Defiant whalers becoming the species at risk

Japanese fishermen proud of their old traditions are returning to the hunt, but changing consumer tastes could spell the end of their industry. Richard Lloyd Parry reports.

Ayukawa in northeastern Japan may not have much by way of culture and history, but it certainly makes the most of what it does have. It has declared itself the Town of Whaling. Next to the port is a shopping centre where visitors can buy whale bone jewellery and cuddly whale toys, and dine on whale sushi and whale curry.

Troupes perform whale-themed dances at the annual Whale Festival, while stalls sell dishes of fried whale meat. The local Buddhist temple has an obelisk commemorating the spirits of whales.

Whale Land, a multimedia museum, is housed in a whale-shaped building with displays of whale skeletons, harpoons and a whaling ship, and videos on the history of whaling and its revival as an industry of the future.

Whaling is back, and Ayukawa is excited. Three years ago, amid intense controversy and international criticism, Japan walked out of the International Whaling Commission (IWC), the body that imposed a worldwide ban on the hunting of whales.

Released from its strictures, Japanese whalers carried out commercial whaling for the first time in more than three decades. The remaining fleet of five privately owned coastal whaling boats, as well as one large whaling company, have been allowed to go out hunting. Two of the boats are based in Ayukawa.

To many people around the world, for whom whaling is the indefensible slaughter of precious creatures, this looked like a brutally retrograde step.

But the fanfare in Ayukawa conceals a more complicated story, in which there is as much desperation as celebration – and in which the whales actually come out on top.

The notion of commercial whaling is misleading because no-one is making any money out of it, nor expects to for years to come.

After Japan submitted to the IWC ban in 1988, a loophole permitted ‘‘scientific whaling’’, in which the government paid for ‘‘research’’ into whale numbers – a thinly veiled pretext to keep the industry alive.

As a commercial proposition, however, whaling is fraught with difficulty.

The cold, dangerous life of a whaler has little appeal for the young. The age of whale hunters is rising. One of the engineers who sails out of Ayukawa is in his 70s.

Mysterious changes in the ocean and patterns of marine life have made finding whales more difficult than ever. The boats often have to sail far north, beyond the island of Hokkaido, with the expense of burning more fuel, processing the whales in faraway ports and transporting them back to Ayukawa.

‘‘At this stage, it’s difficult because there are so many costs,’’ said Nobuyuki Ito, president

of Ayukawa Whaling.

In the years since commercial whaling was resumed, the coastal boats have failed to reach their permitted quota of 120 whales a season. And even when the meat is ready, few Japanese are interested.

After World War II, whale meat was an important source of protein, served regularly as part of school dinners. In the wealthy Japan of the 21st century, however, it competes with a vast range of foods.

In 1962, about 200,000 tonnes of whale meat was sold nationally. In 2016, the figure was 3000 tonnes, compared with 2.6 million tonnes of pork and 2.4 million tonnes of chicken.

Whaling communities are trying to promote the image of whale meat as sophisticated haute cuisine. The Japanese, however, eat less whale than horsemeat – and that is not popular.

‘‘People have not really been exposed to whale cuisine for 30 years,’’ said Kazuhisa Miyakawa, who promotes the whaling industry for the nearby city of Ishinomaki. ‘‘The price is relatively high, compared to chicken or pork.’’

Ayukawa is trying to revise the modern diet by introducing whale meat into local schools twice a year. But there is no sign that this will transform the meat’s image any time soon.

With high costs and low demand, the industry relies on subsidies, estimated by Junko Sakuma, an independent whale industry researcher, at about NZ$66 million a year.

This covers half the cost of Ito’s whaling operations, although the government has intimated that such a safety net will not be provided indefinitely.

Much emotion is discharged by those who oppose whaling on moral grounds. Many Japanese environmental campaigners, however, welcome the return to commercial whaling for a simple reason: it has actually led to fewer whales being slaughtered, and it promises to kill off the industry within a generation.

‘‘The government took up commercial whaling to save face,’’ Sakuma said. ‘‘The result is that the number of whales killed is far less.

‘‘Antipathy from foreign countries made them stronger. When white people tell them what they should and shouldn’t eat, that gives them power. It’s best to remain quiet and not fuel the argument.’’

In the centuries-long battle of man against whale, the hunters are now an endangered species.

With high costs and low demand, the industry relies on subsidies, estimated . . . at about NZ$66 million a year.