New NW CASC Synthesis Explores the Effects of Climate Change on Invasive Species in the Northwest

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This article was originally published by NW CASC.

National Forest Service
The North Coast-Cascades Network Invasive Plant Management Team and Olympic National Park staff travel into the backcountry at Olympic National Park’s Elwha River.

There is growing concern that changing climate conditions will amplify the negative impacts of non-native invasive species and facilitate their expansion. Despite the potential ecological and economic impacts of invasive species expansions in the Northwest, there has been no comprehensive synthesis on climate change effects on invasive species – until now. NW CASC-funded researchers Jennifer Gervais (Oregon Wildlife Institute), Clint Muhlfeld (U.S. Geological Survey) and colleagues conducted an extensive literature analysis to determine the current state of knowledge about climate change effects on non-native invasive species in the Northwest.

This analysis focused on studies describing how climate change has already influenced, or is projected to influence, the demography, range, spread or impact of almost 400 non-native invasive species. These include both terrestrial and aquatic species that have either been documented in the Northwest or whose future invasion of the Northwest is considered inevitable.

Findings: This study highlights how little we know about how climate change has or will affect aquatic and terrestrial species in the Northwest, especially at the fine geographic scales needed to manage them. The few retrospective studies describing connections between climate change and terrestrial non-native invasive species were consistent in suggesting that environmental changes associated with climate change have already contributed to the expansion of non-native mammals, insects and plants. In aquatic environments, researchers have similarly demonstrated relationships between conditions associated with climate change and the expansion of non-native fish species (check out related NW CASC-funded research on the hybridization between introduced rainbow trout and native westslope cutthroat trout).

Compared to the number of retrospective studies, there were more studies projecting future dynamics of non-native invasive species relevant to Northwest ecosystems, the majority of which focused on plant taxa. Regardless, both the retrospective and forward-looking studies suggest that while climate change may often benefit aquatic non-native invasive species, it will have more complex and context-specific effects on terrestrial non-native species.

This literature review highlights our limited understanding and ability to predict how non-native invasive species in the Northwest will respond to climate change. Although our understanding of how climate change may interact with non-native invasive species is notably lacking, some evidence suggests that climate-induced non-native invasive species expansions are already underway in the Northwest, particularly in aquatic ecosystems, and will be exacerbated by future changes in temperature and precipitation regimes. Since existing studies suggest that invasives will have varying impacts on native species depending on context, this study also highlights the need for research at the regional and local scale where management actions are taken.

Authors Jennifer Gervais and Clint Muhlfeld urge collaboration among managers, biologists and researchers to develop “a more coordinated and integrated research and monitoring approach,” which will be critical for understanding the environmental conditions that facilitate the spread of invasive species, as well as which habitats and native species might be most vulnerable to their future spread in the Northwest. This understanding can help inform climate adaptation strategies aimed at reducing the impacts of non-native invasive species on Northwest aquatic and terrestrial ecosystems.

Read the synthesis

Here’s a mental health tip to get you through coronavirus quarantine: Find tranquility in nature

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This article features EarthLab Nature and Health leaders Kathleen Wolf and Peter Kahn.

Written by Corinne Whiting for  The Seattle Times.

During the coronavirus pandemic, getting out in nature can be beneficial for your mental health. Just make sure you’re still practicing social distancing while walking around in a park. Photographed at O.O. Denny Park in Kirkland, Nov. 18, 2019. (Mike Siegel / The Seattle Times)

At this bizarre moment in time, most are digging deep into internal “toolboxes” in an attempt to retain some semblance of zen. Maybe you’re experimenting with meditation and yoga, crafting and cleaning, or indulgent wining and dining, shared with a Brady Bunch-esque setup of telesocializing friends.

Yet there’s one thing two University of Washington scholars guarantee can bring relief: nature. And thankfully, Seattleites have abundant access to this healing resource. There’s more good news: Even if you can’t experience the budding trees and chirping birds in person, connecting through a window or computer screen brings welcomed benefits, too.

Kathleen Wolf, a research social scientist at UW’s College of the Environment, cites widely sourced evidence — spanning some 40 years — that emphasizes the importance of nearby nature experiences for both our physical and mental health, and “deep, compelling” research that proves these experiences to be restorative. Experimental studies show positive effects for people with clinical mental challenges, from adults with depression to children with attention deficit hyperactivity disorder.

“We fully recognize that this is not a substitute for a diagnosis and treatment by a health care professional, yet it’s one opportunity for people to feel better,” Wolf said. “Everyday nature experiences are so good for mental wellness. Pursue them; be mindful.”

Peter H. Kahn Jr., a professor in the UW psychology department and the School of Environmental and Forest Sciences, recommends getting your heart rate up through daily movement — outside in nature, if possible. Even urban dwellers can practice social distancing on neighborhood sidewalks and in green areas. “This is the very time for people to get out on walks, no matter your level of ability,” Kahn said. He believes this practice connects us to our ancestral paths, and an age-old pattern of leaving and homecoming that dates back to hunter-gatherer days.

“The going out and the return is powerful,” he says.

Click here to read the full article.

 

EarthLab Response to COVID-19

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EarthLab is closely monitoring the local outbreak of the novel coronavirus and are making every effort to address the changing needs of the community, wherever possible.

EarthLab continues to follow all advice and directives set forth by the University of Washington, which are detailed at length on the UW Novel Coronavirus Information Page.

For College of the Environment-specific information and guidance relating to changes in study, teaching, research, staffing and fieldwork, please visit the UW Environment COVID-19 Resource Page. This information was developed by the College COVID-19 Response team with the support of College Chairs and Directors.

The Great (Neighborhood) Outdoors: staying connected with nature during Coronavirus

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EarthLab and Population Health co-award grant to study new invasive species in Madagascar

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We’re excited to announce a new research project that will be co-funded by UW EarthLab and UW Population Health. The aim of the proposed pilot project, “Environmental and human health impacts of a new invasive species in Madagascar,” is to provide the Malagasy government with the information it needs to appropriately manage the invasive marbled crayfish (Procambarus virginalis) in ways that minimize impacts on local biodiversity while maximizing benefits to public health.

The project team is a a new interdisciplinary collaboration, with Chelsea Wood, UW School of Aquatic and Fishery Sciences; Peter Rabinowitz, UW Department of Environmental and Occupational Health Services; Luciano Andriamaro, Réseau International Schistosomiase Environnement Amenagement et Lutte; Susanne Sokolow and Giulio DeLeo, Stanford University Julia PG Jones, Bangor University; and two Malagasy partners: RISEAL and Madagascar’s Ministry of Health.

This is the second co-awarded grantee between EarthLab and Population Health. The inaugural research project, “Ethnoforestry: Applying Traditional Ecological Knowledge for Ecosystem Sustainability on the Olympic Peninsula,” focuses on applying traditional ecological knowledge of local people to forest management on public lands. This results of this project are expected in late 2020.

The University of Washington Population Health Initiative announced the award of approximately $250,000 in pilot research grant funding to six different faculty-led teams. For more information on Population Health and their 2020 grantees, visit the Population Health website.

How Native Tribes Are Taking the Lead on Planning for Climate Change

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Swinomish tribal members from Washington state participate in a clam garden restoration in British Columbia. PHOTO COURTESY OF SWINOMISH INDIAN TRIBAL COMMUNITY

This article was originally published on Yale Environment 360

On a hot summer’s day, marine ecologist Courtney Greiner walks the shore of a rocky Washington beach at low tide with a handful of staff and interns. They stake out the ground and hunch down, digging up the top two inches of mud, silt, and gravel looking for baby clams.

For thousands of years, the indigenous peoples of the West Coast would build rock walls at the low tide line, allowing sand to pile up behind them, making the slope of the beach gentler, and expanding the area of the intertidal zone that clams like to call home. These simple clam gardens are effective at boosting shellfish numbers, and have long been used to improve food security for traditional peoples.

Now the Swinomish are reviving the old idea to build the first modern clam garden in the United States. Greiner, who works for the Swinomish tribe, is collecting the data that will help the tribe determine the garden’s best location. The project aims to boost clam numbers, providing both a sense of purpose for the community and additional food as other resources, like salmon, decline.

This is just part of the Swinomish’s plan to ensure the ongoing prosperity of their people in the face of a changing climate. “They were the first native community — and really one of the first communities, period — to make climate adaptation a priority,” says Meade Krosby, a conservation biologist with the University of Washington’s Climate Impacts Group. The tribe’s climate proclamation came out in 2007, and their action plan, published in 2010, was one of the first such documents in the United States. “They’re early adopters and really innovative,” she says.

The Swinomish have already launched projects aimed at helping the community adapt to a shifting climate in the Pacific Northwest. To protect salmon runs, the tribe is working on the Skagit River to create better spawning beds and is planting trees to provide shade and reduce river temperatures. In addition, the tribe is fighting to block mining operations in the headwaters of the Skagit in British Columbia, which could impact waters downstream.

“Tribes have always been adapting to climate change — now we have to adapt even faster,” says one Navajo leader.

Another project aims to restore a healthy population of native Olympia oysters, long threatened by pollution and crowding out by competitive Pacific oysters and now impacted by ocean acidification. Workers have brought in truckloads of oyster shells and dumped them on beaches to provide new homes for imported natives; the imports grow well, says Greiner, but so far have yet to produce a next generation of shellfish. “It’s a learning process,” she says. A site for the first clam garden should be chosen by next year. And a wetlands project is documenting the local plants that have ecological and cultural importance to the Swinomish, as part of efforts to better manage the changing coast for salmon and farmers alike.

Across North America, other indigenous communities are stepping up to formulate and enact climate action plans to protect their way of life. In 2019, the Karuk tribe of northern California released its climate adaptation plan with a recommendation to return to prescribed burning, an old idea that might help to ease California’s wildfire problems. The Tulalip tribes of Washington state are relocating nuisance beavers from urban areas back to traditional watersheds to help lower river temperatures and aid salmon populations; they are also redirecting agricultural runoff for electricity generation. The Jamestown S’Klallam tribe in Washington is removing invasive butterfly bushes from the banks of the Dungeness River to help protect its salmon. The Confederated Salish and Kootenai Tribes of Montana are gathering and planting seedlings of the whitebark pine that are more resistant to warming-related diseases such as blister rust. Alaskan tribes are using microscopy to identify harmful algae blooms spurred by warming waters. The list goes on.

“Indigenous peoples have always been on the front lines,” says Nikki Cooley, who grew up without electricity or running water on the Navajo Nation reservation and now co-manages the Tribes and Climate Change Program for the Institute for Tribal Environmental Professionals (ITEP) in Flagstaff, Arizona. “Tribes have always been adapting to climate change. Now we have to adapt even faster.”

Tribal program manager Mike Durglo Jr. examines what remains of a 2,000-year-old whitebark pine on the Flathead Indian Reservation in Montana, where trees are dying from warming-related diseases. CHIP SOMODEVILLA/GETTY IMAGES

As Krosby puts it, indigenous peoples “have unique connections to the land and are feeling impacts the earliest and most severely.” One study found that coastal indigenous communities eat 15 times as much seafood as non-indigenous people in the same country — food that is being heavily impacted by everything from pollution to warming waters and ocean acidification. In the far north, buildings are collapsing and indigenous communities relocating as permafrost thaws, and traditional practices like reindeer herding are being threatened as winter snow changes to freezing rain, which locks up winter forage like lichens under ice.

“It’s happening all over the world,” says Brian Cladoosby, chairman of the Swinomish tribal community. “I have seen an elder standing on their cemetery in [the Pacific island nation of] Tuvalu and it was covered with water — they can’t bury their people there anymore.”

These are communities that have relied on the land for generations, building an intimate knowledge of the natural cycles of plants, animals, and weather. Unlike the traditional Western worldview that humanity can and should seek dominion over the environment, indigenous populations tend to view humanity as part of an interconnected whole. “We knew if we impacted one part of the web, the whole thing could fall apart,” says Cladoosby.

Adds Cooley, “We put our non-human relatives first, meaning the trees, the sky, the water. We don’t treat them as objects to be studied in a lab. We revere them.”

Indigenous communities tend to think many generations ahead when planning how to utilize resources.

Indigenous communities also tend to think many generations ahead when planning how to utilize resources — a lot further than a U.S. presidential cycle allows. “America can’t even think past 4 years,” says Don Sampson, Umatilla Tribe member and head of the climate change project for the Affiliated Tribes of Northwest Indians (ATNI), a 57-tribe consortium. “It’s a short-sighted country.”

The UN Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change’s recent reports have acknowledged with “high confidence” that adaptation efforts benefit from the inclusion of local and indigenous knowledge. “One of the things that comes across really clearly is the fact that indigenous peoples are by far the most effective stewards of biodiversity,” says Krosby. “They do the best job.” One study showed, for example, that deforestation rates across the Amazon were two to three times lower in indigenous-held lands. According to the UN Intergovernmental Science-Policy Platform on Biodiversity and Ecosystem Services, indigenous peoples hold or manage a disproportionate amount of formally protected areas and areas with low human impact: these groups occupy 28 percent of the planet’s land, but more than 40 percent of protected areas. In Canada, the government funded an Indigenous Guardians program in 2017, recognizing that First Nations communities are well placed to serve as stewards of the land.

Cooley estimates that ITEP has worked with representatives of some 300 of the 574 tribes in the United States and that there are now more than 50 tribal climate action plans in effect. “In the past five years, tribal climate action plans have exploded,” she says. Sampson’s goal is to ramp that up to 100 percent within five years: “We have to accelerate the ability and capacity of the tribes; we want all tribes to identify the impacts and have a plan for that.”

Sampson also notes that many tribes are making huge strides on energy independence, weaning themselves off fossil fuels to protect both the environment and their economic future: the Navajo nation, for example, long reliant on coal, has made big investments in solar power.

The Swinomish tribe makes its home in western Washington, on an island carved out by the narrow Swinomish Channel. The land is low and at risk from sea level rise: A five-foot increase this century — at the high-end of sea level rise estimates — could swamp more than 1,100 acres of the 10,000 acre reservation, including all its agricultural lands. Part of the Swinomish territory is particularly sacred as a fishing and shellfish gathering spot, says Cladoosby. “One year, just a normal tide, not a storm surge, covered up that area,” he recalls. “That had never happened before. It was eye opening for us.”

About half of the reservation’s acreage is forested, and so is at risk from wildfire, especially in a hotter, drier climate. The tribe has just over 1,000 members, many of them relying on “first foods” — from shellfish to deer — for their welfare. The surrounding Salish Sea has seen salmon populations crash mysteriously over the past 30 years; the impacts of climate change — including reduced stream flows and warmer stream temperatures — have been cited as one culprit. Dungeness crab and shellfish larvae are in some places literally dissolving from ocean acidification.

For many indigenous groups, environmental health and human health are deeply intertwined.

In the Skagit River Basin, a shift from snowfall to rain in the surrounding mountains is projected to boost winter river flow but reduce summer flow, drying up tributaries and making waters warmer just as salmon spawn in late summer and fall. “When there’s no water for the salmon to return to, that’s a serious problem,” says Cladoosby.

“There’ve been times I’ve been really negative looking forward,” says Joseph Williams, a Swinomish tribal senator with five children. “Things are looking pretty bleak, especially for our salmon.” But these projects, he says, are proving inspirational to the next generation, helping to bring people together. “As long as we keep our kids excited about taking care of our environment, things remain optimistic,” he says.

For the Swinomish, as for many indigenous groups, it makes little sense to talk about environmental health and human health separately; they are deeply intertwined, with community cohesion and traditional food security being equally vital. Resilience to sea level rise doesn’t just mean managing wetlands, but also combating feelings of despair. Work led by the Swinomish tribe’s environmental health analyst Jamie Donatuto and tribal historic preservation officer Larry Campbell has created a set of health indicators based on these cultural values. They hope this approach will help researchers across the world think beyond simple morbidity and mortality as the only important measures of welfare.

Such work is often done in collaboration with non-indigenous scientists and governments. The University of Washington’s Climate Impacts Group last year released a Tribal Climate Tool, developed in close partnership with relevant tribes, that highlights specific climate impacts expected in local regions — from the number of hot summer days to inches of rainfall expected in coming decades — so tribes can see what they are facing and make decisions about how to adapt.

Swinomish fisheries managers and scientists collect data on how ocean acidification is impacting oyster and clam development. PHOTO COURTESY OF SWINOMISH INDIAN TRIBAL COMMUNITY

A number of such organizations are pushing this work forward in collaboration with local tribes, including the U.S. Geological Survey’s regional Climate Adaptation Science Centers; Krosby is deputy director for the northwest division. And there’s the Pacific Northwest Tribal Climate Change Network, based at the University of Oregon, which partners with Sampson’s division at the ATNI. In October, ATNI’s climate summit in Seattle is expected to attract tribal leaders from across North America, as they work on a national tribal climate crisis agenda for 2020 and beyond. “It’s a revolution that’s happening,” says Sampson. “Watch the tribes: they are going to lead us.”

For Cladoosby, part of that revolution involves re-awakening traditional connections to the land, which have eroded in recent centuries. “Part of the assimilation policy was taking stewardship of the environment out of our hands,” he says, leaving many communities locked in a cycle of trauma and cultural loss, along with drug and alcohol abuse. “Part of breaking that cycle is getting back that respect for the environment.”

“Right now, we are taking baby steps,” says Cladoosby. The Swinomish are still collecting data, securing treaty rights, educating their own people and others, he says. Alongside efforts to adapt and ensure resilience in the face of local change, political activism is also a big part of the picture as it can prevent some development and ensure that tribes maintain control over their lands. He acknowledges it will take time to establish long-term sustainable solutions. “We live in a pollution-based economy; it is based on making money and polluting the landscape,” Cladoosby says. “Trying to change that mindset is like trying to turn a tanker. It doesn’t happen over night.”

Climate Impacts Group summarizes Washington climate impact on water

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This article was originally published in Seattle Weekly.

Sound Publishing file photo
High tides, as seen in this file photo of Raymond’s Willapa Landing Park in Pacific County, could become the norm in the future due to sea level rise.

Climate change is affecting water systems in Washington, and with nearly 70 percent of the state’s population living near the coastline, it will likely affect life in the state in the coming decades.

A new summary published by the University of Washington’s Climate Impacts Group consolidated a September report from the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change and localized it for the state. It illustrated how the state could be swept up in global changes to both oceans and the cryosphere, or Earth’s frozen regions. These places include glaciers on the Cascades and Olympics, as well as seasonal snowfall.

About 10 percent of the planet’s land is covered by glaciers or ice sheets, which coupled with permanent snow, contains roughly 70 percent of all freshwater on Earth. Some 1.35 billion people live in low-lying coastal areas or high-mountain regions, both of which are affected by either oceans or ice.

In the U.S., 42 percent of people live along the coasts, and in Washington, that percentage jumps to nearly 70.

As the planet’s average temperature has risen by about 1.8 degrees Celsius since pre-industrial times, the oceans have absorbed much of the heat. This has led to sea levels rising by roughly 6 inches between 1902 and 2015. Ice sheets at the poles have also retreated quickly, and nearly half of all coastal wetlands have been destroyed over the last 100 years, according to the report.

Coastal ecosystems are expected to keep warming, making marine heat waves that harm water quality, fish and other animals more common.

In Washington state between 2014 and 2016, the “blob” of unusually warm water off the West Coast resulted in seabird and marine mammal die-offs, according to the report. Sea surface temperatures were much warmer than average. Also in 2015, a drought led to 17 major crops experiencing reduced yields from limited water.

By 2040, it’s expected that sea surface temperature off Washington’s coasts will increase by about 2.2 degrees Fahrenheit compared to the 1970-1999 average. This will make dangerous algae blooms more likely.

Glaciers in the North Cascades also decreased by more than half between 1900 and 2009, which could increase water scarcity for crops. Average statewide snowpack is projected to decline under current emissions projections by up to 70 percent by the 2080s. More precipitation in the winter will likely fall as rain, increasing winter flood risks.

The report noted that the Paris Climate Agreement set a goal of limiting warming to 1.5 degrees Celsius, or about 2.7 Fahrenheit. Greenhouse gas emissions must be dramatically lowered to hit that target. Globally, the report said there needs to be a more than 90 percent reduction in greenhouse gas emissions by 2050 to hit the target.

 

How climate change could impact the beer you drink

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This story originally appeared on King 5.

Climate change may threaten one of our nation’s favorite fizzy beverages: beer.

Rising temperatures across the world could impact some of the key ingredients in beer, including hops. Hops are flowers that are used to flavor beers. The flowers are a cousin of cannabis but with no THC.

The Yakima Valley in eastern Washington is the largest producer of hops around the world, and it requires a lot of irrigation to grow. But climate change could dry up that critical water and impact the beer you drink.

Scientists at the University of Washington said over the next 80 years, the Pacific Northwest will see warmer winters. This means much of the winter snowfall in the mountains will become rain and dramatically decrease the snowpack that provides that water. Researchers at UW said while snowpack levels tend to fluctuate substantially from year-to-year, spring snowpack has declined 30% on average between 1955 and 2016.

Climate Impacts Group
Predicted April 1 snow water equivalent in the 2020s.
Climate Impacts Group
Predicted April 1 snow water equivalent in the 2040s.
Climate Impacts Group
Predicted April 1 snow water equivalent in the 2080s.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Reductions in snowpack and glacier retreat across Washington’s mountains are projected to affect water resources and irrigated agriculture. Researchers estimate snowpack could drop by 29% in our current decade, 44% in the 2040s, and 65% in the 2080s.

That snowpack is important because in the summer months, when Washington sees little or no rain, it provides water to irrigate farms including hops. Even though there will be rain, snowpack melt is needed in order to meet the summer agricultural needs for the region to keep up with the demand for hops.

Anticipating this change, hops producers are already developing growing and processing methods that use significantly less water so the beer you drink today will still be around tomorrow.

 

NW CASC Funding Opportunity! 2020-21 Research Fellowship Program

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The Northwest Climate Adaptation Science Center (NW CASC) invites proposals for its 2020-2021 Research Fellowship Program from graduate students at University of Washington (UW), Boise State University (BSU), Oregon State University (OSU), University of Montana (UM), Washington State University (WSU) and Western Washington University (WWU) and postdoctoral scholars at BSU, OSU, UM, WSU and WWU (this Fellowship cannot support postdocs at UW).

The NW CASC Fellowship program supports research related to climate adaptation for Northwest natural and cultural resource management and provides training in the principles and practices of co-producing decision-relevant science. Funding will be available as early as Fall Term 2020, to support research performed during the 2020-2021 academic year. The deadline to submit proposals is March 16, 2020. 

Learn more

Are fishers poor? Getting to the bottom of marine fisheries income statistics

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New research reveals fishers’ incomes are below national poverty lines in over one third of countries with data

The links between fishing livelihoods and poverty are often discussed in both marine conservation and international development conversations, such as United Nations Sustainable Development Goals and Blue Economy. Yet, the lack of fishing income data impedes sound management and allows biased perceptions about fishers’ status to persist. 

A research team comprised of scientists from EarthLab and the School of Marine and Environmental Affairs at the University of Washington, the Institute for the Oceans and Fisheries at the University of British Columbia, Northeastern University, and the Marine Affairs Program at Dalhousie University, has published a new study in the peer-reviewed journal Fish and Fisheries to identify the drivers of income inequality in marine communities. ‘Are fishers poor? Getting to the bottom of marine fisheries income statistics’ reveals startling discrepancy amongst fishers by geography and other factors. Findings include:

  • Fishers’ incomes are below national poverty lines in 34% of the countries with data; 
  • Fishing income in the large-scale sector is higher than the small-scale sector by about 2.2 times, and in high-income versus low-income countries by almost 9 times; 
  • Boat owners and captains earned more than double that of crew and owner-operators. 

“While we find that it is not universally the case that fishers in a given nation belong to the lowest income group, we also find large variation in fishers’ income within a given nation,” said Yoshitaka Ota, research assistant professor of the School of Marine and Environmental Affairs and faculty advisor to EarthLab at the University of Washington. “These findings do not undermine previous work that connect fishing livelihoods and poverty, but it does show we have a long way to go to really understand how fisherfolk are making ends meet.” 

For the purposes of this paper, ‘fishers’ is a gender-neutral term used to describe people whose livelihoods depend on fishing. This paper uses standardized data drawn from international and national labor datasets, as well as published case studies examining fishing incomes in coastal communities. 

“Often fishers get lumped together as a single group, but this research shows that in fact there are rich fishers and poor fishers. We need to pay more attention to this heterogeneity and in terms of management, not assume that all ‘Fishers’ have the same interests,” said Lydia Teh, research associate at the Institute for the Oceans and Fisheries at the University of British Columbia.

While this study has resulted in many interesting findings, it is clear that more research is needed to gain a deeper understanding of income inequality in ocean fishing communities.

“These findings raise a compelling set of new questions, such as, what are the conditions that can lead to poverty in fisheries and what contextually appropriate strategies can be designed to support fishers in those cases?” said Andres Cisneros-Montemayor, research associate at the Institute for the Oceans and Fisheries at the University of British Columbia. “This paper shows that it isn’t as simple as ‘fishing equals poverty’ and that opens up many interesting questions. In the meantime, it’s clear that we need much more detailed income statistics if we want to support socioeconomic development on our coasts.”

 

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Are fishers poor? Getting to the bottom of marine fisheries income statistics

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