Reading the FAO’s conclusions on deep-sea fisheries management has a subtly unsettling quality. It’s not because the language is frightening. In certain places, the report reads like a meticulous, exacting academic exercise. However, a more unsettling picture emerges between the lines: the high seas, which have long been regarded as the uncharted territory of international law, are actually better managed than the ocean floor beneath them. That is not a guarantee. An indictment, that is.
There is life in the deep sea. It is dynamic, unpredictable, and fragile in ways that surface fisheries just aren’t, which often surprises people. Weather-driven currents interact with the seafloor to produce dynamic, erratic habitats. The fish that live there, many of which are long-lived and slow-growing, don’t recover from a difficult season like a school of mackerel might. For a fishing community or a government regulator, a species that takes forty years to reach maturity and is trawled out in just ten years won’t return on any timeline that matters.
The FAO report’s candor about our ignorance is what makes it worthwhile to read. There is more variation in deep-sea habitats than previously thought by scientists. When describing entire ecosystems, population estimates from small sampled areas are sometimes inaccurately scaled up. The phrase “delusional optimism” is used to characterize how scientists, managers, and decision-makers have repeatedly overestimated what these fisheries could sustain. It appears almost as an aside in the findings. It’s difficult to ignore how infrequently official UN documentation exhibits that level of candor.
The governance surrounding fishing has not kept up with the rapid advancement of fishing technology. Twenty years ago, it would have seemed unthinkable that highly localized fish aggregations deep in the ocean could be targeted with such specificity thanks to advanced sonar, precision trawling, and instrumented nets. Theoretically, this accuracy leads to more sustainable management. It has generally meant more effective depletion in practice. Targeted extraction of dense aggregations is frequently followed by a protracted, low-yield grind through dispersed remnant populations in deepwater fisheries. The window has already closed by the time managers realize what’s going on.
Despite the fact that the governance issue is particularly severe in high seas regions, there is, ironically, some structure there. Even though they are flawed, organizations like CCAMLR, which oversees fisheries in the Antarctic region, have spent decades developing precautionary frameworks. In many places, the ocean floor is incomparable. Setting catch limits, protecting vulnerable marine areas, and putting meaningful science programs into action are all nearly impossible without an efficient governing body. In this way, the seabed functions as a sort of regulatory shadow.
A more general irony is worth mentioning. Autonomous underwater vehicles, satellite vessel monitoring, and multi-beam seafloor mapping are just a few examples of how quickly deep ocean research technology is developing. There are currently or soon will be tools to comprehend and safeguard these environments. The institutional will to use them lags. The FAO’s findings indicate that the fishing industry has demonstrated a sincere desire to work together on data collection. Scientists recognize the importance of that collaboration. However, in far too many jurisdictions, the governance frameworks that would give such collaboration teeth are either nonexistent or very weak.
Whether significant reform or more of the same cautious, incremental delay will occur over the next ten years is still up in the air. There is no lobby in the deep ocean. Press releases are not issued by it. What it has is time, and even that is running out faster than most people realize for its slowest-growing species.
