the Straits of Malacca and the spawning grounds according to the phases of the moon. S.J.M. Blaber et al., “The

302

62. 63.

64.

65.

66. 67. 68. 69.

70.

71. 72.

Notes to Pages 38–43

Life History of the Protandrous Tropical Shad Tenualosa Macrura (Alosinae: Clupeidae): Fishery Implications”, Estuarine, Coastal and Shelf Science 49 (1999): 689–701. C.F. Green, Report on the S.T. “Tongkol” for the Year 1927 (Singapore: [Government Printing Office, 1928]), p. 9. P.N. van Kampen, Visscherij en Vischteelt in Nederlandsch-Indië (Haarlem: H.D. Tjeenk Willink & Zoon, 1922), pp. 18–19; Raymond Firth, Malay Fishermen: Their Peasant Economy (New York: W.W. Norton, 1975), pp. 101–2. Alexander Spoehr, Protein from the Sea: Technological Change in Philippine Capture Fisheries, Ethnology Monographs no. 3 (Pittsburgh: Department of Anthropology, University of Pittsburgh, 1980), pp. 45–47. Barnes, Sea Hunters of Indonesia, devotes chapter 11 to describing these boats. James Hornell’s words, written in 1920, come from p. 205. West and Barnes, “Scrimshaw by William Lewis Roderick”. The scrimshaw is held in the National Library of Australia. “Zeevisscherijen langs de kusten der eilanden van NederlandschIndie”, pp. 117–33. “Zeevisscherijen langs de kusten der eilanden van NederlandschIndie”, pp. 126–27; Spoehr, Protein from the Sea, p. 28. J.D.F. Hardenberg, “The Fishfauna of the Rokan Mouth”, Treubia 8, no. 1 (1931): 90–95. A.M. Bown, Photographs of Some Burmese Fishing Implements ([Rangoon]: Government Printing, [1929]), photograph 23, shows a fishing stake that closely resembled a jermal except that it used a net rather than a rattan screen. “Zeevisscherijen langs de kusten der eilanden van NederlandschIndie”, p. 267. See also Day, Report on the Sea Fish and Fisheries of India and Burma, p. cxxxvii. “Zeevisscherijen langs de kusten der eilanden van NederlandschIndie”, p. 340. “Zeevisscherijen langs de kusten der eilanden van NederlandschIndie”, p. 289. For a description from the 1980s see Charles Zerner,

Notes to Pages 43–45

73. 74. 75. 76. 77.

78. 79.

80.

303

“The Flying Fishermen of Mandar”, Cultural Survival Quarterly 11, no. 2 (1987): 18–19. Writing about the flying-fish industry of Cebu, Claro Martin describes what appears to have been the same trap: “The Flying-Fish Industry of the Northwestern and Southwestern Coasts of Cebu”, Philippine Journal of Science 67 (1938): 179. “Zeevisscherijen langs de kusten der eilanden van NederlandschIndie”, p. 268. “Zeevisscherijen langs de kusten der eilanden van NederlandschIndie”, pp. 329, 263, 196–97, for examples. “Zeevisscherijen langs de kusten der eilanden van NederlandschIndie”, p. 263. Ibid., pp. 330–31. Van Kampen, Visscherij en Vischteelt in Nederlandsch-Indië, pp. 27– 28. This is a simplified account of one of many ways of operating a payang in conjunction with a rumpon. See also Van Kampen, Hulpmiddelen der Zeevisscherij op Java en Madoera in Gebruik (Batavia: G. Kolff, 1909), pp. 43–51, and C.J. Bottemanne, “Gebondenheid der lokkervisscherij langs de nordkust van Java en Madoera”, Instituut voor de Zeevisscherij te Batavia, Mededeeling no. 2B (1938), pp. 114–19. Bottemanne, “Gebondenheid der lokkervisscherij”, p. 115. H.C. Delsman and J.D.F. Hardenberg, De Indische Zeevisschen en Zeevisscherij (Batavia: N.V. Boekhandel en Drukkerij, 1934), pp. 41–42; R.J. Wilkinson, H. Berkeley, and H.C. Robinson, Report on the Fishing Industry of the Straits Settlements and Federated Malay States on the West Coast of the Peninsula (Kuala Lumpur: Federal Government Printing Office, 1904), p. 30; Van Kampen, Visscherij en Vischteelt in Nederlandsch-Indië, pp. 48–49; Straits Settlements, The Fisheries of the Straits Settlements and the Protected Native States, Legislative Council Paper no. 2 of 1896, pp. 41, 45. Van Kampen, Visscherij en Vischteelt in Nederlandsch-Indië, pp. 47– 48; B. Markus, De Japansche Visscherij in het Oosten van de Archipel (Batavia: Instituut voor de Zeevisscherij, 1930), p. 2; Delsman and Hardenberg, De Indische Zeevisschen en Zeevisscherij, pp. 42–43.

304

Notes to Pages 46-–47

81. “Whale Fishing of the Solorese”, JIA&EA 4 (1850): 766–67. For recent accounts of this fishery, which appears to have changed little since the 1800s, see Barnes, Sea Hunters of Indonesia, chap. 15, and “Lamalerap: A Whaling Village in Eastern Indonesia”, Indonesia, no. 17 (April 1974), pp. 137–59. 82. “Zeevisscherijen langs de kusten der eilanden van NederlandschIndie”, pp. 186, 199. 83. B.J. Terwiel, Through Travellers’ Eyes: An Approach to Early Nineteenth Century Thai History (Bangkok: Editions Duang Kamol, 1989), p. 179; Van Kampen, Visscherij en Vischteelt in Nederlandsch-Indië, pp. 98–99; David E. Sopher, The Sea Nomads: A Study of the Maritime Boat People of Southeast Asia (Singapore: National Museum, 1977), p. 240. 84. Barnes, Sea Hunters of Indonesia, pp. 326, 327; “Zeevisscherijen langs de kusten der eilanden van Nederlandsch-Indie”, p. 272; “Whale Fishing of the Solorese”, p. 766. 85. “Zeevisscherijen langs de kusten der eilanden van NederlandschIndie”, p. 271; Warren, The Sulu Zone, p. 74; United States Bureau of the Census, Census of the Philippine Islands … 1903, p. 535; George Frederick Kunz and Charles Hugh Stevenson, The Book of the Pearl: The History, Art, Science, and Industry of the Queen of Gems (London: Macmillan, 1908), pp. 218–19. 86. Ch. O. van der Plas, “De visscherij en de vischhandel in den Kangean- en Sapoediarchipel”, Koloniaal Tijdschrift 9 (1920): 567, 625; M. Djoemhana, “Versalg betreffende het onderzoek van de zeevisscherij in de omgeving van Sapeken”, Mededeeling van de Onderafdeeling Zeevisscherij, no. 6 (1941), pp. 73, 98. 87. “The Tortoise Shells of Celebes”, pp. 272–73. 88. “Zeevisscherijen langs de kusten der eilanden van NederlandschIndie”, pp. 363–64. Writing forty years later, Van Kampen (Visscherij en Vischteelt in Nederlandsch-Indië, p. 79) was unable to confirm that turtles were caught in this way in the Indies but was certain that they were in the Torres Strait. See also Andres von Brandt, Fish Catching Methods of the World (Farnham: Fishing News Books, 1984), p. 32.

Notes to Pages 47–49

305

89. Ibid., pp. 358–59; Delsman and Hardenberg, Indische Zeevisschen en Zeevisscherij, p. 45. Delsman and Hardenberg refer to the fish as tjendro (chendro), which Schuster and Djajadiredja (Local Common Names of Indonesian Fishes [Bandung and ’s-Gravenhage: N.V. Penerbit W. van Hoeve, 1952]) identify as Tylosurus melanotus. FishBase gives Tylosurus acus melanotus as the valid scientific name of this species, which reaches a maximum length of 1 metre. 90. Ibid., p. 359. 91. Wallace, The Malay Archipelago, p. 343. 92. “Zeevisscherijen langs de kusten der eilanden van NederlandschIndie”, p. 326. 93. “Zeevisscherijen langs de kusten der eilanden van NederlandschIndie”, p. 328. 94. Crawfurd, Journal of an Embassy from the Governor-General of India, p. 200. Crawfurd refers to the emperor as the “king”. 95. Abdullah, The Hikayat Abdullah, p. 145. 96. “Ceram Laut Isles”, JIA&EA 6 (1852): 691. 97. “Zeevisscherijen langs de kusten der eilanden van NederlandschIndie”, p. 78. 98. Warren The Sulu Zone, pp. 67–64, where the quantities are given in pikuls (10,000 and 12,000 respectively). See also Warren, The Sulu Zone: The World Capitalist Economy and the Historical Imagination (Amsterdam: VU University Press, 1998), pp. 28–30. 99. The classic account of this business is C.C. Macknight, The Voyage to Marege’: Macassan Trepangers in Northern Australia (Melbourne: Melbourne University Press, 1976). 100. [G.W. Earl], “The Trading Ports of the Indian Archipelago”, JIA&EA 4 (1850): 490. 101. The two quotes come from Wallace, The Malay Archipelago, p. 343. 102. J.F.B. and G.W. E[arl], “The Kei and Aru Islands”, JIA&EA 7 (1853): 70. This section of the article was written by Earl. 103. [G.W. Earl], “The Trading Ports of the Indian Archipelago”, JIA&EA 4 (1850): 492–93. The JIA&EA contains many other

306

104. 105. 106.

107. 108. 109. 110. 111. 112. 113. 114. 115. 116. 117.

118.

Notes to Pages 50–53

articles on the trade in marine products. See also Wong Lin Ken, “The Trade of Singapore, 1819–69”, Journal of the Malayan Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society 33, no. 4 (1960), chap. 4, and, for a thorough examination of the tripang trade of Makassar, Heather Sutherland, “Trepang and Wangkang: The China Trade of Eighteenth-Century Makassar c.1720s–1840s”, Bijdragen tot de Taal-, Land- en Volkenkunde 156, no. 3 (2000): 451–72. “Zeevisscherijen langs de kusten der eilanden van NederlandschIndie”, p. 135. The range given in this source is f1000 to f1500. Ibid., p. 269. Masyhuri, Pasang Surut Usaha Perikanan Laut: Tinjauan SocialEkonomi Kenelayan di Jawa dan Madura, 1850–1940 (Ph.D. thesis, Free University of Amsterdam, 1995), pp. 62–64. “Zeevisscherijen langs de kusten der eilanden van NederlandschIndie”, p. 200. Ibid., p. 165. Day, Report on the Sea Fish and Fisheries of India and Burma, p. cxxxii. Day, Report on the Sea Fish and Fisheries of India and Burma, p. cxxxvii. Veth, Java, p. 577. “Zeevisscherijen langs de kusten der eilanden van NederlandschIndie”, p. 160. Low, Sarawak, p. 88. Clifford, “Expedition to Trengganu and Kelantan”, pp. 89–90. “Zeevisscherijen langs de kusten der eilanden van NederlandschIndie”, pp. 274–75. Warren, The Sulu Zone, p. 72. “Zeevisscherijen langs de kusten der eilanden van NederlandschIndie”, p. 79; H. ten Hage, “De zeevisscherij in NederlandschIndië”, Tijdschrift voor Economische Geographie 1 (1910): 106. Ten Hage, “De zeevisscherij in Nederlandsch-Indië”, p. 106. For much more detail on fishing seasons see the reports of the

Notes to Pages 53–55

119. 120.

121. 122.

123. 124.

125. 126. 127. 128. 129.

130. 131. 132. 133. 134.

307

Onderzoek naar de Mindere Welvaart der Inlandsche Bevolking op Java en Madoera listed in the bibliography. Van Kampen, Visscherij en Vischteelt in Nederlandsch-Indië, p. 8; Gramberg, “De visscherij en bezwering van troeboek”, p. 338. Hugh Clifford gives a detailed account of how a group of eight Kelantan fishers just barely survived after being capsized by a sudden squall. Clifford, In Court & Kampong, pp. 145–47. Wilkinson, Berkeley, and Robinson, Report on the Fishing Industry of the Straits Settlements and Federated Malay States, p. 17. C. Snouck Hurgronje, The Achehnese, translated by A.W.S. O’Sullivan (Leyden: E.J. Brill, 1906), vol. 1, p. 281, where taboos held by Javanese and Malay fishers are also mentioned. Wilkinson, Berkeley, and Robinson, Report on the Fishing Industry of the Straits Settlements and Federated Malay States, pp. 17–18. Gramberg, “De visscherij en bezwering van troeboek”; “Zeevisscherijen langs de kusten der eilanden van NederlandschIndie”, pp. 163–64. Warren, The Sulu Zone, pp. 257–58. P.J. Begbie, The Malayan Peninsula (Vepery Mission Press, 1834 [reprinted Kuala Lumpur: Oxford University Press, 1967]), p. 396. Firth, Malay Fishermen, p. 65. Warren, The Sulu Zone, part II, “Patterns of Raiding, 1768–1898”. Report in the Singapore Chronicle, 12 May 1831, in Moor, ed., Notices of the Indian Archipelago, p. 57, where the quantity is given as 4,000 to 5,000 pikuls. This categorization comes from a Dutch observer of 1853 whom Barnes cites. Sea Hunters of Indonesia, p. 14. Clifford, In Court & Kampong, p. 150. Day, Report on the Sea Fish and Fisheries of India and Burma, p. cxxxii. St John, Life in the Forests of the Far East, vol. 2, p. 253. “Nombre de las redes y artes para pescar que se usan en el archipielago filipino”, 21 October 1861, Museo Naval, Ms. #2139,

308

135. 136. 137. 138.

139.

140. 141. 142. 143. 144. 145.

146.

147.

Notes to Pages 55–57

doc. 31, ff. 171–72. I am indebted to Bruce Cruikshank for sending me his transcription of this document and to Douglas Pacheco for translating it for me. “Zeevisscherijen langs de kusten der eilanden van NederlandschIndie”, p. 127. Day, Report on the Sea Fish and Fisheries of India and Burma, p. cxxxii Masyhuri, Pasang Surut Usaha Perikanan Laut, p. 267 (English summary). “Zeevisscherijen langs de kusten der eilanden van NederlandschIndie”, p. 80. This source goes on to mention that fishers would sometimes sail along the north coast of Java to “try their luck” in the waters of another residency and so could be away for as long as eight days, but they apparently fished no further from the coast. Bottemanne, “Gebondenheid der lokkervisscherij”, pp. 115–16. Though written in the 1930s, this source describes methods that the Javanese had used for a very long time. Crawfurd, Journal of an Embassy from the Governor-General of India, p. 480. “Zeevisscherijen langs de kusten der eilanden van NederlandschIndie”, pp. 272–73. Ibid., p. 273. For details, see “Zeevisscherijen langs de kusten der eilanden van Nederlandsch-Indie”, pp. 78–79, 157–58. Earl, “Handbook for Colonists in Tropical Australia”, p. 174. Day, Report on the Sea Fish and Fisheries of India and Burma, p. cxxvii. Presumably the chief commissioner was ignoring the sea nomads who fished in this area. R.E. Johannes, “Traditional Marine Conservation Methods in Oceania and Their Demise”, Annual Review of Ecology and Systematics 9 (1978): 349–64. Nicholas V.C. Polunin, “Do Traditional Marine ‘Reserves’ Conserve? A View of Indonesian and New Guinean Evidence”, in Maritime Institutions in the Western Pacific, edited by Kenneth Ruddle and Tomoya Akimichi (Osaka: National Museum of

Notes to Pages 57–62

148. 149.

150. 151. 152. 153. 154.

155. 156.

157. 158.

309

Ethnology, 1984), p. 268. Snouck Hurgronje, The Achehnese, vol. 1, pp. 283–84. For speculations on marine tenure in the Moluccas during the 1800s see Polunin, “Do Traditional Marine ‘Reserves’ Conserve?” and articles by Thorburn, Zerner, and Bailey and Zerner cited in the bibliography. “Zeevisscherijen langs de kusten der eilanden van NederlandschIndie”, p. 180. Day, Report on the Sea Fish and Fisheries of India and Burma, p. cxxxvi (Day’s paraphrase of the officer’s views). William Trail, “A Few Remarks on Conchology and Malachology”, JIA&EA 1 (1847): 228. Quoted in Barnes, Sea Hunters of Indonesia, p. 334. Robert Tomes, The Americans in Japan: An Abridgment of the Government Narrative of the U.S. Expedition to Japan, under Commodore Perry (New York: D. Appleton, 1857 [reprinted Wilmington: Scholarly Resources, 1973]), p. 65. Barnes, Sea Hunters of Indonesia, pp. 311 (quotes), 333. Roger Pineau, ed., The Personal Journal of Commodore Matthew C. Perry (Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Institution Press, 1968), p. 49. Crawfurd, Journal of an Embassy from the Governor-General of India, p. 531. Helene Marsh, “Dugong”, in Encyclopedia of Marine Mammals, edited by Perrin, Würsig, and Thewissen, p. 346.

Chapter 3: State, Economy, and Fisheries to the 1930s 1. J.W.W. Birch, The Journals of J.W.W. Birch, First British Resident to Perak, 1874–1875, edited and introduced by P.L. Burns (Kuala Lumpur: Oxford University Press, 1976), p. 46. 2. Warren, The Sulu Zone, pp. 190–97. 3. Ian Brown, “Imperialism, Trade and Investment in the Late Nineteenth and Early Twentieth Centuries”, in The Rise and Fall of

310

4.

5. 6. 7. 8. 9.

10. 11. 12.

13. 14.

15. 16. 17.

Notes to Pages 62–65

Revenue Farming: Business Elites and the Emergence of the Modern State in Southeast Asia, edited by John G. Butcher and Howard Dick (Houndmills: Macmillan, 1993), p. 85; Alfred W. McCoy, “A Queen Dies Slowly: The Rise and Decline of Iloilo City”, in Philippines Social History: Global Trade and Local Transformation, edited by Alfred W. McCoy and Ed. C. de Jesus (Honolulu: University Press of Hawaii, 1982), p. 311. All of these figures come from unpublished data compiled, and generously shared with me, by Pierre van der Eng of the Australian National University. Saw Swee-Hock, Singapore Population in Transition (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1970), p. 25. Birch, The Journals of J.W.W. Birch, p. 45. “Zeevisscherijen langs de kusten der eilanden van NederlandschIndie”, pp. 194, 260, 263, 270. “Zuid-Banka”, Encylopaedie van Nederlandsch-Indië, 2nd edition, 4 (1921): 867. Th. O.B. Günther, “De visscherij en de daarmee verband houdende rechten in de Ogan-Komeringstreek (Palembangsche Benedenlanden)”, Koloniaal Tijdschrift 16 (1927): 11. A.W. Schippers, Jzn., “De zeevisscherijen van Nederlandsch Indie”, Koloniaal Tijdschrift 17 (1928): 21. Clifford, In Court & Kampong, p. 138. Report by J.H.M. Robson, in Straits Settlements, The Fisheries of the Straits Settlements and the Protected Malay States, Legislative Council Paper no. 2 of 1896, p. 50. Masyhuri, Pasang Surut Usaha Perikanan Laut, p. 144. Smith, A Review of the Aquatic Resources and Fisheries of Siam, p. 23; James M. Andrews, Siam: 2nd Rural Economic Survey, 1934–1935 (Bangkok: Bangkok Times Press, 1935), p. 73. Firth, Malay Fishermen, p. 66. Umali, “The Fishery Industries of San Miguel Bay”, p. 251. It is very likely that demand for tripang and other luxury goods fell during this period but I have not been able to substantiate this.

Notes to Pages 67–70

311

18. Hayasi Shinzo, “Japanese in Pre-War Philippines: Emigrants, Diplomats, and Military Activities”, unpublished manuscript supplied by the author, pp. 8–9. Dr Hayase has written a paper in Japanese dealing much more extensively with Japanese fishing activities in Manila Bay. 19. Hiroshi Shimizu, “The Japanese Fisheries Based in Singapore, 1892– 1945”, Journal of Southeast Asian Studies 28 (1997): 326–27. 20. Tsuneta Yano and Kyoichi Shirasaki, Nippon: A Charted Survey of Japan, 1936, translated by Z. Tamotsu Iwadô (Tokyo: Kokusei-sha, 1936), p. 177. 21. G.M. Laidlaw to T.W.H. Kingston, 7 January 1918, Negri Sembilan Secretariat Files 2549/1918 (NAM). 22. Pierre van der Eng, “Food for Growth: Trends in Indonesia’s Food Supply, 1880–1995”, Journal of Interdisciplinary History 30 (2000): 599. 23. B.C.P. Jansen, “Food in the Tropics with Special Reference to the Netherlands Indies”, Bulletin of the Colonial Institute of Amsterdam 2, no. 1 (November 1938): 56. 24. S. Postmus and A.G. van Veen, “Dietary Surveys in Java and EastIndonesia”, Chron. Nat. 105, no. 10 (October 1949): 231. 25. Annual Report of Fisheries, Malaya (1933), p. 562. 26. Carle C. Zimmerman, Siam: Rural Economic Survey, 1930–31 (Bangkok: Bangkok Times Press, 1931), p. 275. 27. The director of fisheries for Malaya explained in 1928 that sardines were merely “a sideline of the oil and fish meal industry in California”. State law required the processors to prepare a certain proportion of the catch as food. Thus, as they produced more oil and fish meal they produced more canned sardines, which they sold at cost price. Annual Report of Fisheries, Malaya (1928), pp. 98–99. 28. Estimate made from figure for canned fish imports in 1936 given in J.C. Mettevier Meyer, “De voornaamste methoden van verduurzamen van visch op Java en Madoera”, Mededeelingen van het Instituut voor de Zeevisscherij, no. 2 (1938), p. 145, and nominal catch for the Netherlands Indies in 1938 in table 3.1. I have made two questionable

312

29. 30

31.

32. 33. 34.

Notes to Pages 70–77

assumptions in making these estimates — that all the fish landed were consumed and that a given quantity of canned fish represents an equivalent quantity of whole fish — and have also disregarded the serious deficiencies in the catch data, but I believe the estimates provide a starting point for exploring this issue further. See figures in Annual Report of Fisheries, Malaya (1927), p. 117, and discussion in Annual Report of Fisheries, Malaya (1933), p. 562. Estimate made from data in Catherine Porter, “Philippines Neglects Fisheries Resources”, Far Eastern Survey 9 (19 June 1940): 156, and table 3.1. Marshall Seaton McLennan, “Peasant and Hacendero in Nueva Ecija: The Socio-Economic Origins of a Philippine Commercial RiceGrowing Region” (Ph.D. dissertation, University of California, Berkeley, 1973), p. 267. Zimmerman, Siam: Rural Economic Survey, 1930–31, p. 276. J.S. Furnivall, Netherlands India (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1944), p. 324. Cushing, The Provident Sea, p. 102.

Chapter 4: Catching More with the Same Technology, 1870s to 1930s 1. H. Warington Smyth, Five Years in Siam, from 1891 to 1896 (London: J. Murray, 1898), vol. 2, p. 146. 2. Smith, A Review of the Aquatic Resources and Fisheries of Siam, p. 41. 3. W.C.A. Vink, “Opmerkingen en beschouwingen over de inlandsche hoogzeevisscherij van Java en Madoera”, Mededeelingen van het Visscherij-Station te Batavia, no. 9 (1912), p. 23. 4. Graham, Siam, vol. 2, p. 43. 5. H. Warington Smyth, “Journeys in the Siamese East Coast States”, Geographical Journal 11 (1898): 470. 6. Export figures from trade matrices compiled by David Bulbeck and Howard Dick for the Economic History of Southeast Asia Project, Australian National University, and Annual Report of

Notes to Pages 77–80

7.

8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22.

313

Fisheries, Malaya (1926), p. 101. I have no figure for exports from Siam in 1925. Instead, I have taken the quantity of dried and salted fish that British Malaya imported from Siam (27,600 tons) and assumed that the proportion of fish exported from Siam that went to Malaya in 1925 was the same as it was in 1912 (about 78 per cent) to arrive at the figure of 35,000 tons. C.J. Hasselman, Algemeen Overzicht van de Uitkomsten van het Welvaart-Onderzoek Gehouden op Java en Madoera in 1904–1905 (’s-Gravenhage: Martinus Nijhoff, 1914), p. 107. Warington Smyth, “Journeys in the Siamese East Coast States”, p. 470. Smith, A Review of the Aquatic Resources and Fisheries of Siam, p. 23. Ibid., p. 75. Ibid., p. 21; Smith, “Siam’s Fishery Resources”, Mid-Pacific Magazine 29 (1925): 595. W.B. M’Quitty, “Giant Fish Traps of Siam”, Geographical Magazine 9, no. 4 (1939): 275. Smith, A Review of the Aquatic Resources and Fisheries of Siam, p. 21; M’Quitty, “Giant Fish Traps of Siam”, p. 278. M’Quitty, “Giant Fish Traps of Siam”, p. 278. Smith, A Review of the Aquatic Resources and Fisheries of Siam, p. 21. Ibid., p. 76. Ibid., p. 24. Smith, “Siam’s Fishery Resources”, p. 595. Ibid., pp. 8–9. Ibid., pp. 12–13. Smith, “Siam’s Fishery Resources”, p. 595. A.T. Dew, “The Fishing Industry of Krian and Kurau, Perak”, Journal of the Straits Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society, no. 23 (1891), p. 114; Dew, in Straits Settlements, The Fisheries of the Straits Settlements and the Protected Native States, p. 36; W.H.M. Schadee, Geschiedenis van Sumatra’s Oostkust, 2 vols. (Amsterdam: Oostkust van Sumatra Instituut, 1918–19), vol. 2, pp. 82–83.

314

Notes to Pages 80–86

23. J.G. Watson, Mangrove Forests of the Malay Peninsula (Singapore: Fraser & Neave, 1928), p. 223, referring to Chinese fishing communities along the west coast of the Malay Peninsula. 24. G.C. Bellamy, in Straits Settlements, The Fisheries of the Straits Settlements and the Protected Native States, p. 51. 25. Dew, “The Fishing Industry of Krian and Kurau, Perak”, pp. 105– 6 (quote), 114–16. 26. B.J. Haga, “De beteekenis der visscherij industrie van Bagan Api Api en hare toekomst”, Economist (1917), p. 240. 27. J.F.D. Hardenberg, “The Fishfauna of the Rokan Mouth”, Treubia 8, no. 1 (1931): 89, 151–52. 28. H. Colijn, “Advies betreffende de zoutpacht in het gewest Oostkust van Sumatra”, 5 August 1905, pp. 6, 12, in verbaal 15 June 1907, no. 25 (Ministrie van Kolonien: Openbaar Archief, Algemeen Rijksarchief, The Hague). 29. For much more detail on the fishing gears used at Bagan Si Api Api see B. Markus, Visscherij-methoden en Vischproducten van Bagan Si Api-api (Batavia: Instituut voor de Zeevisscherij, 1929). 30. Haga, “De beteekenis der visscherij industrie van Bagan Api Api”, p. 240. 31. A.J.L. Sunier, quoted in C.J. Bottemanne, Verslag over de Visscherij en Vischhandel van Bagan Si Api-api (Batavia: Instituut voor de Zeevisscherij, 1929), p. 13. 32. P.N. van Kampen, “Aanteekeningen omtrent de visscherij van Sumatra en Riouw”, Mededeelingen van het Visscherij-Station te Batavia, no. 3 (1909), p. 9. 33. E. Gobée, “De oorzaken van den achteruitgang van de vischindustrie te Bagan Si Api Api”, Mededeelingen van het Visscherij-station te Batavia, no. 7 (1912), p. 9. 34. See the maps in John G. Butcher, “The Salt Farm and the Fishing Industry of Bagan Si Api Api”, Indonesia, no. 62 (October 1996), pp. 108–9. 35. Gobée, “De oorzaken van den achteruitgang”, p. 9. 36. Sunier, quoted in Bottemanne, Verslag over de Visscherij en

Notes to Pages 86–90

37. 38.

39. 40. 41. 42. 43.

44. 45. 46. 47.

48. 49.

50.

315

Vischhandel van Bagan Si Api-api, p. 14. “Mond der Rokan-Rivier”, Hydro/OIA-172-10/111 (Maps and Drawings Division, Algemeen Rijksarchief, The Hague). Haga, “De beteekenis der visscherij industrie van Bagan Api Api”, p. 243; Van Kampen, “Aanteekeningen omtrent de visscherij van Sumatra en Riouw”, p. 11. For more detail see Butcher, “The Salt Farm and the Fishing Industry of Bagan Si Api Api”. Bottemanne, Verslag over de Visscherij en Vischhandel van Bagan Si Api-api, p. 14. Ibid., pp. 6, 27. Ibid., p. 26, gives a depth of “about 8 to 9 depa [fathoms]”. Hardenberg, “Additional Notes to My Paper ‘The Fishfauna of the Rokan Mouth’”, Treubia 14, no. 3 (1934): 300; G. Masset, “Bagan Si Api-api”, Volkscredietwezen 27 (1939): 861. Masset, “Bagan Si Api-api”, p. 862. Hardenberg, “Additional Notes”, p. 300. Masset, “Bagan Si Api-api”, p. 864. H.C. Robinson, “Memorandum to Mr T.W.H. Kingston’s Notes on Fishing Industry in F.M.S.”, Negri Sembilan Secretariat File 2549/1918 (NAM). Negri Sembilan Secretariat File 2549/1918. Report of the Fisheries Department, Federated Malay States (1916), Selangor Secretariat File 1203/1917 (NAM). The term belat covers a number of kinds of fishing stakes placed in water 5 to 6 metres deep. Yap Chan-Ling, “Fisheries Development on the West Coast of Peninsular Malaysia”, in Economics of Aquaculture, Sea-fishing and Coastal Resource Use in Asia: Proceedings of the Second Biennial Meeting of the Agricultural Economics Society of Southeast Asia, November 3–6, 1977, Tigbauan, Iloilo, Philippines, edited by Aida R. Librero and William L. Collier (Los Baños: Agricultural Development Council, Philippine Council for Agriculture and Resources Research, 1979), p. 122.

316

Notes to Pages 90–95

51. Wilkinson, Berkeley, and Robinson, Report on the Fishing Industry of the Straits Settlements and Federated Malay States on the West Coast of the Peninsula, pp. 33–34. Most fish in fact spawn outside the estuaries. 52. Annual Report, Inspector of Fisheries, Federated Malay States (1912), Selangor Secretariat File 2037/1913 (NAM). 53. Report of the Fisheries Department, Federated Malay States (1916). 54. Annual Report, Inspector of Fisheries, Federated Malay States (1912), para. 37. 55. Annual Report of the Federated Malay States (1916), para. 83. 56. Reports and correspondence in Negri Sembilan Secretariat File 2549/1918 (NAM). 57. Robinson, “Memorandum to Mr T.W.H. Kingston’s Notes on Fishing Industry in F.M.S.” 58. C.N. Maxwell, Preliminary Report on the Economic Position of the Fishing Industry of the S.S. and F.M.S. (Singapore, 1921). 59. David G. Stead, General Report upon the Fisheries of British Malaya with Recommendations for Future Development (Sydney: Government Printer, 1923). 60. Report of the Fisheries Department, Federated Malay States (1917), Selangor Secretariat File 1134/1918 (NAM). 61. Watson, Mangrove Forests, p. 223. 62. Report of the Fisheries Department, Federated Malay States (1916). 63. Acting deputy conservator of forests, Selangor, 24 April 1921, Selangor Secretariat File 1721/1921 (NAM). 64. Yap, “Fisheries Development on the West Coast of Peninsular Malaysia”, p. 123. 65. Ibid.; Annual Report of Fisheries, Malaya (1927), p. 125. 66. Annual Report of Fisheries, Malaya (1931), p. 877. 67. Masyhuri, Pasang Surut Usaha Perikanan Laut, chap. 3. 68. Onderzoek naar de Mindere Welvaart der Inlandsche Bevolking op Java en Madoera, Overzicht van de Uitkomsten der Gewestelijke Onderzoekingen naar de Vischteelt en Visscherij en daaruit Gemaakte

Notes to Pages 95–98

69. 70.

71. 72. 73.

74. 75. 76.

77.

78.

317

Gevolgtrekkingen, eerste deel (Tekst ) (Batavia: Landsdrukkerij, 1905), p. 63. Van Kampen, Visscherij en Vischteelt in Nederlandsch-Indië, p. 71. Masyhuri, “Usaha penangkapan ikan dan masyarakat nelayan di Indonesia 1880–1940”, Masyarakat Indonesia 20, no. 1 (Juni 1993): 30. Masyhuri, Pasang Surut Usaha Perikanan Laut, pp. 94–96, 110– 12. Onderzoek naar de Mindere Welvaart, Overzicht, pp. 47, 65. Onderzoek naar de Mindere Welvaart, Samentrekking van de Afdeelingsverslagen over de Uitkomsten der Onderzoeken naar de Vischteelt en Visscherij in de Residentie Pekalongan (Batavia: Landsdrukkerij, 1905), replies to questions 456 and 465. Masyhuri, Pasang Surut Usaha Perikanan Laut, pp. 111–12. Onderzoek naar de Mindere Welvaart, Samentrekking … Residentie Pekalongan, reply to question 456. Onderzoek naar de Mindere Welvaart, Samentrekking van de Afdeelingsverslagen over de Uitkomsten der Onderzoeken naar de Vischteelt en Visscherij in de Residentie Soerabaja (Batavia: Landsdrukkerij, 1905), reply to question 456. Onderzoek naar de Mindere Welvaart, Samentrekking van de Afdeelingsverslagen over de Uitkomsten der Onderzoeken naar de Vischteelt en Visscherij in de Residentie Pasoeroean (Batavia: Landsdrukkerij, 1905), reply to question 456. English common names and scientific names from Schuster and Djajadiredja, Local Common Names of Indonesian Fishes, used in conjunction with FishBase. I am unable to identify angi-angi. As for tangkolok, Schuster and Djajadiredja list a fish called tankolok, which apparently referred to two very different fish, a kind of trevally and a kind of pomfret. Onderzoek naar de Mindere Welvaart, Overzicht, pp. 47, 66–67. The commission suggested that if fish had become less abundant in the Madura Strait it was probably due to an increase in shipping through the passage.

318

Notes to Pages 98–100

79. The colonial government of India, which monopolized salt just as the Netherlands Indies government did, began setting up “fishcuring yards” in the 1870s, but I have not come across any sources indicating that the Netherlands Indies government borrowed the idea from India. Peter Reeves, “The Colonial State and the Indian Fishery Industry: Attempts to Restructure Artisanal Production, Processing and Distribution, c.1860–1950”, paper presented at the conference of the Association for Asian Studies, New Orleans, April 1991, p. 3. 80. Instituut voor de Zeevisscherij te Batavia, Jaarverslag 1937, Mededeeling no. 3 (1939), p. 20. 81. A.W. Schippers, Jzn., “De zeevisscherijen van Nederlandsch Indie”, Koloniaal Tijdschrift 17 (1928): 27. 82. A.M. van Roosendaal, “De lajang-visscherij in de Java-Zee en in straat Madoera”, Mededeelingen van het Visscherij-Station te Batavia, no. 5 (1910), p. 36. 83. Schippers, “De zeevisscherijen van Nederlandsch Indie”, p. 27. 84. Onderzoek naar de Mindere Welvaart, Overzicht, p. 66, and Samentrekking … Residentie Pasoeroean, reply to question 465. 85. Vink, “Opmerkingen en beschouwingen over de inlandsche hoogzeevisscherij van Java en Madoera”, p. 22. 86. Van Kampen, “Aanteekeningen omtrent de visscherij van Sumatra en Riouw”, p. 29. 87. Instituut voor de Zeevisscherij te Batavia, Jaarverslag 1937, pp. 20– 21, and Jaarverslag 1938, p. 17. 88. Instituut voor de Zeevisscherij te Batavia, Jaarverslag 1937, p. 22. 89. Instituut voor de Zeevisscherij te Batavia, Jaarverslag 1938, p. 17. I have included salt sales on Bawean but not at Sapeken. 90. Ibid., p. 7; Masset, “Bagan Si Api-api”, p. 864. 91. A.M. Pino, “Zeevisscherij in Indië en buitenlandsche concurrentie”, Koloniaal Tijdschrift 26 (1937): 74–78. 92. Onderzoek naar de Mindere Welvaart, Voorstellen der Welvaartcommissie in zake Vischteelt en Visscherij (Batavia: Landsdrukkerij, 1906), pp. 22–23.

Notes to Pages 100–7

319

93. Masyhuri, Pasang Surut Usaha Perikanan Laut, p. 177. 94. Van Roosendaal, “De lajang-visscherij in de Java-Zee en in straat Madoera”, p. 23. 95. Ibid., p. 26. 96. Van Roosendaal (ibid., pp. 40–41) described the layang fishery as a “plunder fishery” (roofvisscherij) because, he claimed, most fishers equipped their payang with fine sacking that even captured the fish larvae. Referring specifically to the fishery around Bawean, Vink disputed this, noting that almost none of the fishers used such sacking, as tiny fish had virtually no market value. W.C.A. Vink, “Verslag der verrichtingen van het onderzoekingsvaartuig voor de visscherij ‘Gier’ over 1910”, Mededeelingen van het Visscherij-Station te Batavia, no. 6 (1911), p. 9. 97. C.J. Bottemanne, “Gebondenheid der lokkervisscherij”, pp. 117– 18. 98. Instituut voor de Zeevisscherij te Batavia, Jaarverslag 1937, pp. 6– 7. 99. Bottemanne, “Gebondenheid der lokkervisscherij”, p. 119. 100. Bottomanne (ibid.) attributed the disappearance of the fishing grounds that lay just north of the channel between Java and Madura largely to a shifting of the mouth of the Solo River that apparently had taken place since Van Roosendaal prepared his map. This shifting appears to have made the waters in the old fishing grounds less saline and therefore less suitable for scads, thus presumably forcing fishers from Weru and nearby villages to move further from shore and perhaps in turn forcing some accommodation on the part of fishers from other villages. 101. Van der Plas, “De visscherij en de vischhandel in den Kangean- en Sapoediarchipel”, p. 534. 102. Van der Plas identifies this fish as Lutjanus annularis, for which FishBase gives L. erythropterus as the valid name. 103. Van der Plas, “De visscherij en de vischhandel in den Kangean- en Sapoediarchipel”, p. 530. 104. Ibid., pp. 523, 525, 535.

320

Notes to Pages 107–13

105. Onderzoek naar de Mindere Welvaart, Samentrekking van de Afdeelingsverslagen over de Uitkomsten der Onderzoeken naar de Vischteelt en Visscherij in de Residentie Madoera (Batavia: Landsdrukkerij, 1905), reply to question 462; Vink, “Opmerkingen en beschouwingen over de inlandsche hoogzeevisscherij van Java en Madoera”, p. 23. 106. Van der Plas, “De visscherij en de vischhandel in den Kangean- en Sapoediarchipel”, p. 534. 107. Ibid. 108. Ibid. 109. A.M. van Roosendaal, “Verslag der verrichtingen van het onderzoekingsvaartuig ‘Gier’ over het jaar 1909”, Mededeelingen van het Visscherij-Station te Batavia, no. 5 (1910), p. 11. Van der Plas states that the monopoly had less of an impact on the driftnet fishers even though they had to pay the full price for the government’s salt, as they caught fish that fetched high prices or could be processed with relatively little salt. “De visscherij en de vischhandel in den Kangean- en Sapoediarchipel”, p. 525. 110. Van der Plas, “De visscherij en de vischhandel in den Kangean- en Sapoediarchipel”, p. 521. 111. Ibid., p. 539–41; Djoemhana, “Versalg betreffendde het onderzoek van de zeevisscherij in de omgeving van Sapeken”, pp. 79–81. 112. Van der Plas, “De visscherij en de vischhandel in den Kangean- en Sapoediarchipel”, p. 534; Masyhuri, Pasang Surut Usaha Perikanan Laut, pp. 133–34. 113. Djoemhana, “Versalg betreffendde het onderzoek van de zeevisscherij in de omgeving van Sapeken”, p. 100. 114. Instituut voor de Zeevisscherij te Batavia, Jaarverslag 1937, p. 24. 115. Djoemhana, “Versalg betreffendde het onderzoek van de zeevisscherij in de omgeving van Sapeken”, pp. 81, 100. 116. Van der Plas, “De visscherij en de vischhandel in den Kangean- en Sapoediarchipel”, p. 522. 117. Report of the Philippine Commission to the President (Washington, D.C.: Government Printing Office, 1901), vol. 3, p. 319.

Notes to Pages 113–15

321

118. Umali, “The Fishery Industries of San Miguel Bay”, p. 238. 119. Florencio Talavera and Heraclio R. Montalban, “Fishing Appliances of Panay, Negros, and Cebu”, Philippine Journal of Science 48 (1932): 457. 120. Jose S. Domanty, “The Fishery Industries of Zamboanga”, Philippine Journal of Science 71 (1940): 84; Albert W.C.T. Herre, “Philippine Fisheries and Their Possibilities”, Far Eastern Quarterly 4 (1945): 160. 121. Umali, “The Fishery Industries of San Miguel Bay”, p. 242; Talavera and Montalban, “Fishing Appliances of Panay, Negros, and Cebu”, p. 471. Deep water corrals in waters along the southwest coast of Samar were constructed in waters between 18 and 22 metres deep, according to Agustin F. Umali, “The Fishery Industries of Southwestern Samar”, Philippine Journal of Science 54, no. 3 (1934): 377. 122. Talavera and Montalban, “Fishing Appliances of Panay, Negros, and Cebu”, p. 465. 123. Ibid., p. 471. 124. Szanton, Estancia in Transition, pp. 27–28. 125. Umali, “The Fishery Industries of San Miguel Bay”, pp. 236, 242. 126. Szanton, Estancia in Transition, p. 29. 127. Claro Martin, “The Flying-fish Industry of the Northwestern and Southwestern Coasts of Cebu”, Philippine Journal of Science, 67 (1938): 177. 128. Szanton (Estancia in Transition, p. 27) gives Sardinella longiceps as the scientific name, but FishBase states that S. longiceps is found only in the northern and western parts of the Indian Ocean, although it could possibly reach as far east the Andaman Islands, and that for this reason “studies pertaining to this species from the Philippines or Indonesia probably refer to S. lemuru”. 129. Szanton, Estancia in Transition, p. 28. 130. “Fish and Fish Products”, Bureau of Science Press Bulletin, no. 76, 29 August 1917, Bureau of Insular Affairs, National Archives, Washington, D.C., 350/5/385/4507/71A. I am indebted to Howard Dick for copying this and other sources on the Philippine

322

131. 132.

133. 134. 135.

136. 137. 138. 139.

140.

141. 142. 143. 144. 145.

Notes to Pages 115–17

fisheries during his visit to the archives. Catherine Porter, “Philippines Neglects Fisheries Resources”, Far Eastern Survey 9 (19 June 1940): 157. Census Office of the Philippine Islands, Census of the Philippine Islands … 1918 (Manila: Bureau of Printing, 1921), vol. 4, part 1, p. 589. Herre and Mendoza, “Bañgos Culture in the Philippine Islands”, p. 451. Herre, “Philippine Fisheries and Their Possibilities”, p. 162. As seems to be suggested in F. Eggan, E.D. Hester, and N.S. Ginsburg, Area Handbook for the Philippines (Chicago: Human Relations Area Files, 1955), p. 1439. Umali, “The Fishery Industries of San Miguel Bay”, p. 255. Porter, “Philippines Neglects Fisheries Resources”, p. 155. Herre, “Philippine Fisheries and Their Possibilities”, p. 158. Aye Hlaing, “Trends of Economic Growth and Income Distribution, 1870–1940”, Journal of the Burma Research Society 47, no. 1 (June 1964): 103, n. 26. F.D. Maxwell, Report on Inland and Sea Fisheries in the Thongwa, Myaungmya, and Bassein Districts and Report on the Turtle-Banks of the Irrawaddy Division (Rangoon: Office of the Superintendent, Government Printing, Burma, 1904), p. 256 (p. 48 of “Supplementary Report on the Inland and Sea Fisheries in the Thongwa, Myaungmya, and Bassein Districts”). G.F.S. Christie, Report on Madras Fisheries (Rangoon: Office of the Superintendent, Government Printing, Burma, 1919), p. 4. U Khin, Fisheries in Burma (Rangoon: Office of the Superintendent, Government Printing and Stationery, Burma, 1948), p. 55. Ibid., p. 57. Reeves, “The Colonial State and the Indian Fishery Industry”, p. 3. Aye Hlaing, “Trends of Economic Growth and Income Distribution, 1870–1940”, Journal of the Burma Research Society 47, no. 1 (June 1964): 104.

Notes to Pages 117–24

323

146. Maxwell, Report on the Inland and Sea Fisheries, p. 128 (p. 66 of “Report on Inland Fisheries in the Thongwa, Myaungmya and Bassein Districts”). 147. Christie, Report on Madras Fisheries, p. 26; U Khin, Fisheries in Burma, p. 58. 148. Maxwell, Report on the Inland and Sea Fisheries, p. 257 (p. 49 of “Supplementary Report”). Emphasis (and grammar) in original. 149. Ibid. 150. Ibid., p. 259 (p. 51 of “Supplementary Report”). 151. U Khin, Fisheries in Burma, p. 55. 152. Christie, Report on Madras Fisheries, p. 26. 153. Maxwell, Report on the Inland and Sea Fisheries, p. 258 (p. 50 of “Supplementary Report”). 154. Christie, Report on Madras Fisheries, p. 3. 155. Annual Statement of the Sea-borne Trade and Navigation of Burma for the Fiscal Year Ending March 31st, 1939–40 (Rangoon: Superintendent, Government Printing and Stationery, Burma, 1940), table 8. 156. C.N. Maxwell, “Malayan Fishes”, Journal of the Straits Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society, no. 84 (November 1921), p. 187.

Chapter 5: Technological Change and the Extension of the Frontier of Fisheries, 1890s to 1930s 1. Assistant collector of land revenue, Kota Bharu,“Notes on Fish Industry”, 23 August 1937, British Advisor Kelantan file 882/1937 (NAM). 2. Annual Report of Fisheries, Malaya (1927), p. 24. 3. P.N. van Kampen, “De paarl- en parelmoervisscherij langs de kusten der Aroe-eilanden”, Mededeelingen van het Visscherij-Station te Batavia, no. 2 (1908), p. 20, gives 7 fathoms (12.6 metres); J.D.F. Hardenberg, “De parelmoervisscherij in het oosten van den Indischen archipel”, Indische Gids, 1939, vol. 2, p. 830, gives 5 fathoms (9 metres). But United States Bureau of the Census, Census

324

4.

5.

6. 7. 8.

9. 10. 11. 12.

13.

14.

Notes to Pages 125–28

of the Philippine Islands … 1903, p. 535, states that “expert divers” in the Sulu Archipelago could reach depths “of 18 to 20 fathoms [32 to 36 metres], unaided by the use of weights”, which divers sometimes used to speed their descent and increase the depth they could reach. Van Kampen, “De paarl- en parelmoervisscherij langs de kusten der Aroe-eilanden”, pp. 21–24; Hardenberg, “De parelmoervisscherij in het oosten van den Indischen archipel”, pp. 828–29. Frank Jardine, “Report”, p. 7, in Government of India, Proceedings of the Department of Revenue and Agriculture for June, 1895: Mergui Pearl Fisheries, no. 1. Other sources from this period give slightly different times for different depths. Van Kampen, “De paarl- en parelmoervisscherij langs de kusten der Aroe-eilanden”, p. 3. Ibid., p. 24. The tender and crew members were paid a fixed wage. R.N. Rudmose Brown and Jas. J. Simpson, Report to the Government of Burma on the Pearl Oyster Fisheries of the Mergui Archipelago and Moskos Islands (Rangoon: Government Printer, 1907), p. 3. Ibid., pp. 4, 23. The “ton” here and in the following paragraph is presumably the English long ton (1.02 metric tons). R.N. Rudmose Brown, “The Mergui Archipelago: Its People and Products”, Scottish Geographical Magazine 23 (1907): 77. Rudmose Brown and Simpson, Report to the Government of Burma on the Pearl Oyster Fisheries, pp. 4, 9. It is also possible, as Brian Fegan has suggested to me, that contrary to the assumption in Rudmose Brown and Simpson’s analysis pearlers had no alternative use for their vessels and diving gears. Regina Ganter, The Pearl-Shellers of Torres Strait: Resource Use, Development and Decline, 1860s–1960s (Melbourne: Melbourne University Press, 1994), p. 28. “Parel- en parelmoervisscherij”, Encylopaedie van Nederlandsch-Indië, 2nd edition 3 (1919): 232; Indische Gids 15, no. II (1893): 1515, 2155; R.E. Verbeek, “De parelvisscherij”, Deli-Courant, 17 June

Notes to Pages 128–31

15. 16.

17.

18. 19.

20. 21. 22.

23. 24. 25. 26. 27.

28.

325

1893; and, for a study based on British and Australian as well as Dutch sources, Steve Mullins, “Australian Pearl-Shellers in the Moluccas: Confrontation and Compromise on a Maritime Frontier”, The Great Circle 23, no. 2 (2001): 3–23. Van Kampen, “De paarl- en parelmoervisscherij langs de kusten der Aroe-eilanden”, p. 2. For a very useful account of this shift, see: Steve Mullins, “From TI to Dobo: The 1905 Departure of the Torres Strait Pearl-Shelling Fleets to Aru, Netherlands East Indies”, The Great Circle 19, no. 1 (1997): 30–39. Royal Commission Appointed to Inquire into the Working of the Pearl-shell and Bêche-de-Mer Industries, Minutes of Evidence (Queensland Parliamentary Papers, 1908), question 746. Ibid., question 4733. Parliament of the Commonwealth of Australia, Royal Commission on the Pearl-Shelling Industry: Progress Report (Melbourne: Government Printer, State of Victoria, 1913), question 1566. Testimony of Reginald Hockings, ibid., question 2498. Van Kampen, “De paarl- en parelmoervisscherij langs de kusten der Aroe-eilanden”, p. 25. Hiroshi Shimizu, “Rise and Fall of Karayuki-san in the Netherlands Indies from the Late Nineteenth Century to the 1930s”, Review of Indonesian and Malaysian Affairs 26, no. 3 (Summer 1992): 30. Ibid., p. 31; Van Kampen, “De paarl- en parelmoervisscherij langs de kusten der Aroe-eilanden”, p. 3. Ganter, The Pearl-Shellers of Torres Strait, p. 197. Van Kampen, “De paarl- en parelmoervisscherij langs de kusten der Aroe-eilanden”, pp. 26–27. Ibid., pp. 4–5. Parliament of the Commonwealth of Australia, Royal Commission on the Pearl-Shelling Industry: Progress Report, testimony by Clark, questions 4483–85. Ibid., testimony by Clark, question 4440.

326

Notes to Pages 131–34

29. The government did stipulate that no oyster weighing less than one kati (0.6 kilograms) could be “fished or dislodged”, but Van Kampen (“De paarl- en parelmoervisscherij langs de kusten der Aroe-eilanden”, pp. 27–28) pointed out the absurdity of this regulation. Van Kampen went on to describe a simple gauge used in the Torres Strait to ensure that the oysters were at least the minimum size required by the Queensland government. At some point the Netherlands Indies government stipulated just as the Queensland government did that shells having a nacre measurement of less than 5 inches could not be collected, but I do not know whether this was enforced. 30. Parliament of the Commonwealth of Australia, Royal Commission on the Pearl-Shelling Industry: Progress Report, question 4398. 31. Ganter, The Pearl-Shellers of Torres Strait, pp. 163, 164, 189. 32. Ibid., p. 164; Mary Albertus Bain, Full Fathom Five (Perth: Artlook Books, 1982), p. 195. Steve Mullins states that Celebes Trading Company fleets began fishing along the southwest coast of New Guinea from an early date and suggests that by working in other areas from time to time they may have given the Aru oyster beds a chance to recover. Personal communications, 16 April and 12 July 1999. 33. Hardenberg, “De parelmoervisscherij in het oosten van den Indischen archipel”, pp. 831–32. 34. Royal Commission Appointed to Inquire into the Working of the Pearl-shell and Bêche-de-Mer Industries, Minutes of Evidence, testimony of Herbert Bowden, question 6066. 35. United States Bureau of the Census, Census of the Philippine Islands … 1903, p. 534. 36. Alvin Seale, “Sea Products of Mindanao and Sulu, II: Pearls, Pearl Shells, and Button Shells”, Philippine Journal of Science 11 (1916): 258. 37. Florencio Talavera, “Pearl Fisheries of Sulu”, Philippine Journal of Science 43 (1930): 497. 38. Seale, “Sea Products of Mindanao and Sulu”, p. 245.

Notes to Pages 134–38

39. 40. 41. 42.

43. 44. 45. 46. 47. 48. 49. 50.

51.

52.

53.

327

Talavera, “Pearl Fisheries of Sulu”, p. 495. Seale, “Sea Products of Mindanao and Sulu”, p. 247. Talavera, “Pearl Fisheries of Sulu”, p. 487. In this they probably had the support of the Sultan of Sulu, who shortly after the U.S. takeover claimed the right to exclude outsiders (“the mother-of-pearl shells are like the property in our boxes given to us by God”) and who, as noted, himself engaged in pearling. See “Statement Made by the Sultan of Sulu Relative to the Pearl Fisheries”, in The Book of the Pearl, by Kunz and Stevenson, pp. 215– 18. Seale, “Sea Products of Mindanao and Sulu”, pp. 248, 249. Ibid., p. 250. Ibid. Talavera, “Pearl Fisheries of Sulu”, p. 490. Seale, “Sea Products of Mindanao and Sulu”, p. 264. D.H. Cushing, The Provident Sea (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1988), chap. 5. Straits Settlements, The Fisheries of the Straits Settlements and the Protected Native States, pp. 5, 15. A.M. van Roosendaal, “Verslag der verrichtingen van het onderzoekingsvaartuig ‘Gier’ gedurende het tijdvak 2 September 1907 (datum van indienstelling) tot U°. 1908”, Mededeelingen van het Visscherij-Station te Batavia, no. 4 (1909), p. 14. W.C.A. Vink, “Rapport over de toepassing van Europeesche grondnetten in de wateren om Java en Madoera”, Mededeelingen van het Visscherij-Station te Batavia, no. 8 (1912), pp. 1–25. Peter Reeves, Andrew Pope, John McGuire, and Bob Pokrant, “Mapping India’s Marine Resources: Colonial State Experiments, c.1908–1930”, South Asia 19, no. 1 (1996): 17–22. Commissioner of Fisheries, Bureau of Fisheries, to Colonel Frank McIntyre, Bureau of Insular Affairs, 2 January 1912, Archives of the Bureau of Insular Affairs (National Archives, Washington, D.C.), 350/5/385/4507/48. I am indebted to Howard Dick for

328

54.

55.

56. 57. 58. 59. 60.

61.

62. 63.

64.

Notes to Pages 138–42

copying this letter for me. See also “Helping the Filipino Fisheries”, National Geographic, December 1907, pp. 795–96. The survey, which was directed by Hugh M. Smith, had the encouragement of President Roosevelt. Herbert E. Warfel and Porfirio R. Manacop, Otter Trawl Explorations in Philippine Waters, Fish and Wildlife Service, Research Report 25 (Washington: United States Government Printing Office, 1950), p. 5. Hiroshi Shimizu, “The Japanese Fisheries Based in Singapore, 1892–1945”, Journal of Southeast Asian Studies 28 (1997): 338, n.73. Maxwell, Preliminary Report on the Economic Position of the Fishing Industry of the S.S. and F.M.S. Stead, General Report upon the Fisheries of British Malaya, pp. 65– 74. Green, Report on the S.T. “Tongkol” for the Year 1927, p. 7. See also Annual Report of Fisheries, Malaya (1927), para. 7. Ibid., p. 14. For a description see A. Gruvel, L’Indo-Chine: Ses Richesses Marines et Fluviales (Paris: Société d’Éditions Géographiques, Maritimes et Coloniales, 1925), pp. 296–99. P. Chevey, “The Great Lake of Cambodia: The Underlying Causes of Its Richness in Fish” (paper B6, 34) and “The Method of Reading Scales and the Fish of the Intertropical Zone” (paper B6, 35), Proceedings of the Fifth Pacific Science Congress, Victoria and Vancouver, B.C., Canada, 1933 (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1934), pp. 3809–29. Chevey, “The Great Lake of Cambodia”, p. 3815. Gourou, Land Utilization in French Indochina, pp. 432–33. The catch rate figures come from this source as well. I have not made use of the extensive French reports on this research that I assume exist. Agustin F. Umali, “The Japanese Beam Trawl Used in Philippine Waters”, Philippine Journal of Science 48 (1932): 389–408; Heraclio

Notes to Pages 142–43

65.

66. 67.

68. 69. 70. 71. 72.

329

R. Montalban and Claro Martin, “Two Japanese Fishing Methods Used by Japanese Fishermen in Philippine Waters”, Philippine Journal of Science 42 (1930): 471–77; Umali, “The Fishery Industries of San Miguel Bay”, pp. 236–38. Umali, “The Fishery Industries of San Miguel Bay”, pp. 236, 253– 55, and “The Japanese Beam Trawl Used in Philippine Waters”, pp. 407–8. Porfirio R. Manacop, “Commercial Trawling in the Philippines”, Philippine Journal of Fisheries 3 (1955): 173. Shindo identifies this fish as Argyrops cardinalis. FishBase lists no such species, but it probably was Argyrops spinifer (King soldierbream) or Argyrops bleekeri (Taiwan tai). Shigeaki Shindo, General Review of the Trawl Fishery and Demersal Fish Stocks of the South China Sea, FAO Fisheries Technical Paper, no. 120 (Rome: FAO, 1973), p. 9. Ibid., pp. 7–10. Eric Robertson, The Singapore File: Pre-war Japanese Penetration into Southeast Asia (Hong Kong: Heinemann, 1979), p. 58. Ibid.; Shimizu, “The Japanese Fisheries Based in Singapore”, p. 338. See Instituut voor de Zeevisscherij te Batavia, Jaarverslag 1938, pp. 29–31. The main catch was Leiognathus species (ponyfish). In 1922 two Dutchmen rounded up enough capital to send a trawler from Holland, but they undertook only one fishing trip in the Indies. Later, two other Dutchmen were on the verge of setting up a company with the support of the Netherlands Indies government to supply fish to the local market. At some point they decided they wanted to catch sharks (for the skin, fins, and oil as well as flesh) instead. By this time the government had already granted a Dutch planter a concession to do this in the territorial waters of the western part of the Indies, but one of the pair was granted a similar concession for eastern areas. I have no reports on whether either of these concessions was ever operative. “Een Nederlandsch-Indisch visscherijbedrijf ”, Indische Gids 44 (1922): 960; R. Broersma, “Westersche zeevisscherij voor Ned.-Indië”, Koloniaal Tijdschrift 16 (1927): 454–62; “Ned.-Indië en het visscherijbedrijf ”, Indische

330

73. 74. 75.

76. 77.

78. 79. 80. 81.

82. 83. 84. 85.

Notes to Pages 144–48

Gids 51 (1929): 512–16; “Zeevisscherij in Indië”, Indische Gids 51 (1929): 1249–56; “L’installation des pêcheries maritimes Européenes aux Indes Néerlandaises”, Bulletin Économique de l’Indochine 33 (Juin 1930B): 529B. Annual Report of Fisheries, Malaya (1930), p. 326. Montalban and Martin, “Two Japanese Fishing Methods Used by Japanese Fishermen in Philippine Waters”, p. 465. J. Reuter, “Een nieuwe inheemsche visscherij”, Koloniale Studiën 24 (1940): 209. The boats used in one of them belonged to a Chinese. Annual Report of Fisheries, Malaya (1932), p. 437. “Japanese Fishing Methods in Tropical Waters”, Monthly Economic Bulletin, no. 1 (August 1946): 1. Other accounts give slightly different descriptions. For example, several accounts state that the weight at the end of the rope which the men used to scare the fish into the net was a piece of lead rather than several links of chain. Among other descriptions two of the most detailed are: Montalban and Martin, “Two Japanese Fishing Methods Used by Japanese Fishermen in Philippine Waters”, pp. 465–71; Reuter, “Een nieuwe inheemsche visscherij”, pp. 200–11. For a detailed post-war description see T.W. Burdon, The Fishing Gear of the State of Singapore (Singapore: Fisheries Department, 1959). Annual Report of Fisheries, Malaya (1932), p. 436. Reuter, “Een nieuwe inheemsche visscherij”, p. 207. Ibid., pp. 208–9. Annual Report of Fisheries, Malaya (1932), p. 437, (1933), p. 563; Shimizu, “The Japanese Fisheries Based in Singapore”, pp. 332– 33. Robertson, The Singapore File, p. 54; Shimizu, “The Japanese Fisheries Based in Singapore”, pp. 329–21. Montalban and Martin, “Two Japanese Fishing Methods Used by Japanese Fishermen in Philippine Waters”, p. 470. “Japanese Fishing Methods in Tropical Waters”, p. 1. Shimizu, “The Japanese Fisheries Based in Singapore”, p. 338.

Notes to Pages 148–50

331

86. In 1936 Tora Eifuku applied for a licence to fish in the Mergui Archipelago, but he had in fact already been operating there for several years. “Fishery by Japanese in the Mergui Archipelago”, series 1/7, accession no. 1266, 1936–37, file no. IV–8 (National Archives of Myanmar). I am grateful to Paul Kratoska for a copy of this file. 87. Annual Report of Fisheries, Malaya (1925), p. 402. 88. Annual Report of Fisheries, Malaya (1932), p. 436. 89. H. van Pel, “Beschrijving der beoefening in de Japansche moero ami visscherij”, Mededeeling van de Onderafdeeling Zeevisscherij, no. 2B (1938), p. 222. 90. Instituut voor de Zeevisscherij te Batavia, Jaarverslag 1937, p. 12. 91. According to two sources, Southeast Asians had methods of catching reef fish using the same principle as a muro ami. According to Delsman and Hardenberg (De Indische Zeevisschen en Zeevisscherij, p. 50), Ambonese fishers “use a long, floating rope interwoven with palm leaves. The ekor kuning [fusiliers] dare not swim under this rope, which is used to drive them towards the net in the same manner as the Japanese do with their white pieces of cloth.” Umali (“The Fishery Industries of Southwestern Samar”, pp. 379–80) describes a somewhat more elaborate method, again using palm leaves, that was “very common” in Villareal, Samar. I have not been able to establish whether these methods predated the Japanese or were adaptations of muro ami. In Visscherij en Vischteelt in Nederlandsch-Indië (p. 47), published in 1922, Van Kampen describes a method used on the reefs near Jakarta that clearly did predate the Japanese. There, fusiliers were caught by hooks baited with shrimp after throwing rebon (tiny sergestid shrimp) into the water to attract them. 92. Markus, De Japansche Visscherij, pp. 6, 8. 93. Instituut voor de Zeevisscherij te Batavia, Jaarverslag 1938, pp. 12, 21–22; Reuter, “Een nieuwe inheemsche visscherij”, pp. 211–12. 94. Reuter, “Een nieuwe inheemsche visscherij”, p. 213. 95. Except where noted this paragraph is based on Annual Report of Fisheries, Malaya (1932), pp. 437–38.

332

Notes to Pages 151–55

96. “Japanese Fishing Methods in Tropical Waters”, pp. 4–5. 97. “Japanese Fishing Interests in Malayan and Adjacent Waters”, appendix B of “Report on Japanese Interests in Malaya”, in General Officer Commanding the Troops, Malaya, to Under-Secretary of State, the War Office, 24 August 1932, CO273/581, file no. 92053 (Public Record Office, London). 98. Annual Report of Fisheries, Malaya (1930), p. 306. The scientific names used in the report are Euthynnus pelamis and Germo sibi respectively. Katsuwonus pelamis and Thunnus obesus are the current valid names. FishBase. 99. Longhurst and Pauly, Ecology of Tropical Oceans, p. 209. 100. Annual Report of Fisheries, Malaya (1932), p. 439. 101. Annual Report of Fisheries, Malaya (1930), p. 306. 102. Brandt, Fish Catching Methods of the World, pp. 303–4; Cushing, The Provident Sea, pp. 119–22. 103. Martin, “The Flying-Fish Industry of the Northwestern and Southwestern Coasts of Cebu”, pp. 180–83. 104. L. Guilbert, “La pêche dans le Golfe du Tonkin”, Bulletin Économique de l’Indochine 19, no. 118 (Mars–Avril 1916): 133, 143. 105. Annual Report of Fisheries, Malaya (1937), p. 6. The sources I have seen say nothing about what fishing gears these people used at various stages of their migration or whether they were in some way connected with the people purse seining in the Gulf of Tonkin. 106. Annual Report of Fisheries, Malaya (1930), p. 308. 107. Ishak bin Ahmad, in ibid. 108. Annual Report of Fisheries, Malaya (1937), p. 6. 109. Annual Report of Fisheries, Malaya (1930), p. 309, and (1931), p. 875. 110. Annual Report of Fisheries, Malaya (1937), p. 6. 111. Annual Report of Fisheries, Malaya (1937), p. 7. 112. Annual Report of Fisheries, Malaya (1938), p. 1. “Japanese Fishing Methods in Tropical Waters” (p. 4) gives a total of fifty-two in 1940.

Notes to Pages 155–58

333

113. Specifically, “to as far as Pulo Jarak”. Annual Report of Fisheries, Malaya (1937), p. 7. 114. Annual Report of Fisheries, Malaya (1937), pp. 8–10; (1938), p. 2. 115. Annual Report of Fisheries, Malaya (1933), p. 564. For a detailed description of this fishery in 1948, see: K. Gopinath, “The Malayan Purse Seine (Pukat Jerut) Fishery”, Journal of the Malayan Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society 23, no. 3 (1950): 75–96. 116. Annual Report of Fisheries, Malaya (1930), p. 309. By about this time purse seining had also been adopted by fishers, Thais as well as Chinese, based in Siam. The Thais later enlarged the Chinese net to make the “Thai purse seine”. Somsak Chullasorn, “Review of the Small Pelagic Resources and Their Fisheries in the Gulf of Thailand”, in Small Pelagic Resources and Their Fisheries in the Asia-Pacific Region, edited by M. Devaraj and P. Martosubroto (Bangkok: Regional Office for Asia and the Pacific, FAO, 1997), p. 340. 117. An exception was those at Davao who supplied the large Japanese community there. 118. For a description of how katusobushi was prepared at Ambon: Markus, De Japansche Visscherij, pp. 3–4. 119. Letter from Dr Hara Fujio, Institute of Developing Economies, Tokyo, 17 June 1994. For more detail on the companies see Yoshiaki Matsuda and Kazuomi Ouchi, “Legal, Political, and Economic Constraints on Japanese Strategies for Distant-Water Tuna and Skipjack Fisheries in Southeast Asian Seas and the Western Central Pacific”, Memoirs of the Kagoshima University Research Center for the South Pacific 5, no. 2 (1984): 157–59. 120. Markus, De Japansche Visscherij, p. 1. 121. For two descriptions, differing slightly in detail: Markus, De Japansche Visscherij, pp. 2–3; Jose S. Domanty, “Tuna Fishing in Southern Mindanao”, Philippine Journal of Science 73 (1940): 423– 32. 122. Domanty, “Tuna Fishing in Southern Mindanao”, p. 433. These figures were fairly small compared with landings by Japanese pole and liners operating in the Japanese mandated territories: 33,000

334

123. 124. 125. 126.

127.

128. 129. 130.

131. 132. 133. 134. 135.

Notes to Pages 158–63

tons in 1937 and 13,000 tons in 1938. Richard N. Uchida, “The Skipjack Tuna Fishery in Palau”, in The Koroshio: A Symposium on the Japan Current, edited by John C. Marr (Honolulu: East-West Center Press, 1970), p. 571. Domanty, “Tuna Fishing in Southern Mindanao”, pp. 432–33. Annual Report of Fisheries, Malaya (1932), pp. 431, 439. Robertson, The Singapore File, p. 51; Annual Report of Fisheries, Malaya (1933), p. 562. Matsuda and Ouchi, “Legal, Political, and Economic Constraints”, p. 155. This source gives a different name for the ship but it is clearly the same one. H.C. Delsman and J.D.F. Hardenberg, De Indische Zeevisschen en Zeevisscherij (Batavia: N.V. Boekhandel en Drukkerij, 1934), pp. 336, 340. Matsuda and Ouchi, “Legal, Political, and Economic Constraints”, p. 156. Vink, “Eeninge opmerkingen en beschouwingen over de inlandsche hoogzeevisscherij van Java en Madoera”, p. 41. Bottemanne, Principles of Fisheries Development, especially pp. 472– 78 (from which the quoted words are taken), and “De oorzaken van de meer-opbrengst door het gebruik van motoren bij de majangzeevisscherij”, Instituut voor de Zeevisscherij te Batavia, Mededeeling no. 2B (1938): 120–23. The annual reports of the institute contain a great deal of information about the types of motors and boats used, investment costs and running expenses, and proceeds from the sale of catches. No other state in Southeast Asia approached the question of motorization with anywhere near the same degree of thoroughness. Umali, “The Fishery Industries of Southwestern Samar”, pp. 372– 77. Szanton, Estancia in Transition, p. 29. Ibid., p. 30. For much more detail see Spoehr, Protein from the Sea, pp. 74–84. Domanty, “The Fishery Industries of Zamboanga”, pp. 92–93.

Notes to Pages 164–67

335

136. W.C.A. Vink, “Verslag der verrichtingen van het onderzoekingsvaartuig voor de visscherij ‘Gier’ over 1910”, Mededeelingen van het Visscherij-Station te Batavia, no. 6 (1911), p. 4. 137. Robertson, The Singapore File, pp. 56, 60. The motor boat was the Ryufuku Maru, a 32-ton vessel licensed as a driftnetter and fish carrier. “List of Japanese-powered Boats Licensed in 1937”, Kuantan District Office file 206/1936 (NAM). 138. Porter, “Philippines Neglects Fisheries Resources”, pp. 155–56. 139. Cynthia Neri Zayas, “Pangayaw and Tumandok in the Maritime World of the Visayan Islanders”, in Fishers of the Visayas, edited by Ushijima and Zayas, p. 95. 140. Serafin D. Quiason, “The Japanese Community in Manila: 1898– 1941”, Philippine Historical Review 3 (1970): 209. 141. Markus, De Japansche Visscherij, p. 4. 142. Van Pel, “Beschrijving der beoefening in de Japansche moero ami visscherij”, p. 224. 143. Shimizu, “The Japanese Fisheries Based in Singapore”, pp. 338– 40; Quaison, “The Japanese Community in Manila”, p. 213; Virginia Thompson, Thailand: The New Siam (New York: Macmillan, 1941), p. 477. As Landon makes clear, the Thai act was aimed as much at Chinese fishers resident in Thailand, most of whom were regarded as having Chinese nationality, as it was at the Japanese. Kenneth Perry Landon, The Chinese in Thailand (New York: Russell and Russell, 1941), pp. 236–37. 144. See, for example, “Japanese Fishing Interests in Malayan and Adjacent Waters” as well as Robertson, The Singapore File, pp. 59–61. 145. Masyhuri, Pasang Surut Usaha Perikanan Laut, pp. 187–88. 146. Markus, De Japansche Visscherij, pp. 4–5. 147. “Japansche visscherij in Indië”, Indische Gids 51 (1929): 1256. 148. Joseph Ralston Hayden, The Philippines: A Study in National Development (New York: Macmillan, 1942), p. 715. 149. Masyhuri, Pasang Surut Usaha Perikanan Laut, p. 185; Hayden, The Philippines, p. 716; Robertson, The Singapore File, pp. 60–61. 150. Shimizu, “The Japanese Fisheries Based in Singapore”, p. 341.

336

Notes to Pages 168–70

Chapter 6: The Great Fish Race 1. D.W. Le Mare, “Malaya’s Fishing Industry: Guiding the Fishermen to Modernisation”, Malaya, July 1954, p. 391. The “ton” referred to here is probably the English long ton (1.02 metric tons). 2. See Table 6.1. 3. Szanton, Estancia in Transition, p. 31. 4. Mamoru Takakuwa and Lilian de la Peña, “The Life Story of an Old Fisherman: A Preliminary Report on Fishing in Botlog Island, Northeastern Panay”, in Fishers of the Visayas, edited by Ushijima and Neri Zayas, p. 269. See also p. 95 of the same volume. 5. Firth, Malay Fishermen, pp. 298–99. 6. FAO,Report of the FAO Fisheries Mission for Thailand (Washington: FAO, 1949), p. 73. 7. Ibid. 8. “Japanese Fishing Methods in Tropical Waters”, p. 2. 9. Shimizu, “The Japanese Fisheries Based in Singapore”, pp. 340– 42. 10. Le Mare, “Malaya’s Fishing Industry”, p. 391. 11. Mary F. Somers Heidhues, “Citizenship and Identity: Ethnic Chinese and the Indonesian Revolution”, in Changing Identities of the Southeast Asian Chinese since World War II, edited by Jennifer W. Cushman and Wang Gungwu (Hong Kong: Hong Kong University Press, 1988), p. 136, n. 56. 12. Sulaeman Krisnandhi, “The Economic Development of Indonesia’s Sea Fishing Industry”, Bulletin of Indonesian Economic Studies 5, no. 1 (March 1969): 52. 13. Minutes of Fisheries Conference, Singapore, 6–8 January 1947, p. 6, MU 6865/1946 (NAM). 14. D.O. Jardine, “Memorandum on Malayan Fisheries”, 17 March 1946, p. 6, RC Selangor 993/1946 (NAM). 15. Minutes of Fisheries Conference, Singapore, 6–8 January 1947, p. 7, and Killearn to Foreign Office, telegram containing conference

Notes to Pages 171–77

16.

17.

18.

19. 20.

21.

22.

23. 24.

25. 26.

337

communiqué, 9 January 1947, MU 6865/1946. Based on data compiled by Pierre van der Eng. For analysis see: Charles Hirschman, “Population and Society in Twentieth-Century Southeast Asia”, Journal of Southeast Asian Studies 25, no. 2 (September 1994): 381–416. For an analysis of the consumption data available in the early 1980s, see J.M. Floyd, “The Political Economy of Fisheries Development in Indonesia, Malaysia, the Philippines, and Thailand” (Ph.D. dissertation, University of Hawaii, 1985), chap. 4. Murai Yoshinori, “The Life and Times of Shrimp”, AMPO JapanAsia Quarterly Review 18, no. 4 (1987), pp. 4, 9. See also K.P.P. Nambiar, “The Japanese Market for Shrimp”, INFOFISH Marketing Digest, no. 1/84 (January–February 1984), pp. 21–25. Sulaeman, “The Economic Development of Indonesia’s Sea Fishing Industry”, pp. 52–53, 64. Jesse M. Floyd, International Fish Trade of Southeast Asian Nations, Research Report no. 16 (Honolulu: East-West Environment and Policy Institute, East-West Center, 1984), p. 8. Firth, Malay Fishermen, p. 346. For a fine analysis of the relationship between various changes in the case of Malaya, see Marion W. Ward, “Malayan Fishing Ports and Their Inland Connections”, Tijdschrift voor Economische en Sociale Geografie 55 (1964): 113–42. Virginia L. Aprieto, “Philippine Tuna Fisheries: Resource and Industry”, Fisheries Research Journal of the Philippines, p. 59. For more examples see Emmerson, Rethinking Artisanal Fisheries Development, pp. 58, 61. See Appendix 2. Porfirio R. Manacop, “The Future of the Trawling Industry in the Philippines”, Bulletin of the Fisheries Society of the Philippines 1 (1950): 27. For details on the various MacArthur lines, see Matsuda and Ouchi, “Legal, Political, and Economic Constraints”, pp. 160–63. Eggan, Hester, and Ginsburg, Area Handbook for the Philippines, p. 1472.

338

Notes to Pages 178–83

27. Szanton, Estancia in Transition, pp. 31–32 (for both quotes), 119. 28. See, for example, Roberto Galvez and Marie Sol M. Sadorra, “Blast Fishing: A Philippine Case Study”, Tropical Coastal Area Management 3, no. 1 (1988): 9–10. 29. Manacop, “Commercial Trawling in the Philippines”, p. 129. 30. Ibid., pp. 117–18. 31. Ibid., pp. 182–83. Conversion from pesos to U.S. dollars made using the free market exchange rate in 1955. 32. Warfel and Manacop, Otter Trawl Explorations in Philippine Waters, pp. 8–10. 33. Eggan, Hester, and Ginsburg, Area Handbook for the Philippines, p. 1424. 34. Warfel and Manacop, Otter Trawl Explorations in Philippine Waters, p. 1. 35. Manacop, “The Future of the Trawling Industry in the Philippines”, pp. 28–29. 36. Inocencio A. Ronquillo, Priscilla Caces-Borja, and Antonio Mines, “Preliminary Observations on the Otter Trawl Fishery of Manila Bay”, Philippine Journal of Fisheries 8, no. 1 (1960): 53. 37. Claro Martin and H.E. Warfel, “Outlook for Industrialization of the Philippine Fisheries”, Philippine Journal of Fisheries 1, no. 1 (1951): 109. 38. Santos B. Rasalan, “Marine Fisheries of the Central Visayas”, Philippine Journal of Fisheries 5, no. 1 (January–June 1957): 86. 39. Warfel and Manacop reported that no trawlers were operating in the bay at the time of their survey in July 1947, but they also noted that the bay was closed to trawlers between 1 June and 31 October each year. Otter Trawl Explorations in Philippine Waters, pp. 9, 21. 40. Larger trawlers occasionally fished in the bay but mainly operated outside the bay. My figure of “as many as eighty-nine” excludes both these trawlers and “mini” trawlers, which focused almost entirely on capturing sergestid shrimps. 41. Daniel Pauly and Antonio N. Mines, eds, Small-scale Fisheries of

Notes to Pages 183–88

42. 43.

44.

45. 46. 47. 48. 49. 50.

51.

52.

53. 54.

339

San Miguel Bay, Philippines: Biology and Stock Assessment (Manila: ICLARM, 1982), pp. 95–124 (chapter by Pauly) and 65–80 (chapter by J.M. Vakily); Ian R. Smith, Daniel Pauly, and Antonio N. Mines, Small-scale Fisheries of San Miguel Bay, Philippines: Options for Management and Research, ICLARM Technical Reports 11 (Manila: ICLARM, 1983), pp. 10, 13, 14 (for quote). Gonzalo G. Ferrer, “Rigging Motor Vessels as Basnigan”, Bulletin of the Fisheries Society of the Philippines 2 (1951): 34. Porfirio R. Manacop and Sixto V. Laron, “Two Outstanding Commercial Fishing Gear Used in Philippine Waters”, Bulletin of the Fisheries Society of the Philippines 3 and 4 (1952–53): 74, 77. P.P. Dinglasan, “The Introduction, Development, Description and Operation of Modern One-boat Purse Seining in the Philippines”, Philippine Journal of Fisheries 8, no. 2 (July 1960–December 1970): 127. Szanton, Estancia in Transition, pp. 32–33. Rasalan, “Marine Fisheries of the Central Visayas”, p. 88. Szanton, Estancia in Transition, p. 129. Ibid., pp. 118–19. Ronquillo, Caces-Borja, and Mines, “Preliminary Observations on the Otter Trawl Fishery of Manila Bay”, pp. 48–49, 54–55. Porfirio R. Manacop and Sixto V. Laron, “The ‘Dug-out’ Trawl Fishery of Manila Bay”, Philippine Journal of Fisheries 4 (1956): 103–18; Manacop, “Commercial Trawling in the Philippines”, p. 132 (quote). David J. Doulman, “The Development and Expansion of the Tuna Purse Seine Fishery”, in Tuna Issues and Perspectives in the Pacific Islands Region, edited by Doulman, p. 134. Dinglasan, “The Introduction, Development, Description and Operation of Modern One-boat Purse Seining in the Philippines”, p. 132. Ibid., pp. 125–50. Martin and Warfel, “Outlook for Industrialization of the Philippine Fisheries”, p. 109.

340

Notes to Pages 188–92

55. Domingo D. Tapiador, “A Report on Deepsea Longline Fishing for Tuna in the Philippines”, Bulletin of the Fisheries Society of the Philippines 2 (1951): 26. 56. Aprieto, “Philippine Tuna Fisheries: Resource and Industry”, pp. 62–63, 59. 57. Ibid., p. 62, for distance from shore and apart in miles (20 to 60 and 7 respectively), apparently nautical miles, and Virginia L. Aprieto and Ruben Ganaden, “A Review of the Philippine Tuna Fishery”, University of the Philippines in the Visayas Fisheries Journal 3, nos. 1–2 (1987): 43, for depth. 58. Aprieto, “Philippine Tuna Fisheries: Resource and Industry”, p. 62. 59. Aprieto, Philippine Tuna Fisheries: Yellowfin and Skipjack (Diliman, Quezon City: University of the Philippines Press, 1995), pp. 115, 117; Aprieto, “The Impact of Fish Aggregating Device (FAD) in Philippine Tuna Fishery”, Fisheries Research Journal of the Philippines 16, nos. 1–2 (1991): 46, 49; F.M. Floyd and D. Pauly, “Smaller Size Tuna around the Philippines — Can Fish Aggregating Devices Be Blamed?” INFOFISH Marketing Digest, no. 5/84 (September– October 1984), p. 26; interviews with Dario O. Lauron and George G. Campeon, General Santos City, March 1994. Contrary to all my other sources Pastoral suggests a somewhat less amicable relationship. Frabelle and the other big tuna purse seining companies, he wrote, “use ranger boats to patrol the payaw to make certain that tuna handliners, who are allowed to fish within payaw zones, do not operate too close to a payaw so as to avoid entaglement of handlines with the main anchor lines of payaw units”. Prospero C. Pastoral, “Benefits Derived from and Problems Encountered in the Use of ‘Payaw’ by Funa Fishermen”, Fisheries Newsletter 16 (January–June 1987): 16. 60. Nicandro C. Chavoso, “A Laurel for Frabelle”, Fisheries Today 2, no. 2 (May 1979): 22–24; interview with Francisco Tiu Laurel, President, Frabelle Fishing Corporation, Navotas, February 1994. 61. Aprieto, Philippine Tuna Fisheries, p. 93. 62. “The Development and Prospects of the Tuna Industry”, p. xx. 63. Aprieto, “Philippine Tuna Fisheries: Resource and Industry”, p. 66.

Notes to Pages 192–95

341

64. Henk van Oosterhout, “Issues and Options of Child Labour in the Philippines: A Practical Example of the ‘Muro-ami’ Fishing Operation”, unpublished report prepared by an associate expert attached to the ILO Office, Manila, January 1987. I am grateful to John McManus for this and other sources on the muro ami fishery. 65. Virgilio T. Corpuz, Porfirio Castañeda, and Jaime C. Sy, “Muroami”, Fisheries Newsletter 12, no. 1 (January–March 1983): 7. In 1971, according to table 6.3, 84 per cent of all commercial muro ami catches came from “Sulu (along Palawan waters)”. 66. Vitaliano B. Encina, “Harvest Technology Advances in Commercial Fisheries in the Philippines”, Fisheries Newsletter 11, no. 2 (April– June 1982): 9. For much more detail and analysis, see Tricia Pursell, “The Net, the Fish and the Child: The Muro-ami System, Transformation in Coastal Communities in Southern Cebu 1900– 2000” (Honours dissertation, Murdoch University, 2002). 67. Kent E. Carpenter and Angel C. Alcala, “Philippine Coral Reef Fisheries Resources, Part II: Muro-ami and Kayakas Reef Fisheries, Benefit or Bane?” Philippine Journal of Fisheries 15, no. 2 (1977): 220. 68. K. Tiews, “Bottom Fish Resources Investigation in the Gulf of Thailand and an Outlook on Further Possibilities to Develop the Marine Fisheries in South East Asia”, Archiv für Fischereiwissenschaft 16 (1965): 94; Department of Fisheries, Ministry of Agriculture, Fisheries in Thailand (Bangkok, September 1961), p. 2. 69. Department of Fisheries, Fisheries in Thailand, p. 45. 70. Sanan Ruamragsa and Andhi P. Isarankura, An Analysis of Demersal Catches Taken from the Experimental Trawling Operations in the Gulf of Thailand, contribution no. 3 (Bangkok: Department of Fisheries, 1965), pp. 1–3. See also Shindo, General Review of the Trawl Fishery and Demersal Fish Stocks of the South China Sea, p. 21. 71. Verarat Hongskul, e-mail message, 1 February 2002. Dr Veravat, now the Senior Fishery Officer at the FAO Regional Office for Asia and the Pacific, Bangkok, was one of the Thai fisheries officers involved in the project. 72. Interview with Kachornsak Wetchagarun, Administration Chief,

342

73. 74.

75.

76. 77.

78.

79. 80. 81. 82.

83. 84.

Notes to Pages 195–98

SEAFDEC Training Department, Samut Prakarn, February 1994. K. Tiews, “Fishery Development and Management in Thailand”, Archiv für Fischereiwissenschaft 24 (1973): 280–81. Matana Boonyubol and Somsak Pramokchutima, Trawl Fisheries in the Gulf of Thailand, translated by Thirpan Bhukaswan (Manila: ICLARM, 1984), pp. 5 and 2. In 1967, 26 per cent of the total number of trawlers were pair and beam trawlers, while the remainder were otter trawlers. Theodore Panayotou and Songpol Jetanavanich, The Economics and Management of Thai Marine Fisheries (Manila: ICLARM, 1987), p. 10. Tiews, “Bottom Fish Resources Investigation in the Gulf of Thailand”, p. 90. Different sources give different figures for the percentage of “trash”, “scrap”, or “industrial” fish. Boonyubol and Pramokchutima, Trawl Fisheries in the Gulf of Thailand, p. 5. Daniel Pauly, Theory and Management of Tropical Multispecies Stocks: A Review, with Emphasis on the Southeast Asian Demersal Fisheries (Manila: ICLARM, 1979), p. 26. For much more detailed analysis see Pauly, Theory and Management of Tropical Multispecies Stocks; Pauly, “Fisheries Research and the Demersal Fisheries of Southeast Asia”, in Fish Population Dynamics, edited by J.A. Gulland, 2nd edition (Chichester: John Wiley, 1988); Longhurst and Pauly, Ecology of Tropical Oceans; and articles cited in these sources. See Pauly, “Biological Overfishing”, p. 4. Boonyubol and Pramokchutima, Trawl Fisheries in the Gulf of Thailand, pp. 10–11. Tiews, “Bottom Fish Resources Investigation in the Gulf of Thailand”, p. 96. Deb Menasveta, “Potential Demersal Fish Resources of the Sunda Shelf ”, in The Koroshio: A Symposium on the Japan Current, edited by Marr, p. 550. Ibid., p. 539. Howard L. Steele, Harlan L. Lampe, and Robert Niehaus, Demand

Notes to Pages 198–200

85. 86. 87.

88.

89.

90. 91. 92. 93. 94. 95. 96.

343

and Supply Potentials for South Vietnam’s Fishery Industry, FDD Field Report 45, USDA co-operating with USAID and the Vietnam Ministry of Agriculture and Land Development, July 1974, pp. 34, 37. See also Tony Loftas, “Fishery Boom for South Vietnam?” New Scientist 46, no. 700 (7 May 1970): 280. Menasveta, “Potential Demersal Fish Resources of the Sunda Shelf ”, p. 539. Marr, Fishery and Resource Management in Southeast Asia, p. 24, citing Wichai Chomjurai. Panayotou and Jetanavanich, The Economics and Management of Thai Marine Fisheries, p. 10 (table giving number of registered fishing boats). Boonyubol and Pramokchutima, Trawl Fisheries in the Gulf of Thailand, table 2, p. 3. The data in the table are for demersal catches by all fishing gears. The figures I have given are 91 per cent (the authors’ estimate of the proportion of the total caught by trawlers in 1980) of those given in the table. Panayotou and Jetanavanich, The Economics and Management of Thai Marine Fisheries, p. 24, citing a paper by S. Reintrairut. The authors do not make it clear what they mean by “territorial waters” here, but it is likely they include areas that later became part of Thailand’s exclusive economic zone. Marr, Fishery and Resource Management in Southeast Asia, p. 24. Tiews, “Bottom Fish Resources Investigation in the Gulf of Thailand”, p. 96. Tiews, “Fishery Development and Management in Thailand”, p. 281. Ibid., pp. 281–82. Panayotou and Jetanavanich, The Economics and Management of Thai Marine Fisheries, p. 8. Ibid., pp. 13, 24–28. J.A. Gulland, “A Review of Fish Stocks in the IOFC/IPFC Region with Current and Potential Management Problems”, Indo-Pacific Fisheries Conference Proceedings, 16th session (1974), section III, p. 266.

344

Notes to Pages 200–4

97. Loftas, “Fishery Boom for South Vietnam?” p. 282. 98. Panayotou and Jetanavanich, The Economics and Management of Thai Marine Fisheries, p. 30. 99. RAPA, Marine Fishery Production in the Asia-Pacific Region (Bangkok: RAPA, 1989), p. 91. See also Asian Development Bank, Thailand Fisheries Sector Study (Manila: ADB, 1985), p. 42. 100. Panayotou and Jetanavanich, The Economics and Management of Thai Marine Fisheries, p. 30. 101. RAPA, Marine Fishery Production in the Asia-Pacific Region, p. 61. 102. Ibid., pp. 91–92. 103. Ibid., appendix 63. According to FAOSTAT-PC: Fisheries Catches and Landings, catches from “the Indian Ocean”, meaning the Andaman Sea, contributed 1,000 tons to the 1976 total and 9,000 tons to the 1983 total. 104. For 1957: FAO Yearbook of Fishery Statistics 15 (1962), table B2; for 1961 and 1968: Ooi Jin Bee, Development Problems of an OpenAccess Resource: The Fisheries of Peninsular Malaysia (Singapore: ASEAN Economic Research Unit, Institute of Southeast Asian Studies, 1990), p. 12. 105. Jomo K.S., Fishing for Trouble: Malaysian Fisheries, Sustainable Development and Inequality (Kuala Lumpur: Institut Pengajian Tinggi, 1991), p. 4, table 1.3. 106. Le Mare, “Malaya’s Fishing Industry”, pp. 391–92; Federation of Malaya, Annual Report 1958 — Department of Fisheries, p. 4 (for quote). 107. Federation of Malaya, Annual Report 1958 — Department of Fisheries, p. 1. 108. Ibid. 109. Ibid., pp. 5–6; documents in Malayan Fisheries. 320/1953 (NAM). 110. Abdul Aziz bin Ishak, Report of the Committee to Investigate the Fishing Industry (Kuala Lumpur: Government Press, 1956), p. 3. 111. Firth, Malay Fishermen, p. 313; also p. 343. 112. On the importance of infrastructure see Ward, “Malayan Fishing

Notes to Pages 204–6

113.

114.

115. 116. 117. 118.

119. 120. 121. 122.

123.

345

Ports and Their Inland Connections”. F.D. Ommanney, Malayan Offshore Trawling Grounds, Colonial Office Fishery Publications no. 18, 1961 (London: HMSO, 1962), p. 1. Like the authors of the Gier reports Ommanney regarded sponges and soft coral as a nuisance rather than as an integral part of the benthic ecology as scientists now do. “Only a ship with an engine and trawling winch of high power could trawl successfully on this heavy bottom”, he wrote. “If the grounds were to be worked frequently the submarine growths would be battered down and would not get a chance to grow up. When first trying out new grounds a wire rope could be drawn over the bottom to clear it.” Ibid., p. 32. Abdul Aziz bin Ishak, Report of the Committee to Investigate the Fishing Industry, p. 2. Federation of Malaya, Annual Report 1958 — Department of Fisheries, p. 1. J. Thillaimuthu, “Tuna Fishing and Processing” [1968]. Yap Chan Ling, “Fishery Policies and Development with Special Reference to the West Coast of Peninsular Malaysia from the Early 1900s”, Kajian Ekonomi Malaysia 13, nos. 1 and 2 (1976): 7; Ooi, Development Problems of an Open-Access Resource, p. 12. Goh Cheng Teik, “Fishing Conflict in Penang and Perak: Personal Memoir”, Kajian Ekonomi Malaysia 13, nos. 1 and 2 (1976): 18. Ibid., p. 18. Emphasis in original. Ooi, Development Problems of an Open-Access Resource, pp. 7–8. David S. Gibbons, “Public Policy Towards Fisheries Development in Peninsular Malaysia: A Critical Review Emphasizing Penang and Kedah”, Kajian Ekonomi Malaysia 13, nos. 1 and 2 (1976): 100–1. Goh, “Fishing Conflict in Penang and Perak”, p. 19; Yap Chan Ling, “Over-expansion in the Trawler Industry with Specific Reference to the Dindings District of West Malaysia”, Kajian Ekonomi Malaysia 10, no. 2 (1973): 80.

346

Notes to Pages 206–10

124. These bold generalizations, requiring closer scrutiny according to time and fishing ground, are based on Yap, “Fishery Policies and Development”, p. 14; Yap, “Over-expansion in the Trawler Industry”, p. 82; Andrew Lai Kwok Kong, “A Note on Fish Trawling in Peninsular Malaysia”, Review of Agricultural Economics, Malaysia 6, no. 2 (1976): 13; Ooi, Development Problems of an Open-Access Resource, pp. 29, 36; and G.R. Munro and Chee Kim Loy, The Economics of Fishing and the Developing World: A Malaysian Case Study (Pulau Pinang: Penerbit Universiti Sains Malaysia, 1978), pp. 64–65. Munro and Chee argue that “trawler activity has not reduced inshore prawn catches in volume terms” and because of the removal of predators of prawns may in fact have increased catches but that it had clearly reduced the average weight of the prawns caught. 125. Yap, “Over-expansion in the Trawler Industry”, pp. 83–84. 126. Gibbons, “Public Policy towards Fisheries Development in Peninsular Malaysia”, p. 115. 127. For an analysis of the scheme: Jahara Yahaya, “Capture Fisheries in Peninsular Malaysia: Lessons from MAJUIKAN’s Experience”, Marine Policy 5 (1981): 322–30. 128. A. Abu Talib and M. Alias, “Status of Fisheries in Malaysia — An Overview”, in Status and Management of Tropical Coastal Fisheries in Asia, edited by Geronimo Silvestre and Daniel Pauly (Manila: ICLARM, 1997), p. 58. 129. Gerald H. Krause, “Indonesia’s Unique Form of Coastal Fishery”, Maritimes 20, no. 3 (1976): 10. Bagan were at some stage banned but during my visit to the bay in December 1993 there appeared to be hundreds of them. 130. Sulaeman, “The Economic Development of Indonesia’s Sea Fishing Industry”, p. 58. Except for the reference to bagan this paragraph is based entirely on Sulaeman’s article, which as far as I know is the only study in English to deal with this period. 131. Ibid., p. 53. 132. C. Bailey, A. Dwiponggo, and F. Marahudin, Indonesian Marine Capture Fisheries (Manila: ICLARM, 1987), p. 69.

Notes to Pages 210–12

347

133. M. Unar, A Review of the Indonesian Shrimp Fishery and Its Present Developments (Rome: FAO, 1973), pp. 1, 5. 134. Kee-Chai Chong, Aloysius Dwiponggo, Sofyan Ilyas, and Purwito Martosubroto, “Some Experiences and Highlights of the Indonesian Trawl Ban: Bioeconomics and Socioeconomics”, in Indo-Pacific Fishery Commission, Symposium on the Exploitation and Management of Marine Fishery Resources in Southeast Asia, Darwin, Australia, 16–19 February 1987 (Bangkok: Regional Office for Asia and the Pacific, FAO, 1987), p. 460. By 1980, according to Conner Bailey, some “retired military officers and local entrepreneurs from urban port cities” had become owners. “Lessons from Indonesia’s 1980 Trawler Ban”, Marine Policy 21 (1997): 226. 135. Unar, A Review of the Indonesian Shrimp Fishery, p. 1. 136. Ibid., pp. 6, 11, 14. 137. A. Sidarto, “Recent Development of Fisheries in Indonesia”, Ekonomi dan Keuangan Indonesia 27, no. 1 (March 1979): 120. 138. Ibid., p. 121. 139. Fuke Yosuke, “Fat Prawns for Japan, Slim Pickings for the Fisherpeople”, AMPO Japan-Asia Quarterly Review 18, no. 4 (1987): 12. A small but increasing proportion of these exports consisted of cultivated shrimp. 140. Unar, A Review of the Indonesian Shrimp Fishery, p. 4. 141. Ibid. 142. M. Unar and N. Naamin, “A Review of the Indonesian Shrimp Fisheries and Their Management”, in Penaeid Shrimps — Their Biology and Management, edited by John A. Gulland and Brian J. Rothschild (Farnham, Surrey: Fishing News Books, 1984), p. 107, table 3. 143. Ibid., p. 106. 144. Ibid., p. 107. 145. T.D.D. Groves, C. Shoop, and K.P. Inggas, Fisheries of East Indonesia, East Indonesia Regional Development Study, Technical Report no. 8 (Ottowa: Canadian International Development Agency, [1976]), p. 15.

348

Notes to Pages 213–20

146. S.M. Evans and R.I Wahju, “The Shrimp Fishery of the Arafura Sea (Eastern Indonesia)”, Fisheries Research 26 (1996): 369–70. 147. Bailey, Dwiponggo, and Marahudin, Indonesian Marine Capture Fisheries, pp. 22, 30–31, 39; Chong, Dwiponggo, Ilyas, and Martosubroto, “Some Experiences and Highlights of the Indonesian Trawl Ban”, pp. 460–61. 148. J. Widodo, M. Potier, and B. Sadhotomo, “Development and Fleet Structure of the Java Sea Pelagic Fisheries (1980–1992)”, in Baseline Studies in Biodiversity, edited by Pauly and Martosubroto, p. 120. 149. J.K. McElroy, “The Java Sea Purse Seine Fishery: A Modern-day ‘Tragedy of the Commons’?” Marine Policy 15 (1991): 260. 150. Donald K. Emmerson, “Biting the Helping Hand: Modernization and Violence in an Indonesian Fishing Community”, Land Tenure Center Newsletter (University of Wisconsin-Madison), no. 51 (1976), pp. 1–15; Emmerson, Rethinking Artisanal Fisheries Development, pp. 57–59; Ghofar and Mathews, “The Bali Straits Lemuru Fishery”, in Baseline Studies in Biodiversity, edited by Pauly and Martosubroto, p. 146. 151. McElroy, “The Java Sea Purse Seine Fishery”, p. 259. 152. Matsuda and Ouchi, “Legal, Political, and Economic Constraints”, p. 164 (figure 3). 153. Ibid., p. 172. 154. M.J. Beare, P.D. Lorimer, and J.S. Hynd, An Investigation of Tuna Long-lining in Japan and the Hawaiian Islands (Canberra: Fisheries Division, Department of Primary Industry, 1963), p. 14. The description in this paragraph is based entirely on this source except where noted. 155. Ibid., p. 14. 156. This is for a vessel in the 100–150-GT class, using the data in Beare, Lorimer, and Hynd, An Investigation of Tuna Long-lining, p. 33, and the diagram in Tuna Fishing in Indonesia, edited by J. Marcille et al. (Paris: Éditions de l’ORSTOM, 1984), p. 19 (figure 10). 157. This and the following paragraph are mainly based on Mochtar

Notes to Pages 222–23

158. 159.

160.

161. 162. 163.

164.

349

Kusuma-Atmadja, “Sovereign Rights over Indonesian Natural Resources: An Archipelagic Concept of Rational and Sustainable Resource Management”, Marine Policy 15 (1991): 394–97; Gerald G. Marten, Yoshiaki Matsuda, John Bardach, Salvatore Comitini, and Sutanto Hardjolukito, “A Goal Analysis of Alternative Tuna Fishery Arrangements between Indonesia and Japan”, Ocean Management 8 (1982): 125–50 (idea of a subsidy on p. 128); Salvatore Comitini and Sutanto Hardjolukito, “Economic Benefits and Costs of Alternative Arrangements for Tuna Fisheries Development in the Exclusive Economic Zone: The Case of Indonesia”, Ocean Management 10 (1986): 43. Indian Ocean Tuna Commission, Report of the First Session of the IOTC Working Party on Tropical Tunas … 1999, p. 12. Norio Fuginami, “Development of Japan’s Tuna Fisheries”, in Tuna Issues and Perspectives in the Pacific Islands Region, edited by David J. Doulman (Honolulu: East-West Center, 1987), pp. 58–61. J.D. Ardill, Atlas of Industrial Tuna Fisheries in the Indian Ocean (Columbo: Indo-Pacific Tuna Fisheries Development and Management Programme, 1995), pp. 22–25; Fisheries Agency of Japan, Annual Report of Effort and Catch Statistics by Area on Japanese Tuna Long Line Fishery (1966, 1973, and 1980); Fabio Carocci and Jacek Majkowski, Pacific Tunas and Billfishes: Atlas of Commercial Catches (Rome: FAO, 1996), Maps 1–3. Marcille et al., Tuna Fishing in Indonesia, pp. 17–20. Matsuda and Ouchi, “Legal, Political, and Economic Constraints”, p. 178. Georg Borgstrom, Japan’s World Success in Fishing (London: Fishing News Books, 1964), p. 174; State of Sabah Annual Report, 1963 (Jesselton: Government Printing Department, 1964), p. 73. Matsuda and Ouchi, “Legal, Political, and Economic Constraints”, p. 175 (table 4). The total for the three areas covered by the table is 6,553 tons, of which 6,018 tons came from around the Philippines and a mere 63 tons from the Banda Sea and nearby waters. Citing a source I have not seen, McElroy states that in 1974 “the Japanese pole and line fleet … caught over 60,000 mt [metric tons] of

350

165.

166. 167. 168.

169. 170.

171. 172. 173. 174. 175.

176.

177. 178.

Notes to Pages 224–30

skipjack”, but he does not make it clear where that catch came from. “Indonesia’s Tuna Fisheries: Past, Present and Future Prospects”, Marine Policy 13 (1989): 285. Marcille et al., Tuna Fishing in Indonesia, pp. 58–61, 63 (for quote); Matsuda and Ouchi, “Legal, Political, and Economic Constraints”, p. 208. Marcille et al., Tuna Fishing in Indonesia, pp. 41, 59. Ibid., p. 39. Marcille et al., Tuna Fishing in Indonesia, pp. 52–56, where there are small-scale maps showing where the purse seiners operated between 1976 and 1980. B.C.P.H. van Baak, “Visschen aan de loopende band: het zeevischerijstation Aer Tembaga”, Uitzicht 2, no. 18 (1947): 4–5. Calculated from data in Skipjack and Tuna in Indonesia ([Jakarta?]: PT Perikanan Samodra Besar, PT Usaha Mina, Perum Perikanan Maluku, and PN Perikani Sulawesi Utara Tengah, 1981). Ibid. McElroy, “Indonesia’s Tuna Fisheries”, pp. 296–98 (quote on p. 296). Marcille et al., Tuna Fishing in Indonesia, pp. 8–17. Ibid., pp. 61–69, 76–79. D.T. Brewer, S.J.M. Blaber, G. Fry, G.S. Merta, and D. Efizon, “Sawdust Ingestion by the Tropical Shad (Tenualosa Macrura, Teleostei: Clupeidae): Implications for Conservation and Fisheries”, Biological Conservation 97 (2001): 239–49; correspondence from Brian Fegan, who has worked as a consultant to a project investigating the shad fishery in Riau Province. Zerner, “The Flying Fishermen of Mandar”, pp. 18–22 (quote from p. 20); Budy P. Resosudarmo, “The Construction of a Bioeconomic Model of the Indonesian Flying Fish Fishery”, Marine Resource Economics 10 (1995): 361. Gibbons, “Public Policy towards Fisheries Development in Peninsular Malaysia”, pp. 99–100. Goh, “Fishing Conflict in Penang and Perak”, p. 19. For a political

Notes to Pages 230–36

179.

180. 181. 182. 183.

184. 185. 186. 187.

351

analysis, see Lim Teck Ghee, “Conflict over Natural Resources in Malaysia: The Struggle of Small-scale Fishermen”, in Conflict over Natural Resources in South-East Asia and the Pacific, edited by Lim Teck Ghee and Mark J. Valencia (Singapore: Oxford University Press, 1990), especially pp. 154–63. William L. Collier, Harjadi Hadikoesworo, and Marie Malingreau, “Economic Development and Shared Poverty among Javanese Seafishermen”, in Economics of Aquaculture, Sea-fishing and Coastal Resource Use in Asia, edited by Librero and Collier, pp. 220–21. Ibid., p. 232. Ibid. Ibid., p. 221; Emmerson, Rethinking Artisanal Fisheries Development, p. 57 (quote). William L. Collier, “Preliminary Observations on Two Sea Fishing Villages in Sumatra and Kalimantan”, Indonesia Circle, no. 22 (June 1980), p. 47. Theodore Panayotou, “Economic Conditions and Prospects of Small-scale Fishermen in Thailand”, Marine Policy 4 (1980): 144. Lee Yong Leng, Southeast Asia and the Law of the Sea (Singapore: Singapore University Press, 1978), p. 33. Panayotou and Jetanavanich, The Economics and Management of Thai Marine Fisheries, p. 11. D. Pauly, Sann Aung, L. Rijavec, and Htun Htein, “The Marine Living Resources of Burma: A Short Review”, in Report of the 4th Session of the Standing Committee on Resources Research and Development of the Indo-Pacific Fishery Commission, Jakarta, 23–29 August 1984 (Rome: FAO Fisheries Report no. 318, [1984]), p. 101.

Chapter 7: The Closing of the Frontier 1. See Appendix 2. 2. Iman Sardjono, “Trawlers Banned in Indonesia”, ICLARM Newsletter 3, no. 4 (October 1980): 3. 3. Purwito Martosubroto and Kee-Chai Chong, “An Economic

352

4. 5. 6. 7.

8. 9. 10. 11.

12.

13. 14. 15.

Notes to Pages 236–40

Analysis of the 1980 Indonesian Trawl Ban”, Indonesian Agricultural Research and Development Journal 9, nos. 1 and 2 (1987): 3. Ibid., p. 11. Catches of “banana prawns” probably include P. indicus (Indian white prawn), which they closely resemble. Ibid., p. 5. The authors do not indicate where the “illegal fishing” was taking place. Fuke Yosuke, “Fat Prawns for Japan, Slim Pickings for the Fisherpeople”, p. 14. Purwito Martosubroto, “Is Trawl Ban Working? — An Indonesian Case Study”, paper presented to the Second Asian Fisheries Forum, Tokyo, 17–22 April 1989. For a later assessment of the trawl ban, see Conner Bailey, “Lessons from Indonesia’s 1980 Trawler Ban”, Marine Policy 21 (1997): 225–35. Martosubroto and Chong, “An Economic Analysis of the 1980 Indonesian Trawl Ban”, p. 9. J.K. McElroy, “The Java Sea Purse Seine Fishery: A Modern-day ‘Tragedy of the Commons’?” Marine Policy 15 (1991): 259–60. Ibid., p. 259. Ibid., p. 263 (table 6) and p. 269 (table 10). For further analysis, see J. Widodo, M. Potier, and B. Sadhotomo, “Catches, Effort and Catch per Effort of the Java Sea Pelagic Fishery (1979–1992)”, in Baseline Studies in Biodiversity, edited by Pauly and Martosubroto, p. 121. M. Potier and D. Petit, “Fishing Strategies and Tactics in the Javanese Seiners Fisheries”, in BIODYNEX: Biology, Dynamics, Exploitation of the Small Pelagic Fishes in the Java Sea, edited by M. Potier and S. Nurhakim (Jakarta: Agency for Agricultural Research and Development, Ministry of Agriculture, and ORSTOM, 1995), p. 181. Ibid., p. 178. Ibid., p. 182. This paragraph is based on comments made by J.R. Durand and J. Widodo at a seminar in December 1995 and the publication

Notes to Page 241

16.

17. 18.

19.

20.

21.

22.

353

that came out of this seminar: J. Roch et al., eds, SOSEKIMA: Proceedings of Socio-economics, Innovation and Management of the Java Sea Pelagic Fisheries, 4–7 December 1995, Bandungan (Jakarta: Java Sea Pelagic Fishery Assessment Project, 1998), especially pp. 32–33, 44, 377–79. This volume also contains an excellent paper by Isabelle Antunès on how captains set their purse seines (pp. 161–74). “Trawls Threaten Villagers’ Bowls”, Jakarta Post, 18 September 1994; “N. Jakarta Anglers Support Operations against Trawlers”, Jakarta Post, 27 June 1996; “Rumpon nelayan tradisional dirusak ‘trawl’”, Kompas Online, 19 September 1997. “167 Trawlers Destroyed”, Jakarta Post, 25 July 1995. “Navy Seizes Four Trawl Nets”, Jakarta Post, 15 February 1996; “Trawlers Illegally Prowl Medan Coast”, Jakarta Post, 22 April 1998. “Aceh Fishermen Attack Trawler”, Jakarta Post, 16 September 1997; “Deli Fishermen’s Shooting Reported”, Jakarta Post, 22 April 1998; Bambang Sujatmoko and G.A. Guritno, “Kerusuhan sekarang di Cilacap”, Gatra, 5 September 1998; “Unjuk rasa hentikan operasi pukat harimau”, Kompas Online, 22 September 1999; “New Fisherfolk Network Takes Action”, Down to Earth, no. 43 (November 1999) (www.gn.apc.org/dte). The owners of the trawlers destroyed in the two 1998 cases mentioned were ethnic Chinese, who were the object of many attacks at this time. Muchtar, “Pembagian wilayah operasi cenderung tak ditaati nelayan gill net & sirang sering terlibat konflik”, Wartaran “Pikiran Rakyat”, 2 October 1996 (www.pikiran-rakyat.com). For conditions on the jermal see Ahmad Sofian, “Gone Fishing”, Inside Indonesia, no. 52 (October–December 1997), pp. 21–23, and Ridwan M. Sijabat, “Tales of Hard Child Labor on N. Sumatra’s Fishing Stations”, Jakarta Post, 9 March 1997. Evans and Wahju, “The Shrimp Fishery of the Arafura Sea”, p. 368. See also Johannes Widodo, “By-catch Assessment of the Shrimp Fishery in the Arafura Sea and Its Adjacent Waters”,

354

23. 24.

25.

26. 27.

28. 29.

30. 31. 32.

Notes to Pages 242–47

Laporan Pen. Perikanan Laut, no. 63 (1991), p. 46, and Fuke Yosuke, “Fat Prawns for Japan, Slim Pickings for the Fisherpeople”, p. 13. Gillett, “Marine Fisheries Resources and Management in Indonesia”, p. 25. It should be noted that the PRC, Taiwan, India, and Australia all made claims that in one way or another impinged on those of the Southeast Asian states. For enlightenment on the complexities of maritime boundaries, see Marine Policy in Southeast Asia, edited by Kent and Valencia, especially chap. 3 (by J.R.V. Prescott), and Vivian Louis Forbes, The Maritime Boundaries of the Indian Ocean Region (Singapore: Singapore University Press, 1995). This account is based on McElroy, “Indonesia’s Tuna Fisheries”, pp. 290–95, various media reports, and interviews conducted in Indonesia and Thailand in January–February 2002. Sources on the activities of foreign fishing vessels in Indonesian waters and the government’s policies relating to them are exasperatingly patchy and contradictory. McElroy, “Indonesia’s Tuna Fisheries”, p. 292. Soekirdjo, quoted in John McBeth, “But There’s a Catch … ”, FEER, 16 May 1996, p. 56. See also Gillett, “Marine Fisheries Resources and Management in Indonesia”, p. 17. Ibid. “Fish Fuss”, Inside Indonesia, no. 49 (January–March 1997) (www.serve.com/inside), based on reports in Media Indonesia, 26 September and 7 October 1996. Gillett, “Marine Fisheries Resources and Management in Indonesia”, p. 26. Ibid., pp. 19–20. Asian Development Bank, Thailand Fisheries Sector Study, p. 23; Ted L. McDorman and Panat Tasneeyanoud, “Increasing Problems for Thailand’s Fisheries: Malaysia’s New Fisheries Law”, Marine Policy 12 (1987): 207. A 1984 report states that “it is estimated that up to 80 per cent of the total marine catch comes from outside

Notes to Pages 247–49

33. 34. 35. 36. 37.

38. 39.

40.

41. 42. 43. 44.

45.

355

Thai waters” but does not give the source of this estimate. Michael Sheldon, “It’s Contraction Rather than Expansion Now”, FEER, 2 August 1984, p. 49. McDorman and Tasneeyanoud, “Increasing Problems for Thailand’s Fisheries”, pp. 206–7. Panayotou and Jetanavanich, The Economics and Management of Thai Marine Fisheries, pp. 24–25, 28. McDorman and Tasneeyanoud, “Increasing Problems for Thailand’s Fisheries”. Paisal Sricharatchanya, “Fishing Boat Friction”, FEER, 16 April 1987, p. 23. “The Fisheries of Southern Thailand”, p. 66. It is unclear from this report whether it was the company or the Japanese government that supplied the helicopters and patrol boats. “The Fisheries of Southern Thailand”, p. 66. Army Television Channel 5, Bangkok, 2 January 1994, BBC Monitoring Service: Asia-Pacific, 6 January 1994 (Reuters). The report does not state who paid the fines. Radio Australia, 8 January 1994, BBC Monitoring Service: AsiaPacific, 10 January 1994 (Reuters). According to the report, the fishers claimed that local marine police had done little to apprehend foreign fishing boats. “Malaysia ‘Seizing Thai Boats for Money’”, Bangkok Post, 30 July 1994 (Reuters). Reuters News Service, 28 September 1994 (Reuters). “A Joint Fishery Committee Could Smooth the Troubled Waters”, Bangkok Post, 22 March 1994 (Reuters). J.W. Penn, The Current Status of Off Shore Marine Fish Stocks in Bangladesh Waters with Special Reference to Penaeid Shrimp Stocks (Rome: FAO, 1982), p. 2. “Thailand and PRC Form Joint Fishing Ventures”, p. 30. The trawlers were owned by individuals who had entered into contracts with Maha Nakorn.

356

Notes to Pages 249–54

46. Suhaini Aznam, “Fishermen’s Net Interest”, FEER, 21 November 1985, pp. 34–36; McDorman and Tasneeyanoud, “Increasing Problems for Thailand’s Fisheries”, p. 214. 47. “The Fisheries of Southern Thailand”, p. 66. 48. “Fish Fight”, FEER, 25 April 1996, p. 12. 49. Gordon Fairclough, “Floating Flashpoint”, FEER, 13 March 1997, p. 54, quoting the owner of a “small fleet” of trawlers. 50. Ibid. 51. Brian Fegan, “Report on August 2001 Fieldwork: Industrial Scale Snapper Fishery in Tual & Benjina, Maluku Tenggara” (unpublished field notes prepared for a joint Australian-Indonesian study of snapper stocks), p. 44. For more detail see Fegan, “Plundering the Sea”, Inside Indonesia, January–March 2003, pp. 21–23. 52. Matchima Chanawangpuwana, “Agriculture Ministry Defends Pardon for Illegal Fishing Boats”, Bangkok Post, 1 June 1996 (www.bkkpost.samart.co.th); Chakrit Ridmontri, “Rogue Trawlers Take Their Toll on the Sea and Fishing Villages”, Bangkok Post, 19 June 1996 (www.bkkpost.samart.co.th). 53. For a list of these conditions: “Government Defends New Fishing Regulations”, Myanmar Times, 20 August 2001 (BBC Monitoring Service, 29 August 2001 [Factiva]). 54. Ross H. McLeod, “Survey of Recent Developments”, Bulletin of Indonesian Economic Studies 33, no. 1 (April 1997): 36–38. 55. For one version of what happened, see “I’nesia Arrests 1,200 Fishermen as Thai Boats Seized”, Nation, 27 November 1999 (Dow Jones Interactive). 56. Xog-Ogaal (Mogadishu), 12 October 2000 (BBC Monitoring Service [Dow Jones Interactive]). 57. ADB/INFOFISH, Global Industry Update: Tuna, p. 40. 58. Victor R. Hizon, “The Philippine Tuna Experience”, Proceedings of the INFOFISH Tuna Trade Conference, Bangkok, Thailand, 25–27 February 1986 (Kuala Lumpur: INFOFISH, [1986]), p. 147. 59. Floyd and Pauly, “Smaller Size Tuna around the Philippines”, p. 26.

Notes to Pages 254–57

357

60. Aprieto, Philippine Tuna Fisheries, pp. 121–26; Aprieto and Ganaden, “A Review of the Philippine Tuna Fishery”, pp. 50, 52; Aprieto, “The Impact of Fish Aggregating Device (FAD) in Philippine Tuna Fishery”, pp. 52–54. 61. Floyd and Pauly, “Smaller Size Tuna around the Philippines”, p. 27. “Growth overfishing” takes place when “the loss in weight [of a population] from total mortality [from ‘natural’ causes as well as fishing] exceeds the gain in weight due to growth”. FishBase. 62. Aprieto, “The Impact of Fish Aggregating Device”, p. 43. 63. Jesse M. Floyd and David J. Doulman, “The Development of the Philippines Tuna Industry”, in The Development of the Tuna Industry in the Pacific Islands Region, edited by Doulman, p. 177; Inocencio Ronquillo, “The Law of the Sea and Its Impact on the Development of Fishery Resources in Southeast Asia”, in International Symposium on the Law of the Sea in Southeast Asia: Developmental Effects and Regional Approaches, edited by Douglas M. Johnston, Edgar Gold, and Phiphat Tangsubkul (Halifax: Dalhousie Ocean Studies Programme, 1983), pp. 58–59. 64. Aprieto, “The Impact of Fish Aggregating Device”, p. 57. My conversions assume that the mile referred to here is the nautical mile (1.85 kilometres). 65. Pastoral, “Benefits Derived from and Problems Encountered in the Use of ‘Payaw’ by Tuna Fishermen”, p. 16. 66. Aprieto, “The Impact of Fish Aggregating Device”, p. 49. 67. Hizon, “The Philippine Tuna Experience”, pp. 147–50 (quote on p. 148). 68. ADB/INFOFISH, Global Industry Update: Tuna, p. 65. 69. Floyd and Pauly, “Smaller Size Tuna around the Philippines”, p. 27. 70. Hizon, “The Philippine Tuna Experience”, p. 150. 71. Notre Dame Business Resource Center, The Fishing Industry in SOCSARGEN (South Cotabato/Sarangani/General Santos City): Present Status and Future Prospects, 2nd edition (General Santos City, 1994), pp. 6–7. 72. Ibid., p. 7; interviews with Elemido C. Quesada, RD Fishing

358

73.

74.

75.

76. 77.

78. 79. 80. 81. 82. 83.

Notes to Pages 257–60

Industry, Inc., and Fausto Tan, Jr., San Andres Fishing Industries, Inc., General Santos City, March 1994. Notre Dame Business Resource Center, The Fishing Industry in SOCSARGEN, pp. 9, 28; interviews with Dario O. Lauron and George G. Campeon, General Santos City, March 1994. Timothy A. Lawson, ed., South Pacific Commission Tuna Fishery Yearbook 1996 (Noumea: Oceanic Fisheries Programme, South Pacific Commission, 1997), table 45. The table indicates that one Philippine purse seiner operated in the SPC statistical area in 1982 and one in 1983. Aprieto, “The Impact of Fish Aggregating Device”, p. 58. See Aprieto, Philippine Tuna Fisheries: Yellowfin and Skipjack (Diliman, Quezon City: University of the Philippines Press, 1995), pp. 141– 42, for slightly different information. Lawson, ed., South Pacific Commission Tuna Fishery Yearbook 1996, figure 59. Each Philippine purse seiner fished an average of 321 days in 1987. U.S. purse seiners fished an average of 201 days in 1984 and 184 days in 1989. The corresponding figure for Japanese purse seiners in 1987 was 174 days. Calculated from Tim Lawson, South Pacific Commission Tuna Fishery Yearbook 1994, edited by Tim Lawson (Noumea: Oceanic Fisheries Programme, South Pacific Commission, 1995), tables 38, 42, 46. This source gives no data for the number of days fished by Korean and Taiwanese purse seiners. Interview with Francisco Tiu Laurel, President, Frabelle Fishing Corporation, Navotas, February 1994. Rigoberto Tiglao, “A Good Catch”, Far Eastern Economic Review, 10 February 1994, p. 44. Interview with Dario O. Lauron, General Santos City, March 1994. Inocentes A. Gulle, “Illegal Fishing by Pinoys in South Threatens RP-Indonesia Relations”, Business World, 26 May 1997 (Factiva). “Tuna Industry Suffers Setbacks from El Nino, Fishing Policies”, Business Daily, 24 June 1998 (Factiva). McElroy, “Indonesia’s Tuna Fisheries”, p. 300.

Notes to Pages 260–63

359

84. Charles Zerner, “Sharing the Catch in Mandar: Changes in an Indonesian Raft Fishery (1970–1989)”, in Small-scale Fishery Development: Sociocultural Perspectives, edited by John J. Poggie and Richard B. Pollnac (Kingston, Rhode Island: International Center for Marine Resource Development, University of Rhode Island, 1991), p. 65. 85. James Kevin McElroy and Jacobus C.B. Uktolseja, “Skipjack Poleand-line Operatings in East Indonesia: Comparative Analysis of Catch Performance”, Marine Policy 16 (1992): 451–62. 86. Indo-Pacific Tuna Development and Management Programme, Report of the Fifth Southeast Asia Tuna Conference, General Santos City, Philippines, 1–4 September, 1992 (Colombo: IPTP, [1992?]), p. 3 (summarizing comments by Gede Sedana Merta); P.E. Chee and Sok Kean Khoo, “Monitoring Landings of Taiwanese Tuna Longliners at Penang Harbour”, in Status of Interactions of Pacific Tuna Fisheries in 1995, edited by Shomura, Majkowski, and Harman, p. 265. 87. The Taiwanese longliners based at Penang concentrated on the area between 0° and 10°N and 80° and 95°E. Chee and Khoo, “Monitoring Landings of Taiwanese Tuna Longliners at Penang Harbour”, p. 260. 88. Indian Ocean Tuna Commission (IOTC), Report of the First Session of the IOTC Working Party on Tropical Tunas, Victoria, Seychelles 1– 4 September 1999, p. 4. 89. Nurzali Naamin, C.P. Mathews, and D. Monintja, “Studies of Indonesian Tuna Fisheries, Part 1: Interactions between Coastal and Offshore Tuna Fisheries in Manado and Bitung, North Sumatra”, in Status of Interactions of Pacific Tuna Fisheries in 1995, edited by Shomura, Majkowski, and Harman, p. 296. 90. Ibid., p. 286. 91. Ibid., p. 297. 92. Ibid., p. 286. 93. Ibid., p. 290. For local fishers’ views on Philippine and other foreign vessels: “Kapal asing rugikan nelayan di KTI”, Republica, 2 November 1995.

360

Notes to Pages 263–67

94. Ibid., p. 292. Between 1993 and 1995 the mean catch per GT per month for the company’s fleet fell from 0.69 to 0.37 tons. 95. Business Resource Center, The Fishing Industry in General Santos City, p. 69. 96. “Tuna Industry Suffers Setbacks from El Nino, Fishing Policies”. 97. Greg J. Crough, “The Development of the Tuna Industry in Thailand”, in The Development of the Tuna Industry in the Pacific Islands Region: An Analysis of Options, edited by David J. Doulman (Honolulu: East-West Center, 1987), p. 194. 98. Mitsuo Yesaki, “Interactions between Fisheries for Small Tunas off the South China Sea Coast of Thailand and Malaysia”, in Interactions of Pacific Tuna Fisheries, Vol. 1: Summary Report and Papers on Interaction, edited by Richard S. Shomura, Jacek Majkowski, and Sarah Langi (Rome, FAO, 1994), pp. 307, 316–17; Somsak Chullasorn, “Interactions of Thai Tuna Fisheries: Problems, Research and Development”, in Status of Interactions of Pacific Tuna Fisheries in 1995, edited by Shomura, Majkowski, and Harman, p. 269. 99. Yesaki, “Interactions between Fisheries for Small Tunas off the South China Sea Coast of Thailand and Malaysia”, p. 303; FAO Yearbook of Fishery Statistics (Rome: FAO), vol. 74 (1992), p. 607; vol. 80 (1995), p. 641; vol. 86/1 (1998), p. 641. 100. Somsak Chullasorn, “Interactions of Thai Fisheries”, p. 279. 101. Bruce H. Erskine, “Thailand’s Food Processing Industry: A Model of Success for Other Developing Countries”, Journal of Southeast Asian Business 7, no. 2 (Spring 1991): 9; Gregory J. Crough, Industrial Restructuring in the Tuna Industry of Thailand, Economic and Regional Restructuring Research Unit working paper no. 9 (Sydney: Departments of Economics and Geography, University of Sydney, 1991), p. 24. 102. ADB/INFOFISH, Global Industry Update: Tuna, p. 44. 103. Erskine, “Thailand’s Food Processing Industry”, p. 10. 104. Rachel A. Schurman, “Tuna Dreams: Resource Nationalism and the Pacific Islands’ Tuna Industry”, Development and Change 29 (1998): 122–23.

Notes to Pages 267–71

361

105. FAO, Review of the State of World Fishery Resources: Marine Fisheries (Rome: FAO, 1997), section C1. 106. Alain Fonteneau, “A Critical Review of Tuna Stocks and Fisheries Trends World-wide, and Why Most Tuna Stocks Are Not Yet Overexploited”, in Developing and Sustaining World Fisheries Resources: The State of Science and Management, edited by D.A. Hancock, D.C. Smith, A. Grant, and J.P. Beumer (Collingwood, Victoria: CSIRO, 1997), p. 45. 107. IOTC, Report of the First Session of the IOTC Working Party on Tropical Tunas, pp. 5–6. 108. “Satellite Maps Pinpoint Tuna”, Fishing News International, March 1998, p. 1. 109. IOTC, Report of the First Session of the IOTC Working Party on Tropical Tunas, pp. 13,14, 16, 18, 23. 110. Robert E. Johannes and Michael Riepen, Environmental, Economic, and Social Implications of the Live Reef Fish Trade in Asia and the Western Pacific, Report to the Nature Conservancy and the South Pacific Commission, October 1995, pp. 13–15. 111. Ibid., p. 9. For more prices as well as other information about the business see Mark V. Erdmann and Lida Pet-Soede, “How Fresh Is Too Fresh? The Live Reef Food Fish Trade in Eastern Indonesia”, Naga, The ICLARM Quarterly 19, no. 1 (January 1996): 4–8. 112. Johannes and Riepen, Live Fish Trade, p. 10. 113. Ibid., pp. 55–56. 114. Ibid., p. 21. 115. Ibid., p. 33. 116. Daniel Pauly, “Putting Fisheries Management Back in Places”, Reviews in Fish Biology and Fisheries 7(1997): 125. 117. Johannes and Riepen, Live Fish Trade, p. 30. 118. Ibid., pp. 21, 27. Craig C. Thorburn analyses in great detail how local people in the Kei Islands were drawn into using cyanide to capture fish: “The House That Poison Built: Customary Marine Property Rights and the Live Food Fish Trade in the Kei

362

119.

120.

121. 122. 123.

124. 125.

Notes to Pages 271–74

Islands, Southeast Maluku”, Development and Change 32 (2001): 151–80. Lida Pet-Soede and Mark Erdmann, “An Overview and Comparison of Destructive Fishing Practices in Indonesia”, SPC Live Reef Fish Information Bulletin, no. 4 (April 1998), p. 31; Richard Smith, The Perils of Plectropomus, film produced for ABC Television, 1999. “Recently”, according to a report published in 2001, “cyanide fishermen have been targeting some of the 12 known grouperspawning areas in Komodo park”. Ron Moreau, “Saving Coral Reefs”, Newsweek, 12 November 2001. Except for some information taken from FishBase these two paragraphs are based entirely on information kindly given to me by Dr Brian Fegan, who has compiled a series of detailed field reports (one of which I cited earlier) describing the snapper fisheries of Indonesia. The quote comes from a draft of a paper titled “Industrial Scale Demersal Trawl and Bottom Longline Fisheries in Eastern Indonesia” that Dr Fegan presented to the Workshop on Sustainability and Depletion in Island Southeast Asia: Forests and Fisheries, Past and Present, KITLV, Leiden, June 2002. Marlis Lubis, “The Mask Men”, Inside Indonesia, April–June 1997, p. 25. Interview with Lim Yong Siah, Pasir Panjang Wholesale Market, December 1993. Anthony Reid, “Indonesian Fishermen Detained in Broome: A Report on the Social and Economic Background”, Illegal Entry! (Darwin: Centre for Southeast Asian Studies, Northern Territory University, 1992), p. 5; James J. Fox, “A Report on Eastern Indonesian Fishermen in Darwin”, Illegal Entry! p. 19; A.M. Salamanca and M.G. Pajaro, “The Utilization of Seashells in the Philippines”, TRAFFIC Bulletin 16, no. 2 (August 1996): 63–64. Salamanca and Pajaro, “The Utilization of Seashells in the Philippines”, p. 70. Herman Cesar, Carl Gustaf Lundin, Sofia Bettencourt, and John Dixon, “Indonesian Coral Reefs — An Economic Analysis of a Precious but Threatened Resource”, Ambio 26, no. 6 (September 1997): 348.

Notes to Pages 274–77

363

126. Mark Erdmann, “An ABC Guide to Coral Reef Fisheries in Southwest Sulawesi, Indonesia”, Naga, The ICLARM Quarterly 18, no. 2 (April 1995): 6. 127. Anthony Reid, “Indonesian Fishermen Detained in Broome”, p. 6. 128. Sandra Pannell, “Victims or Victimisers?”, Inside Indonesia, September 1993, pp. 16–17. 129. Debra A. Rose, An Overview of World Trade in Sharks (Cambridge: TRAFFIC International, 1996), pp. 16, 50 (quote), 65. 130. My source for Taiwanese Shark Fishing is Nakome Bentley, “Australia”, in The Oceania Region’s Harvest, Trade and Management of Sharks and Other Cartilaginous Fish: An Overview, edited by Glenn Sant and Elizabeth Hayes (Sydney: TRAFFIC Oceania, 1996), p. 29. 131. Rudolph and Smeenk, “Indo-West Pacific Marine Mammals”, p. 622. 132. FAO, FAOSTAT-PC: Fisheries Catches and Landings, version 3.0 (1994). 133. “PNG Blamed Indonesia for Shark Killing in South Irian Waters Area”, Antara (official Indonesian news agency), 4 September 1997 (Reuters). 134. Rose, An Overview of World Trade in Sharks, p. 1. 135. Terri Ko, “Medicine Trade Poses Threat to Seahorses”, South China Morning Post, 11 May 1995 (Reuters), citing Amanda Vincent. 136. Chadwin Thomas, “Seahorses Fall Prey to Overfishing”, Global Information Network, 13 July 1999 (Reuters). 137. “Saving a Shrinking Resource”, Saigon Times, 10 September 1998 (Reuters). 138. Chakrit Ridmontri, “Thai Seahorses Face Extinction”, Bangkok Post, 4 August 1996 (Reuters), citing Surin Matchacheep. 139. Among sources about seahorses, nearly all by Amanda Vincent or referring to her work: Amanda C.J. Vincent, “Exploitation of Seahorses and Pipefishes”, Naga, The ICLARM Quarterly 18, no. 1 (January 1995): 18–19; Vincent, “The Improbable Seahorse”, National Geographic, October 1994, pp. 126–40; “Project Seahorse” (www.seahorse.mcgill.ca); Floyd Whaley, “Riding to the Seahorse’s

364

140.

141.

142.

143.

144. 145.

146. 147. 148.

Notes to Pages 278–81

Rescue”, International Wildlife, 2 March 1999 (Reuters). Rene A. Abesamis, Porfirio M. Aliño, and Domingo G. Jocson, “From Muro-ami to Pa-aling: More Than Just a Question of Destructive Fishing”. I am grateful to the authors for allowing me to consult a copy of this paper before its publication. On the Abines family, not mentioned by name in this paper, see “A Family Affair”, The Economist, 16 May 1998. “‘Muro-ami’, Community-based Training among DoLE Efforts”, Business World, 4 January 2000 (Dow Jones Interactive); Adam Easton, “Child Divers and Coral Reef Abused”, Guardian, 27 November 1998 (Dow Jones Interactive). I am grateful to Tricia Pursell of Murdoch University for sharing her knowledge of this industry with me and for sending me a copy of her honours dissertation, “The Net, the Fish and the Child”, which examines the muro ami fishery in great detail. Clare Cochrane, “Sulawesi’s Curtains of Death”, Action Asia 3 (1997): 15–16 (quote); Jenny Grant, “Illegal Nets Kill Whales, Dolphins”, South China Morning Post, 30 September 1997 (Reuters), and transcript of report for Voice of America, 8 October 1997 (INDONESIA-P); and Mark V. Erdmann, “Leave Indonesia’s Fisheries to Indonesians!” Inside Indonesia, no. 63 (July–September 2000), pp. 27–28 (including report by Ric Curnow). The sources do not state precisely how the net was constructed. Reid, “Indonesian Fishermen Detained in Broome”, p. 6. James J. Fox, “Reefs and Shoals in Australia-Indonesia Relations: Traditional Indonesian Fishermen”, in Australia in Asia: Episodes, edited by Anthony Milner and Mary Quilty (Melbourne: Oxford University Press, 1998), chap. 5; Bruce Campbell and Bu V.E. Wilson, The Politics of Exclusion: Indonesian Fishing in the Australian Fishing Zone (Perth: Indian Ocean Centre for Peace Studies, 1993). Ben Martin, “Illegal Fishermen Cram NW Jails”, West Australian, 27 October 1999 (Reuters). Information from Dr Brian Fegan. “Fishermen Held over Poaching”, Advertiser, 8 January 1999 (Reuters); “Three Indonesian Fishing Boats Seized off Western

Notes to Pages 281–84

149.

150.

151.

152.

153. 154.

365

Australia”, Radio Australia, 6 October 1999 (Reuters). For far more description and analysis than I give here, see the following articles in Inside Indonesia: Robin Osborne, “Turtles, Trepang and Trouble: Indonesians in Australian Waters”, December 1989; Sandra Pannell, “Victims or Victimisers?” September 1993; Sara Medhurst, “The Sama Bajo: Sea Nomads of Sulawesi”, March 1994; Campbell Watson, “Permeable Border”, April–June 1998. Domiciano K. Villaluz, Fish Farming in the Philippines (Manila: Bookman, 1953), pp. 1–8; Tiews, “Fishery Development and Management in Thailand”, p. 286. See also Banchong Teinsongrusmee, A Present Status of Shrimp Farming in Thailand, contribution no. 18 (Bangkok: Department of Fisheries, 1970). Teinsongrusmee, Shrimp Farming in Thailand, p. 4; interview with Kasemsant Chalayondeja, Program Officer, SEAFDEC, Bangkok, February 1994. Among my sources for this account are C. Kwei Lin, “Progression of Intensive Marine Shrimp Culture in Thailand”, in Swimming through Troubled Water, Proceedings of the Special Session on Shrimp Farming, Aquaculture ’95, edited by C.L. Browdy and J.S. Hopkins (Baton Rouge: World Aquaculture Society, 1995), pp. 13–23; Piamsak Menasveta, “Intensive and Efficient Culture System — the Thai Way — Can Save Mangroves”, Aquaculture Asia 2, no. 1 (January–March 1997): 38–44; J. Honculada Primavera, “Intensive Prawn Farming in the Philippines: Ecological, Social, and Economic Implications”, Ambio 20 (1991): 28–33; a tour of a hatchery near Cebu City conducted by Gina Melendrez, March 1994; an explanation of the workings of a shrimp farm by John Gabuya during my visit in March 1994 to the farm he managed near Cebu City; and a visit to a shrimp farm in Kedah in January 1994 under the guidance of Encik Fuad of LKIM. Lin, “Progression of Intensive Marine Shrimp Culture in Thailand”, p. 15. Jasper Goss, David Burch, and Roy E. Rickson, “Agri-food Restructuring and Third World Transnationals: Thailand, the CP Group and the Global Shrimp Industry”, World Development 28 (2000): 513–30.

366

Notes to Pages 284–87

155. FAO, Aquaculture Production Statistics, 1985–1994 (Rome: FAO, 1996); FAO, FAO Yearbook of Fishery Statistics: Aquaculture Production (Rome: FAO, 2000), vol. 82/2 (for 1998). 156. Goss, Burch, and Rickson, “Agri-food Restructuring and Third World Transnationals”, p. 517, table 1. 157. FAO, Aquaculture Production Statistics, 1985–1994; FAO, FAO Yearbook of Fishery Statistics: Aquaculture Production, vol. 82/2. 158. FAO, Review of the State of World Aquaculture (Rome: FAO, 1997), section 3.1.3. 159. Shiu-Nan Chen, “Current Status of Shrimp Aquaculture in Taiwan”, in Swimming through Troubled Water, edited by Browdy and Hopkins, p. 29. 160. Bondan Winarno, “Shrimp Aquaculture in Indonesia”, in Swimming through Troubled Water, edited by Browdy and Hopkins, p. 26; Darryl E. Jory, “Marine Shrimp Farming in the Kingdom of Thailand: Part II”, Aquaculture Magazine 22, no. 4 (July/August 1996): 74. 161. Primavera, “Intensive Prawn Farming in the Philippines”, p. 29. 162. Menasveta, “Intensive and Efficient Culture System”, p. 29. 163. Dan Murphy, “Deeper into the Morass”, Far Eastern Economic Review, 1 June 2000, p. 58. 164. Bondan Winarno, “Shrimp Aquaculture in Indonesia”, p. 26. 165. Lin, “Progression of Intensive Marine Shrimp Culture in Thailand”, pp. 17–18; Bondan, “Shrimp Aquaculture in Indonesia”, p. 26. 166. World Bank, Fisheries and Aquaculture Research Capabilities and Needs in Asia: Studies of India, Thailand, Malaysia, Indonesia, the Philippines, and the ASEAN Region, World Bank Technical Paper no. 147, Fisheries Series (Washington, D.C.: World Bank, 1991), p. 56. The major shrimp feed manufacturers import some fishmeal from outside Southeast Asia, though how much I have not been able to find out. Research is being conducted on substitutes for fishmeal. For an overview of recent developments in aquaculture see ASEAN-SEAFDEC Conference on Sustainable Fisheries: Technical Document, section 3.

Notes to Pages 287–89

367

167. See Mark Flaherty, Peter Vandergeest, and Paul Miller, “Rice Paddy or Shrimp Pond: Tough Decisions in Rural Thailand”,World Development 27, no. 12 (December 1999): 2045–60. 168. Paul Dalzell and Daniel Pauly, “Assessment of Fish Resources of Southeast Asia, with Emphasis on the Banda and Arafura Seas”, Netherlands Journal of Sea Research 24 (1989): 647–48. 169. Gillett, “Marine Fisheries Resources and Management in Indonesia”, pp. 11, 12, 15, 27–28, for a critique. 170. Uamdao Noikorn, “Deep-sea Fishing Promoted to Net More Foreign Exchange”, Bangkok Post, 12 November 1998 (Reuters). The first quote is the reporter’s paraphrase of the minister’s words. 171. ASEAN-SEAFDEC Conference on Sustainable Fisheries: Technical Document, section 2.1; Proceedings, vol. 2, pp. 183–84. 172. “Pla Thuu on the Verge of Extinction in the Gulf ”, Bangkok Post, 22 March 1989, reprinted in SEAFDEC Newsletter 12, no. 2 (1989): 7. 173. “Project Final Report (March 1998–March 2001)”, p. 11, in ADB RETA 5766 Sustainable Management of Coastal Fish Stocks in Asia: Final Report, July 2001 (ADB, ICLARM, and Future Harvest, 2001). 174. Annual Report of Fisheries, Malaya (1938), p. 1; Albert C. Gambang, Some Aspects of the Biology of Ikan Terubok, Hilsa toli (Valenciennes) (Family: Clupeidae) at the Lower Batang Lupar River, Sarawak (Kuala Lumpur: Department of Fisheries, 1988), p. 1. 175. Blaber et al., “The Life History of the Protandrous Tropical Shad Tenualosa Macrura”, p. 689. 176. Polunin, “Marine Resources of Indonesia”, p. 473. See also Alan T. White, “Conservation of the Marine Environment”, in Marine Policy in Southeast Asia, edited by Kent and Valencia, p. 321. 177. M.W.F. Tweedie, “Marine Reptiles”, in Malayan Fisheries, edited by G.L. Kesteven (Singapore: Malayan Publishing House, 1949), p. 42. 178. See, for example, Trevor Daly, “Sea Turtles in Trouble in Indonesia”, Inside Indonesia, October 1991, pp. 22–24. 179. See, for example, “Trawling in Protected Zone Kills Two Dugong”,

368

180.

181. 182.

183.

184.

185. 186.

187.

188.

189.

Notes to Pages 289–90

Bangkok Post, 8 May 1996 (Reuters). Cesar et al., “Indonesian Coral Reefs”, p. 345. “Good” is defined as having more than 50 per cent live coral cover. See also Reefs at Risk: A Map-Based Indicator of Threats to the World’s Coral Reefs, by Dirk Bryant et al. (World Resources Institute, 1998). ASEAN-SEAFDEC Conference on Sustainable Fisheries: Technical Document, p. 34. John W. McManus, “Coral Reefs of the ASEAN Region: Status and Management”, Ambio 17 (1988): 189; Tim Severin, The Spice Islands Voyage: In Search of Wallace (London: Little, Brown, 1997), pp. 143–45. Evan N. Edinger et al., “Reef Degradation and Coral Biodiversity in Indonesia: Effects of Land-based Pollution and Destructive Fishing Practices and Changes over Time”, Marine Pollution Bulletin 36 (1998): 628. John Roach, “Coral Reef Paradise Found in Remote Indonesian Islands”, National Geographic News, 8 August 2001 (http:// news.nationalgeographic.com/news). Daniel Pauly et al., “Towards Sustainability in World Fisheries”, Nature 418 (8 August 2002): 691. Ibid.; J.W. McManus, “The Spratly Islands: A Marine Park Alternative”, Naga, The ICLARM Quarterly 15, no. 3 (July 1992): 6. Fisheries scientists are trying to find out exactly how great that capacity is. Looking at world fisheries generally, Jeffrey A. Hutchings argues that “there is very little evidence for rapid recovery from prolonged declines” (my emphasis). “Collapse and Recovery of Marine Fishes”, Nature 406 (24 August 2000): 882. V. Christensen, “Fishery-induced Changes in a Marine Ecosystem: Insight from Models of the Gulf of Thailand”, Journal of Fish Biology 53 (supplement A) (1998): 128–42. Jürgen Saeger, “Do Trawling Bans Work in Tropical Waters?” ICLARM Newsletter 4, no. 1 (January 1981): 3–4, and “The Samar Sea, Philippines: A Decade of Devastation”, Naga, The ICLARM Quarterly 16, no. 4 (October 1993): 4–6.

Notes to Pages 290–92

369

190. James A. Bohnsack, “Marine Reserves: They Enhance Fisheries, Reduce Conflicts, and Protect Resources”, Naga, The ICLARM Quarterly 17, no. 3 (July 1994): 4. 191. Johannes and Riepen, Live Fish Trade, p. 38. 192. There is a rich literature on marine parks, reserves, and sanctuaries, including (in addition to sources cited in other notes) Alan T. White, Marine Parks and Reserves: Management for Coastal Environments in Southeast Asia (Manila: ICLARM, 1988); Garry R. Russ, “Fisheries Management: What Chance on Coral Reefs?” Naga, The ICLARM Quarterly 19, no. 3 (July 1996): 5–9; Lenore Polotan-de la Cruz, ed., Our Sea, Our Life: Proceedings of the Seminar Workshop on Community-based Coastal Resources Management, February 7– 12, 1993, Silliman University, Dumaguete City (Quezon City: Voluntary Services Overseas, 1993), and “Project Seahorse” (www.seahorse.mcgill.ca). I visited a fish sanctuary in Carigara Bay, Leyte, in February 1994. 193. See, for example, McManus, “The Spratly Islands”, and Garry R. Russ and Angel C. Alcala, “Sumilon Island Reserve: 20 Years of Hopes and Frustrations”, Naga, The ICLARM Quarterly 17, no. 3 (July 1994): 8–12. 194. Ove Hoegh-Guldberg, Climate Change, Coral Bleaching and the Future of the World’s Coral Reefs (Greenpeace, 1999). 195. ASEAN-SEAFDEC Conference on Sustainable Fisheries: Proceedings, vol. 1, pp. 3–8.

1956 1957 1958 1959 1960 1961 1962 1963 1964 1965 1966 1967 1968 1969 1970 1971 1972 1973 1974 1975 1976 1977 1978 1979 1980 1981 1982

1 1 2 3 3 3 2 4 3 4 3 1 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 3 3 2 2 2

Brunei

257 257 257 257 257 257 257 257 257 257 257 273 284 299 311 320 329 338 308 355 367 380 396 412 429 445 451

Burmaa

30 30 30 30 30 28 31 36 40 43 39 45 46 46 20 22 21 11 11 11 11 11 11 8 7 1 3

Cambodiab 418 406 421 400 410 526 545 559 590g 665 720 678 723 785 807 820 837 886 946 988 1,078 1,154 1,222 1,312 1,387 1,401 1,483

Indonesiac 114 113 114 121 144 156 173 205 215 226 270 341 380 346 339 363 354 440 522 471 514 617 682 693 734 792 666

Malaysiad 399 390 430 440 448 459 488 548 606 668 709 752 878 907 844 924 1,023 1,103 1,154 1,229 1,125 1,230 1,199 1,132 1,135 1,214 1,258

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

Singapore 156 166 145 148 146 233 270 327 498 541 648 761 1,004 1,179 1,343 1,482 1,550 1,540 1,356 1,392 1,512 2,066 1,958 1,813 1,648 1,824 1,987

Thailand 201 213 241 291 341 345 422 614 595 533 531 566 574 615 668 731 811 837 398 374 430 413 403 415 423 427 440

Vietnamf

Appendix 1 Nominal Marine Fish Landings in Southeast Asia by Year, 1956 to 2000 (1,000 tons)

1,586 1,590 1,652 1,702 1,788 2,017 2,200 2,563 2,836 2,948 3,196 3,435 3,908 4,196 4,351 4,678 4,942 5,175 4,716 4,839 5,055 5,887 5,890 5,804 5,781 6,122 6,309

Total

370

Appendices

Reproduced from The Closing of the Frontier: A History of the Marine Fisheries of Southeast Asia c. 1850-

3 2 3 3 3 2 2 2 2 2 2 4 5 7 5 5 3 2

445 466 497 535 541 560 591 599 587 590 598 600 603 455 631 781 760 880

9 7 11 7 17 21 26 40 36 34 33 30 31 31 30 32 38 39 1,672 1,704 1,759 1,850 1,931 2,081 2,185 2,251 2,540 2,588 2,776 2,980 3,174 3,222 3,487 3,676 3,855 3,811 725 661 624 818 902 865 927 951 912 1,024 1,047 1,066 1,108 1,127 1,169 1,149 1,248 1,286 1,318 1,334 1,331 1,378 1,426 1,463 1,545 1,592 1,670 1,655 1,624 1,641 1,674 1,606 1,646 1,687 1,727 1,741 19 26 24 21 17 15 13 11 11 9 9 11 10 10 9 8 6 5 2,105 1,973 2,058 2,349 2,603 2,451 2,493 2,363 2,481 2,740 2,753 2,818 2,827 2,791 2,694 2,724 2,722 2,714 552 548 572 576 612 642 662 641 694 730 785 946 990 1,059 1,099 1,155 1,217 1,281 6,848 6,721 6,879 7,537 8,052 8,100 8,444 8,450 8,933 9,372 9,627 10,096 10,422 10,308 10,770 11,217 11,576 11,759

General Notes: (1) Since the FAO revises data in later editions of the Yearbook, I have tried to use the latest volume for which data for a particular year are available. (2) Figures have been rounded to the nearest 1,000 tons. (3) Most of the figures for the early years have been calculated by subtracting landings of freshwater fish (and, in some cases, other freshwater animals) from total landings. (4) This table does not include fish caught but discarded at sea, fish caught and then used as bait without being landed, fish caught within Southeast Asian waters but landed outside Southeast Asia, and of course fish landed in Southeast Asia without being recorded. At the same time, however, it includes fish caught outside of Southeast Asia but landed in Southeast Asia. Because of these problems as well as those mentioned in the specific notes the data in this table provide only a rough indication of the quantity of fish caught in the seas of Southeast Asia. They give an even rougher indication of the quantity of marine animals killed during fishing, since they do not include animals killed but not taken on board the fishing vessel.

1983 1984 1985 1986 1987 1988 1989 1990 1991 1992 1993 1994 1995 1996 1997 1998 1999 2000

Appendices 371

Specific Notes: The Yearbook gives exactly the same figures for total landings (360,000 tons) and landings of freshwater fish (103,000 tons) every year for the period 1956–66. b For the period 1957–60 the Yearbook gives no data at all on landings in Cambodia, and for 1956 it gives only the total landings. The figures given here for 1956–60 were derived by subtracting landings of freshwater fish in 1961 (120,000 tons) from the total for 1956 (150,000 tons). c The figures for 1956–61 do not include landings in West New Guinea, which was incorporated into Indonesia in 1962. The 1960 Yearbook states that total landings (of freshwater as well as marine species) in West New Guinea amounted to 3,200 tons in 1956 and 4,000 tons each year from 1957 to 1960. d Figures for the years before the formation of Malaysia in 1963 include landings in Sabah and Sarawak when given in the Yearbook. Figures for 1963–65, when Singapore was part of Malaysia, do not include landings at Singapore. e The figures for the Philippines include milkfish (Chanos chanos). Milkfish is a marine species, but milkfish raised in fishponds have probably accounted for a very high proportion of “landings” of this fish. The figure for 1963 includes 62,000 tons of milkfish, about a tenth of the total. f The figures for Vietnam combine data for North Vietnam and South Vietnam for the period up to 1970, after which date the Yearbook gives figures for all of Vietnam starting with the 1975 edition. For both North and South Vietnam the Yearbook gives a figure only for total landings for both North and South Vietnam for most of the years 1956–60 . The figures given here are therefore particularly rough estimates. Many of them are derived by assuming that marine animals made up the same proportion of total landings as they did in the closest year for which there is a separate figure for freshwater landings. The Yearbook gives no data at all on landings in North Vietnam in 1964. The figure used for compiling this table is simply the mean of the figure for 1963 (itself an estimate derived by taking the quantity of freshwater landings, the only piece of information given for that year, and assuming that this represented the same proportion of total landings as it did in 1962) and the figure for 1965, an FAO estimate. g The Yearbook gives no figure for 1964. The figure given here comes from Sulaeman Krisnandhi, “The Economic Development of Indonesia’s Sea Fishing Industry”, Bulletin of Indonesian Economic Studies 5, no. 1 (March 1969), p. 52 (table 2).

Sources: FAO Yearbook of Fishery Statistics (Rome: FAO), volumes 12 (for 1960), 14 (1961), 15 (1962), 16 (1963), 20 (1965), 24 (1967), 26 (1968), 28 (1969), 34 (1972), 40 (1975), 46 (1978), 56 (1983), 64 (1987), 70 (1990), 74 (1992), 78 (1994), 80 (1995), 86/1 (1998), 88/1 (1999), 90/1 (2000).

a

372

Appendices

1,900

450 190 150 470 340 260 29

4,500

880 1,400 350 810 700 320 21

1970/71

6,000

1,200 1,700 760 1,400 420 440 4

1980/81

8,700

1,600 2,400 930 2,400 670 590 38

1990/91

12,000

1,700 2,700 1,300 3,800 1,200 820 38

1999/2000

9.0

6.9 22.2 8.9 5.7 7.4 2.1 –3.2

1960/61– 1970/71

2.8

2.9 2.1 8.1 5.5 –4.9 3.3 –15.3

1970/71– 1980/81

3.9

3.3 3.4 2.0 5.6 4.6 3.1 25.2

1980/81– 1990/91

3.3

0.1 1.3 3.5 5.4 7.2 3.7 0.1

1990/91– 1999/2000

Annual Rate of Growth (%)

Source: Appendix 1.

Note: Data in the “Landings” columns are means of the figures for the two years specified and are expressed in two significant figures.

Southeast Asia

Philippines Thailand Malaysia Indonesia Vietnam Burma Cambodia

1960/61

Landings (1,000 tons)

Appendix 2 Nominal Marine Fish Landings and Annual Rates of Growth in Landings in Southeast Asia by Decade, 1960 to 2000

Appendices 373

15 5 9 21 20 33 9 14

13 7 10 22 24 38 15 18

1965/66 14 10 10 23 31 50 25 15

1970/71 14 12 10 31 34 40 21 12

1975/76 15 5 12 41 32 29 19 10

1980/81 15 10 14 46 33 36 21 13

1985/86 16 13 15 50 37 28 22 13

1990/91

17 9 18 56 30 33 32 17

1996/97

Source: Edmondo Laureti, Fish and Fishery Products: World Apparent Consumption Statistics Based on Food Balance Sheets, 1961–1997 (Rome: FAO, 1999), pp. 109, 171, 197, 212, 233, 253, 269, 290.

Note: The figures given here are means of figures for the years indicated and are rounded to the nearest kilogram. The FAO calculates the figure for each year by taking the catch (invertebrates as well as finfish) of a particular country (from freshwater fisheries and aquaculture as well as marine fisheries), deducting the amount not used for food, adding imports (converted to live weights), subtracting exports, and then dividing the result by the population. Because of the problems in calculating catches, imports (and live weight equivalents), exports, and populations, the figures shown in this table provide only very rough estimates of consumption. Figures have been rounded to the nearest kilogram.

Burma Cambodia Indonesia Malaysia Philippines Singapore Thailand Vietnam

1961/62

Appendix 3 Southeast Asia: Per Capita Fish Supply in Kilograms per Year, 1961/62 to 1996/97

374

Appendices

Reproduced from The Closing of the Frontier: A History of the Marine Fisheries of Southeast Asia c. 18502000, by John G. Butcher (Singapore: Institute of Southeast Asian Studies, 2004). This version was obtained electronically direct from the publisher on condition that copyright is not infringed. No part of this publication may be reproduced without the prior permission of the Institute of Southeast Asian Studies.Individual articles are available at < http://bookshop.iseas.edu.sg >

Glossary

375

Glossary

This glossary does not include many terms that are used only in one place in the text. Lengths of fish are taken from FishBase without specifying whether they are fork, standard, or total lengths. Cross references and references to relevant figures are indicated in bold letters. (C: Chinese; I: Indonesian; J: Japanese; M: Malay; P: Philippine; T: Thai) ADB albacore

ambai

ASEAN

Asian Development Bank, based in Manila. tuna belonging to the genus Thunnus, properly Thunnus alalunga, a medium-sized tuna (maximum length: 140 cm), found in all oceans but “not at the surface between 10°N and 10°S”. FishBase. a bag net, held in place by poles driven into the seabed, that has a square mouth and course sacking at the cod end to catch shrimp and very small fish swept into it by the current and that is arranged so that the animals are guided into it by two lines of poles converging at its mouth. Association of Southeast Asian Nations, formed in 1968 with Thailand, Malaysia, Singapore, Indonesia, and the Philippines as original

376

Bali sardinella

barramundi

basnig [P]

basnigan [P] beam trawl belacan (M/I) benthic

bigeye tuna

biomass bottom longline

Glossary

members, now encompassing all of Southeast Asia. Sardinella lemuru, a small (maximum length: 23 cm) pelagic fish that “forms large schools in coastal waters, particularly in the Bali Strait upwelling”. FishBase. Lates calcarifer, a large fish “inhabiting rivers before returning to estuaries to spawn”. FishBase. “bag net”, a kind of liftnet which is first suspended under the fishing vessel and then raised after fish have been attracted by lights. Figure 6.1. a vessel, usually a double-outrigger boat, equipped with a basnig. Figure 6.1. a trawl net held open by a beam across the opening of the net. Figure 5.1. fermented shrimp (and sometimes fish) paste. “dwelling on, or relating to, the bottom of a body of water; living on the bottom of the ocean and feeding on benthic organisms”. FishBase. Thunnus obesus, very large (maximum length: 250 cm) oceanic tuna which as “juveniles and small adults school at the surface in monospecies groups or mixed with other tunas” and “may be associated with floating objects” but as adults usually swim far below the surface. FishBase. weight of a population or a component of a population. a type of longline arranged so that the hooks hang just above the seabed in order to catch demersal fish.

Glossary

bubu [M/I]

caesionids chumming

clupeids

coral bleaching

CPUE

demersal

double-rigged trawler

driftnet EEZ ENSO FAD

FAO

377

generic term for portable fish traps consisting of a cage often made of bamboo and rattan that has an opening that a fish or other animal can enter but through which it cannot escape. Figure 2.3. fusiliers. scattering bait (“chum”), usually very small fish, on the water to attract large fish such as skipjack tuna during pole-and-line fishing. herrings, shads, sardines, and other fishes in the family Clupeidae, mainly coastal schooling fishes that feed on small planktonic animals and as adults range in length from 2 to 70 cm. the phenomenon of coral polyps turning white as they expel zooxanthellae from their tissues when stressed by excessively warm water. catch per unit of effort, used as an indicator of the extent to which fishing may have depleted a stock. See pp. 19, 21. “Sinking to or lying on the bottom; living on or near the bottom and feeding on benthic organisms”. FishBase. Usually used in contrast to pelagic. a trawler that is outfitted with trawl nets attached to booms extending from both sides of the vessel. a gill net allowed to drift with the current. exclusive economic zone, extending up to 200 nautical miles from baseline. El Niño-Southern Oscillation. See p. 18. fish aggregating device, any device such as a light or floating object (for example, a rumpon or payaw) used to attract fish. Food and Agriculture Organization of the

378

fish corral

fish net flyingfish

fusiliers

gillnet

GPS

groupers

Glossary

United Nations, based in Rome. a fishing stake consisting of a barrier (typically made of split bamboo screens lashed to a fencelike framework driven into the seabed) that blocks the movement of fish and then guides them through successively smaller chambers (made in the same way) until they reach the smallest one, where they are captured with nets. Common names are baklad [P], sero [Java], and poh [T]. Figure 2.2. euphemism used in Indonesia for a trawl net. fishes belonging to the family Exocoetidae, particularly in the case of Southeast Asian fisheries those of the genus Cypselurus, that are characterized by unusually large pectoral fins that can be used for gliding flight and that attain a maximum length of 45 cm but are usually less than 30 cm long. FishBase. fishes of the family Caesionidae that reach a maximum length of about 60 cm and “during the day … occur in large zooplankton feeding schools in mid-water over the reef, along steep outer reef slopes and around deep lagoon pinnacles”. FishBase. a net hanging vertically in the water which catches fish when they entangle themselves by their gills in the mesh of the net. global positioning system, a satellite navigation system, used by fishing vessels to pinpoint their location and record the position of fishing grounds. fishes in the family Serranidae, notably those of the genus Epinephelus, bottom-dwelling carniverous species found in a variety of habitats but particularly coral and rocky reefs in the case

Glossary

GRT

GT

humphead wrasse

ikan busuk [M/I] Indian mackerel

IOTC jermal [M/I]

379

of many species and varying in length from 20 to more than 200 cm, and those of the genus Plectropomus (“coral trout”), such as P. leopardus, which live in coral-rich areas, as adults feed mainly on fish, form spawning aggregations on reefs, reach a maximum length of 120 cm, and are long-lived (maximum reported age: 26 years). FishBase. “gross registered ton”, a measure of the internal capacity of a vessel, specifically, 100 cubic feet (2.8 cubic metres). The gross registered tonnage of a vessel does not include enclosed areas above the top deck. “gross ton”, equivalent to GRT, but the gross tonnage of a vessel includes enclosed areas above the top deck. Cheilinus undulatus, fish that inhabit “steep outer reef slopes, channel slopes, and lagoon reefs”, as adults “rove across the reefs by day and rest in reef caves and under coral ledges at night”, feed on fish and invertebrates, and reach a great size (maximum length: 230 cm; maximum weight: 190 kg). FishBase. “rotten fish”, used to refer to low-grade salted fish produced at Bagan Si Api Api. properly called Rastrelliger kanagurta, but used here to refer generally to Rastrelliger species, pelagic fishes inhabiting coastal waters and waters of the continental shelf, feeding on plankton and ranging in maximum length from 20 to 35 cm. Indian Ocean Tuna Commission. a large fishing stake, usually positioned in estuaries, consisting of two converging lines of poles that guide fish being pushed along by the

380

kanas [I] katsuobushi [J]

kelong [C/M]

kembong [M] kongsi [C] kubkuban [P] layang [I] lawag [P]

lemuru [I] lis-alis [I]

longline

MacArthur Line

Glossary

tidal current towards a slanting screen that hangs from a framework of poles and that is raised as soon as a lot of fish have been driven against it. Figure 4.1. a product similar to Siam fish. “dried skipjack stick”, product made by steaming, smoking, and drying fillets of skipjack tuna. a large fishing stake formed by a long line of poles that guide fish into either a single chamber containing a net that is raised once a lot of fish have gathered above it or into a series of two or three chambers, the innermost of which contains such a net. Indian mackerel. Equivalent to kembung [I] and pla thu [T]. group, collective, or syndicate. a kind of purse seine. scad. Also selayang [M]. a fishing outfit similar to that employing a sapyaw but also using pressure lamps to attract fish. various sardinella, particularly Bali sardinella. Madurese sailing vessel that unlike a perahu mayang has a keel and so can be sailed much closer to the wind. a fishing gear consisting of a long line, either running along the sea surface or suspended below the surface, from which hang lines to each of which are attached one or more hooks. Figure 6.4. limit imposed by Allied occupation authorities on Japanese fishing vessels defining how far from Japan they could operate, gradually extended until lifted in 1952.

Glossary

mackerel mesopelagic milkfish

mother of pearl

muro ami [J]

ngapi [Burmese]

otter trawl

overfishing

pair trawl

payang [I/M]

payaw [P] pearl oyster

381

Indian mackerel and Spanish mackerel. “living or feeding at midwater depths between 200 m and 1,000 m”. FishBase. Chanos chanos, a fish that spawns in fully saline water, the larvae then migrating onshore where they are often collected for cultivation in fish ponds. the hard pearly material forming the inner layer of the shell of a mollusc, specifically, that coming from the pearl oyster and certain other shellfish such as trochus. a drive-in net, set along a reef slope in such a way that swimmers, each dangling a weighted “scare line” to which white cloth or other material is attached, drive the fish into the net, which is then closed and raised. Figure 5.2. term covering not only a product equivalent to belacan but also other fermented fish and shrimp products. a trawl net held open by outward pressure on the “otter boards” (or “doors”) as the net is towed behind the moving vessel. term having various technical senses but generally used in this study to indicate severe depletion. a trawl net towed by two vessels moving parallel to each other and far enough apart to keep the net open. a large sack-like net with two long wings used to catch pelagic fish, often used in conjunction with a rumpon. floating fish lure, equivalent to rumpon. Also spelled payao. Figure 6.3. Pinctada maxima (“gold lip”) and the smaller, less valuable P. margaritifera (“black lip”),

382

pelagic

penaeid shrimp

perahu (prahu) [M/I] perahu mayang [I] phytoplankton pindang [I] plankton

pla thu [T] poh [T] pole and line

pongpang [T]

Glossary

bivalves sought for pearls and mother of pearl. “living and feeding in the open sea; associated with the surface or middle depths of a body of water; free swimming in the seas, oceans or open waters”. FishBase. Usually used in contrast to demersal. large (up to 250 grams in the case of the giant tiger shrimp [Penaeus monodon]), commercially valuable shrimp (or “prawns”) in the family Penaeidae, particularly those of the genus Penaeus. generic name in Malay world for a boat. a broad, flat-bottomed, planked sailing vessel used for fishing. “microscopic plant life that floats in the open ocean”. FishBase. a fish product made by first boiling the fish in brine and then drying it. “passively floating or only weakly swimming organisms in a body of water, which drift in the ocean along with the water currents”. FishBase. Indian mackerel. a kind of fish corral. most generally, a pole to which is attached a line at the end of which is a hook; more specifically, in relation to the skipjack tuna fisheries, a pole to which is attached a fairly short line at the end of which is a lure and barbless hook, used in conjunction with chumming. a fine-meshed bag net, held in place by poles driven into the seabed, that catches fish and shrimp swept into it by the current and that is

Glossary

ponyfish

population

power block PT (used before name of Indonesian company) pumpboat [P] purse seine

ramie rumpon [I]

383

arranged so that the animals are guided into it by two rows of loose brush converging at its mouth. Closely resembles an ambai. fishes of the family Leiognathidae, small (maximum length generally less than 20 cm), slimy demersal fishes that inhabit shallow coastal waters, swim in schools, and feed on smaller fish and invertebrates. Also known as “slipmouths”. “a biological unit representing the individuals of a species living in a particular area; a group of individuals with common ancestry that are much more likely to breed with one another than with individuals from another such group”. FishBase. a mechanized pulley used to haul in a purse seine. Perséroan Terbatas, meaning “Inc.” or “Ltd”.

a double-outrigger boat powered by an inboard engine (originally of the type used in pumps). a net which is held in a vertical position in the water by floats at the top and heavy rings at the bottom and which, after the two ends of the net are joined together, is “pursed” by hauling in a rope that passes through the rings so that the fish are trapped in the net. Figure 5.3. a strong woody fibre made from a plant in the nettle family. a floating fish lure, a kind of FAD, consisting of a float from which hang palm leaves that are attached either to an anchor line or to a separate line. Equivalent to tendak [Javanese], payaw [P], and unjang [M]. Figure 2.1.

384

sapyaw [P] scads

sea cucumbers

seahorses

sergestid shrimp shads

Siam fish si stji [C]

skipjack tuna

snappers

Glossary

a dustpan-shaped net (technically a “round haul seine”) used to catch pelagic fish. Figure 4.2. any of many fishes in the family Carangidae, particularly in this study those of the genus Decapterus, pelagic species that gather in schools, often in coastal waters, and attain a maximum length ranging from 20 to 45 cm. a class (Holothurioidea) of echinoderms characterized by an elongated muscular body. Also called “bêche de mer”. Hippocampus species and their relatives, small fishes having a horse-like head and typically found in coral reefs, seagrass beds, and mangroves. small shrimps in the family Sergestidae. in this study, fishes of the genus Tenualosa, coastal species that spawn in sheltered coastal straits, estuaries, or rivers and are highly valued for their roe. fish (traditionally Indian mackerel) preserved in large quantities of salt. a bag-shaped net made of tiny mesh at the cod end and wider mesh near the entrance, fixed to the bottom by two stakes and kept open by ropes leading from the upper edge of the entrance to bamboo floats on the surface. Katsuwonus pelamis, a medium-sized tuna (maximum length: 108 cm) found in offshore waters that “exhibit[s] a strong tendency to school in surface waters with birds, drifting objects, sharks and whales”. FishBase. fishes of the family Lutjanidae, such as crimson snappers (Lutjanus erythropterus), which attain a maximum length of 82 cm, prey mainly on fish, and “are present over shoals, rubble, large

Glossary

southern bluefin tuna

Spanish mackerel

SPC stock

stratum superseiner teleosts

tendak [Javanese] tenggiri [M/I] terasi [Javanese/I] terubuk [M/I] thermocline tongkol [M/I]

385

epibenthos [animals and plants living on the seabed], hard or sandy mud substrates and offshore reefs”. FishBase. Thunnus maccoyii, very large pelagic fish (maximum length: 245 cm) that migrate from southern latitudes to tropical waters off the northwest coast of Australia to spawn. properly called Scomberomorus commerson, a pelagic fish “distributed from near edge of continental shelf to shallow coastal waters” that is usually less than a meter long but may become as long as 240 cm, but used here to refer generally to Scomberomorus species, thereby including as well S. guttatus (Indo-Pacific king mackerel), a medium-sized (maximum length: 76 cm) “pelagic migratory fish inhabiting coastal waters at depths between 15–200 m”. FishBase. South Pacific Commission. equivalent to population but with the connotation that it is a resource being exploited or managed. an ecological subsystem. See p. 17. a very large purse seiner. fishes with a bony skeleton (as distinct from those with a cartilaginous skeleton such as sharks and rays). floating fish lure, equivalent to rumpon. Spanish mackerel. equivalent to belacan. shad belonging to the genus Tenualosa. “the distinct interface between surface waters and cooler, deeper waters”. FishBase. term applied variously to large tuna of the genus

386

towkay [C] trammel net

trawl net tripang [M/I]

trochus

trolling trophic level

tuna

tunny UNDP water column yellowfin tuna

Glossary

Thunnus and skipjack tuna but particularly small tunas such as kawakawa (Euthynnus affinis) and frigate tuna (Auxis thazard thazard ). Chinese businessman. a net usually consisting of three layers of netting, the middle of which is slack and has a finer mesh so that fish entangle themselves as they try to pass through. a conical net towed behind a moving vessel. sea cucumbers; the product made by gutting, boiling, and smoke-drying these animals. Often spelled trepang. top shells belonging to the genus Trochus, particularly T. niloticus, the large highly commercial species which has a conical shell with a flattened base. towing one or more lines with bait or lures behind a moving boat. a position in a food web, starting at the lowest level with the primary producers (phytoplankton, seagrasses, algae, and some other plants). See pp. 10–11. term applied most generally to fish in the family Scombridae but often more specifically to the large pelagic fish belonging to the genus Thunnus and to skipjack tuna. tuna. United Nations Development Program. “vertical section of the sea”. FishBase. Thunnus albacares, large oceanic tuna (maximum length: 240 cm) that “school primarily by size”, often with other species (often skipjack tuna in the case of juveniles and dolphins in the case of larger fish) and that are

Glossary

zooplankton zooxanthellae

387

often “associated with floating debris and other objects”. FishBase. “animals (mostly microscopic) which drift freely in the water column”. FishBase. algae living within the tissues of coral polyps.

Reproduced from The Closing of the Frontier: A History of the Marine Fisheries of Southeast Asia c. 18502000, by John G. Butcher (Singapore: Institute of Southeast Asian Studies, 2004). This version was obtained electronically direct from the publisher on condition that copyright is not infringed. No part of this publication may be reproduced without the prior permission of the Institute of Southeast Asian Studies.Individual articles are available at < http://bookshop.iseas.edu.sg >

388

Notes and Sources for Maps and Figures

Notes and Sources for Maps and Figures

Maps General Note: The coastal outlines used for maps 4.1–4.3, 4.6–6.1, and 6.3–7.3 were taken from World Vector Shoreline (1:1,000,000 and 1:250,000). Minor changes have been made in some maps to achieve greater clarity. Map 1.1: Based on Joseph R. Morgan and Mark J. Valencia, eds, Atlas of Marine Policy in Southeast Asian Seas (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1983), map titled “Bathymetry”. Map 1.2: Reproduced with minor changes from R.D. Hill, ed., SouthEast Asia: A Systemic Geography (Kuala Lumpur: Oxford University Press, 1979), pp. 18 and 27, with the kind permission of Oxford University Press/Penerbit Fajar Bakti. Map 1.3: Based on Morgan and Valencia, eds, Atlas of Marine Policy in Southeast Asian Seas, map titled “Distribution of mangrove forests and coral reefs”. Map 4.4: A.M. van Roosendaal, “De lajang-visscherij in de Java-Zee en in straat Madoera”, Mededeelingen van het Visscherij-Station te Batavia, no. 5 (1910), kaart I. I have deleted the villages and towns that have no corresponding fishing grounds. The question mark refers to “Karanglinja”, for which I could find no corresponding village either on Van Roosendaal’s map or in the Atlas van Tropisch Nederland.

Notes and Sources for Maps and Figures

389

Map 4.5: H. van Pel, “De beoefening der majang zeevisscherij langs de noordkust van Java”, Mededeeling van de Onderafdeeling Zeevisscherij, no. 2B (1938): 113. Van Pel’s map includes “Ngaglik” in the fishing ground I have marked “Palang, Tambakboya, and Tuban” but I could not locate this village either on his map or in the Atlas van Tropisch Nederland. Map 4.6: Information has been taken from Ch. O. van der Plas, “De visscherij en de vischhandel in den Kangean- en Sapoediarchipel”, Koloniaal Tijdschrift 9 (1920), map following p. 566. Map 5.1: Most names and the boundaries of the pearl beds have been taken from Alvin Seale, “Sea Products of Mindanao and Sulu, II: Pearls, Pearl Shells, and Button Shells”, Philippine Journal of Science 11 (1916), plate I. Map 5.3: The dates are taken from Yoshiaki Matsuda and Kazuomi Ouchi, “Legal, Political, and Economic Constraints on Japanese Strategies for Distant-water Tuna and Skipjack Fisheries in Southeast Asian Seas and the Western Central Pacific”, Memoirs of the Kagoshima University Research Center for the South Pacific 5, no. 2 (1984): 157–59. Map 6.1: Catch rates taken from K. Tiews, “Fishery Development and Management in Thailand”, Archiv für Fischereiwissenschaft 24 (1973): 276. Map 6.2: Based on J.D. Ardill, Atlas of Industrial Tuna Fisheries in the Indian Ocean (Colombo: Indo-Pacific Tuna Fisheries Development and Management Programme, 1995), pp. 1–4, 7–9. Map 6.3: Boundaries of the area covered by the Banda Sea Agreement taken from Salvatore Comitini and Sutanto Hardjolukito, “Economic Benefits and Costs of Alternative Arrangements for Tuna Fisheries Development in the Exclusive Economic Zone: The Case of Indonesia”, Ocean Management 10 (1986): 43 (Figure 2). Map 7.1: Redrawn from the map in M. Potier and D. Petit, “Fishing Strategies and Tactics in the Javanese Seiners Fisheries”, in BIODYNEX:

390

Notes and Sources for Maps and Figures

Biology, Dynamics, Exploitation of the Small Pelagic Fishes in the Java Sea, edited by M. Potier and S. Nurhakim (Jakarta: Agency for Agricultural Research and Development, Ministry of Agriculture, and ORSTOM, 1995), p. 172. Map 7.2: The payaw areas along the north coast of Sulawesi and to the west of the Sangir Islands are taken from Nurzali Naamin, C.P. Mathews, and D. Monintja, “Studies of Indonesian Tuna Fisheries, Part 1: Interactions between Coastal and Offshore Tuna Fisheries in Manado and Bitung, North Sumatra”, in Status of Interactions of Pacific Tuna Fisheries in 1995, edited by Shomura, Majkowski, and Harman, p. 284 (figure 1). The areas between the Sangir and Talaud islands and in the Molucca Sea are based on information in the text (on p. 286) and are therefore less precisely delineated. The baseline claimed by Indonesia is taken from Robert Cribb, Historical Atlas of Indonesia (Richmond: Curzon, 2000), p. 187. Map 7.3: The location of the PFESL and the boundaries of the area permitted to traditional vessels are taken from Bruce C. Campbell and Bu V.E. Wilson, The Politics of Exclusion: Indonesian Fishing in the Australian Fishing Zone, Indian Ocean Centre for Peace Studies, Monograph no. 5 (Perth: Indian Ocean Centre for Peace Studies, 1993), pp. 202–3, Maps 7 and 8 (both drawn by Vivian Louis Forbes), and James J. Fox, “Reefs and Shoals in Australia-Indonesia Relations: Traditional Indonesian Fishermen”, in Australia in Asia: Episodes, edited by Anthony Milner and Mary Quilty (Melbourne: Oxford University Press, 1998), p. 115. The PFESL was established by a memorandum of understanding between the Australian and Indonesian governments in 1981, several years after they had agreed on a seabed boundary, which in the Timor Sea lies to the north of the PFESL.

Figures Figure 1.1: Artwork by Jason Wotherspoon and Aque Atanacio. Figure 2.1: H. van Pel, “De beoefening der majang zeevisscherij langs de

Notes and Sources for Maps and Figures

391

noordkust van Java”, Mededeeling van de Onderafdeeling Zeevisscherij, no. 2B (1938), p. 110 (figure 1); Bienvenido Y. Datingaling, “Fishing with ‘Bombon’ in Batangas Province”, Bulletin of the Fisheries Society of the Philippines 3 and 4 (1952–53): 42. Figure 2.2: Agustin F. Umali, Guide to the Classification of Fishing Gear in the Philippines, Research Report 17, Fish and Wildlife Service, United States Department of the Interior (Washington: United States Government Printing Office, 1950), p. 25. All drawings in this source were prepared by Silas G. Duran. Figure 2.3: Umali, Guide to the Classification of Fishing Gear, p. 26. Figure 3.1: Trade matrices for 1912 compiled by Howard Dick and David Bulbeck for the Economic History of Southeast Asia Project; Statistiek van den Handel en de In- en Uitvoerrechten in Nederlandsch-Indië 1910 (Batavia: Landsdrukkerij, 1910), IIa (Java en Madoera), p. 14; P.N. van Kampen, “Aanteekeningen omtrent de Visscherij van Sumatra en Riouw”, Mededeelingen van het Visscherij-Station te Batavia, no. 3 (1909), p. 17; “Diplomatic and Consular Reports: Siam for the Year 1911–1912 on the Trade of Bangkok”, Parliamentary Papers, 1912–13, Cd 6005–207, xcix, p. 26; B.J. Haga, “De beteekenis der visscherij industrie van Bagan Api Api en hare toekomst”, Economist (1917), pp. 240, 251; Shaharil Talib, After Its Own Image: The Trengganu Experience, 1881–1941 (Singapore: Oxford University Press, 1984), p. 61. This diagram is a revised version of the one in “Some notes on the trade in dried fish, belacan, and salt c.1910” (Conference on Island Southeast Asia and the World Economy, Economic History of Southeast Asia Project, ANU, November 1992), where I give more details on the sources I used and discuss problems involved in preparing the diagram. Figure 4.1: H.C. Delsman and J.D.F. Hardenberg, De Indische Zeevisschen en Zeevisscherij (Batavia: N.V. Boekhandel en Drukkerij, 1934), pp. 55 and 56. Figure 4.2: Umali, Guide to the Classification of Fishing Gear, p. 53.

392

Notes and Sources for Maps and Figures

Figure 5.1: Heraclio R. Montalban and Claro Martin, “Two Japanese Fishing Methods Used by Japanese Fishermen in Philippine Waters”, Philippine Journal of Science 42 (1930): 476, and Umali, Guide to the Classification of Fishing Gear, p. 61. Figure 5.2: “Japanese Fishing Methods in Tropical Waters”, Monthly Economic Bulletin (issued by the Special Commissioner for South East Asia, Singapore), no. 1 (August 1946): p. 1. Figure 5.3: Umali, Guide to the Classification of Fishing Gear, p. 54. Figure 6.1: Jesse M. Floyd, International Fish Trade of Southeast Asian Nations, Research Report no. 16 (Honolulu: East-West Environment and Policy Institute, East-West Center, 1984), table 15, appendix table 1, and information in the text. In 1978 ASEAN was made up of Singapore, Indonesia, Malaysia, Thailand, and the Philippines. Trade in fish products both between the ASEAN countries and the other countries within Southeast Asia and between those other countries and countries outside the region was very small at this time. Floyd points out that the trade data do not include illegal fish trade, most of which was oriented to supplying high-grade fish to Singapore. Figure 6.2: Gonzalo G. Ferrer, “Rigging Motor Vessels as Basnigan”, Bulletin of the Fisheries Society of the Philippines 2 (1951): 32 (Figure 3). Figure 6.3: Virginia L. Aprieto and Ruben Ganaden, “A Review of the Philippine Tuna Fishery”, University of the Philippines in the Visayas Fisheries Journal 3, nos. 1–2 (1987): 42, with some labelling omitted. Aprieto and Ganaden cite “de Jesus, 1982” as their source, but this source does not appear in the list of references. Figure 6.4: Umali, Guide to the Classification of Fishing Gear, p. 35, with one minor addition. Though not labelled as a Japanese tuna longline, this drawing appears to correspond with the description given in my main source, namely, Beare, Lorimer, and Hynd, An Investigation of Tuna Long-lining in Japan. It was, however, drawn before the adoption of kuralon rope.

Notes and Sources for Maps and Figures

393

Figure 7.1: For 1985: Dumri Konuntakiet, “Trade in Canned Tuna: A Factual Account”, Proceedings of the INFOFISH Tuna Trade Conference, Bangkok, Thailand, 25–27 February 1986 (Kuala Lumpur: INFOFISH, [1986]), p. 145 (tables 1 and 2); for 1989: ADB/INFOFISH, Global Industry Update: Tuna (Kuala Lumpur: INFOFISH, [1991]), p. 60 (tables 20 and 21). The source for 1989 includes a category for “others” that may include flows for which the diagram gives no information. This category amounts to 9 per cent of imports and 14 per cent of exports.

Reproduced from The Closing of the Frontier: A History of the Marine Fisheries of Southeast Asia c. 18502000, by John G. Butcher (Singapore: Institute of Southeast Asian Studies, 2004). This version was obtained electronically direct from the publisher on condition that copyright is not infringed. No part of this publication may be reproduced without the prior permission of the Institute of Southeast Asian Studies.Individual articles are available at Bibliography 394 < http://bookshop.iseas.edu.sg >

Bibliography

Abdul Aziz bin Ishak. Report of the Committee to Investigate the Fishing Industry. Kuala Lumpur: Government Press, 1956. Abdullah bin Abdul Kadir. The Hikayat Abdullah. Translated by A.H. Hill. Kuala Lumpur: Oxford University Press, 1970. Abesamis, Rene A., Porfirio M. Aliño, and Domingo G. Jocson. “From Muro-ami to Pa-aling: More Than Just a Question of Destructive Fishing”. (forthcoming). ADB/INFOFISH. Global Industry Update: Shrimp. Kuala Lumpur: INFOFISH, [1991]. ———. Global Industry Update: Tuna. Kuala Lumpur: INFOFISH, [1991]. Ahmad Sofian. “Gone Fishing”. Inside Indonesia, no. 52 (October– December 1997): 21–23. Alverson, Dayton L., Mark H. Freeberg, Steven A. Murawski, and J.G. Pope. A Global Assessment of Fisheries Bycatch and Discards. FAO (Food and Agriculture Organization) Fisheries Technical Paper no. 339. Rome: FAO, 1994. Anderson, John. Political and Economic Considerations Relative to the Malayan Peninsula, and the British Settlements in the Straits of Malacca. Prince of Wales Island: William Cox, 1824. Reprinted for MBRAS by Malaysia Printers, Singapore, 1965. Andrews, James M. Siam: 2nd Rural Economic Survey, 1934–1935. Bangkok: Bangkok Times Press, 1935. Annual Report of the Fisheries Department, Straits Settlements and Federated

Bibliography

395

Malay States. Singapore: Government Printing Office. Published and paginated as part of the annual volume of annual reports for British Malaya, 1923–34 and separately 1935–38. Some minor changes in title. Abbreviated as Annual Report of Fisheries, Malaya. Aprieto, Virginia L. “Philippine Tuna Fisheries: Resource and Industry”. Fisheries Research Journal of the Philippines 5, no. 1 (1980): 53–66. ———. “Philippine Tuna Fisheries: Status, Trend and Management”. Likas-Yaman (Journal of the Natural Resources Forum) 2, no. 5 (1980?): 8–41. ———. Philippine Tuna Fisheries: Yellowfin and Skipjack. Diliman, Quezon City: University of the Philippines Press, 1995. ———. “The Impact of Fish Aggregating Device (FAD) in Philippine Tuna Fishery”. Fisheries Research Journal of the Philippines 16, nos. 1– 2 (1991): 43–60. Aprieto, Virginia L. and Ruben Ganaden. “A Review of the Philippine Tuna Fishery”. University of the Philippines in the Visayas Fisheries Journal 3, nos. 1–2 (1987): 39–59. Ardill, J.D. Atlas of Industrial Tuna Fisheries in the Indian Ocean. Columbo: Indo-Pacific Tuna Fisheries Development and Management Programme, 1995. Arminius. “Het budget van een Javaanschen landbouwer”. Indische Gids 11 (1889): part II, 1685–1720, 1885–1917, 2149–86. ASEAN-SEAFDEC (ASEAN–Southeast Asian Fisheries Development Centre). ASEAN-SEAFDEC Conference on Sustainable Fisheries for Food Security in the New Millenium: “Fish for the People”, 19–24 November 2001, Bangkok, Thailand — Technical Document. Bangkok: ASEAN-SEAFDEC, 2001 and Proceedings. 2 vols. Bangkok: ASEAN-SEAFDEC, 2002. Asian Development Bank (ADB). Thailand Fisheries Sector Study. Manila: ADB, 1985. Atlas van Tropisch Nederland. Batavia: Koninklijk Nederlandsch Aardrijkskundig Genootschap, 1938. Aye Hlaing. “Trends of Economic Growth and Income Distribution, 1870–1940”. Journal of the Burma Research Society 47, no. 1 (June 1964): 89–148. B., J.F. and G.W. E[arl]. “The Kei and Aru Islands”. JIA&EA 7 (1853): 64–72.

396

Bibliography

Baak, B.C.P.H. van. “Visschen aan de loopende band: het zeevischerijstation Aer Tembaga”. Uitzicht 2, no. 18 (1947): 4–5. Bach, John. “The Political Economy of Pearlshelling”. Economic History Review 14, no. 1 (1961): 105–14. Bailey, Conner. “Lessons from Indonesia’s 1980 Trawler Ban”. Marine Policy 21 (1997): 225–35. ———. “The Blue Revolution: The Impact of Technological Innovation on Third-world Fisheries”. Rural Sociologist 5 (1985): 259–66. ———. “The Political Economy of Marine Fisheries Development in Indonesia”. Indonesia, no. 46 (October 1988), pp. 25–38. ———. “The Social Consequences of Tropical Shrimp Mariculture Development”. Ocean & Shoreline Management 11 (1988): 31–41. Bailey, Conner, Dean Cycon, and Michael Morris. “Fisheries Development in the Third World: The Role of International Agencies”. World Development 14 (1986): 1269–75. Bailey, C., A. Dwiponggo, and F. Marahudin. Indonesian Marine Capture Fisheries. Manila: International Center for Living Aquatic Resources Management, 1987. Bailey, Conner and Charles Zerner. “Community-based Fisheries Management Institutions in Indonesia”. Maritime and Anthropological Studies 5, no. 1 (1992): 1–17. Bailey, Richard. “Third World Fisheries: Prospects and Problems”. World Development 16 (1988): 751–57. Bain, Mary Albertus. Full Fathom Five. Perth: Artlook Books, 1982. Barber, Paul H., Stephen R. Palumbi, Mark V. Erdmann, and M. Kasim Moosa. “A Marine Wallace’s Line?” Nature 406 (17 August 2000): 692–93. Bardach, J.E. and Y. Matsuda. “Fish, Fishing, and Sea Boundaries: Tuna Stocks and Fishing Policies in Southeast Asia and the South Pacific”. GeoJournal 4 (1980): 467–78. Bardach, John E. and Penelope J. Ridings. “Pacific Tuna: Biology, Economics, and Politics”. In Ocean Yearbook 5, edited by Elisabeth Mann Borgese and Norton Ginsburg, pp. 27–59. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1985. Barnes, R.H. “Lamalerap: A Whaling Village in Eastern Indonesia”. Indonesia, no. 17 (April 1974), pp. 137–59.

Bibliography

397

———. Sea Hunters of Indonesia: Fishers and Weavers of Lamalera. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1996. Barnes, Robert. Whaling off Lembata: The Effects of a Development Project on an Indonesian Community. IWGIA document 48. Copenhagen: International Work Group for Indigenous Affairs, 1984. Beale, Thomas. The Natural History of the Sperm Whale … to Which Is Added, a Sketch of a South-Sea Whaling Voyage … . London: John van Voorst, 1839. Beare, M.J., P.D. Lorimer, and J.S. Hynd. An Investigation of Tuna Longlining in Japan and the Hawaiian Islands. Canberra: Fisheries Division, Department of Primary Industry, 1963. Bennett, Frederick Debell. Narrative of a Voyage around the Globe, from the Year 1833 to 1836. 2 vols. London: Richard Bentley, 1840. Reprint. Amsterdam: N. Israel, 1970. Bentley, Nakome. “Australia”. In The Oceania Region’s Harvest, Trade and Management of Sharks and Other Cartilaginous Fish: An Overview, edited by Glenn Sant and Elizabeth Hayes. Sydney: TRAFFIC Oceania, 1996. Birkill, I.H. A Dictionary of the Economic Products of the Malay Peninsula. 2 vols. Kuala Lumpur: Ministry of Agriculture and Co-operatives, 1966. Blaber, S.J.M., D.T. Brewer, D.A. Milton, Gede Sedana Merta, D. Efizon, G. Fry, and T. van der Velde. “The Life History of the Protandrous Tropical Shad Tenualosa macrura (Alosinae: Clupeidae): Fishery Implications”. Estuarine, Coastal and Shelf Science 49 (1999): 689– 701. Bohnsack, James A. “Marine Reserves: They Enhance Fisheries, Reduce Conflicts, and Protect Resources”. Naga, The ICLARM Quarterly 17, no. 3 (July 1994): 4–7. Bondan Winarno. “Shrimp Aquaculture in Indonesia”. In Swimming through Troubled Water, Proceedings of the Special Session on Shrimp Farming, Aquaculture ’95, edited by C.L. Browdy and J.S. Hopkins, pp. 24–28. Baton Rouge: World Aquaculture Society, 1995. Boonyubol, Matana and Somsak Pramokchutima. Trawl Fisheries in the Gulf of Thailand. Translated by Thirpan Bhukaswan. Manila: International Center for Living Aquatic Resources Management, 1984.

398

Bibliography

Borgstrom, Georg. Japan’s World Success in Fishing. London: Fishing News Books, 1964. Bottemanne, C.J. “De Indische zeevisscherij”. Koloniaal Tijdschrift 24 (1935): 444–58. ———. “De oorzaken van de meer-opbrengst door het gebruik van motoren bij de majang-zeevisscherij”. Instituut voor de Zeevisscherij te Batavia, Mededeeling no. 2B (1938), pp. 120–23. ———. “Gebondenheid der lokkervisscherij langs de nordkust van Java en Madoera”. Instituut voor de Zeevisscherij te Batavia, Mededeeling no. 2B (1938), pp. 114–19. ———. Verslag over de Visscherij en Vischhandel van Bagan Si Api-api. Batavia: Instituut voor de Zeevisscherij, 1929. Reprint. 1941. ———. Principles of Fisheries Development. Amsterdam: North-Holland Publishing Co., 1959. Bown, A.M. Photographs of Some Burmese Fishing Implements. [Rangoon]: Govt. Printing, [1929]. Brandt, Andres von. Fish Catching Methods of the World. Farnham: Fishing News Books, 1984. Brewer, D.T., S.J.M. Blaber, G. Fry, G.S. Merta, and D. Efizon. “Sawdust Ingestion by the Tropical Shad (Tenualosa Macrura, Teleostei: Clupeidae): Implications for Conservation and Fisheries”. Biological Conservation 97 (2001): 239–49. Broersma, R. “Westersche zeevisscherij voor Ned.-Indië”. Koloniaal Tijdschrift 16 (1927): 454–62. Bryant, Dirk, Lauretta Burke, John McManus, and Mark Spalding. Reefs at Risk: A Map-Based Indicator of Threats to the World’s Coral Reefs. World Resources Institute, 1998. http://pdf.wri.org/reefs.pdf. Burdon, T.W. The Fishing Gear of the State of Singapore. Singapore: Fisheries Department, 1959. ———. “The Fishing Methods of Singapore”. Journal of the Malayan Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society 27, no. 2 (1954): 5–76. Bureau of Fisheries, Department of Agriculture and Natural Resources, Republic of the Philippines. Philippine Fisheries. Manila: Bureau of Fisheries, 1953. ———. Fisheries Statistics of the Philippines 1971. Manila: Economics and Information Division, Bureau of Fisheries, [1972?].

Bibliography

399

Bureau of Women and Minors, Ministry of Labor and Employment, Intramuros, Manila. “Employment and Working Conditions of Muroami Fishermen”. Report submitted to the International Labour Organization, May 1986. Business Resource Center, Notre Dame of Dadiangas College. The Fishing Industry in General Santos City: A Profile Study. General Santos City, Philippines: Business Resource Center, 1985. Butcher, John G. “Some Notes on the Trade in Dried Fish, Belacan, and Salt c.1910”. Paper prepared for the conference on Island Southeast Asia and the World Economy, Economic History of Southeast Asia Project, Australian National University, November 1992. ———. “Getting into Trouble: The Diaspora of Thai Trawlers, 1965– 2002”. International Journal of Maritime History 14, no. 2 (December 2002): 85–121. ———. “The Salt Farm and the Fishing Industry of Bagan Si Api Api”. Indonesia, no. 62 (October 1996), pp. 91–121. Campbell, Bruce C. and Bu V.E. Wilson. The Politics of Exclusion: Indonesian Fishing in the Australian Fishing Zone. Indian Ocean Centre for Peace Studies, Monograph no. 5. Perth: Indian Ocean Centre for Peace Studies, 1993. Carocci, Fabio and Jacek Majkowski. Pacific Tunas and Billfishes: Atlas of Commercial Catches. Rome: Food and Agriculture Organization, 1996. Carpenter, Kent E. and Angel C. Alcala. “Philippine Coral Reef Fisheries Resources. Part II: Muro-ami and Kayakas Reef Fisheries, Benefit or Bane?” Philippine Journal of Fisheries 15, no. 2 (1977): 217–35. “Ceram Laut Isles”. JIA&EA 6 (1852): 689–91. Cesar, Herman, Carl Gustaf Lundin, Sofia Bettencourt, and John Dixon. “Indonesian Coral Reefs — An Economic Analysis of a Precious but Threatened Resource”. Ambio 26, no. 6 (September 1997): 345–50. Chamberlain, George W. “Shrimp Farming in Indonesia. 1: Growout Techniques”. World Aquaculture 22, no. 2 (June 1991): 12–27. Chavoso, Nicandro C. “A Laurel for Frabelle”. Fisheries Today 2, no. 2 (May 1979): 22–24. Chevey, P. “The Great Lake of Cambodia: The Underlying Causes of Its Richness in Fish” (paper B6, 34) and “The Method of Reading Scales

400

Bibliography

and the fish of the Intertropical Zone” (paper B6, 35). Proceedings of the Fifth Pacific Science Congress, Victoria and Vancouver, B.C., Canada, 1933, pp. 3809–29. Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1934. Chia Lin Sien and Colin MacAndrews, eds. Southeast Asian Seas: Frontiers for Development. Singapore: McGraw Hill, 1981. Chong Kee-Chai, Aloysius Dwiponggo, Sofyan Ilyas, and Purwito Martosubroto. “Some Experiences and Highlights of the Indonesian Trawl Ban: Bioeconomics and Socioeconomics”. In Symposium on the Exploitation and Management of Marine Fishery Resources in Southeast Asia, Darwin, Australia, 16–19 February 1987, by IndoPacific Fishery Commission, pp. 458–77. Bangkok: Regional Office for Asia and the Pacific, Food and Agriculture Organization, 1987. Christensen, V. “Fishery-induced Changes in a Marine Ecosystem: Insight from Models of the Gulf of Thailand”. Journal of Fish Biology 53 (supplement A) (1998): 128–42. Christensen, Villy and Daniel Pauly. “The South China Sea: Analyzing Fisheries Catch Data in an Ecosystem Context”. Naga, The ICLARM Quarterly 14, no. 4 (October 1991): 7–9. Christie, G.F.S. Report on Madras Fisheries. Rangoon: Office of the Superintendent, Government Printing, Burma, 1919. (India Office Library: V/27/550/26) Clifford, Hugh. “Expedition to Trengganu and Kelantan”. Journal of the Malayan Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society 34, no. 1 (1961). Originally printed for Colonial Office use in 1895. ———. In Court & Kampong. First published 1897. 2nd edition. London: Richards, 1927. Cole, R.C. and L.H. Greenwood-Barton. “Preservation of the Catch by Simple Processes”. Tropical Science 7, no. 4 (1965): 165–83. Collier, William L. “Preliminary Observations on Two Sea Fishing Villages in Sumatra and Kalimantan”. Indonesia Circle, no. 22 (June 1980), pp. 33–54. Collier, William L., Harjadi Hadikoesworo, and Marie Malingreau. “Economic Development and Shared Poverty among Javanese Seafishermen”. In Economics of Aquaculture, Sea-fishing and Coastal Resource Use in Asia: Proceedings of the Second Biennial Meeting of the Agricultural Economics Society of Southeast Asia, November 3–6, 1977, Tigbauan, Iloilo, Philippines, edited by Aida R. Librero and William

Bibliography

401

L. Collier, pp. 218–36. Los Baños: Agricultural Development Council, Philippine Council for Agriculture and Resources Research, 1979. Comitini, Salvatore and Sutanto Hardjolukito. “Economic Benefits and Costs of Alternative Arrangements for Tuna Fisheries Development in the Exclusive Economic Zone: The Case of Indonesia”. Ocean Management 10 (1986): 37–55. Cornish, Andrew S. and David McKellar. “A History of Fishing with Explosives and Poisons in Hong Kong Waters”. Naga, The ICLARM Quarterly 21, no. 3 (July–September 1998): 4–9. Corpuz, Virgilio T., Porfirio Castañeda, and Jaime C. Sy. “Muro-ami”. Fisheries Newsletter 12, no. 1 (January–March 1983): 2–13. Crawfurd, John. A Descriptive Dictionary of the Indian Islands & Adjacent Countries. 1856. Reprint. Kuala Lumpur: Oxford University Press, 1971. ———. History of the Indian Archipelago. 3 vols. Edinburgh: Archibald Constable and Co., 1820. ———. Journal of an Embassy from the Governor-General of India to the Courts of Siam and Cochin China. London: Henry Colburn, 1828. Reprint. Kuala Lumpur: Oxford University Press, 1967. Crough, Gregory J. Industrial Restructuring in the Tuna Industry of Thailand. Economic and Regional Restructuring Research Unit working paper no. 9. Sydney: Departments of Economics and Geography, University of Sydney, 1991. Cruz, A.V. and G. Silvestre. “Economic Analysis of Medium Trawlers in the Lingayan Gulf ”. Fisheries Research Journal of the Philippines 13, nos. 1–2 (1988): 1–14. Cruz-Trinidad, Annabelle. “Economic Exploitation in the Philippine Small Pelagic Fishery and Implications for Management”. Naga, The ICLARM Quarterly 16, no. 4 (October 1993): 13–15. Cushing, D.H. The Provident Sea. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1988. Dalzell, Paul and Daniel Pauly. “Assessment of Fish Resources of Southeast Asia, with Emphasis on the Banda and Arafura Seas”. Netherlands Journal of Sea Research 24 (1989): 641–50. Day, Francis. Report on the Sea Fish and Fisheries of India and Burma. Calcutta: Office of the Superintendent of Government Printing, 1873. (India Office Library: V1802)

402

Bibliography

Delsman, H.C. “Fishing and Fish-culture in the Netherlands Indies”. Bulletin of the Colonial Institute of Amsterdam 2, no. 2 (February 1939): 92–105. ———. “Preliminary Plankton Investigations in the Java Sea”. Treubia 17 (1939): 139–84. Delsman, H.C. and J.D.F. Hardenberg. De Indische Zeevisschen en Zeevisscherij. Batavia: N.V. Boekhandel en Drukkerij, 1934. Department of Commerce and Industry, Philippine Islands. Commercial Handbook of the Philippine Islands. 1924. Department of Fisheries, Ministry of Agriculture. Fisheries in Thailand. Bangkok, September 1961. Devaraj, M. and P. Martosubroto, eds. Small Pelagic Resources and Their Fisheries in the Asia-Pacific Region. Bangkok: Regional Office for Asia and the Pacific, Food and Agriculture Organization, 1997. “The Development and Prospects of the Tuna Industry”. Journal of Philippine Statistics 36, no. 3 (July–September 1985): ix–xxiii. Dew, A.T. “The Fishing Industry of Krian and Kurau, Perak”. Journal of the Straits Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society, no. 23 (1891), pp. 95– 122. Dick, Howard. “Japan’s Economic Expansion in the Netherlands Indies between the First and Second World Wars”. Journal of Southeast Asian Studies 20 (1989): 244–72. Dinglasan, P.P. “The Introduction, Development, Description and Operation of Modern One-boat Purse Seining in the Philippines”. Philippine Journal of Fisheries 8, no. 2 (July 1960–December 1970): 125–50. Djoemhana, M. “Versalg betreffende het onderzoek van de zeevisscherij in de omgeving van Sapeken”. Mededeeling van de Onderafdeeling Zeevisscherij, no. 6 (1941), pp. 58–103. Domanty, Jose S. “The Fishery Industries of Zamboanga”. Philippine Journal of Science 71 (1940): 81–112. ———. “Tuna Fishing in Southern Mindanao”. Philippine Journal of Science 73 (1940): 423–36. Doulman, David J., ed. The Development of the Tuna Industry in the Pacific Islands Region: An Analysis of Options. Honolulu: East-West Center, 1987.

Bibliography

403

———. Tuna Issues and Perspectives in the Pacific Islands Region. Honolulu: East-West Center, 1987. Durand, J.R. “A Project for the Java Sea Pelagic Fishery”. INFOFISH International, no. 2/94, pp. 53–57. Earl, G. Windsor. “Handbook for Colonists in Tropical Australia”. JIA&EA, n.s. 4 (1863). [Earl, G.W.]. “The Trading Ports of the Indian Archipelago”. JIA&EA 4 (1850): 483–95. Edinger, Evan N., Jamaluddin Jompa, Gino V. Limmon, Wisnu Widjatmoko, and Michael J. Risk. “Reef Degradation and Coral Biodiversity in Indonesia: Effects of Land-based Pollution and Destructive Fishing Practices and Changes over Time”. Marine Pollution Bulletin 36 (1998): 617–30. Eggan, F., E.D. Hester, and N.S. Ginsburg. Area Handbook for the Philippines. Chicago: Human Relations Area Files, 1955. Elliston, G.R. “The Role of Middlemen in the Fishing Industry of West Malaysia”. Review of Agricultural Economics, Malaysia 1, no. 2 (1967): 1–8. Elson, R.E. The End of the Peasantry in Southeast Asia: A Social and Economic History of Peasant Livelihood, 1800–1990s. Houndmills: Macmillan, 1997. Emmerson, Donald K. “Biting the Helping Hand: Modernization and Violence in an Indonesian Fishing Community”. Land Tenure Center Newsletter (University of Wisconsin–Madison), no. 51 (1976), pp. 1– 15. ———. Rethinking Artisanal Fisheries Development: Western Concepts, Asian Experiences. World Bank Staff Working Paper no. 423. Washington, D.C.: World Bank, 1980. ———. “The Case for a Maritime Perspective on Southeast Asia”. Journal of Southeast Asian Studies 11 (1980): 139–45. Encina, Vitaliano B. “Harvest Technology Advances in Commercial Fisheries in the Philippines”. Fisheries Newsletter 11, no. 2 (April– June 1982): 2–17. Eng, Pierre van der. “Food for Growth: Trends in Indonesia’s Food Supply, 1880–1995”. Journal of Interdisciplinary History 30 (2000): 591– 616.

404

Bibliography

Erdmann, Mark V. “An ABC Guide to Coral Reef Fisheries in Southwest Sulawesi, Indonesia”. Naga, The ICLARM Quarterly 18, no. 2 (April 1995): 4–6. ———. “Leave Indonesia’s Fisheries to Indonesians!” Inside Indonesia, no. 63 (July–September 2000), pp. 27–28. Erdmann, Mark V. and Lida Pet-Soede. “How Fresh Is Too Fresh? The Live Reef Food Fish Trade in Eastern Indonesia”. Naga, The ICLARM Quarterly 19, no. 1 (January 1996): 4–8. Erskine, Bruce H. “Thailand’s Food Processing Industry: A Model of Success for Other Developing Countries”. Journal of Southeast Asian Business 7, no. 2 (Spring 1991): 1–14. Evans, S.M. and R.I. Wahju. “The Shrimp Fishery of the Arafura Sea (Eastern Indonesia)”. Fisheries Research 26 (1996): 365–71. FAO (Food and Agriculture Organization). Aquaculture Production Statistics. Rome: FAO, volumes for 1985–94 (published 1996) and 1986–95 (1997). ———. FAO Yearbook of Fishery Statistics. Rome: FAO, various volumes for 1960 to 1998. ———. FAO Yearbook of Fishery Statistics: Aquaculture Production. Vol. 82/2 for 1998. Rome: FAO, 2000. ———. Report of the FAO Fisheries Mission for Thailand. Washington: FAO, 1949. ———. Review of the State of World Aquaculture. FAO Fisheries Circular no. 886 FIRI/C886 (Rev. 1). Rome: FAO, 1997. Available at . ———. Review of the State of World Fishery Resources: Marine Fisheries. FAO Fisheries Circular no. 920 FIRM/C920. Rome: FAO, 1997. Available at . ———. FAOSTAT-PC: Fisheries Catches and Landings. Version 3.0, 1994. Federation of Malaya. “Annual Report 1958 — Department of Fisheries”. Mimeographed. Fegan, Brian. “Industrial Scale Demersal Trawl and Bottom Longline Fisheries in Eastern Indonesia”. Paper presented to the Workshop on Sustainability and Depletion in Island Southeast Asia: Forests and Fisheries, Past and Present, KITLV, Leiden, June 2002. ———. “Plundering the Sea”. Inside Indonesia, January–March 2003, pp. 21–23.

Bibliography

405

———. “Report on August 2001 Fieldwork: Industrial Scale Snapper Fishery in Tual & Benjina, Maluku Tenggara”. Field notes prepared for a joint Australian-Indonesian study of snapper stocks. Ferrer, Gonzalo G. “Rigging Motor Vessels as Basnigan”. Bulletin of the Fisheries Society of the Philippines 2 (1951): 28–40. Firth, Raymond. Malay Fishermen: Their Peasant Economy. New York: W.W. Norton, 1975. FishBase. See Froese and Pauly. Fisheries Agency of Japan. Annual Report of Effort and Catch Statistics by Area on Japanese Tuna Long Line Fishery 1966. Research Division, Fisheries Agency of Japan. ———. Annual Report of Effort and Catch Statistics by Area on Japanese Tuna Long Line Fishery 1973. Research and Development Department, Fisheries Agency of Japan. ———. Annual Report of Effort and Catch Statistics by Area on Japanese Tuna Long Line Fishery 1980. Research Department, Fisheries Agency of Japan. “The Fisheries of Southern Thailand”. Marine Fisheries Review 50, no. 1 (1988): 64–67. Flaherty, Mark, Peter Vandergeest, and Paul Miller. “Rice Paddy or Shrimp Pond: Tough Decisions in Rural Thailand”. World Development 27, no. 12 (December 1999): 2045–60. Floyd, J.M. “The Political Economy of Fisheries Development in Indonesia, Malaysia, the Philippines, and Thailand”. Ph.D. dissertation, University of Hawaii, 1985. ———. International Fish Trade of Southeast Asian Nations. Research Report no. 16. Honolulu: East-West Environment and Policy Institute, East-West Center, 1984. Floyd, J.M. and D. Pauly. “Smaller Size Tuna around the Philippines — Can Fish Aggregating Devices Be Blamed?” INFOFISH Marketing Digest, no. 5/84 (September/October 1984), pp. 25–27. Fonteneau, Alain. “A Critical Review of Tuna Stocks and Fisheries Trends World-wide, and Why Most Tuna Stocks Are Not Yet Overexploited”. In Developing and Sustaining World Fisheries Resources: The State of Science and Management, edited by D.A. Hancock, D.C. Smith, A. Grant, and J.P. Beumer, pp. 39–48. Collingwood, Victoria: Commonwealth Scientific and Industrial Research Organisation, 1997.

406

Bibliography

Forbes, Vivian Louis. The Maritime Boundaries of the Indian Ocean Region. Singapore: Singapore University Press, 1995. Fox, James J. “A Report on Eastern Indonesian Fishermen in Darwin”. Illegal Entry! Occasional Paper Series no. 1. Darwin: Centre for Southeast Asian Studies, Northern Territory University, 1992. ———. “Fishing Resources and Marine Tenure: The Problems of Eastern Indonesia’s Fishermen”. In”Indonesia Assessment 1995, edited by Colin Barlow and Joan Hardjono, chap. 8. Canberra: Research School of Pacific and Asian Studies, Australian National University, 1996. ———. “Reefs and Shoals in Australia-Indonesia Relations: Traditional Indonesian Fishermen”. In Australia in Asia: Episodes, edited by Anthony Milner and Mary Quilty, chap. 5. Melbourne: Oxford University Press, 1998. Froese, R. and D. Pauly, eds. FishBase, electronic publication . Fuke Yosuke. “Fat Prawns for Japan, Slim Pickings for the Fisherpeople”. AMPO Japan-Asia Quarterly Review 18, no. 4 (1987): 12–21. Furnivall, J.S. Fisheries in Netherlands India. Rangoon: Burma Book Club, [1935?]. Galvez, Roberto and Marie Sol M. Sadorra. “Blast Fishing: a Philippine Case Study”. Tropical Coastal Area Management 3, no. 1 (1988): 9– 10. Gambang, Albert C. Some Aspects of the Biology of Ikan Terubok, Hilsa toli (Valenciennes) (Family: Clupeidae) at the Lower Batang Lupar River, Sarawak. Kuala Lumpur: Department of Fisheries, 1988. Ganaden, Reuben A. and Said Mohammad P. Ali, Jr. “Observations on the Handline Fisheries of South Cotabato”. Fisheries Newsletter 12, no. 1 (1983): 24–27. Ganter, Regina. The Pearl-Shellers of Torres Strait: Resource Use, Development and Decline, 1860s–1960s. Melbourne: Melbourne University Press, 1994. Gibbons, David S. “Public Policy towards Fisheries Development in Peninsular Malaysia: A Critical Review Emphasizing Penang and Kedah”. Kajian Ekonomi Malaysia 13, nos. 1–2 (1976): 98–121. Gillett, R. “Marine Fisheries Resources and Management in Indonesia with Emphasis on the Exclusive Economic Zone”. Workshop Presentation Paper no. 1. Workshop on Strengthening Marine

Bibliography

407

Resource Management in Indonesia, Directorate General of Fisheries in co-operation with Food and Agriculture Organization of the United Nations, Jakarta, 23 April 1996 (TCP/INS/4553). Gjøsaeter, J. and K. Kawaguchi. A Review of the World Resources of Mesopelagic Fish. FAO (Food and Agriculture Organization) Fisheries Technical Paper no. 193. Rome: FAO, 1980. Gobée, E. “De oorzaken van den achteruitgang van de vischindustrie te Bagan Si Api Api”. Mededeelingen van het Visscherij-station te Batavia, no. 7 (1912), pp. 3–18. Goh Cheng Teik. “Fishing Conflict in Penang and Perak: Personal Memoir”. Kajian Ekonomi Malaysia 13, nos. 1–2 (1976): 17–25. Gopinath, K. “The Malayan Purse Seine (Pukat Jerut) Fishery”. Journal of the Malayan Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society 23, no. 3 (1950): 75–96. Goss, Jasper, David Burch, and Roy E. Rickson. “Agri-food Restructuring and Third World Transnationals: Thailand, the CP Group and the Global Shrimp Industry”. World Development 28 (2000): 513–30. Gourou, Pierre. Land Utilization in French Indochina. New York: Institute of Pacific Relations, 1945. Graham, W.A. Siam. Vol. 2. London: Alexander Moring, 1924. Gramberg, J.S.G. “De visscherij en bezwering van troeboek”. Indische Gids. Tweede jaargang, 1880, II, 331–46. Green, C.F. A Sketch of the Developmental Organization of the Department of Fisheries, Straits Settlements and Federated Malay States, 1924. Singapore: Government Printing Office, 1924. ———. Report on the S.T. “Tongkol” for the Year 1927. Singapore: [Government Printing Office, 1928]. Groves, T.D.D., C. Shoop, and K.P. Inggas. Fisheries of East Indonesia. East Indonesia Regional Development Study, Technical Report no. 8. Ottowa: Canadian International Development Agency, [1976]. Gruvel, A. L’Indo-Chine: Ses Richesses Marines et Fluviales. Paris: Société d’Éditions Géographiques, Maritimes et Coloniales, 1925. Guilbert, L. “La pêche dans le Golfe du Tonkin”. Bulletin Économique de l’Indochine 19, no. 118 (Mars–Avril 1916): 133–91. Gulland, J.A. “A Review of Fish Stocks in the IOFC/IPFC Region with Current and Potential Management Problems”. Indo-Pacific Fisheries Conference Proceedings. 16th session (1974): section III.

408

Bibliography

Günther, Th. O.B. “De visscherij en de daarmee verband houdende rechten in de Ogan-Komeringstreek (Palembangsche Benedenlanden)”. Koloniaal Tijdschrift 16 (1927): 10–26. Haga, B.J. “De beteekenis der visscherij industrie van Bagan Api Api en hare toekomst”. Economist, 1917, pp. 237–62. Hage, H. ten. “De zeevisscherij in Nederlandsch-Indië”. Tijdschrift voor Economische Geographie 1 (1910): 101–13. Hara, Hiroshi. “Transition in the Japanese Distant Water Fishery”. Marine Affairs Journal 6 (1979): 82–99. Hardenberg, J.D.F. “Additional Notes to My Paper ‘The Fishfauna of the Rokan Mouth’”. Treubia 14, no. 3 (1934): 299–312. ———. “De parelmoervisscherij in het oosten van den Indischen archipel”. Indische Gids 2 (1939): 827–33. Extracted from De Tropische Natuur, June 1939. ———. “Preliminary Report on a Migration of Fish in the Java Sea”. Treubia 16 (1937): 295–300. ———. “The Fishfauna of the Rokan Mouth”. Treubia 8, no. 1 (1931): 81–168. Hasselman, C.J. Algemeen Overzicht van de Uitkomsten van het WelvaartOnderzoek Gehouden op Java en Madoera in 1904–1905. ’sGravenhage: Martinus Nijhoff, 1914. Hempel, G. and D. Pauly. “Fisheries and Fisheries Science in Their Search for Sustainability”. In Oceans 2020: Science for Future Needs, edited by J.G. Field, G. Hempel, and C.P. Summerayes, chap. 5. Washington, D.C.: Island Press, 2002. Herre, Albert W.C.T. “Philippine Fisheries and Their Possibilities”. Far Eastern Quarterly 4 (1945): 158–62. ———. “Research on Fish and Fisheries in the Indo-Australian Archipelago”. In Science and Scientists in the Netherlands Indies, edited by Pieter Honig and Frans Verdoorn, pp. 167–75. New York: Board for the Netherlands Indies, Surinam and Curaçao, 1945. Herre, Albert W. and José Mendoza. “Bañgos Culture in the Philippine Islands”. Philippine Journal of Science 38, no. 4 (1929): 451–509. Hickling, C.F. Tropical Inland Fisheries. London: Longmans, 1961. Hirschman, Charles. “Population and Society in Twentieth-century Southeast Asia”. Journal of Southeast Asian Studies 25 (1994): 381– 416.

Bibliography

409

Hoegh-Guldberg, Ove. Climate Change, Coral Bleaching and the Future of the World’s Coral Reefs. Greenpeace, 1999. Hooi Kok Kuang, Katsutoshi Miwa, and Mohamed Bin Salim. Proceedings of the Seminar on Advances in Fishery Post-Harvest Technology in Southeast Asia, Singapore, 6–11 May, 1991. Singapore: Marine Fisheries Research Department, Southeast Asian Fisheries Development Centre, 1991. Horridge, Adrian. The Prahu: Traditional Sailing Boat of Indonesia. Kuala Lumpur: Oxford University Press, 1981. Hutchings, Jeffrey A. “Collapse and Recovery of Marine Fishes”. Nature 406 (24 August 2000): 882–85. Indian Ocean Tuna Commission. Report of the First Session of the IOTC Working Party on Tropical Tunas, Victoria, Seychelles 1–4 September 1999. . Indo-Pacific Tuna Development and Management Programme. Report of the Fifth Southeast Asia Tuna Conference, General Santos City, Philippines, 1–4 September, 1992. Colombo: Indo-Pacific Tuna Programme, [1992?]. L’Institut Océanographique de l’Indochine. Hanoi: Imprimierie d’ExtremeOrient, 1931. Instituut voor de Zeevisscherij te Batavia. Jaarverslagen 1934 en 1935. Mededeeling no. 1 [1936?]. ———. Jaarverslag 1937. Mededeeling no. 3 (1939). ———. Jaarverslag 1938. Mededeeling no. 4 (1939). Ishak Shari and Chang Yii Tan. Technology and Social Change: The Impact of Technological Development on Fishing Communities in East Coast of Peninsular Malaysia. Bangi: Penerbit Universiti Kebangsaan Malaysia, 1993. Iverson, Edwin S. Living Marine Resources: Their Utilization and Management. New York: Chapman & Hall, 1996. Jahara Yahaya. “Capture Fisheries in Peninsular Malaysia: Lessons from MAJUIKAN’s Experience”. Marine Policy 5 (1981): 322–30. “Japanese Fishing Methods in Tropical Waters”. Monthly Economic Bulletin (issued by the Special Commissioner for South East Asia, Singapore), no. 1 (August 1946), pp. 1–5. “Japansche visscherij in Indië”. Indische Gids 51 (1929): 1256–58.

410

Bibliography

Jardine, Frank. “Report”. In Proceedings of the Department of Revenue and Agriculture for June, 1895: Mergui Pearl Fisheries, no. 1. Government of India, June 1895. (India Office Library: P/4769, Pro. no. 1–5) Johannes, R.E. “Traditional Marine Conservation Methods in Oceania and Their Demise”. Annual Review of Ecology and Systematics 9 (1978): 349–64. Johannes, Robert E. and Michael Riepen. Environmental, Economic, and Social Implications of the Live Reef Fish Trade in Asia and the Western Pacific. Report to the Nature Conservancy and the South Pacific Commission, October 1995. Jomo, K.S. Fishing for Trouble: Malaysian Fisheries, Sustainable Development and Inequality. Kuala Lumpur: Institut Pengajian Tinggi, 1991. Jordaan, Roy E. and Anke Niehof. “Aspects of Fishing in Patondu, a Village on the North Coast of Madura”. Review of Indonesian and Malaysian Studies 14, no. 1 (June 1980): 81–111. Jory, Darryl E. “Marine Shrimp Farming in the Kingdom of Thailand”. Aquaculture Magazine 22, no. 3 (May/June 1996): 97–106 (Part I) and 22, no. 4 (July/August 1996): 71–78 (Part II). Kamaruddin M. Said. The Despairing and the Hopeful: A Malay Fishing Community in Kuala Kedah. Bangi: Penerbit Universiti Kebangsaan Malaysia, 1993. Kampen, P.N. van. “Aanteekeningen omtrent de visscherij van Sumatra en Riouw”. Mededeelingen van het Visscherij-Station te Batavia no. 3 (1909): 1–29. ———. “De paarl- en parelmoervisscherij langs de kusten der Aroeeilanden”. Mededeelingen van het Visscherij-Station te Batavia, no. 2 (1908), pp. 1–30. ———. Hulpmiddelen der Zeevisscherij op Java en Madoera in Gebruik. Batavia: G. Kolff, 1909. ———. Visscherij en Vischteelt in Nederlandsch-Indië. Haarlem: H.D. Tjeenk Willink & Zoon, 1922. Kent, George. “The Pattern of Fish Trade”. ICLARM Newsletter 6, no. 2 (April 1983): 12–13. Kent, George and Mark J. Valencia, eds. Marine Policy in Southeast Asia. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1985.

Bibliography

411

Kesteven, G.L. “MSY Revisited: A Realistic Approach to Fisheries Management and Administration”. Marine Policy 21, no. 1 (1997): 73–82. Kesteven, G.L., ed. Malayan Fisheries. Singapore: Malayan Publishing House, 1949. Knaap, G.J. and L.W. Nagtegaal. “A Forgotten Trade: Salt in Southeast Asia 1670–1813”. In Emporia, Commodities and Entrepreneurs in Asian Maritime Trade, c.1400–1750, edited by R. Ptak and D. Rothermund, pp. 125–57. Stuttgart: Steiner, 1991. Konuntakiet, Dumri. “Trade in Canned Tuna: A Factual Account”. In Proceedings of the INFOFISH Tuna Trade Conference, Bangkok, Thailand, 25–27 February 1986, pp. 142–51. Kuala Lumpur: INFOFISH, [1986]. Krause, Gerald H. “Indonesia’s Unique Form of Coastal Fishery”. Maritimes 20, no. 3 (1976): 10–13. Krone, Wolfgang. “Limits of the Fishery Industry under Changing Conditions”. INFOFISH International, November–December 1993, pp. 19–23. Krzyzaniak, Marian and Uzir Abdul Malik. Poverty of Fishermen in Northwestern Malaysia: Market Power and Government Policies. Occasional Paper of the Faculty of Economics and Management, Universiti Kebangsaan Malaysia, 1978. Kusuma-Atmadja, Mochtar. “Sovereign Rights over Indonesian Natural Resources: An Archipelagic Concept of Rational and Sustainable Resource Management”. Marine Policy 15 (1991): 383–412. Kunz, George Frederick and Charles Hugh Stevenson. The Book of the Pearl: The History, Art, Science, and Industry of the Queen of Gems. London: Macmillan, 1908. Lai Kwok Kong, Andrew. “A Note on Fish Trawling in Peninsular Malaysia”. Review of Agricultural Economics, Malaysia 6, no. 2 (1976): 9–18. Lam Wah Chang and D. Pathansali. An Analysis of Penang Trawl Fisheries to Determine the Maximum Sustainable Yield. Fisheries Bulletin no. 16. Kuala Lumpur: Ministry of Agriculture, Malaysia, 1977. Larkin, P.A. “An Epitaph for the Concept of Maximum Sustainable Yield”. Transactions of the American Fisheries Society 106 (1977): 1–11. Laureti, Edmondo. Fish and Fishery Products: World Apparent Consumption

412

Bibliography

Statistics Based on Food Balance Sheets, 1961–1997. Rome: Food and Agriculture Organization, 1999. Lawson, Timothy A., ed. South Pacific Commission Tuna Fishery Yearbook 1994. Noumea: Oceanic Fisheries Programme, South Pacific Commission, 1995. ———. South Pacific Commission Tuna Fishery Yearbook 1996. Noumea: Oceanic Fisheries Programme, South Pacific Commission, 1997. Lee Yong Leng. Southeast Asia and the Law of the Sea. Singapore: Singapore University Press, 1978. Le Mare, D.W. “Malaya’s Fishing Industry: Guiding the Fishermen to Modernisation”. Malaya (July 1954): 390–93. Librero, Aida R. and Rebecca Catalla. “The Impact of Credit on SmallScale Fisheries in the Philippines”. Fisheries Research Journal of the Philippines 9, nos. 1–2 (1984): 65–83. Librero, Aida R., Rebecca F. Catalla, and Rita M. Fabro. “Socio-economic Conditions of Small-scale Fisheries in the Philippines”. Fisheries Research Journal of the Philippines 7, no. 1 (January–June 1982): 1– 17. Librero, Aida R. and William L. Collier, eds. Economics of Aquaculture, Sea-fishing and Coastal Resource Use in Asia: Proceedings of the Second Biennial Meeting of the Agricultural Economics Society of Southeast Asia, November 3–6, 1977, Tigbauan, Iloilo, Philippines. Los Baños: Agricultural Development Council, Philippine Council for Agriculture and Resources Research, 1979. Lim Teck Ghee and Mark J. Valencia, eds. Conflict over Natural Resources in South-East Asia and the Pacific. Singapore: Oxford University Press, 1990. Lin C. Kwei. “Progression of Intensive Marine Shrimp Culture in Thailand”. In Swimming through Troubled Water, Proceedings of the Special Session on Shrimp Farming, Aquaculture ’95, edited by C.L. Browdy and J.S. Hopkins, pp. 13–23. Baton Rouge: World Aquaculture Society, 1995. Ling Shao-Wen. Aquaculture in Southeast Asia: A Historical Overview. Seattle: University of Washington Press, 1977. Lockwood, Brian and Kenneth Ruddle, eds. Small Scale Fisheries Development: Social Science Contribution. Honolulu: East-West Food Institute, East-West Center, 1977.

Bibliography

413

Loftas, Tony. “Fishery Boom for South Vietnam?” New Scientist 46, no. 700 (7 May 1970): 280–83. Longhurst, Alan. Ecological Geography of the Sea. San Diego: Academic Press, 1998. Longhurst, Alan R. and Daniel Pauly. Ecology of Tropical Oceans. San Diego: Academic Press, 1987. Low, Hugh. Sarawak: Its Inhabitants and Productions. 1848. Reprint. London: Frank Cass, 1968. Macknight, C.C. “The Nature of Early Maritime Trade: Some Points of Analogy from the Eastern Part of the Indonesian Archipelago”. World Archeology 5 (1973): 198–209. ———. The Voyage to Marege’: Macassan Trepangers in Northern Australia. Melbourne: Melbourne University Press, 1976. Maclean, J.L. “Indo-Pacific Red Tides, 1985–1988”. Marine Pollution Bulletin 20 (1989): 304–10. MacNae, William. Mangrove Forests and Fisheries. Rome: Indian Ocean Fishery Commission, Food and Agriculture Organization, 1974. Manacop, Porfirio R. “Commercial Trawling in the Philippines”. Philippine Journal of Fisheries 3 (1955): 117–88. ———. “The Future of the Trawling Industry in the Philippines”. Bulletin of the Fisheries Society of the Philippines 1 (1950): 27–30. Manacop, Porfirio R. and Sixto V. Laron. “The ‘Dug-out’ Trawl Fishery of Manila Bay”. Philippine Journal of Fisheries 4 (1956): 103–18. ———. “Two Outstanding Commercial Fishing Gear Used in Philippine Waters”. Bulletin of the Fisheries Society of the Philippines 3 and 4 (1952–53): 73–81. Marcille, J., T. Boely, M. Unar, G.S. Merta, B. Sadhotomo, and J.C.B. Uktolseja. Tuna Fishing in Indonesia. Paris: Éditions de l’ORSTOM, 1984. Markus, B. De Japansche Visscherij in het Oosten van de Archipel. Batavia: Instituut voor de Zeevisscherij, 1930, reprinted 1941. ———. Visscherij-methoden en Vischproducten van Bagan Si Api-api. Batavia: Instituut voor de Zeevisscherij, 1929, reprinted 1941. Marlis Lubis. “The Mask Men”. Inside Indonesia, April–June 1997, pp. 25–26. Marr, John C. Fishery and Resource Management in Southeast Asia. Washington, D.C.: Resources for the Future, 1976.

414

Bibliography

Marsh, Helene. “Dugong”. In Encyclopedia of Marine Mammals, edited by William F. Perrin, Bernd Würsig, and J.G.M. Thewissen, pp. 344– 47. San Diego: Academic Press, 2002. Marten, Gerald G. Yoshiaki Matsuda, John Bardach, Salvatore Comitini, and Sutanto Hardjolukito. “A Goal Analysis of Alternative Tuna Fishery Arrangements between Indonesia and Japan”. Ocean Management 8 (1982): 125–50. Martin, Claro. “The Flying-fish Industry of the Northwestern and Southwestern Coasts of Cebu”. Philippine Journal of Science 67 (1938): 177–87. Martin, Claro and H.E. Warfel. “Outlook for Industrialization of the Philippine Fisheries”. Philippine Journal of Fisheries 1, no. 1 (1951): 108–12. Martosubroto, Purwito. “Is Trawl Ban Working? — An Indonesian Case Study”. Paper presented to the Second Asian Fisheries Forum, Tokyo, 17–22 April 1989. Martosubroto, Purwito and Kee-Chai Chong. “An Economic Analysis of the 1980 Indonesian Trawl Ban”. Indonesian Agricultural Research and Development Journal 9, nos. 1–2 (1987): 1–12. Martosubroto, Purwito and Nurzali Naamin. “Relationship between Tidal Forests (Mangroves) and Commercial Shrimp Production in Indonesia”. Marine Research in Indonesia, no. 18 (1977), pp. 81–86. Masset, G. “Bagan Si Api-api”. Volkscredietwezen 27 (1939): 856–75. Masyhuri. “Pasang Surut Usaha Perikanan Laut: Tinjauan SocialEkonomi Kenelayanan di Jawa dan Madura, 1850–1940”. Ph.D. thesis, Free University of Amsterdam, 1995. ———. “Usaha penangkapan ikan dan masyarakat nelayan di Indonesia 1880–1940”. Masyarakat Indonesia 20, no. 1 (Juni 1993): 3–41. Matsuda, Yoshiaki and Kazuomi Ouchi. “Legal, Political, and Economic Constraints on Japanese Strategies for Distant-water Tuna and Skipjack Fisheries in Southeast Asian Seas and the Western Central Pacific”. Memoirs of the Kagoshima University Research Center for the South Pacific 5, no. 2 (1984): 151–232. Maxwell, C.N. Preliminary Report on the Economic Position of the Fishing Industry of the S.S. and F.M.S. Singapore, 1921. ———. “Malayan Fishes”. Journal of the Straits Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society, no. 84 (November 1921).

Bibliography

415

Maxwell, F.D. Report on Inland and Sea Fisheries in the Thongwa, Myaungmya, and Bassein Districts and Report on the Turtle-Banks of the Irrawaddy Division. Rangoon: Office of the Superintendent, Government Printing, Burma, 1904. (India Office Library: V/27/ 550/22) McDorman, Ted L. “International Fishery Relations in the Gulf of Thailand”. Contemporary Southeast Asia 12, no. 1 (June 1990): 40– 54. McDorman, Ted L. and Panat Tasneeyanoud. “Increasing Problems for Thailand’s Fisheries: Malaysia’s New Fisheries Law”. Marine Policy 12 (1987): 205–16. McElroy, James Kevin. “The Java Sea Purse Seine Fishery: A Modernday ‘Tragedy of the Commons’?” Marine Policy 15 (1991): 255–71. ———. “Indonesia’s Tuna Fisheries: Past, Present and Future Prospects”. Marine Policy 13 (1989): 285–308. McElroy, James Kevin and Jacobus C.B. Uktolseja. “Skipjack Pole-andLine Operatings in East Indonesia: Comparative Analysis of Catch Performance”. Marine Policy 16 (1992): 451–62. McEvoy, Arthur F. The Fisherman’s Problem: Ecology and Law in the California Fisheries, 1850–1980. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1986. McManus, John W. “Coral Reefs of the ASEAN Region: Status and Management”. Ambio 17 (1988): 189–93. ———. “The Spratly Islands: A Marine Park Alternative”. Naga, The ICLARM Quarterly 15, no. 3 (July 1992): 4–8. McManus, John W., Cleto L. Nañola, Jr., Rodolfo B. Reynes, Jr., and Kathleen N. Kesner. Resource Ecology of the Bolinao Coral Reef System. ICLARM (International Center for Living Aquatic Resources Management) Studies and Reviews 22. Manila: ICLARM, 1992. McNair, J.F.A. Perak and the Malays. 1878. Reprint. Kuala Lumpur: Oxford University Press, 1972. M’Quitty, W.B. “Giant Fish Traps of Siam”. Geographical Magazine 9 (1939): 272–78. Meith, Nikki and Richard Helmer. “Marine Environment and Coastal Resources in Southeast Asia: A Threatened Heritage”. In Ocean Yearbook 4, edited by Elisabeth Mann Borgese and Norton Ginsburg, pp. 260–94. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1983.

416

Bibliography

Menasveta, Deb. Fisheries Management Frameworks of the Countries Bordering the South China Sea. Bangkok: Regional Office for Asia and the Pacific, Food and Agriculture Organization, 1997. ———. “Potential Demersal Fish Resources of the Sunda Shelf ”. In The Koroshio: A Symposium on the Japan Current, edited by John C. Marr, pp. 524–55. Honolulu: East-West Center Press, 1970. Menasveta, Piamsak. “Intensive and Efficient Culture System — The Thai way — Can Save Mangroves”. Aquaculture Asia 2, no. 1 (January–March 1997): 38–44. Mettevier Meyer, J.C. “De voornaamste methoden van verduurzamen van visch op Java en Madoera”. Mededeelingen van het Instituut voor de Zeevisscherij, no. 2 (1938), pp. 137–47. Mills, Eric L. Biological Oceanography: An Early History, 1870–1960. Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1989. Mizutani, Tadashi, Akimitsu Kimizuka, Kenneth Ruddle, and Naomichi Ishigi. “A Chemical Analysis of Fermented Fish Products and Discussion of Fermented Flavors in Asian Cuisines”. In Japanese with summary in English, pp. 801–03. Bulletin of the National Museum of Ethnology (Osaka) 12 (1987): 801–64. Mohd Ibrahim Hj Mohamed. “National Management of Malaysian Fisheries”. Marine Policy 15 (1991): 2–14. Mohsin, Abu Khair Mohammad and Mohd. Azmi Ambak. Marine Fishes & Fisheries of Malaysia and Neighbouring Countries. Serdang: Universiti Pertanian Malaysia Press, 1996. Montalban, Heraclio R. and Claro Martin. “Two Japanese Fishing Methods Used by Japanese Fishermen in Philippine Waters”. Philippine Journal of Science 42 (1930): 465–80. Moor, J.H., ed. Notices of the Indian Archipelago. Singapore, 1837. Reprint. London: Frank Cass, 1968. Morgan, Robert. World Sea Fisheries. London: Methuen, [1956?]. Morgan, Joseph R. and Mark J. Valencia, eds. Atlas of Marine Policy in Southeast Asian Seas. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1983. Mullins, Steve. “Australian Pearl-shellers in the Moluccas: Confrontation and Compromise on a Maritime Frontier”. The Great Circle 23, no. 2 (2001): 3–23. ———. “From TI to Dobo: The 1905 Departure of the Torres Strait Pearl-Shelling Fleets to Aru, Netherlands East Indies”. The Great

Bibliography

417

Circle 19, no. 1 (1997): 30–39. Munro, G.R. and Chee Kim Loy. The Economics of Fishing and the Developing World: A Malaysian Case Study. Pulau Pinang: Penerbit Universiti Sains Malaysia, 1978. Murai Yoshinori. “The Life and Times of Shrimp”. AMPO Japan-Asia Quarterly Review 18, no. 4 (1987): 2–9. Murwaski, Steven A. “Definitions of Overfishing from an Ecosystem Perspective”. ICES Journal of Marine Science 57 (2000): 649–58. Naylor, Rosamond L., Rebecca J. Goldburg, Harold Mooney, Malcolm Beveridge, Jason Clay, Carl Folke, Nils Kautsky, Jane Lubchenco, Jurgenne Primavera, and Meryl Williams. “Nature’s Subsidies to Shrimp and Salmon Farming”. Science 282 (1998): 883–84. Ng Mui Chng, Hooi Kok Kuang, and Katsutoshi Miwa. Southeast Asian Fish Products. 2nd edition. Singapore: Marine Fisheries Research Department, Southeast Asian Fisheries Development Centre, 1991. Norgaard, Richard B. “The Oyster Beds of Ao Ban Don”. Land Economics 64 (1988): 83–87. Notre Dame Business Resource Center. The Fishing Industry in SOCSARGEN (South Cotabato/Sarangani/General Santos City): Present Status and Future Prospects. 2nd edition. General Santos City, Philippines, 1994. Ooi Jin Bee. Development Problems of an Open-Access Resource: The Fisheries of Peninsular Malaysia. Occasional Paper no. 86. Singapore: Institute of Southeast Asian Studies, 1990. Ommanney, F.D. Malayan Offshore Trawling Grounds. Colonial Office Fishery Publications no. 18. 1961. London: Her Majesty’s Stationery Office, 1962. Onderzoek naar de Mindere Welvaart der Inlandsche Bevolking op Java en Madoera. Overzicht van de Uitkomsten der Gewestelijke Onderzoekingen naar de Vischteelt en Visscherij en daaruit Gemaakte Gevolgtrekkingen, eerste deel (Tekst). Batavia: Landsdrukkerij, 1905. ———. Voorstellen der Welvaartcommissie in zake Vischteelt en Visscherij. Batavia: Landsdrukkerij, 1906. ———. Samentrekking van de Afdeelingsverslagen over de Uitkomsten der Onderzoeken naar de Vischteelt en Visscherij in de Residentie Banten (Bantam). Batavia: Landsdrukkerij, 1905. ———. Samentrekking van de Afdeelingsverslagen over de Uitkomsten der

418

Bibliography

Onderzoeken naar de Vischteelt en Visscherij in de Residentie Pekalongan. Batavia: Landsdrukkerij, 1905. ———. Samentrekking van de Afdeelingsverslagen over de Uitkomsten der Onderzoeken naar de Vischteelt en Visscherij in de Residentie Madioen. Batavia: Landsdrukkerij, 1905. ———. Samentrekking van de Afdeelingsverslagen over de Uitkomsten der Onderzoeken naar de Vischteelt en Visscherij in de Residentie Soerabaja. Batavia: Landsdrukkerij, 1905. ———. Samentrekking van de Afdeelingsverslagen over de Uitkomsten der Onderzoeken naar de Vischteelt en Visscherij in de Residentie Pasoeroean. Batavia: Landsdrukkerij, 1905. ———. Samentrekking van de Afdeelingsverslagen over de Uitkomsten der Onderzoeken naar de Vischteelt en Visscherij in de Residentie Madoera. Batavia: Landsdrukkerij, 1905. Ong Jin Eong and Gong Wooi Khoon, eds. The Encylopedia of Malaysia. Vol. 6: The Seas. Singapore: Archipelago Press, 2001. Oosterhout, Henk van. “Issues and Options of Child Labour in the Philippines: A Practical Example of the ‘Muro-Ami ’ Fishing Operation”. Report prepared by an associate expert attached to the International Labour Organization Office, Manila, January 1987. Padilla, Jose E. and Marian S. de los Angeles. “Economic Policies and the Sustainable Development of Coastal Resources in the Philippines”. Naga, The ICLARM Quarterly 15, no. 3 (July 1992): 36–38. Panayotou, Theodore. “Economic Conditions and Prospects of Smallscale Fishermen in Thailand”. Marine Policy 4 (1980): 142–46. Panayotou, Theodore, ed. Small-scale Fisheries in Asia: Socioeconomic Analysis and Policy. Ottawa: International Development Research Centre, 1985. Panayotou, Theodore and Songpol Jetanavanich. “Fueling the Extinction of Thai Fisheries”. ICLARM Newsletter 3, no. 3 (July 1980): 5. Panayotou, Theodore and Songpol Jetanavanich. The Economics and Management of Thai Marine Fisheries. Manila: International Center for Living Aquatic Resources Management, 1987. Pannell, Sandra. “Victims or Victimisers?” Inside Indonesia, September 1993, pp. 16–18.

Bibliography

419

Pastoral, Prospero C. “Benefits Derived From and Problems Encountered in the Use of ‘Payaw’ by Tuna Fishermen”. Fisheries Newsletter 16 (January–June 1987): 12–18. Pauly, Daniel. “Anecdotes and the Shifting Baseline Syndrome of Fisheries”. Trends in Ecology and Evolution 10 (1995): 430. ———. “Biological Overfishing of Tropical Stocks”. ICLARM Newsletter 2, no. 3 (July 1979): 3–4. ———. “Fisheries Management”. In Encyclopedia of Life Sciences. London: Nature Publishing Group, 2002. Available at . ———. “Fisheries Research and the Demersal Fisheries of Southeast Asia”. In Fish Population Dynamics, edited by J.A. Gulland. 2nd edition. Chichester: John Wiley, 1988. ———. “From Growth to Malthusian Overfishing: Stages of Fisheries Resource Misuse”. SPC Traditional Marine Resource Management and Knowledge Bulletin, no. 3 (January 1994): 7–14. ———. On the Sex of Fish and the Gender of Scientists: Essays in Fisheries Science. London: Chapman & Hall, 1994. ———. “Problems of Tropical Inshore Fisheries: Fishery Research on Tropical Soft-bottom Communities and the Evolution of Its Conceptual Base”. In Ocean Yearbook 6, edited by Elisabeth Mann Borgese and Norton Ginsburg, pp. 29–37. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1986. ———. “Putting Fisheries Management Back in Places”. Reviews in Fish Biology and Fisheries 7 (1997): 125–27. ———. “The Leiognathidae (Teleostei): Their Species, Stocks, and Fisheries in Indonesia, with Notes of the Biology of Leiognathus Splendens (Cuvier)”. Marine Research in Indonesia 19 (1977): 73– 93. ———. Theory and Management of Tropical Multispecies Stocks: A Review, with Emphasis on the Southeast Asian Demersal Fisheries. Manila: International Center for Living Aquatic Resources Management, 1979. Pauly, D. and V. Christensen. “Primary Production Required to Sustain Global Fisheries”. Nature 374 (16 March 1995): 255–57. Pauly, Daniel and Villy Christensen. “Stratified Models of Large Marine Ecosystems: A General Approach and an Application to the South

420

Bibliography

China Sea”. In Large Marine Ecosystems: Stress, Mitigation and Sustainability, edited by K. Sherman, L.M. Alexander, and B.D. Gold, chap. 15. Washington, D.C.: AAAS Press, 1993. Pauly, Daniel, Villy Christensen, Johanne Dalsgaard, Rainer Froese, and Francisco Torres, Jr. “Fishing Down Marine Food Webs”. Science 279 (6 February 1998): 860–63. Pauly, Daniel and Chua Thia-Eng. “The Overfishing of Marine Resources: Socioeconomic Background in Southeast Asia”. Ambio 17 (1988): 200–6. Pauly, D. and P. Martosubroto, eds. Baseline Studies of Biodiversity: The Fish Resources of Western Indonesia. Manila: International Center for Living Aquatic Resources Management, 1996. Pauly, Daniel and Antonio N. Mines, eds. Small-scale Fisheries of San Miguel Bay, Philippines: Biology and Stock Assessment. Manila: International Center for Living Aquatic Resources Management, 1982. Pauly, D., Sann Aung, L. Rijavec, and Htun Htein. “The Marine Living Resources of Burma: A Short Review”. In Report of the 4th Session of the Standing Committee on Resources Research and Development of the Indo-Pacific Fishery Commission, Jakarta, 23–29 August 1984. Rome: Food and Agriculture Organization Fisheries Report no. 318, [1984]. Pauly, Daniel, Geronimo Silvestre, and Ian R. Smith. “On Development, Fisheries and Dynamite: A Brief Review of Tropical Fisheries Management”. Natural Resources Modeling 3 (1989): 307–29. Pauly, Daniel, Villy Christensen, Sylvie Guénette, Tony J. Pitcher, U. Rashid Sumaila, Carl J. Walters, R. Watson, and Dirk Zeller. “Towards Sustainability in World Fisheries”. Nature 418 (8 August 2002): 689–95. Pel, H. van. “Beschrijving der beoefening in de Japansche moero ami visscherij”. Mededeeling van de Onderafdeeling Zeevisscherij, no. 2B (1938), pp. 222–25. ———. “De beoefening der majang zeevisscherij langs de noordkust van Java”. Mededeeling van de Onderafdeeling Zeevisscherij, no. 2B (1938), pp. 101–13. Penn, J.W. The Current Status of Off Shore Marine Fish Stocks in Bangladesh Waters with Special Reference to Penaeid Shrimp Stocks. FI:DP/BGD/

Bibliography

421

72/016, Field Document 3. Rome: Food and Agriculture Organization, 1982. Perrin, William F., Bernd Würsig and J.G.M. Thewissen, eds. Encyclopedia of Marine Mammals. San Diego: Academic Press, 2002. Pet-Soede, Lida and Mark Erdmann. “An Overview and Comparison of Destructive Fishing Practices in Indonesia”. SPC Live Reef Fish Information Bulletin, no. 4 (April 1998), pp. 28–36. Phithakpol, Bulan. “The Seafood Canning Industry of Thailand”. INFOFISH Marketing Digest, no. 3/83, pp. 26–28. Pino, A.M. “Zeevisscherij in Indië en buitenlandsche concurrentie”. Koloniaal Tijdschrift 26 (1937): 74–78. Plas, Ch. O. van der. “De visscherij en de vischhandel in den Kangeanen Sapoediarchipel”. Koloniaal Tijdschrift 9 (1920): 518–70, 611– 32. “Pla Thuu on the Verge of Extinction in the Gulf ”. SEAFDEC Newsletter 12, no. 2 (1989): 7. Poggie, John J. and Richard B. Pollnac, eds. Small-scale Fishery Development: Sociocultural Perspectives. Kingston, Rhode Island: International Center for Marine Resource Development, University of Rhode Island, 1991. Polotan-de la Cruz, Lenore, ed. Our Sea, Our Life: Proceedings of the Seminar Workshop on Community-based Coastal Resources Management, February 7–12, 1993, Silliman University, Dumaguete City. Quezon City: Voluntary Services Overseas, 1993. Polunin, Nicholas V.C. “Do Traditional Marine ‘Reserves’ Conserve? A View of Indonesian and New Guinean Evidence”. In Maritime Institutions in the Western Pacific, edited by Kenneth Ruddle and Tomoya Akimichi, pp. 267–83. Osaka: National Museum of Ethnology, 1984. ———. “The Marine Resources of Indonesia”. Oceanogr. Mar. Biol. Ann. Rev. 21 (1983): 455–531. Pomeroy, Robert S. “Small-scale Fisheries Management and Development: Towards a Community-based Approach”. Marine Policy 15 (1991): 39–48. Porter, Catherine. “Philippines Neglects Fisheries Resources”. Far Eastern Survey 9 (19 June 1940): 155–57.

422

Bibliography

Potier, M. and S. Nurhakim, eds. BIODYNEX: Biology, Dynamics, Exploitation of the Small Pelagic Fishes in the Java Sea. Jakarta: Agency for Agricultural Research and Development, Ministry of Agriculture and ORSTOM, 1995. Primavera, J. Honculada. “Intensive Prawn Farming in the Philippines: Ecological, Social and Economic Implications”. Ambio 20 (1991): 28–33. Proceedings of the INFOFISH Tuna Trade Conference, Bangkok, Thailand, 25–27 February 1986. Kuala Lumpur: INFOFISH, [1986]. Pursell, Tricia. “The Net, the Fish and the Child: The Muro-ami System, Transformation in Coastal Communities in Southern Cebu 1900– 2000”. Honours dissertation, Murdoch University, 2002. Quiason, Serafin D. “The Japanese Community in Manila”. Philippine Historical Review 3 (1970): 184–222. Rabanal, Herminio R. “Mangroves and Their Utilization for Aquaculture”. Philippine Journal of Fisheries 14, no. 2 (1976): 191–203. RAPA (Regional Office for Asia and the Pacific, Food and Agriculture Organization). Marine Fishery Production in the Asia-Pacific Region. Bangkok: RAPA, 1989. Rasalan, Santos B. “Marine Fisheries of the Central Visayas”. Philippine Journal of Fisheries 5, no. 1 (January–June 1957): 53–89. ———. “New Methods of Fish Capture in the Philippines”. Bulletin of the Fisheries Society of the Philippines 1 (1950): 57–66. Rasalan, S.B. and B.Y. Datingaling. “Fishing with Artificial Light in the Philippines”. Bulletin of the Fisheries Society of the Philippines 3 and 4 (1952–53): 64–72 Rathborne, Ambrose B. Camping and Tramping in Malaya: Fifteen Years’ Pioneering in the Native States of the Malay Peninsula. London: Swan Sonnenschein, 1898. Reprint. Singapore: Oxford University Press, 1984. Reeves, Peter. “The Colonial State and the Indian Fishery Industry: Attempts to Restructure Artisanal Production, Processing and Distribution, c.1860–1950”. Paper presented at the conference of the Association for Asian Studies, New Orleans, April 1991. Reeves, Peter, Frank Broeze, and Kenneth McPherson. “The Maritime Peoples of the Indian Ocean Region since 1800”. Mariner’s Mirror 74 (1988): 241–54.

Bibliography

423

Reeves, Peter, Andrew Pope, John McGuire, and Bob Pokrant. “Mapping India’s Marine Resources: Colonial State Experiments, c.1908–1930”. South Asia 19, no. 1 (1996): 13–35. Reid, Anthony. “Indonesian Fishermen Detained in Broome: A Report on the Social and Economic Background”. Illegal Entry! Occasional Paper Series no. 1. Darwin: Centre for Southeast Asian Studies, Northern Territory University, 1992. Reintjes, E.J. De Vischteelt in Zoutwatervijvers. Mededeelingen van de Afdeeling Landbouw, no. 10. Weltevreden: Landsdrukkerij, 1926. Resosudarmo, Budy P. “The Construction of a Bioeconomic Model of the Indonesian Flying Fish Fishery”. Marine Resource Economics 10 (1995): 357–72. Reuter, J. “Een nieuwe inheemsche visscherij”. Koloniale Studiën 24 (1940): 199–218. Rice, Robert C. “Environmental Degradation, Pollution, and the Exploitation of Indonesia’s Fishery Resources”. In Indonesia: Resources, Ecology and Environment, edited by Joan Hardjono, chap. 8. Singapore: Oxford University Press, 1991. Rientrairut, Somying. “Fisheries: An Economic Background of Thailand”. Thai Fisheries Gazette 32 (1979): 363–70. Rinkes, D.A., N. Van Zalinge, and J.W. de Roever. Het Indische Boek der Zee. Weltevreden: Drukkerij Volkslectuur, 1925. Robertson, Eric. The Singapore File: Pre-war Japanese Penetration into Southeast Asia. Hong Kong: Heinemann, 1979. Roch, J., S. Nurhakim, J. Widodo, and A. Poernomo, eds. SOSEKIMA: Proceedings of Socio-economics, Innovation and Management of the Java Sea Pelagic Fisheries, 4–7 December 1995, Bandungan. Jakarta: Java Sea Pelagic Fishery Assessment Project, 1998. Ronquillo, Inocencio A. “The Philippine Tuna Fishery: An Overview”. Fisheries Newsletter 11, no. 1 (January–March 1982): 7–17. Ronquillo, Inocencio A., Priscilla Caces-Borja, and Antonio Mines. “Preliminary Observations on the Otter Trawl Fishery of Manila Bay”. Philippine Journal of Fisheries 8, no. 1 (1960): 47–56. Roosendaal, A.M. van. “De lajang-visscherij in de Java-Zee en in straat Madoera”. Mededeelingen van het Visscherij-Station te Batavia, no. 5 (1910), pp. 21–41. ———. “Verslag der verrichtingen van het onderzoekingsvaartuig ‘Gier’

424

Bibliography

gedurende het tijdvak 2 September 1907 (datum van indienstelling) tot U°. 1908”. Mededeelingen van het Visscherij-Station te Batavia, no. 4 (1909), pp. 1–36. ———. “Verslag der verrichtingen van het onderzoekingsvaartuig ‘Gier’ over het jaar 1909”. Mededeelingen van het Visscherij-Station te Batavia, no. 5 (1910), pp. 1–20. Rose, Debra A. An Overview of World Trade in Sharks. Cambridge: TRAFFIC International, 1996. Ruamragsa, Sanan and Andhi P. Isarankura. An Analysis of Demersal Catches Taken from the Experimental Trawling Operations in the Gulf of Thailand. Contribution no. 3. Bangkok: Department of Fisheries, 1965. Ruddle, Kenneth. “Brackish Water Aquaculture in South-East Asia”. Mazingira 6, no. 4 (1982): 58–67. ———. “Pollution in the Marine Coastal Environment of ASEAN Countries”. In Southeast Asian Seas: Frontiers for Development, edited by Chia and MacAndrews, pp. 136–76. Singapore: McGraw Hill, 1981. ———. “The Supply of Marine Fish Species for Fermentation in Southeast Asia”. Bulletin of the National Museum of Ethnology (Osaka) 11 (1986): 997–1036. Rudmose Brown, R.N. “The Mergui Archipelago: Its People and Products”. Scottish Geographical Magazine 23 (1907): 463–83. Rudmose Brown, R.N. and Jas. J. Simpson. Report to the Government of Burma on the Pearl Oyster Fisheries of the Mergui Archipelago and Moskos Islands. Rangoon: Government Printer, 1907. Rudolph, Peter and Chris Smeenk. “Indo-West Pacific Marine Mammals”. In Encyclopedia of Marine Mammals, edited by William F. Perrin, Bernd Würsig, and J.G.M. Thewissen, pp. 617–25. San Diego: Academic Press, 2002. Russ, Garry R. “Fisheries Management: What Chance on Coral Reefs?” Naga, The ICLARM Quarterly 19, no. 3 (July 1996): 5–9. Russ, Garry R. and Angel C. Alcala. “Effects of Intense Fishing Pressure on an Assemblage of Coral Reef Fishes”. Marine Ecology Progress Series 56 (1989): 13–27. ———. “Sumilon Island Reserve: 20 Years of Hopes and Frustrations”. Naga, The ICLARM Quarterly 17, no. 3 (July 1994): 8–12.

Bibliography

425

Russell, Susan D. and Maritsa Poopetch. “Petty Commodity Fishermen in the Inner Gulf of Thailand”. Human Organization 49 (1990): 174–87. Saeger, Juergen. “Do Trawling Bans Work in Tropical Waters?” ICLARM Newsletter 4, no. 1 (January 1981): 3–4. ———. “The Samar Sea, Philippines: A Decade of Devastation”. Naga, The ICLARM Quarterly 16, no. 4 (October 1993): 4–6. St John, Spencer. Life in the Forests of the Far East. 2 vols. London: Smith, Elder and Co., 1862. Reprint. Kuala Lumpur: Oxford University Press, 1974. Salamanca, A.M. and M.G. Pajaro. “The Utilization of Seashells in the Philippines”. TRAFFIC Bulletin 16, no. 2 (August 1996): 61–72. Sardjono, Iman. “Trawlers Banned in Indonesia”. ICLARM Newsletter 3, no. 4 (October 1980): 3. Schippers, A.W., Jzn. “De zeevisscherijen van Nederlandsch Indie”. Koloniaal Tijdschrift 17 (1928): 15–37. Schurman, Rachel A. “Tuna Dreams: Resource Nationalism and the Pacific Islands’ Tuna Industry”. Development and Change 29 (1998): 107–36. Schuster, W.H. and R. Rustani Djajadiredja. Local Common Names of Indonesian Fishes. Bandung and ’s-Gravenhage: N.V. Penerbit W. van Hoeve, 1952. Seale, Alvin. “The Fishery Resources of the Philippine Islands: Part I: Commercial Fishes”. Philippine Journal of Science 3 (1908): 513–31. ———. “Sea Products of Mindanao and Sulu, II: Pearls, Pearl Shells, and Button Shells”. Philippine Journal of Science 11 (1916): 245–64. Shimizu, Hiroshi. “Rise and Fall of Karayuki-san in the Netherlands Indies from the Late Nineteenth Century to the 1930s”. Review of Indonesian and Malaysian Affairs 26, no. 3 (Summer 1992): 17–43. ———. “The Japanese Fisheries Based in Singapore, 1892–1945”. Journal of Southeast Asian Studies 28 (1997): 324–44. Shindo, Shigeaki. General Review of the Trawl Fishery and Demersal Fish Stocks of the South China Sea. Food and Agriculture Organization (FAO) Fisheries Technical Paper, no. 120. Rome: FAO, 1973. Shomura, Richard S., Jacek Majkowski, and Robert F. Harman, eds. Status of Interactions of Pacific Tuna Fisheries in 1995. Rome: Food and Agriculture Organization, 1996.

426

Bibliography

Shomura, Richard S., Jacek Majkowski, and Sarah Langi, eds. Interactions of Pacific Tuna Fisheries. Vol. 1: Summary Report and Papers on Interaction. Rome: Food and Agriculture Organization, 1994. ———. Interactions of Pacific Tuna Fisheries. Vol. 2: Papers on Biology and Fisheries. Rome: Food and Agriculture Organization, 1994. Sidarto, A. “Recent Development of Fisheries in Indonesia”. Ekonomi dan Keuangan Indonesia 27, no. 1 (March 1979): 105–23. ———. “The Development of Small-scale Fisheries in Indonesia”. Ekonomi dan Keuangan Indonesia 25, no. 1 (March 1977): 68–79. Silvestre, Geronimo and Daniel Pauly, eds. Status and Management of Tropical Coastal Fisheries in Asia. Manila: International Center for Living Aquatic Resources Management, 1997. Skipjack and Tuna in Indonesia. [Jakarta?]: PT Perikanan Samodra Besar, PT Usaha Mina, Perum Perikanan Maluku and PN Perikani Sulawesi Utara Tengah, 1981. Sivalingam, G. “The Fishing Economy of Malaysia, Technology, Organization of Production and Income Distribution in 1955– 1975”. Journal of the Malayan Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society 59, no. 2 (1986): 51–80. Smith, Hugh McCormick. A Review of the Aquatic Resources and Fisheries of Siam, with Plans and Recommendations for their Administration, Conservation, and Development. Bangkok: Ministry of Lands and Agriculture, 1925. Reprinted by Southeast Asian Fisheries Development Center, Bangkok, special publication no. 4, 1983. ———. “Siam’s Fishery Resources”. Mid-Pacific Magazine 29 (1925): 591–96. Smith, Ian and Daniel Pauly. “Resolving Multigear Competition in Nearshore Fisheries”. ICLARM Newsletter 6, no. 4 (October 1983): 11–18. Smith, Ian R., Miguel Y. Puzon, and Carmen N. Vidal-Libunao. Philippine Municipal Fisheries: A Review of Resources, Technology and Socioeconomics. ICLARM (International Center for Living Aquatic Resources Management) Studies and Reviews 4. Manila: ICLARM, 1980. Smith, Ian R., Daniel Pauly and Antonio N. Mines. Small-scale fisheries of San Miguel Bay, Philippines: Options for Management and Research. ICLARM (International Center for Living Aquatic Resources

Bibliography

427

Management) Technical Reports 11. Manila: ICLARM, 1983. Smith, Richard. The Perils of Plectropomus. Film produced for ABC Television, Australia, 1999. Snouck Hurgronje, C. The Achehnese. Vol. 1. Translated by A.W.S. O’Sullivan. Leyden: E.J. Brill, 1906. Sopher, David E. The Sea Nomads: A Study of the Maritime Boat People of Southeast Asia. Singapore: National Museum, 1977. Spoehr, Alexander. “Change in Philippine Capture Fisheries: An Historical Overview”. Philippine Quarterly of Culture & Society 12 (1984): 25–56. ———. Protein from the Sea: Technological Change in Philippine Capture Fisheries. Ethnology Monographs no. 3. Pittsburgh: Department of Anthropology, University of Pittsburgh, 1980. Stead, David G. General Report upon the Fisheries of British Malaya with Recommendations for Future Development. Sydney: Government Printer, 1923. Steele, Howard L., Harlan L. Lampe, and Robert Niehaus. Demand and Supply Potentials for South Vietnam’s Fishery Industry. FDD Field Report 45, U.S. Department of Agriculture co-operating with U.S. Agency for International Development and the Vietnam Ministry of Agriculture and Land Development, July 1974. Storer, James A. “Aspects of Fisheries in the Developing Philippine Economy”. Stud. Trop. Oceanogr, Miami 5 (1967): 363–74. Straits Settlements. The Fisheries of the Straits Settlements and the Protected Native States. Legislative Council Paper no. 2. 1896. Sujustani, Tatang. “The State of Indonesian Marine Fishery Resource Exploitation”. Indonesian Agricultural Research and Development Journal 3, no. 1 (1981): 13–20. Sulaeman Krisnandhi. “The Economic Development of Indonesia’s Sea Fishing Industry”. Bulletin of Indonesian Economic Studies 5, no. 1 (March 1969): 49–71. Sutherland, Heather. “Trepang and Wangkang: The China Trade of Eighteenth-century Makassar c.1720s–1840s”. Bijdragen tot de Taal, Land- en Volkenkunde 156, no. 3 (2000): 451–72. Sutherland, Wm. “South Tenasserim and the Mergui Archipelago”. Scottish Geographical Magazine 14 (1898): 449–64. Suvapepun, Sunee. “Long-term Ecological Changes in the Gulf of

428

Bibliography

Thailand”. Marine Pollution Bulletin 23 (1991): 213–17. Szanton, David L. Estancia in Transition: Economic Growth in a Rural Philippine Community. 2nd edition. Quezon City: Institute of Philippine Culture, Ateneo de Manila University, 1981. Talavera, Florencio. “Pearl Fisheries of Sulu”. Philippine Journal of Science 43 (1930): 483–99. Talavera, Florencio and Heraclio R. Montalban. “Fishing Appliances of Panay, Negros, and Cebu”. Philippine Journal of Science 48 (1932): 429–83. Tan Sen Min, Lim Pang Yong, Tetsushi Senta, and Hooi Kok Kuang. A Colour Guide to the Fishes of the South China Sea and Andaman Sea. Singapore: Primary Production Department/Marine Fisheries Research Department, Southeast Asian Fisheries Development Centre 1989. Tapiador, Domingo D. “A Report on Deepsea Longline Fishing for Tuna in the Philippines”. Bulletin of the Fisheries Society of the Philippines 2 (1951): 3–27. Teinsongrusmee, Banchong. A Present Status of Shrimp Farming in Thailand. Contribution no. 18. Bangkok: Department of Fisheries, 1970. Tenison-Woods, J.E. “Fisheries of the Oriental Region”. Proceedings of the Linnean Society of New South Wales, 2nd series, vol. 3, part 1 (1888). Also printed separately as The Fisheries of the Oriental Region. Sydney: F. Cunninghame, n.d. ———. “Geographical Notes in Malaysia and Asia”. Proceedings of the Linnean Society of New South Wales, 2nd series, vol. 3, part 2 (1888). “Thailand and PRC Form Joint Fishing Ventures”. Marine Fisheries Review 43, no. 8 (August 1981): 30. Thillaimuthu, J. “Tuna Fishing and Processing”. Printed by Shum Shing Printing Co. on behalf of Malayan Marine Industries Sdn. Berhad, Penang, [1968]. Thorburn, Craig C. “Changing Customary Marine Resource Management Practice and Institutions: The Case of Sasi Lola in the Kei Islands, Indonesia”. World Development 28 (2000): 1461–79. ———. “The House that Poison Built: Customary Marine Property Rights and the Live Food Fish Trade in the Kei Islands, Southeast Maluku”. Development and Change 32 (2001): 151–80.

Bibliography

429

Tiews, K.F.W. “Bottom Fish Resources Investigation in the Gulf of Thailand and an Outlook on Further Possibilities to Develop the Marine Fisheries in South East Asia”. Archiv für Fischereiwissenschaft 16 (1965): 67–108. ———. “Fishery Development and Management in Thailand”. Archiv für Fischereiwissenschaft 24 (1973): 271–300. ———. “Report to the Government of the Philippines on Marine Fishery Resources”. Philippine Journal of Fisheries 6 (1958): 107–208. Torell, Magnus. “Thailand’s Fishing Industry: Future Prospects”. In Ocean Yearbook 7, edited by Elisabeth Mann Borgese, Norton Ginsburg, and Joseph R. Morgan, pp. 29–37. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1989. “The Tortoise Shells of Celebes”. JIA&EA 3 (1849): 271–73. Trail, William. “A Few Remarks on Conchology and Malachology”. JIA&EA 1 (1847). U Khin. Fisheries in Burma. Rangoon: Office of the Superintendent, Government Printing and Stationery, Burma, 1948. ———. “Fisheries in Burma”. Burma Research Society Journal 38 (1955): 46–51. Umali, Agustin F. Guide to the Classification of Fishing Gear in the Philippines, Research Report 17 of the Fish and Wildlife Service, United States Department of the Interior. Washington: United States Government Printing Office, 1950. ———. “The Fishery Industries of San Miguel Bay”. Philippine Journal of Science 63, no. 2 (1937): 227–58. ———. “The Fishery Industries of Southwestern Samar”. Philippine Journal of Science 54, no. 3 (1934): 365–93. ———. “The Japanese Beam Trawl Used in Philippine Waters”. Philippine Journal of Science 48 (1932): 389–408. Unar, M. A Review of the Indonesian Shrimp Fishery and Its Present Developments. IOFC/DEV/72/27. Rome: Food and Agriculture Organization, 1973. Unar, M. and N. Naamin. “A Review of the Indonesian Shrimp Fisheries and Their Management”. In Penaeid Shrimps — Their Biology and Management, edited by John A. Gulland and Brian J. Rothschild, pp. 104–10. Farnham, Surrey: Fishing News Books, 1984. United Nations Environment Programme (UNEP). Report of the Workshop

430

Bibliography

on the Biology and Conservation of Small Cetaceans and Dugongs of Southeast Asia. UNEP(W)/EAS WG.1/2. Bangkok: UNEP, 1996. Ushijima, Iwao and Cynthia Neri Zayas, eds. Fishers of the Visayas: Visayas Maritime Anthropological Studies I: 1991–1993. Quezon City: College of Social Sciences and Philosophy, 1994. Veen, A.G. van. “Fermented and Dried Seafood Products in Southeast Asia”. In Fish as Food, edited by Georg Borgstrom, vol. 3, chap. 8. New York and London: Academic Press, 1965. Veth, P.J. Java, Geographisch, Ethnologisch, Historisch. Haarlem: Erven F. Bohn, 1875, eerste deel. Villaluz, Domiciano K. “Management of Some Philippine Fisheries”. Bulletin of the Fisheries Society of the Philippines 1 (1950): 31–37. ———. Fish Farming in the Philippines. Manila: Bookman, 1953. Vincent, Amanda C.J. “The Improbable Seahorse”. National Geographic 186, no. 4 (October 1994): 126–40. ———. “Exploitation of Seahorses and Pipefishes”. Naga, The ICLARM Quarterly 18, no. 1 (January 1995): 18–19. Vink, W.C.A. “Eeninge opmerkingen en beschouwingen over de inlandsche hoogzeevisscherij van Java en Madoera”. Mededeelingen van het Visscherij-Station te Batavia, no. 6 (1911), pp. 39–43. ———. “Opmerkingen en beschouwingen over de inlandsche hoogzeevisscherij van Java en Madoera”. Mededeelingen van het Visscherij-Station te Batavia, no. 9 (1912), pp. 20–30. ———. “Rapport over de toepassing van Europeesche grondnetten in de wateren om Java en Madoera”. Mededeelingen van het VisscherijStation te Batavia, no. 8 (1912), pp. 1–25. ———. “Verdere opmerkingen over de lajangvisscherij”. Mededeelingen van het Visscherij-Station te Batavia, no. 6 (1911), pp. 31–38. ———. “Verslag der verrichtingen van het onderzoekingsvaartuig voor de visscherij ‘Gier’ over 1910”. Mededeelingen van het Visscherij-Station te Batavia, no. 6 (1911), pp. 1–25. Volkman, Toby Alice. “Our Garden Is the Sea: Contingency and Improvisation in Mandar Women’s Work”. American Ethnologist 21 (1994): 564–85. Vu Du Quynh. “Vietnam: Coastal Aquaculture in the Southern Provinces”. World Aquaculture 20, no. 2 (June 1989): 22–28. Waal, E. de. Aanteekeningen over Koloniale Onderwerpen. Vol. 4: De Kleine

Bibliography

431

Verpachte Middelen op Java. Part 1. ’s-Gravenhage: Martinus Nijhoff, 1865. Wallace, Alfred Russel. The Malay Archipelago, the Land of the OrangUtan and the Bird of Paradise: A Narrative of Travel with Studies of Man and Nature. First published in 1869. 10th edition. London: Macmillan, 1890. Ward, Marion W. “Malayan Fishing Ports and Their Inland Connections”. Tijdschrift voor Economische en Sociale Geografie 55 (1964): 113–42. Warfel, Herbert E. and Porfirio R. Manacop. Otter Trawl Explorations in Philippine Waters, Fish and Wildlife Service, Research Report 25. Washington: United States Government Printing Office, 1950. Warington Smyth, H. “Journeys in the Siamese East Coast States”. Geographical Journal 11 (1898): 465–94, 580 (map). Warren, Carol. Ideology, Identity and Change: The Experience of the Bajau Laut of East Malaysia, 1969–1975. Townsville: South East Asian Monograph Series, James Cook University, 1983. Warren, James Francis. The Sulu Zone, 1768–1898: The Dynamics of External Trade, Slavery and Ethnicity in the Transformation of a Southeast Asian Maritime State. Singapore: Singapore University Press, 1981. ———. The Sulu Zone: The World Capitalist Economy and the Historical Imagination. Amsterdam: VU University Press, 1998. Watson, J.G. Mangrove Forests of the Malay Peninsula. Singapore: Fraser & Neave, 1928. Watson, Reg and Daniel Pauly. “Systematic Distortions in World Fisheries Catch Trends”. Nature 414 (29 November 2001): 534–36. West, Janet and R.H. Barnes. “Scrimshaw by William Lewis Roderick”. The Mariner’s Mirror 76, no. 2 (May 1990): 135–48. “Whale Fishing of the Solorese”. JIA&EA 4 (1850): 766–67. White, Alan T. Coral Reefs: Valuable Resources of Southeast Asia. Manila: International Center for Living Aquatic Resources Management, 1987. ———. Marine Parks and Reserves: Management for Coastal Environments in Southeast Asia. Manila: International Center for Living Aquatic Resources Management, 1988. White, Alan T., Chou Loke Ming, M.W.R.N. de Silva, and Flordeliz Y. Guarin. Artificial Reefs for Marine Habitat Enhancement in Southeast

432

Bibliography

Asia. Manila: International Center for Living Aquatic Resources Management, 1990. Widodo, Johannes. “By-catch Assessment of the Shrimp Fishery in the Arafura Sea and Its Adjacent Waters”. Laporan Pen. Perikanan Laut, no. 63 (1991), pp. 43–49. Wilkinson, R.J., H. Berkeley, and H.C. Robinson. Report on the Fishing Industry of the Straits Settlements and Federated Malay States on the West Coast of the Peninsula. Kuala Lumpur: Federal Government Printing Office, 1904. Wong Kin Ken. “The Trade of Singapore, 1819–1869”. Journal of the Malayan Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society 33, no. 4 (1960). World Bank. Fisheries and Aquaculture Research Capabilities and Needs in Asia: Studies of India, Thailand, Malaysia, Indonesia, the Philippines, and the ASEAN Region. World Bank Technical Paper no. 147, Fisheries Series. Washington, D.C.: World Bank, 1991. Wyrtki, Klaus. Physical Oceanography of the Southeast Asian Waters. Naga Report, vol. 2. La Jolla: Scripps Institution of Oceanography, 1961. Yap Chan-Ling. “Fisheries Development on the West Coast of Peninsular Malaysia”. In Economics of Aquaculture, Sea-fishing and Coastal Resource Use in Asia: Proceedings of the Second Biennial Meeting of the Agricultural Economics Society of Southeast Asia, November 3–6, 1977, Tigbauan, Iloilo, Philippines, edited by Aida R. Librero and William L. Collier, pp. 119–64. Los Baños: Agricultural Development Council, Philippine Council for Agriculture and Resources Research, 1979. ———. “Fishery Policies and Development with Special Reference to the West Coast of Peninsular Malaysia from the Early 1900s”. Kajian Ekonomi Malaysia 13, nos. 1–2 (1976): 7–15. ———. “Over-expansion in the Trawler Industry with Specific Reference to the Dindings District of West Malaysia”. Kajian Ekonomi Malaysia 10, no. 2 (1973): 79–90. Young, P.C. and K.J. Sainsbury. “CSIRO’s North West Shelf Program Indicates Changes in Fish Populations”. Australian Fisheries 44, no. 3 (March 1985): 16–20. Zachman, N. “Fisheries Development and Management in Indonesia”. Journal of the Fisheries Research Board of Canada 30, no. 12, part 2 (1973): 2335–40.

Bibliography

433

Zankich, Vincent John. “Tuna Purse Seining”. Fisheries Newsletter (January–March 1973): 13–15. “Zeevisscherij in Indië”. Indische Gids 51 (1929): 1249–56. “Zeevisscherijen langs de kusten der eilanden van Nederlandsch-Indie”. Tijdschrift voor Nijverheid en Landbouw in Nederlandsch-Indie 26 (1882): 75–145, 157–201, 257–302, 313–64. Zerner, Charles. “Sharing the Catch in Mandar: Changes in an Indonesian Raft Fishery (1970–1989)”. In Small-scale Fishery Development: Sociocultural Perspectives, edited by John J. Poggie and Richard B. Pollnac. Kingston, Rhode Island: International Center for Marine Resource Development, University of Rhode Island, 1991. ———. “The Flying Fishermen of Mandar”. Cultural Survival Quarterly 11, no. 2 (1987): 18–22. ———. “Through a Green Lens: The Construction of Customary Environmental Law and Community in Indonesia’s Moluku Islands”. Law & Society Review 28 (1994): 1079–122. Zimmerman, Carle C. Siam: Rural Economic Survey, 1930–31. Bangkok: Bangkok Times Press, 1931.

Reproduced from The Closing of the Frontier: A History of the Marine Fisheries of Southeast Asia c. 18502000, by John G. Butcher (Singapore: Institute of Southeast Asian Studies, 2004). This version was obtained electronically direct from the publisher on condition that copyright is not infringed. No part of this publication may be reproduced without the prior permission of the Institute of Southeast Asian Studies.Individual articles are available at < http://bookshop.iseas.edu.sg >

Index

435

Index Note: This index includes the names of marine animals, fishing gears, places except for countries and the largest islands, ships, persons (including authors mentioned in the text), companies, and a small number of other terms. Most place names are followed by information in square brackets indicating either maps showing those places or, in cases where the location does not appear on a map and is not clear from the text, their location in relation to places that do appear on a map. Entries in the glossary are indicated in bold font.

Abdullah bin Abdul Kadir, Munshi, 29 Abdurrahman Wahid, 251 Abines family, 192, 277 Aceh [north Sumatra], 44, 53, 57, 241, 248 Aertembaga (Bitung) [5.3], 225, 227 Akyab [western Burma], 58 albacore, 218, 375 Albatross, 138 ambai, 84, 90, 91, 92, 93, 375 Ambon [5.3], 29, 156, 157, 166, 211, 225, 227, 228, 289 Anambas Islands [5.2], 148, 149, 152 Andaman Sea [1.1, 1.3], 6, 7, 119, 165, 189, 199, 215, 249 Anderson, John, 29 Aprieto, Virginia, 189, 191, 254, 257 aquaculture, 25, 35, 115, 116, 235, 281–87 Arafura Sea [1.3, 6.3], 6, 12, 165, 211, 212, 241, 250, 272, 275, 276 Arakan [western coastal Burma], 138 Arminius, 34, 69 Aroa Islands [4.2], 88 Aru Islands [6.3], 47, 49, 126, 128– 32, 135

Ashmore Reef (Pulau Pasir) [7.3], 278, 279, 280, 375 Asian Development Bank (ADB), 3, 226, 247 Asid Gulf [4.8], 181, 182 Australian Fishing Zone, 275, 280 Baädilla Brothers, 128, 130 bagan, 209 Bagan Si Api Api [4.2], 61, 70, 71, 72, 80, 81, 82–89, 99, 119–20, 210, 237 baklad [fig. 2.2], 41, 42 Bali [4.7], 108, 109, 110, 226 Bali sardinella, 12, 213, 376 Bali Strait [4.3], 12, 53, 111, 164 Ban Hua Hin [4.1], 78 Banda Islands [6.3], 129 Banda Sea [6.3], 6, 7, 12, 159, 165, 215, 216, 218, 220, 221, 222–23, 227, 287 Banda Sea Agreement, 220, 221, 222 Bangka [5.2], 63, 148, 151 Bangkok [4.1, 6.1], 62, 64, 77, 195, 251 Bantam [4.3], 95 Bantayan Island [4.8], 273

436

Banyuwangi [4.3], 94, 111 Barnes, R.H., 59 barramundi, 17, 35, 79, 286, 376 basnig, basnigan [fig. 6.2], 163, 183– 86, 376 Batavia (colonial Jakarta) [4.3], 144, 145, 150, 160, 161 Bawal Putih I, 239 Bawean [4.3, 4.5], 94, 100, 101, 103, 105, 148 beam trawl [fig. 5.1], 136, 141, 178, 179, 194, 376 belacan, 33, 34, 36, 37, 79, 84, 85, 87, 90, 376 Belitung [5.2], 148 Bennett, Frederick Debell, 35 Benoa [port, south Bali], 226, 261 Biak [6.3], 221, 259 bigeye tuna, 14, 152, 165, 218, 223, 233, 261, 267, 268, 376 birds, 156, 212–13, 267 Bleeker, M.-P., 31 Blimbing [4.4], 101, 102 Bohnsack, James, 290 Bohol [4.8], 112, 114, 276 bombon [fig. 2.1], 38 Borneo Fishing Company, 156 Botlog [island off east coast Panay], 168 bottom longline, 271, 272, 280, 376 Bottomanne, C.J., 160, 161 bubu [fig. 2.3], 43, 377 Bumble Bee, 264, 266 Buton [6.3], 273, 274 Cac Ba Island, 153 caesionids. See fusiliers Calamian Group [4.8], 192 Capiz [4.8], 112, 114 Carigara Bay [4.8], 179 Cartier Islet [7.3], 278, 279, 280 Cebu [4.8], 114, 120 Cebu City [4.8], 273 Celebes Sea [1.3, 5.3], 6, 7, 158, 159, 191, 215, 258

Index Celebes Trading Company, 129, 130, 131 Chao Phraya River [4.1], 10, 76, 79– 80 Christensen, V., 17 Christie, G.F.S., 116 Christmas Island, 226 chum, chumming, 223, 260, 377 Chumphon Bay [4.1], 76, 78 Cilacap [4.3], 56, 212, 230, 241 Cirebon [4.3], 236 Clark, James, 129, 130, 131 Clifford, Hugh, 29, 54 coral, coral reefs, 13, 15, 16, 18, 143, 146, 148, 150, 165, 177, 192– 93, 268, 269–71, 289 CP Group, 284 Crawfurd, John, 28, 32, 33, 35, 37, 38, 48, 55 crocodiles, 35, 289 Cushing, D.H., 73, 136 cyanide, 269, 270, 271 Dalaguete [4.8], 112, 114, 116, 120, 121, 153 Damar Island [6.3], 274 Davao [5.3], 188 Davao Gulf [5.3], 158 Day, Francis, 51, 55 de Lanessan, 140 Deli [east coast Sumatra], 62 Delsman, H.C., 159 Dindings [4.2], 207 Dinglasan, P.P., 188 Dobo [6.3], 49, 130 dolphins, 16, 275 Domanty, Jose, 158 double-rigged trawler, 211, 212, 241, 377 driftnet, driftnetting, 150–52, 202, 203, 377 dugongs, 16, 58, 59, 289 Earl, George Windsor, 49 East Indonesia, PT, 224, 225, 226, 259 Eddie, Captain, 136

Index Eifuku, Tora, 67, 143, 164 Emmerson, Donald, 2 Eng, Pierre van der, 68 Erdmann, Mark, 274 Estancia [4.8], 63, 70, 113, 114, 116, 162, 163, 168, 177, 186 Evans, S.M., 212, 213 exclusive economic zones (EEZs), 234, 242, 243, 244, 246, 247, 249, 252, 257, 258, 261, 377 explosives, 116, 163–64, 177–78, 271 Fegan, Brian, 250 Firth, Raymond, 174, 203 fish aggregating devices (FADs), 17, 267, 268, 377. See also payaw, rumpon fish corrals [fig. 2.2], 41, 55, 75, 79, 97, 105, 111, 113–14, 115, 116, 378. See also baklad, poh, sero fishing stakes, 39, 41–42, 43, 45, 52, 53, 54, 55, 56, 58, 93, 55, 121, 203, 209. See also fish corrals, jermal, kelong Flores Sea [4.7], 6, 7, 10, 108 Floyd, J.M., 254 flyingfish, 43, 114, 228, 229, 378 Food and Agriculture Organization of the United Nations (FAO), 3, 174, 175, 233, 253, 267, 275, 284, 377–78 Frabal Fishing Corporation, 192 Frabelle Fishing Corporation, 191, 267 frigate tuna, 17, 190, 264 fusiliers, 17, 143, 144, 277, 378 General Santos City [7.2], 188, 254, 256, 257, 258, 262, 263 Genyo Maru, 215 Gibbons, David, 207 Gier, 100, 137, 140, 141, 143, 159, 164 Gigantes Islands [4.8], 164 gillnet, gillnetting, 44, 236, 275, 377, 378 Gillett, R., 242, 246 Ginyo Maru, 215

437

Golden Crown, 138 Gourou, Pierre, 24, 34, 140, 141 Graham, W.A., 32 Gresik [4.3], 97 groupers, 269, 271, 286, 289, 378–79 Guimaras Strait [4.8], 181, 182 Gulland, J.A., 200 Habibie, B.J., 245 Hainan [1.3], 155 handlines, handlining, 188, 190, 191, 202, 257, 258 Handumon, 276 Hardenberg, J.D.F., 82, 88, 89, 132, 159 harpoons, 40, 45–46 Haruna Maru, 158–59 hasang moderno, 113 Herre, Albert W.C.T., 116 Hornell, James, 40 humphead wrasse, 269, 270, 379 Iloilo [city on Panay (4.8)], 147 Indian mackerel, 16, 33, 38, 75, 77, 79, 154, 155, 193, 194, 200, 288, 379 Institute for Sea Fisheries (Batavia), 160, 161, 162 Irian Jaya (Papua) [6.3], 212, 225, 244, 245, 259, 260, 274 isinglass, 35 Jakarta [4.3], 209, 226, 230, 240, 241, 246, 261. See also Batavia Jakarta Bay, 209, 289 Jambi [5.2], 149, 241 Jandayan Island [off north coast Bohol], 276 Japan Marine Resources Center (JAMARC), 224, 225 Japan Trading Company, 142 Java Sea [1.3, 4.3, 7.1], 6, 10, 13, 31, 100, 137, 148, 159–62, 209, 213, 237, 239, 240, 250, 272 Jepara [4.3], 94, 97 jermal [fig. 4.1], 41–42, 52, 82, 84, 85, 86, 87, 88, 90, 241, 379–80

438

Jetanavanich, Songpol, 232 Johannes, Robert, 270, 271 Johor [4.2], 54 Jolo [5.1], 134, 135 Kaiko Maru, 215 Kampar River [4.2], 10, 228 Kampen, P.N. van, 95, 131 kanas, 107, 110, 380 Kangean Islands [4.6], 46, 71, 100, 105–11, 119 Kapuas River [5.3], 10 Karimata Strait [5.2], 6, 250 Karimun Besar [4.2], 271, 281 Karimunjawa Islands [4.3], 97 katsuobushi, 156, 380 kawakawa, 264 Kedah [4.2], 154 Kei Islands [6.3], 57 Kelantan [4.2], 54, 69 kelong, 42, 92, 380 Killearn, Lord, 169 King Sound [7.3], 278, 281 Koh Chang [4.1], 78 Komodo [4.7], 271 Kotabaru, 211 Kuala Kurau [4.2], 81, 82 Kuala Langat [4.2], 91 Kuala Lumpur [4.2], 62, 64 Kuantan [4.2], 68 kubkuban, 115, 163, 380 Kupang [7.3], 51, 58 Kyodo Gyogyo, 143 Kyoshin Maru, 200 Laguna de Bay [4.8], 34 Lamakera (Solor [7.3]), 40 Lamalera (Lembata [7.3]), 40, 46 Lampung [4.3], 285 Langkawi [4.1], 148 Langsuan Bay [4.1], 76, 77 lawag, lawagan, 162–63 Lembah Island [6.3], 278 Lingayen Gulf [4.8], 142 Lingga Archipelago [5.2], 148, 149 Linggi [4.2], 54

Index lis-alis, 40, 102 Longhurst, Alan, 5, 14 longline, longlining [fig. 6.4], 45, 158–59, 215–23, 226, 227, 244, 260–61, 380. See also bottom longline longtail tuna, 264 Low, Hugh, 29 MacArthur Line, 176, 214, 215, 223 Macclesfield Bank [midway between Luzon and central Vietnam], 192 Madura [4.3], 27, 37, 39, 40, 41, 44, 48, 50, 53, 55, 56, 71, 72, 75, 93–105, 107, 111, 119 Madura Strait [4.3], 46, 55, 97, 209 Magpeos Island [5.1], 134 Maha Nakorn Fishing and Cold Storage Company, 249 Makassar [4.7], 49, 108, 109, 260, 273 Makassar Strait [1.1, 7.1], 6, 239 Malacca [4.2], 27, 33–34 Malacca, Straits of [4.2], 5, 7, 9, 11, 13, 27, 28, 37, 41, 42, 55, 56, 80–93, 121, 139, 150, 152–55, 165, 202, 203, 205, 207, 209, 210, 211, 212, 230, 237, 240, 272 Malampaya Sound [4.8], 180 Malayan Marine Industries, 205 Manacop, Porfirio, 142, 175, 178, 179, 180, 181 Manado [5.3], 225, 263 Mandalika Island [4.3, 4.5], 94, 100, 104 Manihene, 204 Manila [4.8], 28, 48, 60, 62, 63, 65, 67, 70, 115, 135, 141, 144, 177, 178, 188, 192 Manila Bay [4.8], 72, 138, 141, 142, 165, 168, 178, 179, 180, 181, 183, 186, 288 Marcos, Ferdinand, 178 Markus, B., 166

Index marlins, 14, 17, 216 Marr, John, 16, 199 Martaban, Gulf of [1.1], 6, 231, 250 Martin, Claro, 188 Masyhuri, 55, 93, 96, 100, 103 Matasiri Island [4.7, 7.1], 108, 238, 239 Maxwell, C[harlton]. N., 121, 138, 139 Maxwell, F.D., 118 McElroy, James Kevin, 227, 244 McEvoy, Arthur F., 4 McLennan, Marshall, 70 McManus, John, 269 Medan [city, northeast Sumatra], 241 Mekong River [4.1], 10, 34, 140 Mempawah [5.2], 50 Menasveta, Deb, 198 Merauke [town, south coast Irian Jaya (Papua)], 242 Mergui (town) [4.1], 127 Mergui Archipelago [4.1], 29, 125, 126, 127–28, 132, 134, 135,148, 152, 165, 231 Midai [5.2, 7.1], 238, 239 milkfish, 35, 115, 281, 286, 381 Mindoro [4.8], 188 Moluccas [6.3], 43, 44, 45, 47, 57, 167, 214, 272, 274 Molucca Sea [6.3], 159 Moro Gulf [5.3], 158, 191, 255, 258 mother of pearl shell, 36, 48, 49, 50, 381 Multi Transpêche Indonesia, PT, 259 Muncar [4.3], 94, 213, 230 muro ami [fig. 5.2], 143–50, 166, 167, 192, 177, 184, 192, 277, 381. See also pa-aling Mursala Island, 241 mussels, 63, 79, 193, 281, 282, 286 Naamin, Nurzali, 212 Natuna [5.2], 39, 264 Navotas [Metro Manila], 256 Negri Sembilan [4.2], 63, 80, 91

439

Negros [4.8], 114, 174 ngapi, 117, 380 Nha Trang, 142 Nichiro Gyogyo Kaisha, 224, 226 Nicobar Islands, 159 Nikata, 248 nuoc man, 33 Ombai Strait [7.3], 31 otter trawl, 136, 178–85, 186, 194, 204, 205, 229, 381 oun sung, 201 pa-aling, 277 Pacitan [4.3], 56 pair trawl, 194, 200, 381 Palawan [4.8], 188, 192 Palembang [5.2], 63, 149, 212 Panarukan [4.3], 94, 109 Panayotou, Theodore, 231, 232 Pangasinan [4.8], 37 Pangkor Island [4.2], 154, 155, 205, 206 Pangpang Bay [4.3], 111, 164 Panipahan [4.2], 88 Panjang Strait [4.2], 38, 51, 53, 56, 228, 288–89 Paracel Islands [1.3], 269 Pariaman, 29 Pasuruan [4.3], 64 Paternoster Islands [4.7], 107, 108 Pauly, Daniel, 196, 254 payang, 44, 50, 107, 159–62, 213, 230, 381 payaw [fig. 6.3], 38, 39, 189–90, 201, 253–55, 381 pearl oysters, pearls, pearling, 36, 48, 49, 56, 124–35 Pekalongan [4.3], 96, 236, 237, 239 Pel, H. van, 103, 104, 148, 166 Pelabuhan Ratu [4.3], 94, 169, 241 penaeid shrimp, 281, 284, 382. See also shrimp Penang [4.2], 27, 56, 136, 139, 155, 205, 229, 230 perahu jukung, 39–40

440

perahu mayang, 40, 50, 103, 105, 382 Perak [4.2], 80, 90, 91, 203, 206, 230, 288 Perikanan Samodra Besar, PT, 220, 222, 226, 227, 260 Perry, Commodore Matthew, 58, 59 Perupok [4.1], 76, 168, 174 Petit, D., 239 phytoplankton, 10–13, 382 pindang, 99, 102, 103, 107, 110, 382 poh, 41, 75, 76, 77, 78, 382 pole-and-line fishing, 45, 156–58, 167, 223–24, 226, 227, 228, 260, 263, 382 Polo Islands [4.6], 107 Polunin, Nicholas, 57 pongpang, 79, 382–83 Pontianak [5.2], 63 ponyfish, 17, 18, 181, 182, 183, 196, 197, 383 Port Dickson [4.2], 91 Port Swettenham [4.2], 64, 89 Porter, Catherine, 116 Postilion Islands [4.7], 108 Potier, M., 239 Pramong II, 195, 196 Pratas Reef, 269 Probolinggo [4.3], 94, 109, 272 PSB. See Perikanan Samodra Besar, PT Pulau Ketam [4.2], 80, 81, 91, 92, 151 Pulo Condore [island off southern Vietnam], 48 pumpboats, 188, 257, 258, 259, 260 purse seine, purse seining [fig. 5.3], 44, 152–55, 187–92, 194, 195, 200–1, 202, 203, 206, 213–14, 224–25, 228, 229, 237–40, 254– 55, 258, 259, 264–65, 267, 383 R.J.L. Martinez Corporation, 189 Rach Gia, 198 Ragay Gulf [4.8], 142, 183 Raja Ampat Islands [6.3], 289 Rangoon, 251

Index Ranong [6.1], 51, 248 Rasalan, Santos, 181, 182, 186 rawai, 45 rays, 45, 53, 196, 275, 276, 278, 289 Reid, Anthony, 274, 278 Rembang [4.3], 50 remora, 47 Reuter, J., 147 Riau Archipelago [5.2], 39, 42, 50, 63, 148, 149 Riepen, Michael, 270, 271 Robertson, Eric, 147, 164 Robinson, H.C., 90, 91, 92, 121 Rokan River [4.2], 7, 10, 13, 80, 81, 82, 86, 120 Roosendaal, A.M. van, 100, 101, 102, 103, 105, 109 Rose, Debra, 276 Roy, Claude, 9 Rudmose Brown, R.N., 127, 128 rumpon [fig. 2.1], 38, 39, 44, 100, 107, 159, 160, 161, 213, 239, 260, 383. See also FAD, payaw Ryukyu Islands [Japan], 144, 147 Sabang [town on island off northern tip of Sumatra], 226 Safcol (Thailand) Ltd, 264 Sahul Shelf [1.1], 5, 6, 7 Saigon, 48, 60, 62 Saipan Maru, 215 Sakala [4.6], 107 Salayar [4.7], 57, 108 Samar Sea [4.8], 5, 180, 290 Samut Prakarn [6.1], 194 San Miguel Bay [4.8], 9, 13, 112, 116, 121, 142, 179, 180, 182–83 Sangir Islands [7.2], 261, 262 Sapeken [4.6], 105–7, 109–11 sapyaw [fig. 4.2], 114–15, 162, 382 Sarangani Bay [7.2], 257 Sarawak [5.2], 28, 52, 143, 151, 199 Savu Sea [7.3], 31 Sawi Bay [4.1], 76 scads, 10, 53, 100, 190, 201, 384

Index sea cucumbers, 11, 14, 25, 384. See also tripang Seafood Fishing Company, 158 seahorses, 35, 276–77 Seale, Alvin, 30, 132, 134, 135 Selangor [4.2], 80, 81, 90, 93 Selangor River [4.2], 90 Semarang [4.3], 236, 237 Senebui Island [4.2], 88 Seram [6.3], 49, 228 sergestid shrimp, 83, 384 sero, 41 shads, 17, 35, 37, 38, 53, 80, 121, 151, 228, 288, 384 sharks, 11, 151–52, 169, 177, 273, 275–76 Shinkyo Maru, 143, 148 Shonan Maru, 159 shrimp cultivation (aquaculture, farming), 281–87 shrimps (prawns), 17, 30, 44, 84, 86, 90, 171, 197, 198, 206, 207, 210, 211–13, 229, 230, 231, 236, 281–87, 289 Si Amil Island [5.3], 156, 157 Siebe, Augustus, 125 si stji, 88–89, 384 Siak River [4.2], 37 Siam, Gulf of [4.1], 28, 33, 37, 41, 46, 55, 56, 75–80, 113, 119, 120, 148, 155. See Thailand, Gulf of Simpson, Jas., 127, 128, 135 Singapore [4.2, 5.2], 27, 28, 29, 32, 37, 38, 48, 49, 58, 59, 62, 63, 65, 67, 70, 75, 77, 83, 84, 119, 143, 144, 147, 148–52, 155, 158, 164, 165, 166, 169, 170, 172, 199, 228, 231, 232, 234, 249, 271, 273, 276 Singkawang [5.2], 35 Sitangkai [5.1], 30 skipjack tuna, 14, 16, 46, 113, 152, 156–58, 190, 223, 224, 226, 253, 254, 260, 268, 384

441

Smith, Hugh M., 30, 78, 79 snappers, 17, 11, 107, 111, 250, 271– 72, 384–85 Solomon Islands, 257 Sorong [6.3], 211, 221, 224, 227, 228 South China Sea [1.1, 1.3], 6, 7, 159, 272, 288 South Pacific Commission (SPC), 257–58 South Ubian Island [5.1], 134 southern bluefin tuna, 218, 222, 385 Spanish mackerel, 29, 151, 155, 385 Spermonde Archipelago [4.7], 108, 150, 274 sponges, 29, 137, 204 Spratly Islands [1.3], 269 squids, 35, 197, 198, 201, 288, 289 St David Islands [6.3], 258 St John, Spencer, 28 Stead, David, 91–92, 139 Suharto, 235 Sulu Archipelago [5.1], 30, 46, 48, 53, 54, 56, 132–35 Sulu Sea [4.8, 5.1], 158, 159, 180, 184, 191 Sumbawa [4.7], 226 Sunda Shelf [1.1], 5, 6, 105, 164 Sungei Unjong [Negri Sembilan], 63 Sungsang [5.2], 149, 230 Surabaya [4.3], 228 Szanton, David, 177, 186 Taichong Kongsi, 143 Taka Bonerate [4.7], 108, 271 Takat Noko [4.6], 107 Talampulan Island, 192 Talaud Islands [7.2], 261, 262 Talavera, Florencio, 132, 134, 135 Tanimbar Islands [6.3], 57 Tanjong Piandang [4.2], 80, 90 Tanjong Pura, 52 Tanjung Balai [Karimun Besar], 271, 272 Tawi Tawi Islands, 133, 134, 258 Tayabas Bay [4.8], 179

442

Tegal [4.3], 95, 96, 213 Tenyo Maru, 215 Ternate [5.3], 35, 40, 47, 224 Thailand, Gulf of [1.1, 6.1], 5, 9, 11, 13, 18, 56, 181, 193–201, 232, 243, 264, 277, 281, 288, 290 Thousand Islands [4.3], 148, 150 Tiews, Klaus, 193, 194, 195, 198, 199, 281 Timor [7.3], 31, 51, 58 Tioman [4.2, 5.2], 199 Tongkol, 139, 143, 164 Tonkin, Gulf of [1.1], 6, 140, 142, 143, 153, 165, 249 Tonlé Sap [4.1], 34, 140 Torres Strait, 126, 128, 129, 130, 131, 132 trammel net, 236, 386 trawl net, trawlers, trawling, 5, 18, 136–50, 153, 187, 194–200, 201, 207 232, 234, 235–42, 272, 386. See also beam trawl, otter trawl, pair trawl Trengganu [4.2], 52 tripang (sea cucumbers), 14, 35, 38, 46, 48, 49, 54, 56, 268, 272–74, 278, 386 trochus, 135, 268, 274, 278, 386 trolling, 45, 150–52, 265, 386 Tual [6.3], 252 tuna, 11, 16, 18, 30, 31, 156–59, 187, 188, 189, 190, 191, 192, 205, 214–28, 252–68, 289, 386. See also albacore, bigeye tuna, skipjack tuna, yellowfin tuna Tung Yai Bay [4.1], 78

Index turtles, 36, 46–47, 48, 56, 79, 280, 289 U Khin, 116, 118 Umali, Agustin, 113, 116, 142 Unar, M., 211, 212 Unicord, 264, 266 United Nations Development Program (UNDP), 224, 225 Usaha Mina, PT, 227, 228, 259 Veth, P.J., 37 Villaluz, D.K., 281 Vincent, Amanda, 277 Vink, W.C.A., 159, 164 Wahju, R.I., 212, 213 Wallace, Alfred Russel, 29, 35 Warfel, Herbert, 179, 180, 188 Warren, James Francis, 48 Visayan Sea [4.8], 180, 182 Wahju, R.I., 212, 213 Waigeo [6.3], 224 Warington Smyth, H., 75–76, 77 whales, whaling, 16, 31, 35–36, 38, 40, 45, 46, 58, 59 White, Alan, 13 World Bank, 3, 226 Yap Chan Ling, 207 yellowfin tuna, 14, 17, 113, 158, 188, 190, 216, 222, 224, 227, 253, 254, 260, 386–87 Zambales [4.8], 290 Zamboanga [5.1, 5.3], 156, 157, 163, 273 Zerner, Charles, 260 Zimmerman, Carle, 69 zooplankton, 11, 387 zooxanthellae, 13, 18, 387