Matt Miller is director of communications for the Conservancy’s Idaho program.

As I traveled around the islands of Micronesia, I repeatedly heard people voice the same words: Moving is not an option.

The often-tiny islands of Micronesia—and other other Pacific chains—are populated by people with diverse cultures, cultures shaped by the land and water over the centuries and even millennia.

Today, with ocean levels rising and fish stocks disappearing, they are facing the most serious threat to their cultures, their traditions and, indeed, their lives. And moving is not an option.

Water Is Rising

I visited two islands in the Federated States of Micronesia, Yap and Pohnpei. On Yap, large stone “money”—huge limestone disks larger than I am—are still used for ceremonial transactions. Village life remains the central part of Yapese culture, and they still rely on reefs for their livelihood and sustenance.

On Pohnpei, I hiked around huge ruins—rivaling what I saw at more famous sites like Machu Picchu and Tikal—built on top of artificially constructed islands that extend a mile onto the reef. Nan Madol, as this area is known, began construction in 500 BC. Today, Pohnpeians practice a rich and traditional form of agriculture that incorporates seamlessly into the forest.

Thousands of islands in the Pacific are still home to thriving human communities. People have worked out ways to balance the reef and the forest. But forces beyond their communities could shape the future of these islands.

There’s an old cliché that there are no atheists in foxholes. In that same spirit, perhaps it could be said that there are no climate change deniers on islands.

As people in the United States seem intent on arguing whether or not climate change is real, islanders are seeing sea levels rise and land disappear.

A group of performing artists from Pacific Island nations recently toured the United States with their show, Water is Rising, telling stories of climate change as faced by their communities.

But the threats to islands don’t end with climate change: Coral reefs put fish on the plate for millions of people. But around Micronesia and other islands, fish stocks are being depleted.

No food. No land. No place to go.

The islanders deserve better.

Traditional Knowledge, Cutting-Edge Science

Fortunately, many communities are leading efforts to ensure that they will continue to have fish on their plates, viable jobs and places to live.

They value self-sufficiency. Willy Kostka, director of the Micronesia Conservation Trust, put it this way: “If I can keep the food relief agencies out of this region, then I’ve succeeded. If the Red Cross is here, we’ve lost. To me, conservationists are in the front line of self-sufficiency.”

Communities recognize the importance of protecting marine areas to sustain fisheries. A locally-led initiative called the Micronesia Challenge–which includes the five governments, local communities, and local and global organizations (including the Conservancy)—has a goal to protect to protect 30 percent of the near-shore marine resources across Micronesia by 2020.

These are the reefs that keep fish on the table.

Such local efforts are complemented by cutting-edge science, such as sophisticated models of climate change impacts that can direct conservation efforts and help communities plan for the future.

“We don’t take our islands for granted,” says Kostka. “Every day I feel so lucky I was born here on Pohnpei. I feel very privileged to live here.”

The people of Micronesia are hopeful. They believe they can shape their own future.

A difficult truth is that some factors—climate change, depletion of fisheries—are generated by countries far from the Pacific islands. The Micronesians are doing their part. Can we do ours?

There is much hope, but the water is rising. And moving is not an option.

(Image: Villagers on the Pacific island of Yap perform the stick dance. Image credit: ©Matt Miller.)

Note: the following post is the last in a series chronicling the ongoing expedition to the Raja Ampat Islands. Read more here.

As Jo and I sit on the top deck of the Putiraja watching Misool’s karst islands disappear behind us, we finally have time to reflect on the last 15 days.

Each of the expedition’s ten participants have gone on 40 dives. Between the two teams, we’ve covered 80 sites in some of the most diverse coral reefs on the planet. We have so much data that will help us better understand the health of the reefs and that can be used to complete the zoning plan for the MPA. We also have data that will help predict Misool’s potential resilience to future climate change impacts.

So did the expedition live up to our expectations? I think we came away from the expedition with mixed feelings. Misool is without question stunning, both above and below the water — there were dives we did that kept us buzzing for hours after we returned to the surface. The network of limestone karst with hidden channels and lagoons is like a maze that you want to just get lost in and explore!

But even in this remote corner of the ocean, there were also clear signs of overexploitation as well as reefs damaged by past bomb fishing. The lack of sharks on most of our dives was profoundly disturbing for the team, as it is clear that overfishing is pushing local populations to extinction.

But there are strong positive signs too. The coral communities are healthy and virtually free of disease and we found plenty of sea turtles, productive fish populations within the MPA’s only no-take zone and vibrant fish nurseries for groupers and parrotfish.

The positives extend to people, as well. The local community members who joined our expedition were once illegal fishermen and now are active conservationists. Plus, the arrangement between Misool Eco Resort and local villages to protect and manage large areas of reef while improving livelihoods is a great success.

We are currently supporting the local government to develop management plans for all the marine protected areas in Raja Ampat. This will give local communities their first opportunity to voice their opinions on how their own local resources should be managed and who should have access to them.

By combining scientific information we’re collecting with the communities’ local knowledge of the area and their resources, we can make decisions that help stop any further declines and give the reefs a chance to recover. There is hope!

Explore further coverage of this expedition on nature.org and learn more about the Conservancy’s involvement in the game-changing Coral Triangle Initiative on Coral Reefs, Fisheries and Food Security.

(First image: Sunset at Jef Pele. First image credit: TNC. Second image: Local family from Jef Pele. Second image credit: TNC. Third image: Sangeeta and Jo. Third image credit: TNC.)

Note: the following post from Sangeeta Mangubhai (@smangubhai) is the latest in a series chronicling the ongoing expedition to the Raja Ampat Islands. Read more here.

For the last four days, the team has been diving in a 425-square-kilometer no-take zone that was established by Misool Eco Resort and local communities through a marine conservation (or lease) agreement 6 years ago. In this no-take zone, removing fish, sharks, shells, turtles or turtle eggs is prohibited.

Local Conservancy staff members Purwanto and Muhajir have been collecting data from reefs inside and outside the no-take zone for two years now. The reefs were healthy when the no-take zone was first established, and data Muhajir has collected shows that the reef communities have remained healthy and stable, with no decline in coral cover.

Purwanto is a mega fish geek, and you cannot wipe the smile off his face today. He surveyed a potential grouper spawning aggregation in the morning where he recorded 40 male coral trout that appeared to have recently spawned. At lunch, when he took the team to an isolated submerged pinnacle that had not previously been surveyed, his smile was even bigger. We dived with swarms of fish, including oceanic triggerfish, fusiliers, surgeonfish, snappers, trevallies and barracuda. On the top of the pinnacle we saw triton triggerfish guarding nests with pink eggs and cleaner stations where Napoleon wrasses were getting their gills cleaned!

Our surveys are clearly showing an increased biomass of fish in sites where there are strong currents. This is particularly evident within the snapper and grouper populations. Prior to the establishment of the no-take zone, the larger individuals were fished out; now, the population’s age range is more balanced, including juveniles through to mature adults.

The no-take zone is also the only area so far in the marine protected area where we have seen sharks. It’s thrilling to see the reef shark populations rebound, especially here in Indonesia, which has the largest shark fishery in the world. According to Andy Miners from Misool Eco Resort, “It’s also quite common these days to see numerous baby sharks cruising around shallow lagoons, sometimes in groups of 15 to 20 individuals.”

We also had the opportunity today to meet with Jainudin Bahale and Rajak Tamher, who are part of the local team that patrols the no-take area. These guys are literally on watch 24 hours a day and do not hesitate to jump in their boat if they see there are boats in the no-take zone.

The local rangers also patrol for other types of destructive activities, like reef bombing, long lining and cyanide fishing. Meeting the rangers was a unique opportunity to share some of our preliminary findings from the no-take zone and to thank the ranger team for their commitment to patrolling the area.

As I reflect on today, I cannot help but feel a little more positive and lighter inside. Yes, the sad reality is that there are very few no-take zones working in Indonesia, or even globally, for that matter. But today was one of those inspiring moments for me, Joanne and the team.

We were reminded that we can turn the tide of change — that marine protected areas, if designed correctly, can help reefs recover and become productive again and that there are innovative ways to do conservation beyond what governments and NGOs have historically done. Here in Misool we have an example of how partnerships between private sector and community can result in win-win situations for local fisheries and conserving biodiversity.

Explore further coverage of this expedition on nature.org and learn more about the Conservancy’s involvement in the game-changing Coral Triangle Initiative on Coral Reefs, Fisheries and Food Security.

(First image: Snappers swimming in the no-take zone. First image credit: TNC. Second image: Sangeeta, Wahab and Ali meet the Misool Ecoresort ranger team. Second image credit: TNC.)

Note: the following post from Sangeeta Mangubhai (@smangubhai) is the latest in a series chronicling the ongoing expedition to the Raja Ampat Islands. Read more here.

Three months ago, we began a community monitoring project that aims to empower local Papuan communities to monitor their marine resources and link the data they collect to decisions they make about their local fisheries. Five representatives from Raja Ampat’s Kofiau and Southeast Misool MPAs work with Conservancy staff as Community Monitoring Assistants (CMAs), and we are lucky to have four of them — Ali, Wahab, Andi and Naftali — on our expedition!

A couple of days ago, I learned that two of them were previously compressor fishers who have each spent more time underwater than Jo and I combined! Compressor fishers use a hose to maintain a continuous air supply from the surface, allowing them to remain underwater for long periods of time harvesting marine animals.

Compressor fishing was banned last year in Indonesia because of the impacts the practice has on local fisheries and the method’s associated high health risks. Now, both our CMAs have stopped using compressors and want to learn more about coral reefs and how to help improve the local fisheries their families and communities rely on.

L-R: Naftali, Andi, Ali and Wahab

Two of the CMAs — Wahab from the village of Fafanlap and Ali from Harapan Jaya — have been collecting invertebrate data, focusing on key fisheries species (such as sea cucumbers, sea snails, giant clams and lobsters) as well as predators like the crown-of-thorns starfish, which eats live corals.

Wahab and Ali already have such sharp eyes for finding invertebrates hidden in reefs, and we are getting good estimates of the densities and abundance of these species in the marine protected area. They are recording the names in their local language and helping Muhajir and me to match these with the scientific names.

So far, the numbers do not look good — actually, they are depressing. Both Wahab and Ali have recorded less than six animals per dive, which is a strong indicator that many of these species have been over-harvested. With such low numbers, I cannot help but wonder how these animals will successfully reproduce.

Sitting down with Ali at lunch today, he told me he remembers snorkeling as a child and seeing five to 10 giant clams every time he visited his local reefs. He told me Misool used to have a lot of giant clams (Tridacna gigas — or, as it’s known locally, kima), which can grow to be over a meter in length. Now, he lamented, shaking his head, he has seen only one giant kima in 10 consecutive dives. But Ali has hope: he is keen to share the data he is collecting with his local community and work with them to find ways to help these important fisheries recover.

Explore further coverage of this expedition on nature.org and support Ali’s efforts to rejuvenate Raja Ampat’s fisheries here.

(First image: the expedition team dives at Manta Mountain in Misool; credit: TNC. Second image: the expedition’s CMAs are, from left to right, Naftali, Andi, Ali and Wahab; credit: TNC.)

Note: the following post is the latest in a series chronicling the ongoing expedition to the Raja Ampat Islands. Read more here.

Misool. Perfect one day, even better the next. The weather is so calm we could be forgiven for thinking we’re diving in a lake! We’re on schedule, fitting in three dives per day, and our evenings on the boat are busy with everyone entering pages of fish and coral data into the computer.

We’re collecting data on the status of the reefs for two reasons. The first is to check on sites identified for extra protection. These sites will be declared as no-take zones in the future, and we want to make sure they’re in good condition.

The second is to compare the health of reefs in different types of zones within the MPA. In particular, we want to compare no-take zones with zones where certain human uses are allowed. Even in Misool — a highly biodiverse area where protective measures have been taken — populations of valuable species like grouper are declining. We hope no-take zones will create “fish banks” — places where fish can grow and reproduce. There is already one no-take zone which has been established for a few years in Misool, and more are planned.

Increases in the number and size of fish are good indicators that a no-take zone is working well. Increases in fish size result in exponentially higher levels of egg production. For example, if a fish that’s 20-cm-long produces 10,000 eggs, then a 40-cm-long fish can produce 100,000,000 eggs! Many of those eggs will drift outside the no-take zone to replenish areas where fishing is allowed. That’s good incentive for leaving the fish in the water to develop a little longer…

We’re also looking for a return of some of the large iconic species, like grouper, bumphead parrotfish and napoleon wrasse (see above), which quickly disappear even with moderate levels of fishing. These large species all play different but critical roles in keeping a natural balance on the reefs. Groupers are top predators that keep populations of smaller fish in check, bumphead parrotfish are experts in keeping the reefs clean of algae, and napoleon wrasse eat the notorious crown-of-thorns starfish — a voracious coral eater.

But it’s not just the big fish that are important. Two days ago, we were thrilled to see a “fish ball” (see above) — a school of hundreds of thousands of anchovies whirling above us, trying to escape the many hungry predators lurking at the ball’s edges. These are some of the smallest fish on the reef but are, in many ways, also the most important. They are the main food not only for fish but for other animals in the ecosystem, including sea birds and dolphins. A school of anchovies this size means there’s a good foundation for a healthy productive ecosystem in Misool.

(First image: A reef in Misool. First image credit: TNC. Second image: A napoleon wrasse. Second image credit: TNC. Third image: An anchovy fish ball. Third image credit: TNC.)

Note: the following post from Sangeeta Mangubhai (@smangubhai) is the latest in a series chronicling the ongoing expedition to the Raja Ampat Islands. Read more here.

I am often asked to explain how climate change affects our work with Marine Protected Areas (MPAs). Why do we invest time and money in tropical MPAs if climate change impacts like coral bleaching events and ocean acidification are likely to become even more severe?

It’s true that periods of unusually warm ocean temperatures have already caused mass coral bleaching like we witnessed during the global bleaching event recorded in 1998 that is estimated to have killed 16 percent of the world’s reefs. But we know that many coral reefs survived this bleaching event. Some reefs remained healthy while others that bleached were able to recover quickly once the temperatures cooled again. We call these reefs “resilient.” Resilience is the ability of an ecosystem to absorb shock and regenerate after natural and human-induced disturbances. For coral reefs, this means being able to withstand warmer-than-normal temperatures or rebuild healthy communities after sustaining damage.

Now imagine this — what if you could use basic ecological data to predict which reefs might not bleach, or might recover quickly from future bleaching events. And what if you could then use this information to ensure these areas are included in MPAs?

After this expedition, we’ll be able to do both those things. We are now collecting data from reefs around Misool to identify sites that are likely to be more resilient to climate change impacts. We will then provide this information to managers who are currently designing a zoning plan for Misool that will include areas for protection in no-take zones, where fishing and other activities are prohibited. In this way, we can address climate change in our management of coral reefs.

Working with our partners Wildlife Conservation Society and Reef Check Indonesia, the Conservancy has been trialing an IUCN reef resilience assessment method in a number of MPAs across Indonesia since 2009. The assessment involves counting the number of new coral recruits, noting any bleaching or coral disease, and counting the number of fish that eat algae — the “lawnmowers” of the reef. We also record if there are any other stresses to the reef — like pollution, overfishing, anchor damage or sedimentation — because we know these factors are also important for coral reef resilience.

Earlier this year, we worked with experts from the University of Melbourne and the Great Barrier Reef Marine Park Authority to help translate the scientific data we’ve collected into simple and clear messages for MPA managers. Using the framework we developed, we can identify the most resilient reefs and the sites that have human-induced stresses that are affecting the reefs and their resilience.

On this trip, we will complete the resilience assessments we started in 2009, and this time we hope to survey some really unusual coral reef habitats that we have not visited before. We will dive in lagoons and channels deep in the limestone karst chain, as well as seamounts that rise up from the great ocean depths. We hope by studying these different types of reefs that we will be even better equipped to show that protecting tropical reefs is both possible and important.

Explore further coverage of this expedition on nature.org and learn more about the Conservancy’s involvement in the game-changing Coral Triangle Initiative on Coral Reefs, Fisheries and Food Security.

(First image: Clouds of fusiliers at Misool reefs; First image credit: TNC. Second image: Joanne Wilson examines reefs at Jef Pele for signs of disease. Second image credit: TNC.

Note: the following post is the latest in a series chronicling the ongoing expedition to the Raja Ampat Islands. Read more here.

Yesterday afternoon, we picked up the rest of our team from the Conservancy’s Misool field station and headed southwest to start our surveys at the edge of the Misool marine protected area. There is nothing quite like waking up to a perfectly calm, clear ocean with rugged, forest-clad limestone mountains all around you. Breathtaking!

But we are here to work (!), so we divided our team of ten into two groups. The first team consists of experts in evaluating general coral reef health, and the second team specializes in assessments of coral reef resilience (stay tuned for our next blog, which will provide a full explanation of reef resilience).

Our reef health team consists of six people: three from the Conservancy and three volunteers from the local Misool community. From the Conservancy, Purwanto is our resident fish expert, Muhajir is our coral expert and I’m here to check if there is any coral bleaching or disease. Our community volunteers Ali, Andreas and Naftali are already experienced divers and are doing one of the most important (but often underrated) monitoring tasks: swimming down to the ocean floor to lay out the transect tapes that the rest of us follow while diving.

The resilience team is led by Sangeeta, who has done many of these assessments in Raja Ampat and other parts of the world. She is joined by the Conservancy’s Rizya, an Indonesian resilience expert; Ubun, a second fish expert from our partner organisation Wildlife Conservation Society; and Wahab, our fourth community volunteer.

As our speedboats headed out early to our survey sites from the Putiraja, our live-aboard diving vessel, a group of 15 bottlenose dolphins welcomed us to Misool!

Between the two groups, we surveyed six sites today and we were very pleased to see that the reefs here are in excellent condition. One of the islands we surveyed has been proposed for protection by the local communities because it’s supposed to be an important place for sea turtles. We were excited to confirm this: both teams spotted turtles. As an added bonus, this island has flourishing reefs, with some big fish like groupers and napoleon wrasse among the local residents that will be protected along with the turtles.

But we can’t be complacent — as beautiful and remote as this part of Misool is, there are still signs of overfishing and past reef-bombing in some isolated areas. Our surveys will help inform managers where to focus their efforts in protection and patrolling and provide information on just how quickly these areas are recovering.

Explore further coverage of this expedition on nature.org and support Jo’s efforts to improve protection in Raja Ampat here.

(First image: a mountainous island in Misool; credit: TNC. Second image: the entire expedition team; credit: TNC.)

Note: the following post is the third in a series chronicling the ongoing expedition to the Raja Ampat Islands. Read more here.

We made it! After 16 hours of blissfully calm and almost uneventful steaming on the Putiraja, we arrived at the Conservancy’s Misool field station on a perfect, sunny afternoon. We’ve met up with the remaining team members from Wildlife Conservation Society and our local community volunteers from Misool.

We spent our time on the boat organizing our many underwater data sheets to record our observations and doing important but small things like tying the pencils to our slates to ensure we don’t lose them underwater. On the way, we stopped to buy some fresh fish from a local fisherman.

We negotiated our way carefully through the chain of hundreds of limestone karst islands that Misool is so famous for. It’s always a stunning vista sailing into Misool: clear blue water, turqoise reefs, brilliantly white sand beaches. I could go on but I’ve run out of superlatives!

At the station, we did last-minute preparations for diving tomorrow. The team responsible for monitoring fish practiced estimating lengths on the beach using plastic fish (see above) before they get in the water and practice with the real thing. The coral team went through a similar rehearsal so we can all agree on the same name for the same type of coral. It’s one of the challenges of working in the center of marine biodiversity — we have to learn all those species!

Tonight we’ll steam to our first diving destination in southwest Misool called Jef Pele, an area well known for its big fish.

Explore further coverage of this expedition on nature.org and learn more about the Conservancy’s involvement in the game-changing Coral Triangle Initiative on Coral Reefs, Fisheries and Food Security.

(Image: Fish monitoring team prepare for the field; credit: TNC.)

The sun shines daily on our blue (71% and rising) planet, and about 5,000 known species of tiny plants (phytoplankton) use that solar energy to transform carbon dioxide and water into sugar, fat and protein. Millions of tons every day. That’s a pretty neat trick of nature, to say the least. Slightly larger zooplankton (animals) graze on the plants, grow and pass their mass up to predators like striped bass, whales and osprey.

Along North America’s Atlantic coast, menhaden (aka bunker, pogy) are arguably the most important plankton predator. People don’t eat menhaden, as the fish are small, bony and oily and have a brief shelf life. Yet each one is a rich packet of embodied solar energy and a nutritious serving for a striped bass, bluefish, osprey, whale or one of many other larger animals.

Fish-science wonks call menhaden a “low trophic level species,” meaning they are at the base of the food chain. Our marine ecosystem needs plenty of menhaden to function properly — to transfer solar energy from plankton to higher-level species.

Probably for thousands of years, people have harvested menhaden for fertilizer and bait. But only during the last 150 years or so have menhaden been the target of industrial-scale fisheries. We take menhaden out of marine food webs to feed cats, dogs, pen-raised salmon and pigs and to enhance various products ranging from lipstick to paint.

Incredibly, until a few days ago, the east coast’s largest fishery — about 403 million pounds of menhaden were harvested last year — was managed with no annual catch limits. That’s highly unusual in the 21st century, and wrong.

For over a decade, scientists have talked about the need to manage fisheries in consideration of whole ecosystems — in other words, tuning harvest levels to ensure that solar energy gets captured by plankton and enough of it flows upward so that fish, whales and birds don’t go hungry. Unfortunately, while scientists were talking, Atlantic menhaden were fished down to historic lows, and mounting evidence suggests negative impacts to predators.

The Atlantic States Marine Fisheries Commission, which is in charge of the menhaden fishery, reported really bad news in its 2010 stock assessment: the reproductive capacity of Atlantic menhaden is now at just 8% of a (theoretically) unfished population. Sometimes it takes bad news to make good news happen, and since the report was released, the Conservancy and many partners have pushed to the surface both the science and a compelling case for change.

Last week in Boston, in front of a standing-room-only crowd of anglers, conservationists and a sprinkling of lawyers, the commission voted decisively to establish much more conservative harvest limits for menhaden — charting a rebuilding course that could triple the menhaden in our sea.

We commend the commission for its action, which will benefit menhaden, our coastal and marine ecosystem, and the diverse businesses and people who directly and indirectly depend on a healthy menhaden population.

It’s incredibly satisfying to report good news about the ocean — and this is very good news for fish and people — but the story is still being written. Between now and May 2012, the commission will evaluate options, collect public comments, and make rules regarding harvest monitoring and measures to reduce catch. These decisions will either delay progress or help set a global good example for ecosystem-based fishery management.

The Conservancy is ramping up efforts at high-priority places all around our blue planet, addressing ecosystem overfishing in ways that respect and help secure the future for communities that depend on ocean resources.

Let us know in comments below if you have questions or you want to start a conversation about how you can help.

(Image: Vacuum transfer of menhaden from purse seine to fishing vessel. Image source: John Surrick-Chesapeake Bay Foundation/Marine Photobank)

Shark finning draws particular ire from conservationists.

As it should.

Shark finning is the practice of catching sharks solely for their fins, which are used to make soup with imagined healing properties. Fishermen chop the fins off living sharks, only to toss the bleeding and helpless fish back into the sea.

It’s an unimaginably cruel and wasteful activity that also depletes the ocean of one of its most important predators.

If I ask you to imagine the person who cuts fins off live sharks for a living I bet your mind ventures into dark territory. You’re picturing a brutish, sadistic man, someone oblivious to the suffering of other creatures. You might go so far as to call such a man evil.

You’d be wrong.

Meeting the Shark Finner

I recently met a former shark finner, not on a fishing boat, but in the office of a conservation organization.

I had traveled to Pohnpei, a remote island in the Federated States of Micronesia, to report on marine protected areas and other reef conservation work being led by the Conservancy and our partners.

On this particular day, I met with staff from the Micronesia Conservation Trust, a leader in establishing marine protected areas—areas where local communities agreed to protect from fishing, providing a refuge for ocean life and a “bank” to replenish fisheries.

The protected areas have proven spectacularly successful around Micronesia, and as I talked to staff from the local conservation organization, I felt inspired by their hard work and results.

I spoke with a young man named Roseo, and happened to ask how he became a conservationist. He looked at me sheepishly and paused before responding.

“I began my career working on shark finning boats,” he said. “I was the one who cut the fins off the sharks.”

A Life-Changing Experience

I had a difficult time picturing this soft-spoken, gentle and passionate conservationist standing on deck with a bloody machete.

At age nineteen, a fishing company offered Roseo a scholarship to serve as a trainee on a Japanese fishing boat. It seemed like an opportunity to begin a career. Within a month, he began chopping fins.

“If I had said no, I would have ended up in the ocean,” he said, matter of fact. “The work was tough. It was a very harsh life. Sometimes the Micronesians on the boat were treated little better than the sharks. After a while, though, I got used to it.”

There was little opportunity for introspection, and he believed he was helping his country develop its fisheries.

“We didn’t know the value of sharks; we didn’t know how they fit into the ecosystem,” he said.

Eventually, Roseo realized he could have a better life pursuing a college degree.

“It was an important experience for me. I don’t think I would be here, working to conserve our marine life and coral reefs, if I hadn’t been on that ship,” he said. “I feel bad about what I did. But I still understand why young men might sign up to work on a shark finning boat.”

Easy Villains

Most conservationists don’t understand that. Too often, we seek easy villains. Shark finners—and rhino poachers, seal clubbers, whalers and illegal loggers—make convenient bad guys.

The problem is, this worldview doesn’t help sharks or rhinos or orangutans.

Oftentimes, those working such jobs are not violent or uncaring people. For many reasons, they’re doing what they feel they have to do to survive, to make a better life for themselves and their families.

It’s too easy for environmentalists—so often living lives of comfort and ease—to direct their rage at these people working in distant lands.

It’s much more difficult to look to ourselves and see how we too, in myriad ways large and small, contribute to the destruction of wildlife and wild places.

Conservation is not about heroes and villains.

Let’s extend empathy not only to sharks, but also the shark finners.

You can help: Shark finning is a market-driven business. Some restaurants and supermarkets still carry shark meat, and even shark fins. Please ask them to stop carrying this unsustainable fish source, and don’t support establishments that do. By doing so, you not only help sharks, but you help ensure young men like Roseo don’t end up forced to work in this cruel business.

(Image: A Caribbean Reef Shark patrols the water column among horse eye jacks. Image credit: © Jeff Yonover)