South Africa’s Cape Town offers long views of the sea and the sky. Located where the Indian and Atlantic oceans merge, the city is the most important overseas base for Taiwan’s fishing fleet.

On May 10, Cai Ming­shan, who had just flown half way around the world from Taiwan to carry out his duties, received a phone call with the following message: “There’s a 700-ton low-temperature long-line tuna boat, operating in the Atlantic. Transfer to it the day after tomorrow.”

On the other side of the world, located many time zones away, Qian­zhen Harbor in Kao­hsiung is home base for Taiwan’s distant-water fishing fleet. Cai’s colleague ­Zhang Jin­wei was just then preparing to set off for Ping­tung’s Dong­gang, where he would leave on a boat for the exclusive economic zones of some South Pacific island nations.

Heroes to the cause of protecting oceanic resources, fishery observers board fishing boats to record fishing hauls and by-catch. The photo shows fishery observer Zhang Jinwei (right) on deck with a foreign crewman.

Since the United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea was concluded in 1982, international fishery organizations have been asking their members to implement programs to put observers on boats, with a special focus on boats catching tuna, a highly migratory fish. The goal is to manage these oceanic resources. And the main basis for managing the resources of any fishery is an accurate assessment of fishing hauls.

Taiwan has a major distant-water fishing fleet, but underreporting and false reporting used to be prevalent. Hence the ROC was frequently accused of illegal, unreported and unregulated fishing.

When Taiwan was first struggling to join international fishery organizations (especially those connected to tuna), the ROC Fisheries Agency, noting this deficiency, decided to put observers on Taiwan’s tuna boats. The agency required that fishery observers have at least a high-school education, be fluent in both Mandarin and Taiwanese, and be able to communicate in English. In didn’t matter what candidates had studied, but those with experience on boats were preferred.

The Fisheries Agency notes that apart from requiring observers to pass the physical exam that is required for all workers on fishing boats, observers also have to demonstrate their ability to identify target species (mainly big-eye tuna, yellow-fin tuna, albacore tuna, southern bluefin tuna, and other tuna species caught by long-line boats) and other species that frequently appear in tuna fishing grounds (seabirds, turtles, whales and dolphins), as well as by-catch species (mainly sharks). They also have to pass fire-procedure and first-aid-at-sea tests before they can become certified.

Observers first started working on boats in 2002. Theirs is a unique profession: They work on fishing boats in three oceans, recording catch data and helping obtain samples for scientific studies and surveys on Taiwan’s fishery resources.

For those observers who are still inexperienced, spending more than half a year out at sea engenders a tremendous hunger to get back to shore.

A freighter, to which fish was transferred from a long-liner at sea, unloads its cargo at Kao­hsiung’s Qianzhen Harbor.

Based on his experience on long-range fishing boats, author Liao Hung-chi wrote Floating Island, which describes what it’s like to be on the boundless sea in the little kingdom of a fishing boat under the rule of its captain-king. The captain’s style becomes the style of the boat. His attitude becomes the boat’s attitude.

Observers aren’t true citizens of these kingdoms. They are placed on their boats by arrangement of the Fisheries Agency. And although they are instruments of government power, the captain may not fully recognize their authority.

“There are no two-day weekends on boats. If the crew doesn’t have time off, then we don’t either.” Nearly 60, Cai Ming­shan is Taiwan’s senior fishery observer. Before setting off for Cape Town, he and his 36-year-old colleague ­Zhang Jin­wei sat down to share their thoughts about life aboard ships.

According to regulations, observers have to work 12 hours a day, and must observe for 16 hours straight at least one day a week.

The presence on boats of these observers, who after all aren’t employed by the captain, is often regarded as a challenge to the captain’s authority.

Not every captain can swallow this indignity. Captains of a more philosophical bent may simply ignore the observers as best they can, looking right through them as if they weren’t there. But if an observer gets an ill-tempered captain, then he is in for trouble.

A stream of curse words flowing from the captain’s mouth is par for the course, Cai Ming­shan says. “On the surface it may sound like the cursing is directed at the crew, but those in the know can tell that it’s directed at our presence on board.”

“Don’t be a rat on this ship!” Some captains believe that observers are on board to find fault.

Zhang says that captains won’t physically abuse them and won’t keep them from eating their three meals a day, but they will find ways to mess with the observers. “There’s nowhere for you to sleep. Go sleep in the engine room.” After working for more than 10 hours, when the observers can’t get a good rest, it’s a form of psychological torture.

Zhang says that some captains block the observers from using the ship’s satellite equipment or intentionally order the crew away, so as not to assist the observer in measuring the length of fish.

When they encounter difficult captains, observers usually just resign themselves to their fate: “What are you going to do?” asks Cai. “You’re at their mercy.”

On a tuna boat in the Indian Ocean last year, the captain on several occasions yelled, “Get fricking out of the way!” to the observer and interfered with his observations and data collection. When the Fisheries Agency investigated and determined that the accusations were correct, the boat was confined to port for two months as punishment. Since that means depriving the boat and its captain of income, it represented a significant loss.

Generally speaking, observers understand the pressures that fishermen are under—and in particular the heavy burden on the captain to bring back ample amounts of fish.

“If the hauls are poor, the captain is going to be in a bad mood,” notes Zhang. “And if the hauls are strong, he’ll be happy.”

For this coming trip, Cai will be on a long-liner in the Atlantic, working on a scientific program being carried out in association with the US National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration. The purpose is to study if the use of round hooks could reduce the rate of sea turtle by-catch and increase the catch of target species. The hope is that these new hooks can replace J hooks and lessen the harm to sea turtle populations.

The joint US-Taiwan operation has scheduled nine months of data gathering. The results will be turned over to the International Commission for the Conservation of Atlantic Tuna and the international community.

At the same time that Taiwan fishery observers make records about hauls, they also serve on the front lines of oceanographic and fisheries research, providing samples to lab-based scientists.

For fishery observers, necessary on-ship equipment—in addition to waterproof report forms, a ruler and compass, laptop computer, camera, and digital video camera—also includes an electric drill to bore holes in fish heads. The goal is to retrieve the fishes’ otoliths, which offer clues as to the age of the animals and other aspects of their life histories.

What’s more, samples of reproductive glands, muscles, spines, and stomach contents are immediately collected after being hauled up, and then turned over to freighters to bring back to Taiwan, where experts will proceed with scientific analysis.

During the four weeks of training for fishery observers, procedures for collecting biological samples and fieldwork are stressed most. Even Kerl Tsai, who has a college degree, describes the training as tough. “There are tests in each subject and you’ve got to study at night,” he says. “You can’t goof off.”

The vast expanses and great depth of the sea fascinate people, but the open sea is also a treacherous, dangerous, and profoundly mysterious place. Isolated from civilization on land, it can cause some people to panic.

In Floating Island, Liao Hong-chi wrote that going to sea is a “transcendental experience akin to a prophet’s time in the wilderness.” Yet, as far as regular people are concerned, being a professional fisherman or working as a crewman on a boat are dead-end career choices.

What is it that attracts someone to become a fishery observer, to board a boat full of strangers, and spend half a year at sea? “Mostly it’s for the money!” exclaims Tsai, hitting the nail on the head.

Under their contracts with the Fisheries Agency, an observer’s monthly salary at sea starts at a little over NT$60,000. When the observers are on land, the figure is about NT$40,000.

Although economic incentives may bring people out to sea, they don’t seem to keep them there. Says ­Zhang Jin­wei, an observer with five years of experience: “A few years after starting, seven out of 10 observers will have quit.”

The true pillar of any long-term career is interest.

Tsai, who returned at the beginning of the year from Indian Ocean fishing grounds, edited his work log for a blog entry. Describing his 16th day at sea he wrote: “I caught the first rays of morning light, which really drove home how long-lining for tuna is an around-the-clock occupation. Twenty-four hours in a day doesn’t provide enough time.” After working for 26 straight hours, Tsai slept for five.

“I’m willing to exhaust myself working and deal with a dangerous work environment because these are things I want to experience. It’s an attitude that makes me feel good about this work.” Kerl Tsai has a degree in mathematics, and several years ago, after living out his dream of being a fisherman, he joined the ranks of fishery observers.

Apart from relative interest in the work, differences in physique also influence whether observers stay with the job for long.

“Some do it for a year or two but aren’t able to stifle seasickness and are forced to leave,” says Yang Xian­­yao, a researcher at the Fisheries Agency. “Some are so incapacitated by seasickness on their first trip out that it seriously affects their work, and they end up transferring to a freighter to go back home.”

Because of the insufficient numbers of fishery observers, the Fisheries Agency occasionally launches recruitment drives. So far this year it has hired 23 new observers, bringing the total to 70.

Tuna conservation organizations set minimum numbers for observers. For instance, the Western and Central Pacific Fisheries Commission has set a 5% coverage rate (for every 100 tuna boats, five must have observers).

Yang Xian­yao explains that although ROC observers are in short supply, Taiwan has managed to meet the 10% and 5% guidelines established for fishing boats catching big-eye and albacore tuna.

The reason for such an emphasis on the Atlantic: the Taiwan fishing fleet was caught for serious violations there, and its quotas were slashed.

At the 2005 meeting of the International Commission for the Conservation of Atlantic Tuna (ICCAT), Japan joined together with some other member nations to propose trade sanctions against Taiwan. The ICCAT General Assembly ruled that Taiwan had been over-catching and illegally transferring fish to other sellers. It decided that Taiwan’s big-eye tuna quota for the following year would drop from 14,900 to 4,600 metric tons. Moreover, only 15 Taiwanese boats would be allowed to fish the Atlantic. The remaining 42 boats in the fishing fleet would have to return to Taiwan and suspend operations for a year.

Cutting the quota by 70% resulted in losses of NT$2.5 billion. “It was a blow, a blow right to the heart,” recalls ­Hsieh Wen-jung, chairman of the Taiwan Tuna Association, who is still upset about it today.

What’s more, ICCAT put the Fisheries Agency under pressure to impose a 100% inspection rate on the remaining boats.

“In 2006 there were observers put on all 15 of the boats,” notes Cai Ming­shan. “Each of us was responsible for filing daily reports about the catch. The following year international organizations praised the Taiwanese distant-water fishing industry for its performance, and we regained the quota we had lost.” Cai is proud of the contributions he and his fellow fishery observers made to the industry that year.

Zhang Jin­wei explains that the fishing industry really does try to keep accurate totals, which help it obtain the highest possible quota. By verifying that the catch figures are correct, observers aren’t intending to make trouble for boat captains.

The fact is that global tuna stocks long ago entered a stage when protections and controls are necessary. The distant-water tuna fleets of various nations are no longer competing for catch totals, but rather for the size of their quotas.

The ocean is the mother of life, but it’s also a very mysterious place. What quantities of oceanic resources remain is unknown. By making a record of what is caught by long-range fishing fleets, these observers play a needed role and add pieces of knowledge. Let us praise these nameless heroes of the sea!