Greenpeace

Scorpio. The eighth sign of the Zodiac. According to myth, our scorpion friend spent a lot of time trying to kill the great hunter Orion, and depending on which version you read either was or was not ultimately successful. Which seems odd, since the sky makes it appear that Orion is the one giving chase. Just as the scorpion disappears on the western horizon, Orion appears to the east.

Why am I telling you this?

Because almost every night for the past two weeks, after days spent looking for pirate fishermen, occupying longliners and planning our next steps, we've had a remarkable view of these constellations from the deck of the ship, a sky full of stars stretching across the vast Pacific Ocean on which we sail.

There's got to be a metaphor in there somewhere for our work in this region. The hunter and the hunted, maybe, as it relates to fish? I guess it'd be better if I was talking about Pisces, and supposedly autumn at the equator is the time and place to see this constellation.  But for the life of me I can't seem to find it. Who came up with these things, anyway? I can't see an image of two fish when I have the lines drawn out for me in a book entitled "Astonomy for Kids".  How am I supposed to see it in the sky? Anyone who looks up and says "Hey look! There's Pisces" is obviously bluffing or toying with you.

Scorpio and Orion, however, are much easier to see. I'll stick with constellations that pass the laugh test.

More on this later.

As for life onboard, things have come down a notch since our night on the longliner. The morning we returned to the Esperanza, our surveillance data showed roughly 40 fishing vessels in our vicinity, near the Gilbert Island Chain of Kiribati waters. The next day there were 12. The day after that, none. Like roaches scattering when you turn on the light. Guess word got around we were doing inspections. Think they had something to hide?

On Friday we came across a reefer (large ship that loads supplies and unloads cargo from fishing vessels), headed for Tarawa. Reefers provide a significant hurdle to stopping illegal fishing, as they allow boats to unload their catches on the open ocean.  This in turn provides the opportunity to catch fish without reporting it. One of our demands in this region is to end these so-called "transhipments" at sea.

After doing a bit of research, we discovered the reefer in question was Panamanian, which presented additional intrigue given the questionable status of the country in this region. It also had an expired license. Seemed to be more than enough to board the ship, inspect its operation and potentially arrest a vessel that represents a huge part of the problem. Game on.

Then word came from the Kiribati government that we were not to board it; that we were to allow it to proceed to port. Like walking up to the plate thinking you're gonna swing for the fences and getting the sign that you have to bunt. Once in port the ship was given a renewed license and allowed to proceed with offloading its cargo, no questions asked. I guess a reefer full of fish and the associated financial benefits to the fisheries agency were too much for them to pass up.

Dance with the devil and all that. At least I now have material for my next novel. Something along the lines of the Sopranos go Pacific Island. I think it'll sell.

Soon on the heels of this latest disappointment our patroling work in Kiribati came to an end. We departed the country's waters and set a northeast course towards Hawaii, the ship's next destination. Our arrival will mark the end of the Esperanza's time in the Western and Central Pacific, and will usher in the U.S leg of the Defending our Oceans tour.

Which leaves me to reflect on what's happened while we've been in this region as I stare at the stars. We didn't get the big iconic arrest of an illegal vessel we were looking for. And it still stings to think about what we might have found had the Dong Won 117 not made a break for the high seas.

But we've learned a lot during our time here. From the nature of illegal fishing and overfishing in this region to the enforcement challenges that face Pacific Island Countries who rely on fish for their economic survival. Our newfound knowledge should serve us well as we continue to work through regional forums such as the Tuna Commission to better manage fish resources in the Western and Central Pacific, work with island countries to realize their collective power in dealing with Distant Water Fishing Nations, and push them to manage their waters in a sustainable fashion so their countries can depend on fish for years to come.

These were but some of my thoughts as I sat on the deck last night and watched Scorpio disappear beyond the horizon, then turned to see Orion make his ascent on the other side of the sky. I'll spare you the attempt to turn these constellations into some wingnut stretch of a metaphor. Let's just say it helps put things in perspective and leave it at that.

Then again, our motorized inflatables, which are storied symbols of Greenpeace for our work in the oceans, are often referred to as Zodiacs.

Sunrise over the Pacific was beautiful this morning.  It was just a bit surreal seeing it from onboard a Korean longliner, where I'd spent a sleepless night making sure the Shin Yung 51 didn't make a run for it after we found possible fishing violations.  It was also an opportunity to witness and document their operation from a front row seat.

Yesterday afternoon we'd boarded the vessel as part of our ongoing enforcement efforts.  We found convincing evidence of tampering with the Vessel Monitoring System (VMS), which led to an order from the Kiribati government for the boat to remain where it was until they could further investigate.  Kiribati did allow the ship to set its lines, which actually worked to our advantage as fishing through the night would make it more difficult for them to pull a runner and head for the high seas.  It also gave us a rare opportunity in our enforcement capacity to spend a night on a longliner and document the operation as they hauled their lines and landed their catch.

It's more than a bit intimidating to be on a ship where very little English is spoken, where they aren't exactly happy to see you and their ultimate intentions aren't known.  My question was, how much of a barrier did our presence provide if they wanted to make a break for it, as Kiribati's fisheries enforcement agency is far from strong and they have very little resources available to them.  We were pretty much counting on the humanity of Shin Yung's captain and crew to conclude that a valuable fish stock wouldn't be worth throwing overboard their undesirable guests.
 
They started hauling lines around 8:00 pm.  The fishing was a bit slow at the start, but soon they had a run on tuna, mostly Yellowfin.  The fish ranged in size between 40 - 100 pounds, and the process from line to onboard freezer was efficient and brutal.  I'll spare you the details, but suffice it to say that fish at the market counter will never look the same.  By the time the sun came up and they completed their haul, they had taken in over 2000 pounds of fish.  Our photographer and videographer got some excellent footage, with powerful images of bycatch that included sharks and a turtle snared in their lines.  The Shin Yung finished hauling its lines around 7:00 am, and an inflable was sent from the Esperanza with a replacement party for those of us who'd stayed onboard.

In the end, the Kiribati government didn't take action, so we were once again left without the arrest we're looking for to define illegal fishing in the Pacific.  But more and more we're finding that, with the boats we're inspecting, the amount of fish onboard and time at sea don't add up, which points to undocumented offloading and unreported fish.

What we seem to be finding is that pirate fishing in this region isn't like what Greenpeace found off the coast of Africa last spring, where the vessels were clearly illegal, inhumane and barely seaworthy.  Illegal operations here are more under the surface, and one has to dig a bit to find them.  Comparing it to illegal fishing in Africa is a bit like comparing gang looting to white-collar crime.  In many ways that makes the problem here harder to address, yet it's no less destructive of a practice.  It's estimated that up to $400 million in fish is taken illegally from the Pacific each year, and until that's thwarted the effort to stop overfishing in this region will be almost impossible.

One of the tools on the Esperanza that helps us patrol the ocean is a helicopter.  It sits bound to the small heli-deck on the back of the ship when not in use, and takes off from there when we need it.  It greatly expands our reach in searching a vast ocean for pirate fishermen, and captures photo and video images from the air that help us tell the story about the beauty and threats currently facing our seas.

The helicopter is a Hughes 500d. It's small, fast and maneuverable.  The Hughes is flown by Hughie, who lives in Scotland and has been with Greenpeace for over 16 years.  Hughie has flown in campaigns all over the world, including last January when the Esperanza engaged the Japanese whaling fleet in the Southern Oceans.  Not only do his skills give Greenpeace the ability to work more effectively at sea.  They also provide access to remote areas on land we couldn't get to otherwise.

Yesterday I went up in the helicopter with Hughie to try and find illegal fishing vessels in the vicinity.  Taking off from the ship, which is routine for him yet anything but for me, got the blood flowing right off the bat.  We rose into the air and began scanning the horizon for ships.  The view from above was amazing.  There were some beautiful low-lying cloud formations, a bit of mist in the air and isolated showers at three places on the panoramic horizon.  And it was sunset, with some stunning colors.

In the midst of blue waters that seemed to stretch to infinity was the Esperanza, a lone beacon in a vast sea.  It was almost symbolic - a small ship on a huge ocean it naively thinks it can save, with a sign from the heavens that encourages us and tells us to never give up.  Although it was a stark reminder of the scale of our efforts and aspirations, it also seemed a testament to the fact that we take on issues much bigger than ourselves.  A world of Goliaths needs more Davids.  It was a comforting reminder of what it means to be Greenpeace.

 

So, get this.  Right after hitting the send button for my last blog entry about how we haven't found illegal fishing operations since leaving Pohnpei, I was called to the bridge to see a boat that had just appeared on the horizon.  A clue that something foul is afoot with a fishing boat is when you know it's there but it's not projecting a Vessel Monitoring System (VMS) signal, which all registered fishing vessels in this region are required to have on at all times.  The boat we saw, which turned out to be a Korean long liner named the Dong Won 117, wasn't transmitting, so we decided a boarding party was in order to see if smoke did in fact mean fire.

The boarding team, which included the Kiribati enforcement officer as well as Yours Truly, took a Rigid Inflatable Boat to the Dong Won.  Once onboard, we introduced ourselves to the captain and told him the records we needed to see. These included his license, fishing log, flag registration, ship's log, captain's log and engine log, all of which can help us paint a picture of what they've been doing since the boat was last in port.

Turns out the boat has been at sea for 13 months, which to me is unfathomable. One of the first questions the crew asked us when we boarded was who won the World Cup.  I'm guessing the internet isn't part of day-to-day life on the Dong Won.  Upon looking at their logs, the amount of fish onboard didn't seem to add up to their time at sea.  This could mean they transferred cargo (called a transhipment, onto a boat called a reefer), which isn't exactly illegal for a long liner but is evidence of unreported fish catch - a big fat no no.  Acronym junkies like to throw around IUU in this context, which stands for Illegal, Unreported and Unregulated fish.  We inspected all possible storage areas, including freezer holds that felt rather nice for a moment given our current location near the equator.  They had enough fish onboard that I can't exactly say we caught them with their pants down, but the Kiribati officials agreed that it didn't add up.  We were also able to verify that the ship's VMS component has been operating intermittently since they've been at sea, and hasn't been operational at all since early September.  And despite official notification from the Kiribati government that they weren't transmitting a signal, they continued to fish.   Without an operational VMS they could have been doing anything during that time.  The violation gave Kiribati officials enough to escort the vessel back to port, and grounds for further exploration of an unreported fish catch.  The Dong Won is a good example of the shadiness of illegal fishing, as most of it is done by licensed vessels who turn off their monitor systems and break the rules.  A flagless vessel with ex-cons for a crew and a captain with mafia connections would probably be a better story.  But the Dong Won is more representative of the problem, as boats that fit its profile steal fish from the Pacific every day.

Early this morning, before the Kiribati enforcement boat could arrive, the Dong Won made a break for the high seas.  We tried pursuing, but they are faster than us and we couldn't keep up.  This morning we sent Taremon (the enforcement officer) up in the helicopter to demand that they stop, but they didn't answer the radio.  Our pilot positioned the helicopter right in front of the ship in dramatic fashion, but the effort was to no avail.  It appears the boat is headed back to Korea.

In addition to an apparent admission of guilt, their flight has further illustrated the sheer lack of enforcement resources available to Kiribati and most of the island nations in this region.  Kiribati has only one patrol boat for the waters it controls.  Juxtapose this to the recent story of an illegal fishing vessel the US Coast Guard apprehended in its waters off of the Howland/Baker Islands, which sit about 1,700 miles southwest of Hawaii.  They seized a purse seiner with $350,000 worth of illegal skipjack tuna by making use of a C-130 airplane and two Coast Guard cutter ships.  By comparison, you get an idea of the near impossible task Kiribati faces with only one boat at its disposal to effectively patrol its waters for pirate fishermen.

It was hard to watch the Dong Won disappear over the horizon, as further investigation of the vessel will now be nearly impossible.  At the same time, their escape to the high seas further illustrates the challenges of addressing pirate fishing with few resources, and the brazen nature of those who do it.  And I guess every good fishing story wouldn't be complete without the one that got away.

 

Saturday morning at about 6:00 a.m. we crossed the equator just east of the island of Nauru.  It was rather unceremonious for something that would seem significant, and I'd heard from more than one source that crossing the line at sea has historically been a rite of passage.  So I did a bit of research on the matter, and apparently the traditional ritual is often brutal, humiliating and on more than one occasion fatal.  Okay, I was looking for significance, not savagery.  I keep hearing whispers around the ship that something's in the works for those of us who crossed the equator for the first time (Pollywogs, according to Neptune and his court), but to date nothing's happened.  My speculation is that the masters of ceremony have a desire to use creativity and cleverness instead of sheer brutality to mark the occasion, and imagination is far more difficult to utilize than ruthless force.  With that in mind, could it be that our world leaders are simply suffering from a lack of creative thinking?

It's now Wednesday on this side of the dateline, and we've been at sea for nine days.  Upon leaving Pohnpei our route initially took us southeast towards Nauru.  We sailed north then southeast around the island nation Friday evening, crossed the equator Saturday morning and passed Banaba Island around noon.  Banaba (also called Ocean Island) is part of the Republic of Kiribati.  We did a fly-over with the helicopter to get photo and video documentation, and saw a stark contrast between beautiful reefs, a small community concentrated in a corner of the landscape and extensive devastation caused by the island's history of mining operations.  Phosphate mining from 1900 to 1979 stripped away 90% of the surface, and for an island of only 1500 acres that was once lush tropical land, only 150 acres remain unexcavated.  The majority of the island has been left with unsightly towering limestone pinnacles, which rise to upwards of 80 feet in places and make the island's interior impassable.  Today Banaba stands as a monument to the devastating effects that mining and an insatiable appetite for resources can level on a once pristine and vital ecosystem.

We continue to look for illegal fishing operations, and whereas we have a lot of data available to help with the search, it's still a vast ocean.  Pirate fishing contributes considerably to the problem of overfishing, as it currently accounts for up to 30% of the global catch to a tune of roughly $9 billion a year.  Even with so many tools at our disposal and a perpetual influx of useful information, finding them is still a bit like looking for a needle in a haystack.  There's some comfort in knowing that most of our successful campaigns at sea, which collectively comprise the lore of Greenpeace, had their moments where the size of the ocean and blankness of the horizon seemed like overwhelming hurdles.  At one point many years ago, while looking for the Russian whaling fleet, the crew became so desperate that a wind up toy was placed on the map and the course for the search was determined by the direction of the toy.  Guess what.  They found the fleet, and we ultimately stopped Russia's whaling operation in one of our greatest victories.  Maybe there's a lesson in there somewhere, like we should be a bit more Jedi Knight about all this and not so technological.  Don't worry, we're not turning off the radar in favor of the I Ching or pulling out the Ouija Board.  We'll keep searching for illegal vessels and pushing to expose the scandal of pirate fishing.  Maybe one will appear on the horizon right after I hit the send button.  Come on, Neptune, a little help here.  The Pollywog stuff can wait.

 

Water, water everywhere, but not a drop to drink.

Okay, that's not entirely accurate.  True there's nothing but the blue Pacific Ocean stretching in every direction as far as the eye can see.  But we do have plenty to drink, thanks to the Esperanza's onboard evaporator that's currently converting close to three tons of salt water into fresh water a day.  So a more accurate statement might read "Water, water everywhere, but not a decent coffee shop in sight, and could someone please send me an update on what's happening in the pennant races for Major League Baseball"?

Somehow it just doesn't sound as desperate as Samuel Taylor Coleridge's famous quote at the top.  Maybe I need to work on my delivery.

This is my first transit on the Esperanza (Spanish for Hope).  I've done stints on our other two ships, the Arctic Sunrise and Rainbow Warrior, but the Espy and I hadn't crossed paths until now.  It's a 72-meter "ice class" ship, with a top speed of 15 knots.  Built in 1984 in the Polish shipyards of Gdansk, the birthplace of Lech Walesa's historic Solidarity movement, Greenpeace purchased the ship in 2000 and launched it in 2002 as the newest and largest of our fleet.  It's well suited for our work on the high seas, as it can easily transit long distances and keep up with most commercial vessels we might choose to confront.  It's size, speed and heli-deck were ideal features this past winter during our campaign against the Japanese whaling fleet in the Southern Ocean.

The ship currently is carrying a combined crew and campaign staff of 33 people from over 20 different countries.  It's like a floating U.N., with a bit more hair and without the expensive suits.  The collective maritime experience of those currently onboard is staggering, representing a wealth of knowledge and an endless collection of harrowing tales at sea.  Nothing like the one told by the old sailor in "Rime of the Ancient Mariner", from which Coleridge's (mis)quote comes, (not to mention the expression of an albatross around one's neck) but they're captivating stories nonetheless.

In legion with this collection of sailors and activists from around the world we're trying to save, the "Hope" continues east on the third day of our transit.  If you ain't got hope you got nothing.

I said that.

Every so often someone comes along who is special to everyone he meets.  He brightens up a room, makes people smile and leaves the world a better place in his wake.  And as life would have it, sometimes these people are taken from us before we're ready to lose them.  Hayhow Nanoto was one of these people.

Six years ago, Hayhow died from a heart attack while on the Rainbow Warrior during an action in Equador.  Hayhow was from Pohnpei.  While we were here during our stop with the Esperanza, we wanted to take the opportunity to see his family and let them know we haven't forgotten him.

On Friday, three of us from the ship drove to his mother's house to say hello and invite the family to a reception on board the ship the next evening.  As we drove through the unfamiliar neighborhood looking for the house, we were able to locate it thanks to a large Greenpeace banner featuring a rainbow, which was prominently displayed on the front of their home above the porch.

When we offered the invitation to her and the extended family, Hayhow's mother started to cry.  "I'm not crying tears of sorrow", she explained in her thick island accent.  "I'm crying tears of joy that Hayhow's other family is here".

The reception was a who's who of Pohnpei decisionmakers, highlighted by the country's Attorney General and the Ambassador from Australia.  It also included several of our non-profit allies we work with in the region.  But the guests of honor were undoubtedly Hayhow's family - his mom, brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles and cousins.  During the formal presentation on the back deck on a beautiful evening, after Attorney General Marstella Jack had stated her support for our work and thanked us for our collaborative efforts to publicize and stop illegal fishing in the Pacific, Lagi Toribau, our onboard oceans campaigner from Fiji, welcomed the family and spoke movingly about Hayhow and how his memory inspires our work.  Hayhow's uncle Mitchell thanked us for our hospitality on behalf of the family and for having meant so much to his nephew.  At one point, Mitchell said with a laugh the true beauty of Hayhow was the fact that he was so different from the rest of the family.  A laugh went up from the Greenpeace contingency in the crowd.  It's something we can all relate to.

Then last night Hayhow's family invited all of us from the ship to their home for dinner.  They laid out a large spread of food on a long table, cooked in the traditional style of Pohnpei that involves wrapping the food in leaves and cooking it on hot stones.  To see Hayhow's family extending themselves to us in this manner was again a stark moment that was moving to all of us.  The food was delicious, followed by the passing of the Sakau cup.  Sakau is a traditional island brew made from Kava root, which has very relaxing properties - like alcohol to some degree without the impairment, negative physical impacts or hangover.  It is a very thick and viscous drink, with a bitter taste.  Drinking it in such settings is part of the communion in Pohnpei, and was part of them welcoming us into their home.

As I was saying goodnight to Hayhow's mother at the end of the evening, she reached over, pulled me to her with a certain gentle strength and gave me a hug I will not soon forget.  "Thank you", she said, "for keeping his memory alive through your work.  Greenpeace meant so much to him".

 Hayhow was a true Warrior of the Rainbow", I replied.  "Both of his families miss him dearly."

"How do I get to the docks from here", I asked the customs officer at the smail airport in Pohnpei.

 "Walk out that door, take a right at the road, and it's about a one-minute walk to the gate", he replied.

Now there's something you don't hear everyday when asking directions from an airport.  It was a welcome and unusual element of proximity for what had been a long and involved series of flights.  In getting myself from Washington, DC to Pohnpei. Micronesia, I had flown roughly 8400 miles over a period of 36 hours, involving six different flights across nine time zones.  Plus I crossed the International Dateline, so I lost a day as well.  During one of the flight legs I took off at 7:00 a.m. on Wednesday, and when I landed five hours later at the first of four island stops along the way it was 10:00 on Thursday.  I'd go into how readers in the US can now peruse my blog entries the day before I write them, but I'm afraid the wormhole it might cause in the universal fabric could have serious implications for cosmic solvency.

Not that I'm complaining.  I'm here to join our ship the Esperanza, and will transit across the Pacific over the next four weeks as part of our international Defending our Oceans tour.  If there's one thing I've learned in my 18 years with the organization, it's that a lot of Greenpeace's magic is found in our ships.  A bit of jetlag and confusion as to what day it is are small prices to pay for an opportunity to join the front lines on the high seas.

I'm joining the ship on the Pacific leg of the tour, during which we will be focusing on illegal fishing and overfishing in this part of the world.  The Western and Central Pacific Ocean is the world's largest tuna fishery, as roughly 60% of the world's tuna comes from this region.  The sustainability of the Pacific fishery is vital to the well being of the Pacific Island nations, both as a critical economic resource and as a primary source of food.  Scientific authorities within the region have expressed strong concerns that Bigeye and Yellowfin Tuna species are being overfished and that fishing levels of these species must be reduced immediately.

Making the problem all the more difficult to address is the fact that illegal fishing in the Pacific is extensive.  Pirate fleets poach these waters using unsustainable methods, practices and destructive fishing techniques that have a considerable impact on the environment.  Not to mention that Illegal, Unreported and Unregulated (IUU) fishing bypasses revenue streams for the Pacific Island nations that are almost entirely reliant on these fish stocks for income.

These are the issues we plan to address on our transit.  While we're in port, we want to maximize our opportunity to work in this community.  Today we met with several government officials who oversee regulations and licensing for fishing in Micronesia.  They are frustrated with the difficulties they face in policing such a large area for illegal fishing opeations, made all the more difficult by the lack of funds and resources they have for enforcement.  It was encouraging to hear that part of their future management plan includes establishing protected marine reserves - a primary element in Greenpeace's international ocean strategy - in 20% of their waterways.  We also took the opportunity to communicate our feeling that Micronesia doesn't charge foreign fleets enough for licensing fees, as they receive fees equal to only 5% of the total fish value.  In addition to bringing in a more equitable level of revenue for a nation that depends largely on fisheries income for its economy, increased fees could help fund better enforcement of illegal fishing.

Tomorrow we'll hold open boats so the local residents can tour the ship and learn more about our work.

Following our meetings with Micronesian officials, we had about three hours to kill before our campaign planning meeting on board at 8:00 pm.  With some time to spare I hiked to the top of one of Pohnpei's tallest peaks with two of my colleagues, Farah from the Netherlands and Lagi, who is from Fiji.  The summit provided a stunning view of the island at sunset.  It's a beautiful place, with lush rainforest, mountains, monolithic rock formations jutting up from the forest floor and beautiful reefs along the coastline.  The view was a nice reminder of why I do this work.  It's not because places like Pohnpei are strategic nations in a multifaceted game of international politics.  It's because places like this take your breath away, and are stark reminders that this remarkable and delicate planet is a cause worth fighting for.

So now who thinks that BP stands for Beyond Petroleum, as all those glitzy ads they’ve been running the past few years would like you to believe? After last week’s shutdown of their operations in Prudhoe Bay, thanks to leaks in transit pipelines resulting from corrosion and neglect, their friendly flowery sun-type logo that’s supposed to symbolize environmental stewardship is now a bit sullied. That’s what happens when your primary marketing strategy is to essentially spray whipped cream on horse dung. It might look good for a while, but eventually the true nature of the concoction is going to come through.

No, despite their best marketing efforts, the events of this past week clearly show that BP is still very much about petroleum. It’s not like BP turned off the oil spigot and said "Oh well. Thankfully we have all that solar we can turn to". They’ve even changed their initial plan to fully close down operations at Prudhoe Bay, as they will continue production in the western half of the oil field despite the fact that it hasn’t been adequately inspected. Their plan is to monitor the pipeline, which will only be able to detect a spill after the fact. Even by keeping half the operation open, this latest disaster in a rash of oil-related catastrophies around the globe is going to cost the company in the neighborhood of 200,000 barrels a day. At $75 a barrel, the loss in revenue this will mean to the company and the risks they are taking to keep some oil flowing, they’re about as "beyond petroleum" as the Tour de France is beyond performance-enhancing drugs.

BP’s shutdown came in the wake of a corrosion-related spill in March that dumped 270,000 gallons of crude oil onto the tundra, which went undetected for days. It’s gut wrenching, especially when a disaster of this nature could have been avoided with simple maintenance and due diligence (does anyone else find it funny that the technology used to clean transit pipelines is called a pig?). I think the fact that it came at the hands of the oil company that supposedly was going to take us into a new energy future makes it even harder to swallow. Like you’ve been let down by someone you trusted. The slow, sweet dance of seduction in the form of their "Beyond Petroleum" marketing has quickly turned to being thrown over a barrel. And with today’s price of gas, we’re on the wrong end of the pump.

Want to know what makes this even worse? Not everyone is upset about the spill at Prudhoe Bay. The folks at Exxon are enjoying the fact that the bright light of scandal and corporate irresponsibility has moved to someone else for a change. They are now free to wallow in their record profits outside the public spotlight, continue to fund junk science that questions the validity of global warming (remember when cigarette companies "questioned" the science that said smoking causes cancer?), and shirk any notion of developing alternative energy sources. You know what they consider an investment in alternative energy? Squeezing oil from tar sands. The tar sands in Alberta, Canada are found under a region of boreal forest and wetlands larger than the state of Florida. Producing oil from tar sands generates 2.5 times as many greenhouse gases as conventional oil production. Mining and drilling of the heavy oil also threatens to contaminate ground water, and turns the lush boreal forest and wetlands into moonscape wastelands. ExxonMobil's tar sands facility in Alberta is the largest in the world, producing about 225,000 barrels of crude oil a day. An expansion is underway to increase production capacity by 40 percent. And that’s their investment in the alternative energy.

So what does this all mean? It means that oil companies on both ends of the spectrum – BP who at least gives lip service to developing alternatives to oil and Exxon who could give a sh*t – are set up to destroy the last pristine areas on this planet in their perpetual quest for oil. Like a crack addict who will do anything to get more crack, we’re letting them have their way with us to feed our addiction to fossil fuels. As if that’s not bad enough, keep in mind that we’re paying them for the service.

A couple months ago, I took the train up to New York to film an episode for the half-hour show “Enviro Close-up with Karl Grossman”.  I have long been a fan of Karl’s, who has written several books on environmental and nuclear issues, hosted award-winning documentaries and for many years has been a pioneer for investigative and environmental journalism in a variety of media.  The invitation to appear on his show, which is produced by Enviro Video and aired nationally on Free Speech TV, was a personal honor and a great opportunity to talk about Greenpeace and our global efforts to protect the environment.

I arrived at the address where we would film the program ahead of time, which is unusual for me and left me wondering what I would do with myself in the interim, given that I rarely make it anywhere with time to spare.  True to form, the extra time I had quickly evaporated as I was thinking about baseball when the person at the front desk told me where I should go.  Since I was too embarrassed to ask again, I thus began an Escher-esque game of musical elevators in an attempt to find the place myself.  Upon finally finding the right floor, I made my way to the studio (two minutes late) and was warmly greeted by Steve Jambeck and Joan Flynn, the husband and wife team who do the behind-the-scenes work at Enviro Video that make Karl’s show possible.

I’ve done shows like this before, but it had been awhile, and I’d forgotten how much work goes into filming a program such as this.  Karl and I sat across from each other as the film crew made their adjustments, got the light right, adjusted sound levels and gave me a few last-minute pointers to maximize the camera’s ability to make me look good.  Throw in the usual nervousness that comes prior to an on-camera interview combined with the heat of the lights, and the lead up took on a slightly surreal aspect to it.  Finally it was time to roll, Steve gave the signal and Karl launched into the interview.

Once we got going I settled in and the interview went well.  Karl asked good questions, and I had the opportunity to talk on issues ranging from the threat global warming poses to polar bears, to the Cape Cod Offshore Wind Project to how we work with students across the country to win campus-based campaigns.  The half hour was over before I knew it.

After we had wrapped up and I said my good-byes to Karl, Steve, Joan and the rest of the film crew, I made my way back to the ground floor and out the door for the nearest subway station.  As I walked down the street and replayed the interview in my head, with a slight chill to the air in the late afternoon sun, the one thing I hoped came through in the program is that despite all the problems, there is in fact hope.  I’m faced every day with the monumental environmental problems that threaten our planet, and whereas it’s easy to get caught up in the difficulties and uncertainties, I only do this work because I have faith we will win in the end.  We have to win.  My children are counting on it.

Show Information:

"Enviro Close-Up: Greenpeace USA with Bill Richardson", on Free Speech TV

will air:

May 17  2:30pm 
May 18  7:30am + 8:30pm 
May 19  2:30am 
May 20  4:30am + 8:30pm
May 21  6:30pm 
May 24  2:30pm 
May 25  7:30am + 8:30pm 
May 26  2:30am 
May 27  4:30am + 8:30pm 
May 28  6:30pm

If you ever hear Senator Kennedy from Massachusetts say he is an environmentalist and cares about global warming, the oxygen he’s wasting on the empty rhetoric is nothing more than a bunch of hot air.  His latest effort to kill the proposed wind project off Nantucket Sound – 130 windmills that would be the first offshore wind facility in the US and would provide 75% of the Cape’s energy needs – takes the cake in the category of back room deal making and good ole boy networking.  Whereas Kennedy has done a nice teflon routine to appear unconnected to this latest development by stealthily working behind the scenes, it has his smell all over it.

This past Friday, a congressional conference committee negotiating the final language of the Coast Guard Re-Authorization Bill agreed to give the governor of Massachusetts veto power over the Cape Wind project. The amendment was introduced to the committee – after the bill had been passed in the house and senate without this language – by Congressman Young (R-AK).  Is it just me, or is anyone else wondering why a Congressman from Alaska would go out on a limb to help kill a wind farm off Cape Cod? What’s Kennedy going to do for him?  Pretty smart of Teddy to get a conservative republican from a distant, remote state to do his bidding, thereby adding to the teflon effect.  If you want to dig down to find out what’s really going on here, better bring your waders.

For the sake of argument, let’s suspend logic and make the assumption that this isn’t politically motivated, that there actually might be a good reason for this amendment.  If this really had anything to do with the coast guard (as the title of the bill implies), why not give the decision making authority to them?  We’d also have to ignore the fact that the amendment’s language conflicts with the congressional intent of the Energy Policy Act of 2005. The Energy Policy Act directs the Secretary of Interior to develop, in consultation with the Coast Guard and other agencies, “any necessary regulations.”  The new provision undermines that process, which has only just begun.

So, a congressman from Alaska pens an amendment that gives full veto authority to a governor from a state he has nothing to do with.  Instead of the coast guard or the Mineral Management Service, the regulatory agency in charge of proposed offshore wind farms, making the call, the governor of Massachusetts can simply say “Nah, it kind of screws up the view for a small group of rich people.  I think I’ll take a pass”.

Let’s not forget that one of the most vocal and visible opponents of the Cape Wind Project has been Bobby Kennedy, who had crafted a reputation as an environmentalist and global warming champion until the conversion from theory to practice meant a state-of-the-art wind farm off the horizon from his summer home.  With that in mind, it’s no big surprise that one of the most influential democrats in Congress, who shares the same family name and summer home setting, would also use his considerable weight to kill the project behind the scenes.

Thought that title would catch your interest.  It’s a loaded phrase, given its reference to a controversial issue rife with environmental, cultural, political and socioeconomic implications.  That issue, of course, is pirate fishing.

What?

That’s right – pirate fishing.  Off the West Coast of Africa, we have found and documented a fleet of ships that are fishing illegally, stealing fish from the poorest countries in the world and selling them at a considerable profit to wealthy markets in Europe and North America.  The fish are caught by ships that are barely seaworthy, with horrid onboard living conditions for the exploited crews that man them. And the operation hides and launders its illicit cargo by illegally transferring the fish from the pirate vessels to a large refrigerated vessel called a reefer (ah ha!).  It is these reefers that covertly take the cargo to wealthy European markets, by which they make their way to the rest of the world.  It is madness, in every sense of the word.

And Greenpeace is on the scene to smoke them out.  

You know, bring them out into the open, so they can no longer hide.

Our work on pirate fishing is part of Greenpeace’s Defending Our Oceans tour.  Our ship the Esperanza is on a year-long expedition, with the purpose of drawing attention to the myriad threats that currently face our high seas around the world.  It started with our work in the Southern Ocean near Antarctica, where we took on the Japanese whaling fleet for two months as part of our effort to end commercial whaling once and for all.  Speaking of which, we just won a significant victory for the whales, as the three largest companies who fund the whaling fleet announced last week that they plan to divest.  We have since moved to the West Coast of Africa, where we are confronting these pirate fishing operations and bringing in authorities who have the power to stop it.

Pirate fishing poses considerable consequences to the health of our oceans, as every year millions of fish are caught outside the regulations designed to protect them.  The human rights implications are also huge, from the crews essentially working in servitude in abysmal conditions on ships that are death traps, to the fact that the poorest nations in the world are losing roughly $100 million each year in stolen fish.  Making matters worse is the fact that the countries in whose waters this is happening don’t have the capacity to effectively police the situation.  They need the help of governments from around the world with the resources to help, especially in places like Europe where the fish get laundered and shipped to other destinations.  These governments could go a long ways towards ending this exploitative practice by cracking down on illegal fishing vessels and operations in their ports, and making sure the companies involved are prosecuted.

Maybe we just need to phrase it differently to spark the interest of western countries and international authorities to take this on.  Tell ‘em large reefer ships are on the way to their ports, with holds stuffed to the gills in illegal substances.

If there’s one thing I’ve learned in my years working for the environment, it’s that you should never talk about global warming in the wintertime.  Either we’ve just gotten two feet of snow and people look at you like you’re crazy, or it’s 65 degrees in February and the person you’re talking to thinks it’s a good thing.  One of the problems with global warming is the term itself.  It doesn’t really capture the urgency of the problem the way, say, “nuclear meltdown” or “acid rain” tends to come across.  It might even sound good to some.  Who doesn’t like it warm?  What we’re really talking about is climate instability.  With a continuing increase in the world’s temperatures, climate and weather patterns are becoming more volatile.  A high percentage of the American public associates the destruction of Hurricane Katrina with the pattern of severe weather that scientists have been predicting for years would result from climate change.  Given that the force of the storm was due in large part to the unusually warm temperature of the water in the Gulf, it’s a reasonable assumption.  Add to that the alarming rate at which the ice cap is melting in the Arctic and consider the domino effect it could have across the globe, and you start to get the picture.

In the past three decades, over one million square miles of sea ice – an area the size of Norway, Denmark and Sweden combined – has disappeared.  Yeah, I know.  Sea ice.  Excuse me while I start thinking about baseball.  How about the fact that the melting taking place in the Arctic is posing a serious threat to the existence of polar bears?  Yep, that cute and cuddly icon (okay, so it could take your head off if you tried to actually cuddle with it) is facing the possibility of extinction as a result of global warming.  They depend on the ice to hunt, and with the melting taking place and the ice season becoming shorter and shorter, the bears can’t hunt to the level they need, and are often forced into extended periods of fasting.  As a result, they can no longer build up the fat upon which they rely to keep them healthy.  This in turn affects their ability to survive and reproduce.  In 2004, the population count for polar bears was down to 950 – a 14 percent decline from counts in 1995.

So Greenpeace is suing the federal government to protect the polar bear under the Endangered Species Act.  As a result, the US Fish and Wildlife Service has announced that it is initiating the process to list them as threatened, due to the destruction their habitat is experiencing as a result of global warming.  A listing under the ESA would grant considerable protection for the bears, and would force the US government, which has thus far stuck its head in the sand on the issue of climate change, to consider the impacts that large emissions of greenhouse gases have on the polar bear’s habitat.  It would essentially force them to play with the rest of the world in addressing this crucial issue.

So even if you’re a heartless pragmatist who could give a flip about some bear a long, long ways away from your living room and daily commute, consider this.  The polar bear is the proverbial canary in the coal mine (I thought about saying “tip of the ice berg”, but it didn’t pass the eye roll test when I tried it out on a few people).  They are just the beginning of a much larger problem.  By taking measures today to save the polar bear, we will also be taking a large step towards solving the crucial problem of climate change. Which means we will ultimately be taking critical steps towards saving ourselves.

3:00 am.  Larry and I hid in the dark shadows at the base of the tower and sorted our climbing gear in the deafening roar of the cooling water that was splashing past us only a few feet away.  The plan was for me to climb up the flimsy plastic mesh designed to keep birds and leaves out of the tower's infrastructure, to a platform 75 feet above.  Just climbing that high on an uncertain medium was unnerving enough, but even more frightening was the fact that the climb was overhanging at about a 110-degree angle.  After waiting out a security guard who ventured within 15 feet of our hiding place before heading back to his truck and continuing with his rounds, I tied into the lead end of the rope and embarked on the first leg of our ascent.  The climbing was tenuous, and I was looking at hitting the ground if I fell.  I took my time, fighting nerves and trying to ignore the almost overwhelming urge to rush.  About 10 feet from the top, the mesh on which I stood started to pull away from the side of the tower.  After pulling away a few gut-wrenching feet the mesh held, and I froze, my heart racing wildly.  The cliché about hanging by a thread suddenly gained new meaning.  After a minute or so, I got my wits together and slowly traversed a few feet to the right.  Once I had gained more stable mesh, I slowly started ascending again and kissed the platform when I arrived there a few minutes later.

That was me, Bill Richardson, on an action at the Fermi Nuclear Power Plant in Monroe, MI.  Okay, so it was ten years ago.  Now I'm the Deputy Executive Director of Greenpeace US, and my days are spent more in meeting rooms and holding down a desk than they are climbing buildings and hanging banners.  But the work I do today behind the scenes is heavily influenced by the perspective I gained as a frontline activist during my early years at Greenpeace.  The mindset and conviction one fosters by putting personal fears aside and taking action, by taking risks to further a cause you believe in, works just as well in the boardroom as it does on a cooling tower.

June of this year will mark my 18th anniversary with the organization.  I started as a door-to-door canvasser, and had the opportunity to be involved in numerous field activities over the years.  In addition to the cooling tower at Fermi, I scaled the Sears Tower with three other climbers on December 2nd, 1992.  The date marked the 50th anniversary of the first sustained nuclear reaction, which took place in Chicago and ushered in the dark cloud known as the nuclear age.  Other activities have ranged from blockades in the woods to time on our ships.  The experience that affected me most deeply was when I was on the Rainbow Warrior headed for New York Harbor – on September 11th, 2001.  We spent the day anchored offshore, staring at the wall of smoke where the twin towers had once stood.  With most of our communications to the outside world cut off, we were anxiously left to guess about everything that was happening in New York and back home in DC, while floating in nerve-racking isolation.

My field experiences went a long way to shape the person I am now.  The responsibilities I hold currently are more managerial and administrative in nature, and don’t match the images people typically conjure up when they think of Greenpeace on the job.  But behind the scenes of our more high-profile activities, I work with many talented people who diligently cross T's and dot I's, and make sure the actions we take are part of integrated strategies designed to raise awareness and achieve environmental victories.  Our administrative roles are ultimately just as important as taking on whalers and climbing smokestacks.  We feel a great sense of obligation to our donors to be fiscally responsible, and in today's political climate where the Bush administration is using the cover of Homeland Security to clandestinely take on its legitimate adversaries, we have to be on top of our administrative game.  Recently, we were subjected to an IRS audit that was initiated by an anonymous referral, probably with the assumption that we wouldn’t have our act together when it came to the books.  I am proud to say that we passed the audit with flying colors.

So now you know a little bit about me, my history with Greenpeace and what I do now.  Every day I work here is a privilege.  To be a part of an international organization that can leverage the power of individual supporters around the world to do things like take on the Japanese whaling fleet and help protect 5 million acres of old-growth in the Great Bear Rainforest is humbling.  The whole is much greater than the sum of its parts.