It is 7:00 AM, and the scorching summer sun is bright as I sit in the panga (a small-scale boat) on the Sea of Cortez in Baja California Sur, Mexico.
I watch my fisher friend staring into the horizon. “What everyone needs to understand is that we will never stop being fishers; that is who we are and will always be,” he said.
I first met him in 2021, when I arrived for the first time to the 100-degree heat of Baja California Sur, eager to see how aquaculture – which, as I like to put it, is like doing agriculture in the water – was helping coastal communities recover their fishery resources. I only needed a week of meeting people, talking with them, and getting to know them over “ballenas” (their term for large beers) to realize how wrong I was. Within five minutes of standing at their oyster aquaculture project, I realized this was nothing like I imagined. One of the fishers working in aquaculture told me, “What is the point of aquaculture if I don’t feel good or happy?” Over the years, I heard the same feelings over and over again. And on that panga, my friend had crystalized that communal woe.
To read a version of this story in Spanish click here. Haz clic aquí para leer este reportaje en español.
Over the past decade, aquaculture — understood as breeding, rearing, and harvesting fish, shellfish, algae, and other organisms in water environments — has rapidly expanded. This expansion is frequently proposed as a solution to the decline of wild-caught fisheries, which in the past few years have reduced significantly. For small-scale fisheries in marginalized communities, particularly in the Global South, wild-caught fisheries provide around 90% of the employment and livelihood. From Ghana to Bangladesh, Vietnam to Kenya, and Mexico, communities have embraced aquaculture as a remedy for dwindling fish stocks. Aquaculture’s growth is a central pillar of the Blue Economy, which promises social and economic benefits for the communities where it is implemented.
However, after listening to the voices of small-scale fishing communities in Mexico, I’ve come to question the expansion of aquaculture and the Blue Economy as a whole. Aquaculture is not only failing to fulfill its economic promises, but it’s leaving fishers unhappy, unfulfilled, and missing their culture. In a world where climate change and its impacts are increasingly evident in small-scale fishery communities, researchers, policymakers and agencies need to shift our focus from the economic gains of the Blue Economy to the well-being of the communities and create policies that have people and their rights at the center.
What is the Blue Economy?
On paper, the Blue Economy sounds pretty good. Central to the narratives of many development agencies, it is presented as a way to gain economic value from the oceans for low-income countries in the Global South, while promoting food security, economic development, social inclusion, and environmental sustainability. Some examples of Blue Economy projects are Marine Protected Areas (MPAs), and the promotion of aquaculture, which are seen as ways to provide economic benefits to communities and simultaneously aid in restoring ecosystems impacted by overfishing.
After listening to the voices of small-scale fishing communities in Mexico, I’ve come to question the expansion of aquaculture and the Blue Economy as a whole.
However, these policies ignore the complex cultural realities of fishing communities. In my conversations with community members in Baja California, I’ve found they think of aquaculture as a boring job that might provide them with some economic benefits. As I heard them say things like “aquaculture is boring, fishing is fun,” I understood they saw it as an activity where they are not fishers. And when I heard them say things like “I miss the freedom and culture of going out fishing,” I understood that for them fishing is not about money or a job. It was a way of life, a net cast into the past connecting them with the memories of their great-grandparents who, like them, were fishers and divers, and taught their grandparents – who in turn taught their parents – to become one. As one of them put it, “fishing is everything there is.”
This disconnect stems from the fact that fundamental ideas behind the Blue Economy are often conceived on a global and national scale, primarily by development agencies and governments. These policies often fail to account for the social, cultural and historical values of coastal fishing communities, leading to unintended consequences like disrupting social cohesion within the community – especially if some individuals perceive more benefits from aquaculture than others – driving those who want to continue traditional fishing practices to illegal fishing, creating further environmental issues like polluting the water where extensive aquaculture farming takes place and rendering communities vulnerable to external shocks, such as hurricanes and pandemics.
In a way, asking a community of fishers to turn to aquaculture and give up fishing entirely is like asking a community of hunters to become agricultural workers – and be content with that monumental shift in their way of life.
Moving forward: Blue Justice
For the Blue Economy to succeed, its policies must respect and incorporate the traditions and values of the communities it aims to benefit. This requires a shift from top-down policies to more inclusive and participatory approaches that address the needs and aspirations of local fishers. This new approach has been endorsed by many community members, academics, and scholars who’ve come together in the Blue Justice movement. Drawing on environmental justice theory, the Blue Justice movement examines how blue economy and ‘blue growth’ initiatives impact coastal communities and small-scale fisheries, and seeks to place communities at the heart of development narratives, ensuring they have a voice in these processes.
During a conversation with my fisher friends in Baja California last year, I asked them how they envisioned aquaculture in their community if they had the power to decide. One of the community leaders responded, “the government and other organizations should understand that we are not going to stop fishing, ever. We were born in the water.” The consensus was clear: their traditions and customs must be incorporated into policies and these policies should be flexible enough to allow them to choose how much time to spend on either fishing or aquaculture. Moreover, it should be acceptable if they opt not to engage in aquaculture at all.
Fundamental ideas behind the Blue Economy … often fail to account for the social, cultural and historical values of coastal fishing communities.
Admittedly, shifting policy perspectives from an economic focus to a community-centric approach is challenging and often disheartening. There have been moments when I felt deeply discouraged, as making decision-makers understand the importance of incorporating the well-being of communities and their perspectives is extremely hard. However, I am confident that change will come if we continue to listen and empower these communities, as it is already happening.
In Roatan, Honduras, there is an initiative carried out by young local scientists to provide a voice and leadership to the youth of the island and have them monitor and manage their natural resources such as coral reefs and mangroves. Projects like Ocean defenders are centering the voices of underrepresented communities all over the world negatively impacted by Blue Economy initiatives. Furthermore, researchers from diverse backgrounds like economy, sociology, feminist studies and environmental sciences are coming together to critically think about how to provide better, equitable solutions to the communities who are being affected by the current Blue Economy narratives, building the Ocean Nexus network.
During my last fieldwork trip, in spring 2024, I created booklets for the community. I wanted to give back the knowledge they had shared with me. The booklets contained important information so that if they ever decide they want to do aquaculture, they know how to do it by themselves. The pages were filled with interview quotes, photos of shared moments, and a comprehensive framework for an aquaculture policy grounded in Blue Justice principles. One of my fisher friends, with teary eyes, just said “Thank you.” This simple yet profound expression of gratitude reaffirmed my belief in the importance of giving communities a voice in shaping their futures.
This essay was produced through the Agents of Change in Environmental Justice fellowship, a partnership between Environmental Health News and Columbia University’s Mailman School of Public Health. Agents of Change empowers emerging leaders from historically excluded backgrounds in science and academia to reimagine solutions for a just and healthy planet.