Sea sharing or sea sparing: How should we manage our oceans?

What with Brian Cox spending an hour explaining the importance of body size in ecological systems, and then prime time marine conservation courtesy of Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall’s ongoing Fishfight, I feel that my research interests have been rather well covered by TV of late. But whereas I have nothing but praise so far for Cox’s Wonders of Life, I find myself somewhat more ambivalent in my views of Fishfight. On the one hand, it is fantastic to see the issue of marine conservation gain such prominence. Hugh F-W is an excellent and extremely savvy campaigner, and his energy and drive to reduce the wasteful practice of discards (subject of the first Fishfight series) has had a real, positive impact at the EU level. Of course, we need to make sure that the fish now landed instead of discarded at sea actually make it to market, rather than landfill – but that’s not to take away from what Fishfight achieved. And the focus of this second series, on marine protected areas, is also a really important issue – few would argue with the central tenet that we should take better care of the marine environment, and that protecting certain areas should be a part of this. Neither am I entirely averse to using shock tactics to elicit an emotional response in the audience – indeed, I attempt just this in my marine conservation lectures here in Sheffield, where I channel Jeremy Jackson in documenting the often calamitous history of human impacts on the ocean.

On the other hand, however – and notwithstanding the considered input of scientists whom I know, like and respect such as Alex Rodgers and Callum Roberts – we need to recognise that Fishfight is a campaign, and campaigning TV by its very nature is not especially fussed about issues of balance. This is the point made by SeaFish in their response to the series. SeaFish were derided on Twitter last night by George Monbiot as an industry quango whose interest is "minimum of conservation and maximum of exploitation", but actually they are a respected body who take science pretty seriously - although as an industry body of course they consider the social and economic as well as the ecological consequences of marine environmental policy. They have been making the point that MPAs in the UK ought to be established based only on sound scientific criteria – the reason rather few have so far been agreed is that often we lack these data.

Now, I used to be of a similar view to the Fishfight gang – that the priority ought to be just establishing  MPAs, on the assumption that even if they were suboptimally positioned, any protection of any area would be better than none. Then I started talking to people who study these things and was politely told that, actually, a poorly designed MPA can actually do more harm than good. So, my view now is that MPAs need to be carefully designed, set up with specific and explicit goals, and not simply placed willy-nilly.

More generally, and as always, the truth will usually lie somewhere between environmental campaigners and industry groups. Some scientists have been quite vocal regarding the oversimplification of complex issues that is inevitable in campaigning TV. Marine conservation biologist Mike Kaiser, for example, has been quite active on Twitter putting across a fisheries science view, and I agree with this blog post by Jess Woo, that framing this campaign in terms of a ‘fight’ is unfortunate – “the last thing marine conservation (and particularly fisheries management) needs is a ruckus”.

All of which has got me thinking: what does marine conservation need? Well, some kind of clear vision would be useful, regarding how we balance the needs of conservation with feeding 9 billion people. There have been studies looking at this from a fisheries perspective, but it struck me that there are real parallels here with the land sharing vs. land sparing debate in terrestrial conservation. Should we concentrate conservation effort into the preservation of wild areas, and exploit other areas for food production as intensively as we can? Or should we aim for a more balanced approach, seeking a way to allow human activities and nature to coexist? In farming terms, this is the difference between a mosaic of industrial farms interspersed with nature reserves, and a more extensive system of wildlife-friendly farms.

The obvious upshot of this terrestrial debate is that if you want a large network of fully protected nature reserves, you have to balance that with farming the fuck out of what’s left. Translating this to a marine context, a network of no-take MPAs requires fishing the fuck out of unprotected areas. There is no real incentive for more responsible fishing outside the MPAs: the focus should just be on productivity. So the depressing images of dredged and trawled habitats that Fishfight uses to tug the heartstrings would not disappear if MPAs were widely established. In this case, you’re pinning an awful lot on not only the (widely supported) in situ success of MPAs, but also in their (often positive, but more variable) spillover effects. Responsible fishing, by contrast, requires more extensive areas to be exploited, which may limit the extent of fully protected MPAs.

More generally, whilst we should be cautious extending the fisheries—agriculture analogy too far (fishing, remember, still largely targets wild, and often highly mobile organisms), I think it does provide some useful context. Ray Hilborn, a fisheries ecologist who also happens to be a farmer, has commented on this before: how farmers are praised for bringing the landscape under the plough in order to produce food, whereas fishermen are castigated for doing similar (often in far more hazardous circumstances). Let’s just remember that (to use Oxfam’s terminology) the social foundation of access to an adequate, healthy food supply is of equal importance to the environmental ceiling of preserving biodiversity. If we get marine management right, we should be able to do both. I’m not convinced that starting a fight with some of the most important and knowledgeable marine stakeholders is the best way to achieve this.

Additional Parental Leave: Bit of a damp squib

For once I have a good excuse for not having posted recently: the birth, three weeks ago, of our daughter (Webb2.0, as I like to call her). Now you might expect this joyful event to trigger a cuddly response here, and of course I am chuffed to bits and absolutely besotted with her. However, let’s be honest here: newborn babies are just tremendously irritating. Their constant whinging, at all hours, day and night; their inability to perform even the most basic of biological tasks (the processing of milk and its subsequent disposal as solid, liquid or gas) without inordinate amounts of fuss; and their extreme sensitivity to the slightest suggestion that you’d like them to switch from being cuddled, to lying in their bed – all of these engender a certain grumpiness in this father. So, rather than a Clinton Cards-style paean to the wonders of new life, I am going to have a moan instead. And this particular moan is about how, despite recent developments, we still can’t seem to get parental leave right in this country.

OK, so here’s how parental leave worked when our son was born back in 2010. I got 2 weeks on full pay. The Mississippi* got a choice: 18 weeks full pay, followed by 21 weeks on statutory maternity pay (SMP, about £135 a week), for a total of 39 weeks; or 12 weeks full pay followed by 12 weeks on half pay, followed by 21 weeks on SMP (45 weeks total). Both options can be extended to 52 weeks using unpaid leave. (See here for full details of my University's policy).

Now this system is fine, quite generous even, but it really accentuates differences between mums and dads, and (especially when you are at similar career stages) this certainly contributes towards the gender gap in scientific careers. In an effort to allow for a more equitable division of parental duties, the government has more recently introduced a system of additional parental leave, which (in theory) allows the leave to be shared between the parents, with up to 26 weeks available for dad.

Great, we thought, and started hatching a plan based on something like: I could take (say) 8 weeks of APL, as 2 days a week spread over 20 weeks. This would mean I could be at home for Thursdays and Fridays, when #1 is not at nursery; we could spend some time together as a family and support each other.

But, having eventually made some sense of the various documents, we realised that sadly the system is not this flexible. Or rather, not at all flexible. In fact when you look into the details this new system starts to look less and less attractive, particularly from a dad’s point of view (and especially if dad’s income is ≥ mum’s). First, you (dad) cannot take any of your APL in the first 20 weeks (when, you know, a bit of extra support might be useful). You cannot take any until mum returns to work (so no chance to spend some extra time together as a family). And you have to take it as a solid block (no chance to spend a couple of days at home every week, then).

Importantly too, as a couple there is absolutely no extra money – any time that you take as a dad will only be paid when it falls within the 39 weeks, after that you’re on unpaid leave. And even within the 39 weeks, you’ll only be on SMP. So if you, as a dad, are the higher earner as a couple you’ll be materially worse off by taking advantage of APL, compared to mum taking all the available leave. It seems to me to be a system designed without consulting those who want to use it. And I honestly can’t see it encouraging many more dads to take more than their statutory two weeks, which surely was the intention.

There are encouraging signs that further refinement of this policy is planned – or at least, Nick Clegg has made encouraging noises about this. Remember those halcyon days of ‘I agree with Nick’? Well, here, I do:

From 2015, the UK will shift to an entirely new system of flexible parental leave. Under the new rules, a mother will be able to trigger flexible leave at any point – if and when she feels ready. That means that whatever time is left to run on her original year can be taken by her partner instead. Or they can chop up the remaining time between them – taking it in turns. Or they can take time off together – whatever suits them. The only rule is that no more than 12 months can be taken in total; with no more than 9 months at guaranteed pay. And, of course, couples will need to be open with their employers, giving them proper notice.

All this is too late for me, of course (no chance of Webb3.0, baring a catastrophic accident…), but it seems obvious to me that this is what we should do. We need to throw additional money at parental leave, and trust parents to sensibly and flexibly apportion this between themselves, over the entire course of the period covered. I am convinced this will pay for itself by helping both men and women to balance family and work commitments more effectively. Comprehensive childcare would help too – in my institution, we rely on the Students’ Union to run the (excellent, oversubscribed) nursery, with rather little interest or support from central University. I would love to see universities more generally take the lead in providing subsidised childcare for all staff and students who need it.

But for now, I am conducting a controlled experiment to test my hypothesis that ‘part time academic’ really is an oxymoron.

 

*For some time I’ve been in a quandary as to what to call my partner (we’re not married), as ‘partner’ sounds too formal, ‘girlfriend’ too frivolous, and other alternatives too icky (‘other half’? Nah) or not entirely PC (the Profanisaurus’s ‘bag for life’…). So I settled on ‘the missus’ as light-heartedly affectionate and ironic – promptly autocorrected by my phone to ‘the Mississippi’, which I rather like…

A note on the title: I was sorely tempted to write ‘damp squid’ (which I’ve seen used more than once in print) as it’s such a lovely image; being a stickler for making sense though decided to stick with the correct version…

 

Zombie stats and hair-trigger outrage: reflections of a Twitter addict

It seems somehow odd to come over all reflective about Twitter, that most impulsive of online communication channels. But over the year or so that I’ve been using it as a kind of super-effective personalised newsfeed, several cautionary tales have played out in my Twitter feed, which I have here distilled into two key lessons. First: distrust numbers, even – especially – those whose implications sit well with your worldview. And second, reign in your outrage: issues are almost certainly more complicated than 140 characters allow. Twitter, by its very nature, gives you soundbites. If you’re lucky, you’ll get a link to something more substantial, but it is so very easy to retweet something that appeals to your sense of how the world works without scrutinising the numbers. My favourite example (not least because it got me onto BBC R4’s More or Less!) is the ludicrous ‘100 Cod in the North Sea’ story that I blogged about last year. Now it takes just a moment’s thought, if that, to realise that this number is very very wrong (by a factor of at least several hundreds of thousands, in fact). But it played so nicely into the ‘overfishing is devastating our seas’ narrative that many people declined to give it that moment, and unthinkingly retweeted.

This is just one example, but my Twitter feed is full of them. I’m interested in the natural environment, and the impacts that we are having upon it, so I follow a range of environmental groups who tend, for instance, to jump immediately on numbers making renewable energy look especially attractive. Now climate change terrifies me, and I am fully behind the idea that we need to decarbonise the economy as a matter of some urgency. But I also agree wholeheartedly with David McKay who, discussing the favourable carbon footprint on nuclear power in his (essential, free) Without the Hot Air, states “I’m not trying to be pro-nuclear. I’m just pro-arithmetic”. Fortunately, the vigilance of people such as Robert Wilson (@CarbonCounter_) provides a corrective to some of these numbers (see for example his dissection of an awfully inaccurate Guardian report on costs to consumers of gas vs. renewables). But such arguments rarely translate so well to Twitter soundbites and so the zombie stats – numbers that we know are wrong, but which are appealing – refuse to die.

What’s the harm in all this? In my post on the cod story I mentioned the fragile trust that now exists between the fishing, scientific and conservation communities which has led to promising progress in the recovery of North Sea cod stocks but which can easily be shattered by the promulgation of laughable statistics. More generally, dubious numbers muddy whatever water they fall into. In his excellent critique of mainstream economics The Skeptical Economist, which I reviewed previously, Jonathan Aldred warns that “dubious numbers are infectious: adding a dubious number to a reliable one yields an equally dubious number”. Which leads me to propose Mola mola’s second law1:

An argument advances with the rigour of its most dubious number

So it doesn’t matter how watertight the ethical case for regulating cod fisheries, or for moving away from fossil fuels; if you use farcical numbers to advance this case, the argument will fail to progress.

Another consequence of these kinds of zombie stats is the hair-trigger outrage for which Twitter is (in)famous. This applies just as much to the niche worlds of the practice and administration of science as it does to Westminster or celebrity gossip. In particular, it is rare for a day to pass without some call appearing in my timeline to sign a superficially worthy-looking petition. I am extremely wary of doing so, for a couple of reasons.

For instance, a while back I signed something against some kind of reforms (I didn’t read the details) in a European marine institute which I have visited a few times and where I have friends and colleagues. Surely I should support them in their hour of need? Hmmm. Well. Next time I went, my friend – an extremely conscientious and committed member of the institute – said words to the effect of ‘Please, nobody sign that petition. These reforms are exactly what we need and the people fighting against them do nothing here.’ Duly chastised, I resolved to be more discerning in future.

Then there was the curious incident of Nerc’s planned merger of the British Antarctic Survey with the National Oceanography Centre. Now it is my view that Nerc handled this pretty poorly, but although there were some pretty convincing arguments – both scientific and geopolitical – against this merger, there were good arguments for it too, and chatting to people I know at both NOC and BAS (as well as reading things like this excellent coverage from Mark Brandon) just confirmed to me that this was very far from the black and white issue painted by many environmental journalists and pressure groups who backed a petition against it. And the joy which met the announcement that the merger (which is what was proposed, although it was typically presented as the 'dismantling' or ‘abolition’ of BAS) made no mention of the budgetary constraints at Nerc which had prompted the proposal, which still exist, and which will now require that savings be made in some other area of environmental science.

To reiterate: I don’t know whether the correct decision was made. But that’s precisely the point. I know the issues and institutions involved pretty well, yet didn’t feel sufficiently well-informed to decide one way or another. In such a case, it would be hugely irresponsible of me to sign any petition. Yet many thousands of people did. Call me an old cynic, but I doubt all that many of them had read widely on the rationale for the merger. Sadly, it is now far easier to create a petition – let alone sign one – than it is to inform yourself about an issue. Of course, the UK government has made a rod for its own back here with e-petitions initiative and its commitment to debate in parliament any issue that gains 100,000 signatures. But it is our responsibility as thoughtful citizens to take the issue of signing a petition seriously. Which usually means basing our opinions on more than 140 characters of research.

Bearing these caveats in mind, and keeping critical faculties engaged at (almost) all times, Twitter remains for me an essential source of information, conversation and debate, and an invaluable means to publicise work and opportunities, and I encourage non-tweeters to have a go - good guides for sciencey-minded beginners here, here, here and here.

1First law here