Greenpeace

On Friday the 19th, I was invited to participate in a short Q&A session directly following the release of The End of the Line, a new documentary about the state of our oceans, at a movie theater in the East Village.

Even though Greenpeace has been engaging in rigorous cross-promotional efforts with the producers of this film, including campaigning against Nobu restaurant and taking to the water to expose the repugnant activities of bluefin tuna pirates, this was the first time I actually saw the movie in its entirety… and I’m now more convinced than ever that it merits our unconditional support.

The End of the Line is a masterful work that details one man’s crusade to save our world’s oceans.  The author and subject of the documentary, Charles Clover, found his love of the ocean as many of us do: at the end of a line.

While fishing in Wales, Clover snagged a very lonely salmon – a salmon that turned out to be the last one ever caught in that river.  Overfishing, rampant development, pollution, and habitat loss have combined forces to annihilate a population that once made annual pilgrimages to the Welsh highlands.

After witnessing the melancholy fade-out of this salmon run, Clover began to ask that simple question that so many of us are struggling so mightily to ignore:  Why are our fish disappearing?  His quest to find an answer became an odyssey that took him from Senegal to Tokyo and a thousand points in between.

The movie is replete with dazzling imagery; shots of Almadraba, a traditional bluefin tuna hunt undertaken by Spanish fishermen in the Strait of Gibraltar capture the true vitality and power of this regal animal.  During the sequence, I overheard a woman in front of me convey her astonishment over the bluefin’s massive size to her companion in hushed expletives.

The irony is that the bluefin pictured in The End of the Line aren’t large at all… maybe 150 pounds. Just a short decade or two ago, there still were bluefin swimming about that had reached sizes closer to their true potential – upwards of 600 pounds.  That's three or four times larger than the "massive" fish in the movie.

Our baselines have shifted.  Aside from the wrinkled old seadogs that haunt the docks of towns like Gloucester, MA, no one remembers a truly gargantuan bluefin.  No one remembers that there used to be alligators in Chesapeake Bay.  No one remembers the true nature of a healthy ocean.

A number of aging fishermen appear throughout the film, underscoring this issue by weaving an old salts’s lament into the story.  With their greybeard perspective and sun-stroked skin, these old men of the sea decry the waste and rapacity of the modern fishing industry, citing our rampant overfishing as a glaring example of today’s generation cutting its own throat in search of a quick dollar.

Near the conclusion of the film, an unnamed woman sums up the problem when she smiles into the camera and candidly delivers the line, “I like to eat fish.  To me, fish are food.”

Those who have read some of my previous articles and blog entries on this subject know that I do not necessarily dispute this statement.  I don’t have a problem with the concept of a human being feeding on a fish.  The problem arises with the strange assumption that once an animal is relegated to the status of “food,” it no longer merits any kind of respectful treatment.  It does not deserve to be treated as a living thing; rather, it exists for the lone purpose of one day graduating to the status of fish finger, salmon burger, or 2-piece nigiri plate.

Speaking to this issue (albeit somewhat indirectly) is Dr. Daniel Pauly, a UBC professor who is prominently featured throughout the movie.  Pauly is one of the most well-known fisheries scientists in the world.  He speaks at conferences and symposia in cities across the globe.  The particularities of his theories are often disputed within academia, but no one would deny the man’s brilliance and devotion to the planet.

At one point during the film, Pauly offers a frighteningly simple answer to Clover’s overarching question about the fate of the world’s fish.  When Clover asks, "Where are the fish going?, Pauly responds, “We are eating them!”

Fish may be food to some, but that does not mean that they are not still fish first and foremost, living organisms with which humans have a delicate and complex relationship.  This relationship is being abused to a terrifying extreme.  Factory trawlers, dynamite fishers, bluefin tuna pirates, absurdly greedy corporations (et tu, Mitsubishi?) and corrupt politicians have stretched the ability of our oceans to nurture healthy fish populations to the breaking point.

I beseech all those who read this message to make a point of seeing The End of the Line as soon as possible.  It depicts the reality of the state of our oceans better than this blog ever could.

Anyone who has listened to the radio, watched television, read a newspaper, surfed the internet, or chased after celebrity gossip in the past couple of weeks has likely heard about something about a particular sushi chain getting called out for a history of nefarious behavior.

The chain in question is Nobu, the fantastically successful joint venture of reknowned chef Nobu Matsuhisa, the Raging Bull himself Robert De Niro, and three other partners. Nobu is a sushi titan, with twenty-four locations in various chic neighboorhoods throughout many of the world's most glamourous cities, not to mention a menu replete with dozens of price tags that would make the average recession-choked American both green with envy and red with rage.

Nobu is under siege from all sides for its continual disregard for the health of our planet.  The high-end chain sells a tremendous amount of bluefin tuna, much of which is critically endangered Northern bluefin (Thunnus thynnus) from the Atlantic Ocean and Mediterranean Sea.  Despite repeated warnings about the looming commercial extinction of this majestic fish from a vast international amalgamation of scientists, actors, conservation organizations, foodies, activists, bloggers, aquaria, filmmakers, politicians, and even a European Prince, Nobu resolutely presses forward, offering no comment and refusing to alter its menu in the slightest.  The restaurant's response is akin to a tantrum-throwing child clapping his hands over his ears while stomping his feet, or perhaps to a yoked horse charging towards a cliff regardless of its own life or the lives of those in the stagecoach attached to it.  Nobu's arrogant denial of the reality of our mutual challenge -- the continual decline of the health of our oceans -- is a serious problem.

But this is not about just one restaurant.  Nobu is a symbol; it represents the old guard of restauranteurs whose lofty perches often distance them from the plebian masses.  Moreover, Nobu is a rallying point -- as an endangered species-slinging, celebrity-owned, stratospherically-priced haunt for the upper crust, it's a perfect target for those who are itching for a greater level of corporate responsibility within the restaurant industry.

Nobu and Greenpeace have a history.  Greenpeace has already “outed” Nobu on their unsustainable practices (this interaction is featured in the forthcoming documentary The End of the Line, based on the excellent book by Charles Clover).  Nobu promised to label bluefin as an endangered species on all of their menus, but subsequently changed tactics and cut off communications.  The one menu that reflects any change whatsoever is at the London branch, which uses a microscopic footnote to indicate that bluefin is "environmentally challenged."

This thunderous understatement aside, Nobu has done absolutely nothing to protect that very fish which has so heavily contributed to the jingling pockets of the restaurant's owners.  Our oceans cannot endure this situation any longer. 

I view direct confrontation as an avenue of last resort, only to be used when all other tactics have been exhausted.  In this case, Nobu has been stonewalling environmental entreaty for over a year while the chain contiunues to plunder the ocean for its own insatiable greed.  To expose and spotlight this edacious behaviour, John Hocevar, Greenpeace's Oceans Campaign Director, developed a mock Nobu menu -- a Swiftian satirization of Nobu's reckless quest for profit at all costs.  What is the difference, the menu suggests, between Northern bluefin and mountain gorilla, Iberian lynx, or California condor?  All of these animals are critically endangered.  Why is it acceptable to serve the former, when the presence of any of the latter three on a restaurant menu would no doubt solicit a restaurant critic's verbal equivilant of a molotov cocktail through the front window?

Over the past week, Greenpeace activists in both New York and Los Angeles have staged "dine-ins" at Nobu's TriBeCa and West Hollywood locations, festooning the restaurant with mock menus, taking up table space, and demanding to speak to the manager about Nobu's egregious disregard for our planet's welfare.

The actions were conducted in a precise manner that was aimed at sending a message to upper management without undue disruption of other restaurant patrons.  Nobu servers were generously tipped by Greenpeace activists; ownership's head-in-the-sand mentality does not justify behavior that would send the waitresses and waiters, who have no decision-making power but who do have families and livelihoods, home without the tips on which they depend.  We are, after all, in a recession.

The point of all this is to take the issue to Nobu on the restaurant's home turf.  In addition to being lambasted in the press, demonized in a documentary, and boycotted by celebrities, Nobu now must contend with activists that march directly into the restaurant to speak their minds.

Nobu is a trend-setting establishment that not only spans the globe, but wields incredible influence at the top of the sushi industry food chain. The innovative akumen and staggering talent of Nobu Matsuhisa are undeniable; he is undoubtedly capable of creating delectable dishes from both sustainable and unsustainable sources alike. Why, then, is he so resistant to use these gifts in an environmentally friendly manner?

Still, viewing this issue as "environmentalists v Nobu" is missing the point. Both groups want the same outcome: a healthy and productive ocean that can provide all the ecosystem services to foster sustainable business and healthy living. If Nobu were to drop bluefin and adopt a sustainable business model, it would be in the interest of the environmental community to promote the restaurant and encourage consumers to patronize it, rather than the unfortunate current situation.

Nobu needs to change their practices and begin to demonstrate corporate responsibility. Although environmentally rapacious and irresponsible businesses no longer have a place in this changing world, it is in everyone's interest that sustainable and wisely managed establishments thrive and succeed.