DO FISH FEEL PAIN?
Some readers may be aware of a recent TV documentary during which the behaviour of recreational fishing was put under the microscope and where the morality of big game-fishing received a bit of a caning.
Subsequent editorial commentary in many national and regional newspapers reported on the argument. Most specifically, the case of a broadbill that was played for over 14 hours was presented as an example of the extreme and inhumane treatment of a noble fish.
The primary response of those representing the recreational position was to argue that either fish don’t feel any pain or certainly not the kind of pain we humans experience. How we can ever claim to know the nature of another human’s pain, let alone the pain of a species to which we have very little genetic connection is absolutely beyond me.
Anthropomorphic judgements in which we humans attribute to other species our own emotional responses are not new. Despite the reasonable doubts that can be raised concerning such conclusions, we humans seem to find great comfort in such anthropomorphism and especially in the west, allow major social policy decisions to made on such a basis. The approach of our own community to the conservation of marine mammals is the consequence of just such a process.
Our capacity to empathise with the feelings of other races of humans and of other species of living beings may, in the view of the more sage amongst us, be seen as the badge of our humanity. Indeed, the Nuremburg War-Crimes Tribunal attributed the inhumane extremes of both Japanese and Nazi wartime behaviour precisely to an absence of such an empathic capacity.
While anthropomorphic arguments may be weak, they possess a huge emotional appeal. Because of this appeal to the heart and a fundamental weakness in logic, it is my view that the argument that fish don’t experience pain will ultimately fail.
The logical challenge to the argument is simple: in the design of animals, the experience of something akin to what we call pain is a prerequisite to that being’s survival. The experience of pain is a message that all is not well and that ultimately, life may be at risk. That’s why all the animals and fish with which we are most familiar have survived to reproduce over millions of years. Any being without such a pain reflex is unlikely to take itself out of life-threatening situations and may ultimately fail as a living organism.
So how should recreational fishos deal with this attack on the morality of their sport? Firstly, let’s recognise that there is a case to treat all living things with respect and for those engaged in taking life for food or sport, that the hunt should be as humane as possible. This is not a big ask.
As a recreational fisho who takes such issues seriously, it is my experience that a healthy reverence for the lives that we take enhances the quality of the fishing experience. In celebrating the privilege of recreational fishing we learn to treat all fish landed with care and to ensure any deaths are as quick as possible and that the fish so captured are professionally managed to ensure that the life has not been taken in vain.
And we should applaud the strong moves taken in this regard by the big game fishing industry in recent years. Readers may be interested to know that more and more game-boats are rigging with maximum line weights and using recurved hooks. The heavier line-weight shortens the fight and the hook design increases the percentage of superficial hook-ups from which released fish have a better chance of recovery. Furthermore, the percentage of local billfish tagged and released, currently in excess of 80%, grows every year. While some may question the morality of the fight, at least a release is better than a death.
The validity of the argument that damaged fish may die once released is a difficult one. While the image of an escaped fish swimming about with a hook in it’s throat and a heap of line hanging out its mouth has been the cause of more than a little personal anguish, I am pleased to report to concerned readers that personal experiences and conversations with other recreational fishos confirm the not infrequent experience of landing healthy snapper for example, only to find they have a rusting hook in their gullet or hanging from their mouths. It would appear that apart from high quality stainless steel, a hook in the sea rusts out very quickly and those in the gut are even more quickly dissolved in the fish’s gastric juices.
For these reasons, many of the better skippers refuse to use stainless hooks. And speaking from personal experience, this can be a very expensive call, as the previous seasons hooks may have to be thrown out each year due to excessive rusting in the salt air alone.
The proposition that line weights could be further increased warrants serious consideration by the international game-fishing community. There seems to be a general consensus that increased line-weights do leave released fish in a healthier state. Common tactics reported by the better skippers is to back down hard on fish and release marlin in less than half the time taken in the very recent past by those who celebrate the drawn out battle.
More often that not, it is the specific request of the game-fisherman who pays the not inconsiderable bills, that the fish be fought as quickly as possible and released in the best possible condition.
Also, the management of those classic drawn-out battles so well captured in Hemmingway’s “The Old Man And The Sea” may require review. Agreed to protocols when signing on for a game-fishing trip could include agreed to procedures for the management of such battles whenever they occur.
The allure of such drawn-out battles are a deeply held part of the fishing mystique, and though non-fishing observers may see the battle as callous, those who have experienced such a battle often recall the struggle with great reverence for their fish. More than a few end up putting away their rods.
It’s my view that we humans, especially the bloke variety, retain strong hunting instincts. All humans have got to where we are by being good hunter-gatherers. Those who hunt and fish are more in touch with these primal instincts than those who oppose hunter-gatherer behaviour who could well be argued to be in denial of their essential nature. While hunting and fishing may not be everyone’s cup of tea, the right to embark on such a profoundly human endeavour can hardly be denied.
For many who embark on a game-fishing adventure, they are fulfilling life-long ambitions that in the general course of modern life remain frustrated. We live in a society where most have lost contact with the lives that have been given to enable them to live, where the flesh of animals and fish comes in neat little hygienic packages that reveal little of their origins. Those who hunt and fish are following primal impulses and taking moral responsibility for the lives that feed them.
The local and international animal welfare lobby is extremely powerful and should not be taken lightly. And while we should recognise the compassionate sensitivities of others to sport fishing, I believe we should resist the attempt by the lobby to impose their one-eyed morality. Let us each make our own moral choices and live with their consequences.