Issue link: https://maltatoday.uberflip.com/i/621909
14 TURNING up half an hour early for an interview has its advantages sometimes. I had arranged to meet Martin Caruana, a local fisherman and former head of the Fisheries Co-operative, in central Marsaxlokk on New Year's Eve, 3pm. Fears of traffic gridlock proved unfounded, parking proved ample, and when I arrived, I found I had some 40 min- utes to spare. The market was still open. Besides, I hadn't been here in years, and the sun was only just beginning to peep out from behind dark clouds that had earlier lashed the place with rain. I can think of worse ways to end 2015, than to take a stroll along the Marsaxlokk waterfront. An interesting place it is, too. There is an unmistakable feeling that its character is rapidly chang- ing, almost directly before our eyes. Colourful luzzus still roll and bob on its oily waters, true – but Mar- saxlokk harbour now looks more like a tourist resort than a once- thriving fishing village. One tell-tale clue is the near- total disappearance of the typical trammel nets (pariti, to use one of around a thousand new Maltese words I was about to learn) that were so often seen being mended on the promenade. Likewise, one or two luzzus had been hauled up the slipways onto the hard for repairs. In bygone days, it might have been tens of luzzus, and the air would reek of paint and tarred wood. Today, the odd boat being painted here and there seems strangely out of place… almost usurping areas now designated for al fresco dining. Later, Martin Caruana will give me a small tour of what's left of Malta's Fisherman's Row: now lim- ited to one or two (mostly broken) slipways, and a newly inaugurated concrete platform which Caruana informs me cost €1 million in EU funding. I can't help feeling like I'm look- ing at the last of a dying trade. What went wrong? We are now seated at a small kitchen table in Caruana's home, also on the seafront. "In the old days, Marsaxlokk was full of fishermen, full of boats," he begins. "But it was never a big oper- ation in terms of industry. Most ves- sels were small fishing boats, mostly luzzus, fishing in what we now call the 'conservation zone'… up to 25 nautical miles off the coast. They used to catch a lot of fish, too…" 'A lot of fish' is, of course, relative. The amounts landed by traditional Maltese fishermen paled into in- significance compared to the large industrial fleets of other nations fishing in the same sea. Before the 1990s, however, Malta had no large trawlers – and trawling itself was not permitted in Malta's territorial waters. "The sort of fishing that took place was all sustainable: they used long lines (konzijiet), and if they fished with trammel nets (parit), each boat would only throw down between five and seven nets at a time… Caruana recalls that many fish- ermen would go out at night, and fish for mackerel (kavalli) or bogue (vopi) using lanterns (lampari) within sight of land. That finally ex- plains a phenomenon I remember as a child: the sea at night was often full of twinkling little lights, which from a distance looked like fallen stars floating on the water. In years gone by there would have been entire constellations of them at certain times of year. Today, you will only ever see a handful of indi- vidual lights. "Everything had its own season," Caruana goes on. "There was a season for lampari, a season for lampuki, a season for deep-water fishing using long lines, a season for traps, and so on. My father, for instance only ever used traps. In those days – before the advent of industrial fishing – you could catch almost anything with traps. Lob- ster, all sorts of bottom fish… even king prawns. I could mention types of fish, which used to be abundant, that are now considered a rare deli- cacy: red mullet (trill), Ray's bream (tennut), grouper..." The ecological impact of these traditional methods of fishing, Caruana argues, was minimal. "Even trammel nets, which are of- ten criticised as unsustainable and indiscriminate… the biggest prob- lem with trammel nets is that they sometimes get stuck and are left on the seabed…." In nine cases out of 10, he adds, the culprits will be amateur, leisure fishermen who "don't know what they're doing". "The first time their net gets stuck, they'll just yank it a couple of times, and if it doesn't come loose, most will just cut the line and leave it there. You won't get many profes- sional fishermen just abandoning a net like that…" If used properly, Caruana argues that a trammel-net is far less det- rimental than the more recent in- novation that has replaced it: bot- tom trawling, which was illegal in Maltese waters until we joined the European Union in 2004. "With trammel nets, you simply lower the net and then raise it later. You don't drag it against the sea- bed. There is no damage to coral, or anything else. And you're only fishing from one particular place, so the surrounding ecology is undis- turbed..." His father's generation was the first to experience the negative im- pact of trawlers, when industrial fisheries began taking over around 30 years ago. "At first it was mostly foreign trawlers: mostly Italian. Then, two or three Maltese fishermen invested in trawlers, too… but these, at the beginning, still worked within the traditional seasons. They still had an impact – all bottom trawling does – but on its own, it wasn't felt as much." Caruana recalls that the passage of these trawlers would leave an eco- logical desert in its wake. "My father would be fishing in one area, and when a trawler passed, there would be nothing left to catch for miles around. And unlike static nets, the sea would not replenish itself after- wards. They wouldn't catch any- thing for weeks afterwards…. It's as though, apart from dragging every- thing from the bottom, the fish get scared, and that's the last you'd see of them." Though small, Malta's traditional fishery fought back harder than its larger, more industrialised rivals ex- pected. "In the 1970s, Mintoff had done something about the situation. He extended Malta's territorial waters up to 25 nautical miles – it was con- troversial at the time, but you know how Mintoff was: if he set his mind on something, he just did it… and he also banned trawling from Mal- tese waters." Caruana pauses to run a quick search on his laptop. "Here it is, Chapter 226, Territorial Waters and Contiguous Zone Act…" By extending territorial waters, Mintoff effectively expanded an ex- isting 1934 ban on trawling over a much larger territory: "It shall not be lawful for any steam or motor propelled vessel or trawler, as well as for sailing vessels, to shoot or tow any kind of nets within the ter- ritorial waters of these Islands…" Enforcement was taken more seri- ously, too. "Once, an Italian schoon- er decided to defy the ban and trawl in Malta's waters," Caruana recalls. "The vessel was impounded by the Coast Guard, and as far as I know they never got it back…" Predictably, Italian fishermen (and Sicilians in particular) did not take too kindly to the game-change. "I remember one time, I was in Sicily and got talking to some local fish- ermen. One of them burst into tor- rent of abuse against Mintoff…" he breaks into a laugh. "Not all these 'fishermen' were necessarily catch- ing fish. It turned out that this one was smuggling cigarettes, and had to throw his cargo overboard when Maltese patrol boats showed up." Some of the jettisoned boxes would later be retrieved, and Malta was often flooded with cheap, duty- free cigarettes, all of the same brand. "They were even smoked in parlia- ment. Someone I know has a photo in which a uniformed policeman can be seen smoking a contraband cigarette," he concludes, chuckling. There was, however, a serious side to Malta's unilateral territorial expansion. Though it may not have been the primary intention (which arguably had more to do with oil ex- ploration rights), it certainly gave a boost to local artisanal fisheries. "The small Maltese fishing vessels – the luzzus, equipped with traps and long-lines – began to experi- ence a recovery. In a way, the 1970s and 1980s were a golden age for the fishing industry. In Marsaxlokk, the number of boats increased, and you could see young people jingling change in their pockets. By then, swordfish had become a large part of the market." It wasn't before? He shakes his head. "Maltese fishermen only began going out for swordfish in around the late 1960s. At first it was only caught occasionally. But the traditional swordfish method, using long-lines, got established around 1974 onwards…" Here he breaks off to extol one of Malta's great advantages as a fishing nation: its ingenuity and resource- fulness. "If the Maltese fisherman has any quality that sets him apart, it's that he learns fast. And he develops what he learns, too. He doesn't just copy: he improves…" Swordfish is a classic case in point: the Maltese copied the basic meth- od from the Italians… "but we im- proved certain details, like the knots used for the hook. Maltese fisher- men developed a way to attach the hook using a thread, which made it harder for the line to snap when a big fish bites…" Similar successes were observed in other seasons and methods. By the late 1980s, the industry had been revitalised, and future pros- pects looked good. "The reality is that what we call 'a conservation zone', back then, really was a conservation zone. Only sus- tainable fishing was allowed. And we reaped the fruits at the time." As with all golden ages, however, this one was doomed to come to an end. "When they began negotiating EU accession [in the 1990s], the gov- ernment gave the impression that retaining the 25-mile zone was a priority. And in fact, we retained it. But, 'by exception', they gave per- mission for trawling to resume in Maltese waters. And not only that, but they passed a law forbidding boats larger than 12 metres from fishing within the zone. Quite a few of the local luzzus are over 12 metres. It's not very big, for a fish- ing boat. This means they now have to go out more than 25 miles to Interview By Raphael Vassallo maltatoday, SUNDAY, 3 JANUARY 2016 Fishing in troubled Mintoff extended Malta's territorial waters up to 25 nautical miles – it was controversial, but you know how Mintoff was: if he set his mind on something, he just did it ACTION If, in years gone by, there was a saucepan from which 50 people would eat roughly the same amount… now, more than half that saucepan has been gobbled up between two or three SCARCITY