Rebecca Kessler

A law that would protect a massive stretch of Argentina's seafloor is running out of time for a parliamentary vote, and conservationists are racing to raise awareness before they run into major delays.

A law that would protect a massive stretch of Argentina’s seafloor is running out of time for a parliamentary vote, and conservationists are racing to raise awareness before they run into major delays. Creation of the “Blue Hole” reserve in the South Atlantic Ocean would protect thousands of square kilometers of seafloor from bottom trawling and require better working conditions on vessels fishing there. But the bill has stalled in Argentina’s National Congress for years and will expire in November. “[This legislation] is the only tool that exists today to begin protecting the area,” said Valeria Falabella, the director of coastal-marine conservation at the NGO Wildlife Conservation Society (WCS) Argentina. She added, “Fishing activity really needs management and review. There aren’t only environmental problems but human rights problems.” The Blue Hole, or Agujero Azul in Spanish, is an area of the Argentine continental shelf off the San Jorge Gulf in southern Patagonia. The shelf looks like an underwater cliff that marks the edge of the continent, where the deeper waters give it a darker-blue hue. Deep-sea currents feed the area with nutrients that sustain an incredible amount of biodiversity, from sponges and corals to southern right whales (Eubalaena australis). This hotbed of marine life straddles the imaginary line 200 nautical miles (370 kilometers) from Argentina’s coast that divides the country’s exclusive economic zone (EEZ), where it exerts exclusive fishing rights, from international waters. Just beyond the line, global fishing fleets trawl the Blue Hole’s seabed for red shrimp (Pleoticus muelleri),…This article was originally published on Mongabay

The President of Palau, Surangel S. Whipps Jr., has been calling for a moratorium — an official pause — on deep-sea mining in international waters for more than two years now, and he continues to reiterate his position.

Surangel S. Whipps Jr., president of the tiny Pacific island nation of Palau, wants more countries to join him in calling for a moratorium on deep-sea mining. This prospective industry, also called seabed mining, aims to extract sought-after minerals like copper, cobalt and rare earth metals from the deep seabed. As global interest in deep-sea mining grows, nations have been divided on whether to allow the industry to proceed. Advocates say the industry could procure critical minerals for “green” technologies like electric batteries and provide economic benefits for Pacific nations dealing with sea level rise and other impacts of climate change. Critics say it would cause large-scale and irreparable destruction of the seabed and surrounding marine environment, and that seafloor minerals aren’t necessary for renewable energy technologies and other commodities. At the U.N. Ocean Conference in Lisbon in 2022, Whipps, who had taken office a year earlier, became one of the first world leaders to officially call for a moratorium on deep-sea mining, along with leaders from Fiji, Samoa, Tuvalu, and Guam. Additionally, Palau and Fiji announced the formation of an alliance of nations calling for similar measures. Since then, a total of 32 nations have called for a moratorium or precautionary pause on deep-sea mining — both positions stipulating an official pause, albeit with different terminology. At one point, France even called for an outright ban. However, these calls have not been enough to stop the industry from moving forward. While commercial-scale exploitation of the seabed has not yet…This article was originally published on Mongabay

BEIRUT — Baby loggerhead turtles (Caretta caretta) and green turtles (Chelonia mydas) made their way from their sandy nests in South Lebanon to the Mediterranean Sea, their flippers seemingly too large for their tiny bodies. Videos circulating on social media show these vulnerable creatures being carefully guided by a group of dedicated people to ensure […]

Liberia revealed plans in May for a close season for fishing, but still hasn't given any details of what it covers, whom it will apply to, or even when it will come into force.

ROBERTSPORT, Liberia — “We depend only on the sea for our survival. How will we manage when the sea is closed?” Mamie Freeman was seated atop a beached canoe in Robertsport, a bustling fishing community in western Liberia. She glanced occasionally at her fellow fishmongers, who were busy packing up the fish they’d just purchased. She was worried about a government plan to implement a close season for fishing. No fishing for a portion of the year would mean no catch, no fish for her to sell, and no way to support her family. Mamie, whose fiancé is a fisher, had relocated to Robertsport due to low catch in the capital, Monrovia, where she used to live. She said she uses the proceeds from selling fish to provide for her eight children, including their medical, school, shelter and other needs. Any suspension of income, however temporary, could be devastating for the family’s thin finances. Close (or closed) seasons legally prohibit fishing activities during specific times of the year, either for particular species or gear types, or across the board. They’re a standard fisheries management tool to reduce the effect of overfishing and allow fish stocks to replenish. But the news of plans to implement the measure in Liberia, which the government revealed in May, has caused consternation within the country’s small-scale fishing sector. Since then, the National Fisheries and Aquaculture Authority (NaFAA), Liberia’s fisheries regulator, has released no further details about the rollout of the plan, leaving the public with…This article was originally published on Mongabay

For more than 20 years, a fishing cooperative in the community of Isla Natividad, in Baja California Sur, Mexico, has been working to adapt and to

Esmeralda Albañez used to be afraid of the sea. Just thinking about it would conjure up images of darkness, of how deep and unknown it was to her. Coming from a family of fishers and having grown up on Isla Natividad, in Baja California Sur, Mexico, it was clear that there was a connection between her and the sea surrounding her, but something kept her away from the water. From an early age, she was taught that the sea was not a place for women. From afar, Albañez watched as other women, mainly biologists, went diving near the island. Deep down, she wanted to escape her domestic chores — at least for a moment — and be one of them. That’s why one invitation was all she needed to overcome her fears. Encouraged by a friend, she signed up for a diving class, and now, every time Albañez puts on her wetsuit, the whole world seems different to her. Esmeralda Albañez carrying out scientific monitoring on Isla Natividad. Image by Jennifer Adler. “The first time I saw the colors and the light, the first time I was able to interact with the fish, I fell in love with the sea,” Albañez says. “Soon after, they told us that we could train to carry out monitoring with a group of men who had already been working on it since 2006. I didn’t hesitate to sign up.” In 2011, Albañez trained in scuba diving; three years later, in 2014, she was certified…This article was originally published on Mongabay

Norway is poised to move forward with plans to mine for seabed minerals along its continental shelf despite public opposition. On June 26, the Norwegian Ministry of Energy released a proposal for the first licensing round for mining of seabed minerals, setting out areas where companies could eventually apply for licenses. The proposal included a […]