Opening image: The morning tuna catch at the Katsuura fish market, Wakayama Prefecture, Japan. Photo Tom Wolff

The Future of Tuna: Taking a Long Line to a Pacific Icon

One night in a fishing town called Katsuura, in the Wakayama Prefecture of Japan, I got talking to a guy named Shuu over dinner. He was sitting next to me sipping on Shōchū and slurping on ramen. He turned to ask where my girlfriend and I were from. After some elementary Japanese and a bit of fiddling around translating it on my phone, I learned Shuu was a fisherman, more specifically a diesel engineer and mechanic on the local fishing fleet. These jobs may seem poles apart but when you understand how modern commercial tuna fishing is done, they make more sense.

 

My curiosity got the better of me and the next day, killing time at dawn while I waited for the sun to rise, I rode my bike around the harbour where the tuna boats came in. Before long I found myself at the Katsuura fish market watching tuna being craned off boats, sorted into lines, stickered according to weight and eventually boxed up on ice to be loaded onto trucks by forklifts. The whole experience was mesmerising and horrifying all at the same time.

 

I found myself wondering, can we really keep taking this many fish from our ocean?

 

As fate would have it, I didn’t have to wait long for an answer. Right above the fish market was the Katsuura Tuna Museum – ‘museum’ is generous, as it consisted of a single room with a few info boards and old photographs. But it addressed a lot of my questions.

 

In the past, tuna fisheries in Japan mostly used a traditional fishing method known as Ipponzuri, where poles with individual lines are used to catch tuna one at a time. Pole and line and troll fishing methods such as these are known to have minimal impacts on other vulnerable marine wildlife. But the Japanese also pioneered another method of fishing – believed to date back to the 18th century – that involved what is known today as longlining.

 

Prior to 1920, fishing vessels were relatively small, relied largely on wind to propel them and lacked refrigeration. This limited longline fishing to short trips of two-to-three days in the coastal waters off Japan. Over time, through advances in technology and driven by increased demand, the tuna longline fishing industry continued to grow, and its range expand.

 

Fast forward to 2024 and people like Shuu and his crew sail into the open waters of the Pacific to the pelagic zone, where up to 100km of line is laid out with buoys that provide GPS readings. The line takes around four hours to lay out and along its length are up to 3000 branches of line, each with a baited hook, which sit in the water for around 10-12 hours at a time. Longline tuna boats can stay at sea for months, so a bit of simple maths starts to paint a picture of the sheer volume of fish being caught.

 

We stayed in Katsuura for four days and every day it was filled to the brim with albacore, yellowfin and the very occasional Pacific bluefin (two) during the time we were there. The Pacific bluefin has always been the prize catch here. The annual Japanese New Year tradition means the first fish of the year sold has auspicious qualities attributed to it. On the first day of business at the Tokyo Fish Market for 2024, a 238-kilogram Pacific bluefin was sold for 114.2 million yen (approx. $AU1.2 million).

 

Left: Katsuura has a long history as a fishing town. Right: The albacore catch, a common tuna species in many fisheries throughout the Pacific. Photos Tom Wolff

The waters of the Western and Central Pacific are home to 60 per cent of the world’s tuna catch – representing around 3 million tonnes and worth almost $US10 billion annually. Tuna fishing in the Pacific is a huge industry that has made a huge impact on wild tuna stocks.

Modern science tells us that Pacific bluefin tuna stocks have been depleted by up to 97 per cent of their pre-industrial fishing levels. As with many other species threatened with extinction, the timeline for its collapse has been relatively short, a period of mere decades. For a fish that can live for up to a quarter of a century, understanding the impact of our actions takes time to fully comprehend. Time the fish don’t have.

To be clear, it’s not only Japan using longline industrial fishing methods, nor is longline fishing the only method. According to a study by independent thinktank Pew Charitable Trusts using data from 2010-2018, five countries – Indonesia, Japan, Papua New Guinea, Taiwan and Spain – were collecting the largest volumes of the seven major species of tuna from the world’s oceans. Indonesia topped out at almost 600,000 metric tons over the eight-year study period. These numbers are based on official data provided by fishing nations to regional management bodies. The real totals are likely to be higher still.

The two main organisations responsible for managing tuna fisheries in the Pacific Ocean are the Western and Central Pacific Fisheries Commission (WCPFC) and the Inter-American Tropical Tuna Commission (IATTC). These organisations aim to improve the sustainability of tuna fisheries through monitoring, regulation and surveillance. Perspectives on the success of these trans-national organisations to effectively manage tuna fisheries, however, vary greatly. Regulating the tuna industry anywhere in the world has historically proved difficult.

On April 10 of this year, The Nature Conservancy launched a new initiative dubbed the “Tuna Transparency Pledge” – a global initiative aiming to unite players throughout the tuna supply chain to achieve 100 per cent on-water monitoring of all industrial tuna vessels by 2027. The pledge is seeking to address unsustainable and illegal tuna fishing practices and drive industry-wide transformation. The current signatories of the Tuna Transparency Pledge span the entire supply chain, from seafood companies all the way up to governments of countries like Belize and the Federated States of Micronesia. But the major tuna fishing nations, responsible for the majority of tuna caught, remain notably absent from the agreement.

“The waters of the Western and Central Pacific are home to 60 per cent of the world’s tuna catch – representing around 3 million tonnes and worth almost $US10 billion annually. Tuna fishing in the Pacific is a huge industry that has made a huge impact on wild tuna stocks.” Photos Tom Wolff

In Australia, tuna fishing is strongly regulated, and as a result local tuna populations are somewhat healthier.

Australian tuna fisheries are separated into three distinct locations: Eastern, Southern and Western. According to the latest Federal Government fishery status report from 2023, tuna are being overfished off Western Australia but the Southern and Eastern fisheries are not currently subject to overfishing. While the southern bluefin tuna is currently listed as endangered at just 23 per cent of its pre-industrial population, its numbers are increasing. This is due in part to a declining number of boats undertaking tuna fishing in Australian waters. In the eastern fishery, for example, the number of dedicated tuna vessels have declined from 152 in 1999 to just 36 in 2022.

It’s worth noting that currently in Australia, local regulators have implemented video monitoring of all tuna boats which according to Australia’s Sustainable Seafood Guide GoodFish is “improving confidence in fishery logbook reports.”

Any conversation I’ve indulged in around wild-caught fisheries and their issues has always flowed through to potential farming options. We need only look at the farmed salmon industry in Tasmania – a billion-dollar industry causing significant ecological damage – for comprehensive evidence of its failures. Whether it’s the threatened extinction of the Maugean skate, lethal strategies against crafty local seal populations or low level oxygen “dead zones”, industrial scale fish farming in Tasmania has been littered with problems.

Australia is currently experimenting with farmed southern bluefin tuna in South Australia by ‘ranching’ them in sea cages off the coast. The method – which makes up most of the southern bluefin fishery – involves capturing schools of wild migrating fish in purse seine nets and growing them to maturity in sea cages.

Given that southern bluefin are farmed in sites that are relatively exposed to moving ocean, they don’t create the same problems with concentrated effluent and nutrients that occur with inshore salmon farming. So, what’s the problem then? Much like its larger northern Pacific neighbour, the southern bluefin is a top predator and requires high inputs of wild-caught fish to grow to a marketable size. The GoodFish guide suggests the southern bluefin is, “likely the least efficiently fed aquaculture species in Australia.”

Increasingly, the Australian public and restauranteurs are becoming more conscious of where their tuna is coming from, and how sustainably it’s being fished. Stephen Peak, Head Chef at the Agrarian Kitchen in New Norfolk, Tasmania, occasionally sources line caught albacore tuna from a local fisherman to serve at his restaurant. “Our decisions at the restaurant when sourcing seafood are the same as sourcing any meat or vegetables: small scale and sustainable,” he explains, “we like to buy direct from the fisher or least know who they are.”

Steve makes educated decisions about which seafood to source and believes resources like GoodFish can be incredibly helpful for anyone looking to make better choices around where they get their seafood from. “One of the biggest problems with our food system globally is the industrialisation,” he says. “The best thing we can do as restaurants to influence the way seafood is consumed and harvested is to promote small scale and sustainable fishing and farming.”

The good news is that through international agreements and cooperation around reduced catch limits over the past 10 years, stocks of species like the Pacific bluefin appear to be rebounding, albeit slowly. But to restore a population like the Pacific bluefin – currently sitting at around 3 per cent of its original size – will take a long time. Given that commercial fishing across the globe expanded at an exponential rate over the past 50 years, the consequences of our actions in complex pelagic ecosystems won’t be short lived.

Back in the restaurant in Katsuura, Shuu offers to pour me a Shōchū. As I’m fishing for some Japanese words in my phone, Shuu says something in English. It’s an effort to describe the state of the modern, global fishing industry he works in.

He says, “Machine. No human.”

Opening image: The morning tuna catch at the Katsuura fish market, Wakayama Prefecture, Japan. Photo Tom Wolff

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