This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license.
Workers processing whale at whaling station, Rose Habour, Queen Charlotte Islands, 1921. Image courtesy of University of British Columbia Library.
The earliest documentary evidence of organized whaling dates back to the 11th century in the Basque Country. From there, the activity spread rapidly across the ports of the Bay of Biscay, from Galicia to Labourd in France, and then across the Atlantic to countries such as Brazil and Iceland.
It became an extremely profitable business, but the sheer volume of catches and poor management eventually led to a ban to protect whale populations. Today, the practice has all but died out.
In the Basque Country, whaling was carried out using small rowing boats that set sail as soon as a whale was sighted. Once the boat reached the whale, it was immobilized using hand-thrown harpoons and finished off with spears. The carcass was then towed to the beach to be processed.
Basque whalers also eagerly sought out calves. They knew that by capturing them, the mother would follow them into sheltered waters, making it easier to hunt her later.
For centuries, the main product obtained from whales was oil, used for lighting and to make soap, which was essential to the wool industry.
Although catching these large cetaceans entailed risks—whales are not known for their aggression, but any wounded animal will always turn on its attacker—the profits sustained entire local economies. This led to some fifty ports along the Cantabrian coast becoming involved in this industry.
In traditional coastal fishing, whales were processed by hand on the beach, using simple tools like hatchets, knives and hooks. Etching from the Histoire générale des drogues, by Pierre Pomet, Paris 1694.
Whaling Spreads Across the World
From the 16th century onward, the Basques expanded their activities across the Atlantic, reaching Iceland, Greenland, Newfoundland and even Brazil. This expansion did not go unnoticed, and from the 16th century onward, other powers such as France, the United Kingdom and the Netherlands joined the whaling industry, causing global catch figures to skyrocket.
By the first half of the 19th century, whaling was taking place in every ocean in the world, and the industry was generating extraordinary profits. Annual profit margins typically ranged from 25% to 50%, which meant that the investment required for an expedition could be recouped very quickly.
Some vessels made vast amounts of money. Take the Lagoda, a ship built in Massachusetts in 1826, which yielded a profit 120 times greater than its owners’ initial investment within just twelve years. Its annual profit margin reached as high as 361% in one year.
By the 20th century, modernization led to the use of iron-hulled ships powered by steam engines, equipped with cannons that fired 80-kilo harpoons fitted with explosive grenades. These advances made whaling even more profitable and lethal.
Profits frequently exceeded 100% per year, although over time they began to decline due to the gradual depletion of cetacean populations.
A whale being speared with harpoons by fishermen in the Arctic sea. Engraving by A. M. Fournier after E. Traviès. Wellcome Collection.
Zero Interest in Sustainability
The wisdom accumulated by multiple generations of whalers made it clear that whales’ extraordinary productivity was limited by their slow reproduction rate. While the logical course of action would have been to adjust catch levels to allow populations to recover, the industry chose instead to maximize profits. This meant rapidly depleting local stocks in one area, and then moving on to another.
To make this happen, portable, collapsible whaling stations were developed. They were designed for intensive, mobile operation.
The Norwegian Herlofson family, who introduced modern whaling to the Spanish coast, were a prime example. The patriarch, Peter, began his activities in Norway in the 1880s. In 1896, he established a factory in Iceland, which he closed after five years, moving it in 1902 to the island of Harris in Scotland.
There he was replaced by his son, Carl, who in 1921 first moved the base of operations to the Gulf of Cádiz and then, in 1925, to Galicia. In 1928 he moved it to Newfoundland and by 1932 he was working in Namibia, before ending his career on a factory ship in Antarctica. Between father and son, over the course of 50 years they operated eight different whaling grounds—an average of one every six years.
In a letter, Carl made his business policy very clear: the aim was to quickly skim off “the cream” from each fishing ground and, once it had been depleted, move on to the next one.
An adult and sub-adult Fin whale are dragged aboard the Nisshin Maru, a Japanese whaling vessel that is the world's only factory whaling ship. The wound that is visible on the calf's side was reportedly caused by an explosive-packed harpoon. This image was taken by Australian customs agents in 2008, under a surveillance effort to collect evidence of indiscriminate harvesting, which is contrary to Japan's claim that they are collecting the whales for the purpose of scientific research. Image courtesy of Australian Customs and Border Protection Service.
The Decline of Whaling
These abuses profoundly changed public perception. The whale went from being seen as a fearsome creature—along the lines of Moby Dick—to a symbol of conservation.
In 1946, the International Whaling Commission (IWC) was established to regulate whaling. By the 1970s it had already protected many stocks, and was managing the remaining ones through strict quotas. Whaling was finally under control.
However, the whaling industry was resistant to change, and it was only after pressure from environmentalists—who were very active in the 1980s—that a moratorium on commercial whaling came into force in 1986, intended to last five years. The measure was approved by a narrow majority—Spain’s role was decisive, as its vote was the one that tipped the balance.
Although the moratorium was due to end in 1991, the measure was extended indefinitely, largely due to its symbolic significance. For many, the idea of resuming whaling was unacceptable.
Japan, Norway and Iceland, countries with strong whaling interests, challenged this decision by arguing that the populations of the whales they hunted were in good condition, a claim supported by scientific studies. They withdrew from the IWC, and resumed hunting under national quotas. Today, two-thirds of whale catches are made in spite of the IWC, under criteria set by each country.
Since a significant proportion of its income came from membership fees paid by member countries—which in turn depended on their whaling activities—the IWC has been forced to sell its headquarters and hold meetings less frequently.
Though it pioneered the international regulation of fishery resources, it eventually became a victim of its own success, as its regulatory work was surpassed by the momentum of a social perception forged in earlier times, when whaling was unregulated and overexploited.
The IWC has since reinvented itself by addressing topics such as whale-watching tourism and the impact of pollution.
On Spain’s Cantabrian coast, almost a thousand years of whaling history have left a deep and clearly visible mark. Small ports in the north of the Iberian Peninsula are home to museums, monuments, the ruins of watchtowers and old whaling factories, coats of arms featuring whaling symbols, as well as lintels, tombs and gravestones decorated with harpoons and scenes of whale hunting. This historical legacy endures as a testament to a fishing industry that is now long abandoned.
Álex Aguilar, Profesor de Biología Animal, Universitat de Barcelona
This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.
