Mr.
Phu, who had hand-dried squid for the Vietnamese ministry of Agriculture
for thirteen-thousand dollars a ton, was ecstatic. Mr. Hand was jumpy,
and chipper too. When Mr. Phu flew to Vietnam to meet with the Minister
for a taste-test, which apparently was a formal affair with top chefs,
things didn't go over so well. "How did it go?" I asked Mr. Hand. "Mr.
Phu said it tasted like cat!" (cat are not eaten in Vietnam, this was
a joke.)
And
that is how it all ended, but I had left export with a firm understanding
of fish: how pacific hagfish are carnivores, and how in Florida, dusky
shark fins were sliced and the skin was thrown overboard (I worked with
the U.S. Dept of Fisheries to try to sell the skin to the Chinese as
jerky). I didn't mean to have ethics in the seafood business; ruthlessness
is religion, but ecology was my specialty, and I knew about untouched
seas and unspoiled waters.
I
also solidified my respect for the fishing industry, and also how it
needed to radically change, fast. The world consumes roughly half of
the sea's fishable output. As China becomes a few dollars wealthier
per person, that output will presumably double. Through all of this,
I have learned that the fishing industry needs to be regulated - internationally.
Economists and Greenpeace, for example, agree that ocean resources need
to be given property rights - some sort of tax-collecting entity which
has a long-term interest in the growth of a particular species. This
is why economics, and environmentalism, are one in the same.
Carver Park
)
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