Eco Chamber #1: Past and future in Albany, Western Australia

March 26th, 2009

My heart was beating through my chest as I came within a feet of a harpoon ship and the lethal spike on its bow. But this was unlike the times I had come close to harpoon ships before. Coming back from covering an anti-whaling campaign in the Antarctic, ambushed and attacked by Japanese harpoon ships for weeks, you would think I would be used to seeing these gunner ships. However, this particular ship, the Cheynes IV, was apart of an old Australian whaling fleet and was now an on-land museum of Australian history. The harpoon ship was no longer operational, but my adrenaline kicked in nonetheless as I walked up to it.

Having finished my time onboard ship with Sea Shepherd, the radical anti-whaling campaigners who pursued the Japanese whaling fleet all winter, I took a road-trip down to Albany, Western Australia. A little over 30 years ago, a group of radical activists including my parents, Robert and Bobbi Hunter, protested Australia's whaling here. Leaving almost daily with two Zodiacs off of Albany's coast in September 1977, they were able to harass the Australian whaling fleet. Their protest lead to international attention on Australia's whaling, a national inquiry and the end of the whaling industry in Australia.

Today, Australia is one of the strongest anti-whaling nations in the world. It both supports anti-whaling groups like Sea Shepherd and lobbies against countries that continue to kill whales, such as Japan. And over 30 years later, what I found in Albany in my own visit was a beacon of change. The main industry today in the city eco-tourism and whale-watching. An industry that has brought more income to the city and its citizens than the whaling industry ever did. As tourists from around the world come to Albany to learn about whales and see the great animals alive.

The old whaling station and its harpoon ships in Albany, owned and operated by the Cheynes Beach Whaling Company, are relics of the past. It's now been turned into a museum called Whale World. There, visitors can venture through an old harpoon ship, the Cheynes IV, and the old whaling station, including its processing decks, boiler rooms, storage, and so on.

In Albany, organic local foods are the standard for residents. And the majority of Albany's energy is produced with green wind power, powering 75 percent of the city's energy needs with 12 1,800 KW wind turbines. Albany residents have lowered their greenhouse gas emissions by about 77,000 tonnes annually, which roughly equivalent to the annual emissions of 13,000 homes in the UK.

But out of all of this, the most surprising thing I experienced in Albany was to have an ex-whaler as my tour guide of the city. Kees Van der Gaag is a dutch whaler who came to Australia in 1969. As a master and gunner of the Cheynes II for the Cheynes Beach Whale Company between 1970 and 1977, he always enjoyed the chase but dreaded the kill. After a meeting of minds with anti-whaling protestors in 1977, he quit whaling and found work on a tugboat instead. Now retired and in his 70's, he is a stanch protestor against countries that continue to whale.

"It is horrifically cruel and completely unnecessary," Van der Gaag tells me. "I know better than most, because I used to be a gunner myself."

Whale meat, used in Australia for dog food and in the manufacture of missile lubricants 30 years ago, is not used for anything more crucial today in Japan. There, it is served in cafeterias in high schools, jails and military bases — and still used as dog food. Some things have changed, but others have stayed the same.

It always seems in environmentalist circles that as one battle is won, another one begins, or the larger war rages on undaunted. Counties like Australia, Canada and England no longer kill whales. This is primarily because of protests, such as the one in Albany 30 years ago, that led to international pressure and an international ban on commercial whaling (commercial whaling being the main culprit for landing the great whale species of the world on endangered-species lists in the first place). However, countries such as Japan and Iceland have pried open loopholes and commercial whaling still continues in some parts of the world. These days, nearly a thousand whales, including endangered species, are targeted every year in the Southern Ocean.

But even though the ecological battles of the past may seem lost at times and the eco-fight today is even more global and apocalyptic than ever before — there are symbols that we must hang on to. Albany is one of those symbols.

The city is proof that things can change. The jobs and industries of Albany have been partly transformed into a sustainable green economy. The city is doing better financially because of it. And the chief offenders themselves, the whalers, are now environmentalists. This all happened because of some pretty simple ideas. But those ideas drove people to action. Things have changed for the better in the past and can change again. But it is people, and it has always been people, that make the differance.

Polarized #16: Homeward bound

Feburary 20th, 2009

We received word that a commando ship was after us in the Antarctic Ocean. It was the night of February the 7th, and the Sea Shepherd ship, the Steve Irwin, had chased the Japanese whaling fleet for seven days and nights, stopping them from killing more whales. The chase had come to a climax the day before when there was a collision with the Sea Shepherd ship and a harpoon vessel. But our battle had to end now. News came through that a Japanese security ship would be in the area within a day. The goal of the commando: to board the Sea Shepherd vessel (potentially violently), arrest the crew and destroy video footage, as well as any photographic evidence we had of the hunt.

Many of us onboard wanted to keep fighting. We were willing to risk injury, arrest, perhaps our lives for the cause we had been pursuing since December. And the Sea Shepherd ships have always been expendable: they have been used in ramming and sinking vessels they oppose since 1977 (in non lethal ways, i.e. sinking ships in port with no crew aboard). But the real risk was to our cameras.

The camera has been a tool for change in the environmental movement for over 35 years. The footage we have now showcases the killing of whales, an illegal act in itself — but one that groups like Greenpeace have already shown the world. But we also had captured the whalers on film violating other laws, including their aggressive, violent, and potentially lethal tactics to harm people. The last few days' worth of events had provided a wealth of footage that the world needs to see.

To save our cameras, and to save the footage we've captured with them, might force more governments into action on the issue. So Captain Paul Watson decided to head away from the fleet. We headed southwest for McMurdo base, a U.S. research station near the Ross Ice Shelf (the largest free-standing ice mass on the planet — it's the size of Texas). Slowly, we lengthened the distance between us and the Nisshin Maru, the flagship of the Japanese whaling fleet. At first, we charted a course away from McMurdo, in order not to give away our destination and our course. By falling behind the fleet, it would look like we had mechanical problems and were still tailing the fleet, instead of leaving.

It was February 9th at 9 a.m. when we arrived at the Ross Ice Shelf. It appeared we had escaped the fleet unharmed and the ruse seemed to be working: the fleet had not whaled for another day after we left. It seemed we could relax and enjoy the Ross Ice Shelf, which is an amazing sight. It looks like an ice wall, glowing neon blue, that goes as far as the eye can see on either side of it. It towers a hundred feet above the water, so that you can't see the top of it without a helicopter. The ice goes 900 feet below the water line. We were ending the campaign on a high note, or so we thought.

Out of the fog ahead, we could see a ship. At first the spotters thought it was nothing, an Antarctic mirage. But it wasn't. We thought it might be a legitimate research vessel, a tourist boat, a supply ship — anything but the commando vessel after us. Luckily, it wasn't what we feared, but in a way it was just as bad: the mystery ship was a spotter vessel from the whaling fleet, the Kyoshin Maru 2. Instead of spotting for whales, it was now spotting for us.

Knowing our coordinates were being relayed to the fleet and commando ship, we left the Ice Shelf and ran full-tilt to McMurdo. But it soon became clear that wasn't going to be possible either: hard ice surrounded the base, and all other bases near the Ross Sea. At that point on February 9, Captain Watson decided to head due north to Australia. We would head straight for land and hope that the commando ship did not intercept us. We had no other choice.

I'm writing this 72 hours into our journey north, and we believe we're in the clear. At this point, if the fast commando ship were going to board us, they would have already done so. We are out of the area of the fleet and heading home.

The battle this year is over, but the war continues. Its a war for the whales, but its also for a larger ecology. This is a war because the political conflict over whaling has spurred dangerous confrontations this year, the most dangerous in the history of this conflict. The two sides battled it out for their opposing visions, and national leaders have also chimed in, condemning and condoning the actions of both sides. Some lives — the lives of whales, which Sea Shepherd believes have as much worth as human lives — have been lost, but others have also been saved. The activists could claim this much as victory, for now. But the war still rages on.