DIVELOG JUNE 406

Biting the hand that feeds you

J ust so that there’s no doubt in anybody’s mind about where I stand on the issue, let me put it on record that I’m all in favour of the environment; I like it, and – as far as I’m concerned – the world’s a much better place with an environment than without one. Having now made my position absolutely clear, I’d better point out that, in the past, I never gave the environment much thought. A firm believer in the notion perpetrated by generations of Chief Petty Officers (who took exception to ship’s decks being littered with rubbish) that the ocean was the ‘world’s biggest ashtray’, I always assumed that the sea was more than capable of dealing with anything that I happened to throw its way. Even the term ‘environment’ only meant the difference between being on the spray-soaked bow of a boat, or sitting in a dockside bar whose atmosphere was thick with cigarette smoke and the fumes of spilt beer. Over the years – and successfully resisting all attempts by environmentalists to win me over to their cause – I remained a happy victim of ignorance and apathy. To be fair, my attitude was coloured by the belief that environmentalists were some sort of fanatical sect who urged new recruits to run around naked in forests with the occasional pause to give rough-barked trees a big hug. Not only was I not prepared to rip off my Mickey Mouse boxer shorts in front of strangers, but I also had to consider the potential for serious injury. (The thought of another naked tree hugger offering to remove splinters from crucial parts of my anatomy with a small pair of tweezers seemed to me a poor way of winning hearts and minds.) Once I discovered that it was OK to keep your clothes on and still be an environmentalist, I became much more receptive to their aims, particularly with regard to the oceans. Easing myself gently into the conservation cause - and committing to a small, tax-deductible monthly payment – I joined a campaign to Save the Whales under the impression that it was some sort of marine mammal ‘adoption’ programme. I waited for the organisation to assign me a whale of my very own. Months went by without so much as a, ‘ thank you for the pilchards ’ postcard from the ungrateful critters, and nothing to show for my concern other than a wardrobe full of ‘Save the Whale’ ‘T’-shirts. (All of which, I later decided, had probably been made in third-world countries for subsistence level wages on hand driven sewing machines lubricated with whale oil.) Although I still like to think that my passive financial support played a small role in helping prevent the extinction of a species, it did slowly occur to me that few of us ever consider the big picture when it comes to the environment - or the impact of our seemingly good intentions.

During dives, I used to think nothing of hacking open sea urchins and feeding the contents to swarms of appreciative fish. I only stopped when it was pointed out to me that I was interfering with the natural order of things and that sea urchins played an important role in the life cycle of reefs by, among other things, grazing on algae that would otherwise quickly spread and stifle the reef. It was a seemingly reasonable argument that I accepted until another conservation group – alarmed by the proliferation of crown-of-thorns starfish munching their way through the coral of Australia’s Great Barrier Reef – advocated an eradication programme in which divers are employed to inject the creatures with poison. Having previously been opposed to the practice of cyanide fishing and now beginning to wonder whether the environmental movement was operating on a full set of solar powered batteries, I turned my attention to more aesthetic issues, quickly discovering that there’s even a downside to the increasingly well-supported, Ocean Clean-Up days. Dumping vehicles, unwanted household appliances, bottles, cans and old car tyres into the ocean is something that most of us condemn. On the other hand, removing rubbish that’s been allowed to accumulate on the seabed over the course of decades can - unless it’s tackled selectively and with great care - have a devastating effect on the marine life by denying them refuge and shelter; a consequence that’s sometimes overlooked by those eco-friendly souls who want me to join them in plucking every piece of man-made refuse out of the ocean. I may have missed a vital chapter somewhere in the eco instruction manual, but it does seem to me that in constantly urging divers to become active in protecting the ocean environment, we’re actually adding to its woes. Which is why, I’ve decided to become more conscientious and caring by doing nothing! I’m not going to eat sharks; I’m not going to collect shells; I’m not going to encourage the trade in ‘souvenirs-of-the-sea’ by buying products made, for example, from turtle-shell, or by consuming any other endangered species; I’m not going to use ‘traditional’ medicines whose efficacy in restoring lost libidos relies on harvesting vast quantities of otherwise inedible seahorses; I’m not going to feed fish - unless it’s an involuntary response brought on by the motion of a heaving vessel in rough seas. I’m not going to throw anything into the ocean and - with the exception of plastic bags and other obvious pollutants - I probably won’t remove anything, either. Doing something for the environment by doing nothing might seem like a reactionary approach to the cause of conservation, but after years of imposing my values on an environment that needs me less than I need it, I’m prepared to pay more than lip service to the diving mantra, “ Take only memories and leave only bubbles ”

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DIVE LOG Australasia #406 - June ‘24