Abstract
In 2009 the Norwegian Directorate of Nature Management warned that
the Atlantic salmon population in the Tana River in arctic Norway was
dramatically reduced. Active measures had to be taken to prevent
extinction. Local fishermen protested against this description of the
cause of events. On fishing expeditions, expert claims were continuously
discussed. Such conversations were, and are, a substantial part
of everyday conversation among local fishermen. In this article, the
fishermen’s conversations are used as an entry into particular aspects
of local knowledge, its relational nature, and the implicit epistemological
politics. As their witness, during hours of fishing and conversing, I
observed how the fishermen scrutinized scientific knowledge claims.
They didn’t just question and compare the expert’s knowledge claims
with what they themselves knew. Significantly, the fishermen made
comparisons of how knowing was done. The ongoing conversations of
the fishermen enacted a resistance more complex than was visible at
first sight. Positing fisheries science as the “Other,” local knowledge was
enacted and assembled as fluid and heterogeneous, including numerous
unequal and loosely assembled entities.
Introduction
In the years 2009-2010 the Norwegian Directorate of Nature Management
and related environmental institutions all claimed the urgent need to
protect the wild Atlantic salmon populations in the Tana River in arctic
Norway. According to environmental authorities, active measures had
to be taken to prevent a further decline of local salmon species. In the
Tana Valley, many fishermen did not agree with this description. In their opinion, ebbs and flows in the fishing populations were part of
life. Fishing restrictions were therefore an unwelcome prospect. As the
Directorate attempted to reduce both the fishing time and the number
of fishermen on the river, protests came in many forms. This article is
about the fishermen’s ongoing commentary on the experts’ predictions
of the state of the Tana River Atlantic salmon populations. I wish to
make these daily conversations, undertaken in the course of fishing and
other salmon-related practices, my point of access into local ecological
knowledge (LEK).
Although a substantial number of the population along the Tana
River in Finnmark consider themselves to be Sami, many are not so
clear on their ethnic identity. There are also a number of non-Sami,
Kvæn, and Finnish along the river. I therefore choose not to engage in
a discussion regarding differences between indigenous knowledge (IK)
and local ecological knowledge.
All of us who work with groups that rely on centrally governed
natural resources will recognize this kind of ongoing commentary of an
expert’s opinions. In this text, I suggest that these conversations offer
particular insights into local knowledge. Local knowledge may, as we
all know, complement scientific knowledge. For the last three decades,
many fishery scientists have substantially benefited from the collaboration
with fishermen (Ludwig et al. 1993, Johannes 1993, Mackinson
2001). Fishermen, for example, have contributed to fish science on subjects
central to their professional exercise, such as observations of fish
behavior and distribution, as well as feeding habits, habitats, and fish
movements (Johannes 1993, Eythorsson 1993, Mackinson and Nøttegård
1998, Pinkerton 1989, Mackinson 2001, Aswani and Lauer 2006).
Articles on such exchanges of knowledge provide the impression of
that local knowledge being in a form immediately available to science. In
this article, I am interested in less specific kinds of local knowledge, the
kinds that scientists, at least in the Tana River, show little interest in.
There are several reasons why this knowledge is not of interest to fish
scientists: part of it relates to its form, which is not specific enough to
suit scientific purposes. However, this knowledge does, in my opinion,
provide us with insights into the particular nature of a local knowledge.
By use of the interface between science and fishermen’s knowledge, this
chapter provides insight into local Tana fishermen’s epistemology, to
how the fishermen know what they know, and what the fishermen think
about how scientists and fishery managers know what they know. These
insights are useful for purposes such as understanding processes of
the collaboration between experts and local knowledge holders (Ween
and Riseth 2011), preparing the grounds for co-management structures
(Pinkerton 1998), or the joint planning of future regulation (Pinkerton
1989, Berkes and Folke 2000)
The ethnographic material that this article is built upon is assembled
from fishing expeditions on the Tana River. It highlights the intersectionality
and relationality of local knowledge, as local knowledge
is produced and practiced in dynamic adaptive processes (see Berkes
1999, Davidson-Hunt and O’Flaherty 2007). Knowledge is ordered,
according to Law and Mol, by structured routine performances that
make cause-and-effect relations, and cluster elements and attributes in
assemblages (1994: 643). These assemblages often emerge as entangled.
I make notes of the topographies of knowledge displayed in the fishermen’s
accounts, and the materialities involved (Verran 2002). Local
knowledge not only responds to changes in the local environment or
to technological innovations, but also engages with other knowledge
practices, such as fish management or fish science. In my ethnographic
material, the fishermen’s conversations made apparent the complexities
of the present knowledge interfaces: how such sites may not necessarily
involve smooth mergers, but could involve rubbing or even clashes (Law
2007). In this material, the rubbing involved in these interfaces makes
epistemological politics visible, as the fishermen with me as witnesses
attempted to translate, comment, and object to what they perceived to
be expert knowledge claims (Roth 2005).
To my argument it is significant that these ongoing reflections are
acts of resistance in more than one way. First, they manifest an objection
to the hierarchical relations between scientific knowledge and
local knowledge. While scientific knowledge, as already described, is
regularly employed to verify the accuracy of local knowledge (DavidsonHunt
and O’Flaherty 2007), local knowledge is here applied in similar
acts of “Othering,” to confirm or discredit scientific knowledge. Second,
as I will show, the fishermen not only question what is known, i.e., the
expert claims that salmon are disappearing, but also how scientists
and other experts come to know what they know. Let us turn to the
Tana River.
Salmon trouble in the Tana River
Its size and its salmon populations make the Tana River the third largest
Atlantic salmon river in the Northern Hemisphere. Along with other
key salmon rivers in Norway, it has been protected from salmon farming
(NOU 1999: 9). Originating in the far north of Finland and Norway,
smaller rivers join up in Tana Valley to form the border between the two
nations. Its position as a border river partly explains why the Tana has
always been special, both in a Norwegian and a Finnish context. It has
also made the regulation of the river cumbersome. The management
of the salmon fisheries is a matter of international negotiations. Its
management has moreover been complicated by its particular colonial as well as its postcolonial recent history. Colonial relations at the turn
of the 19th century made Norwegian authorities introduce a particular
kind of user rights for those who farmed land adjacent to the river.
Farming, as proper sedentary life, was encouraged by the state and
the king. In 1888 such practices became rewarded with the right to fish
with nets and for commercial purposes. Provided that the household
produced hay for one cow (2000 kg), one member of the household was
given the right to fish with nets for commercial purposes. The people
in the remaining population were only allowed to fish with rods. In the
1970s the holders of net fishing rights, called Laksebreveiere, became
powerful stakeholders, many of whom consider themselves to be Sami.
Some three decades later, management of the Tana River changed again
with the establishment of the Finnmark Estate (FEFO). When this independent
legal body was formed in 2005, the land and resources in the
county of Finnmark were handed over to its inhabitants in recognition
of the unlawfulness of the state appropriation of Finnmark, as well as
the indigenous rights obligations of the Norwegian state (International
Labour Organization 169) (Ween and Lien 2012). Following up on the
obligations of the Finnmark Act (2005), negotiations to establish local
fishery management were started in 2008 and were completed in 2010
with the establishment of the Tana Fiskeforvaltning (Local Fisheries
Management). During this process of regulatory changes, negotiations
with Finland over the regulation of salmon fisheries were placed on
hold. Fishery regulations on the border stretch of the river have effectively
not changed since 1989.
Local fishermen on the Norwegian side, however, have experienced
several restrictions to their fishing times and fishing practices since
the 1980s. The fishing season is becoming shorter, fewer salmon fishing
lots are renewed, and several restrictions on fishing gear have been
introduced (Niemelä et al. 2009, Ween 2010). Despite these restrictions,
there are no bag limits in any kind of salmon fishery on the river. The
Tana River is also one of the very few salmon rivers in Norway where
net fishing is still legal. The salmon here are fished with pursed seine
along the coast and in the fjords; they are fished with standing nets
in the river too, as well as by local rod fishermen and visiting anglers.
When I first came to Tana in May 2009, the future death of Tana
wild salmon was prophesied with increasing frequency by natural scientists
and environmental institutions1 (see also Niemelä et al. 2009).
According to the County Councillor’s Environmental Protection Office,
catch reports from 2009 were less than 30 tons, and the average fish
weight was a meager 3.27 kilos. To the scientists, this showed a dramatic
decrease in the large salmon that the Tana River previously had
been so famous for (Niemelä et al. 2009). According to Statistics Norway,
the 2009 catch implied an almost 50% decrease from the year before
(http://www.ssb.no/elvefiske/). Comparing the 2009 catch with the top seasons in the 1970s, when catches could be up to 250 tons, it further
underlined the alarming nature of the situation (Niemelä et al. 2009).
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