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Home , Bioprospecting, Commons, Common good (economics), Elinor Ostrom, Garrett Hardin, Global commons

Reconsidering Antarctic Bioprospecting through Territorialities of Science, Property, and Governance

Dissertation

Presented in Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements for the Degree Doctor of Philosophy in the Graduate School of the Ohio State University

Jason Michael Davis, M.A.

Graduate Program in Geography

The Ohio State University

2011

Dissertation Committee:

Becky Mansfield, Advisor

Mat Coleman

Nancy Ettlinger

ABSTRACT

Antarctic formations of science, property, and governance complicate how the commercial use of genetic and biochemical data derived from biota (bioprospecting) might be managed there. Antarctic science should be cooperative, but patents that arise from bioprospecting could generate competition. If Antarctica is perceived as a global commons, exclusive rights to its resources could threaten that status. The peaceful governance of Antarctica is based on the Antarctic Treaty of 1959, but its authority could be threatened by other groups seeking to govern over this new activity.

This dissertation explores these issues through two territorial approaches: one focused on the hierarchical bureaucracy of Antarctica and another focused on alternative geographical imaginaries of the continent. While there has been a great deal of concentration on states and the Antarctic Treaty System, this study reveals that careful reconsideration of geographical imaginaries can present alternate solutions.

Dedicated to my wife, Julia Griffin, who just started dating me when I began this dissertation.

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ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

I wish to thank my adviser, Becky Mansfield, for her patience is seeing this through to the end. I may not have always liked to hear what she had to say at the moments that I received her comments, but it was always valuable advice and I learned a lot from her.

Thanks also to my committee for their valuable input into the document as well as the lessons that I learned from them in their classes. Mat Coleman expanded my understanding of geopolitics considerably. Nancy Ettlinger expanded my view to consider my work from other perspectives. Thanks also to prior committee members

Ellen Moseley-Thompson and Paul Robbins for helping to guide me to the place I am today. Dr. Keith Warren and Dr. Donald Eckert also served admirably and came up with provoking questions in the roles of my graduate school representatives on my defense and candidacy exams, repectively.

Thanks also to the tireless work of the office staff of the OSU geography department and Byrd Polar Research Center who helped me to navigate the bureaucratic ins and outs of being a graduate student. I can’t imagine getting to where

I am without the efforts of people such as Dianne Carducci, Lynn Lay, or the countless other people who made my work considerably easier.

I am in awe of the academic peers I have met as fellow graduate students. My academic “siblings,” April Luginbuhl Mather and Johanna Haas, let me know what it was like to have strong and supportive older sisters that were great scholars in their own rights. Much moral support was provided by individuals such as Eric Boschmann,

Madhuri Sharma, Nurcan Atalan-Helicke, and a number of other graduate students.

Thanks also to my encouraging family, who provided prodding or support on an as-needed basis. I feel that David Laguardia belongs to this group, as his support nourished me at a crucial time.

This research was funded by the National Science Foundation through a

Doctoral Dissertation Research Improvement Grant (Award # 0623497). Their generosity allowed me to visit meetings and gather data that I would not otherwise have done.

VITA

November 17, 1977 ...... Born – Bethesda, MD, USA

2000...... A.B. Anthropology, The University of Chicago

2004...... M.A. Geography. The Ohio State University

2002 – 2008...... Graduate Teaching and Research Associate, The Ohio State University

PUBLICATIONS

1. J. Davis, “National Geographic’s Representations of Antarctica.” Reports of Polar and Marine Research , 560, pp. 28-47, (2007).

FIELDS OF STUDY

Major Field: Geography

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Page Dedication ...... iii

Acknowledgements ...... iv

Vita ...... vi

List of Figures ...... x

Chapters 1. Introduction ...... 1

1.1 Background on Bioprospecting and Antarctica...... 4 1.1.1 Bioprospecting in general...... 4 1.1.2 The practice of bioprospecting in Antarctica ...... 9 1.1.3 How Antarctic bioprospecting has been addressed...... 11 1.2 Theory ...... 25 1.2.1 Modernism and Postmodernism...... 25 1.2.2 Territoriality ...... 28 1.2.3 Territoriality: hierarchical bureaucracy...... 30 1.2.4 Territoriality: the creation of geographical imaginaries...... 35 1.2.5 Comparing the two territorial approaches ...... 40 1.3 Empirical Approach ...... 42 1.3.1 Reflexive account of initial research approach ...... 42 1.3.2 Data collection and analysis ...... 44 1.4 Summary of the chapters to come...... 47

2. Is bioprospecting a threat to Antarctic science?...... 48

2.1 A history of Antarctic science ...... 52 2.1.1 Science during the early exploration of the Antarctic...... 53 2.1.2 The rise of Antarctic science during the IGY...... 55 2.1.3 The environmentalist challenge to Antarctic science...... 58 2.2 Modern Science...... 63 2.2.1 The general articulation of Mertonian science ...... 63 vii

2.2.2 Mertonian science in Antarctica...... 67 2.2.3 Mertonian science applied to Antarctic bioprospecting...... 71 2.3 Postmodern Sciences...... 76 2.3.1 Latour's reaction against modern science...... 77 2.3.2 Postmodern science in Antarctica ...... 81 2.3.3 Postmodern scientific approaches to Antarctic bioprospecting..84 2.4 Conclusion: is bioprospecting a legitimate scientific activity? ...... 88

3. Is Antarctic bioprospecting a threat to an Antarctic Commons?...... 91

3.1 A History of Antarctic notions of ownership ...... 94 3.1.1 Defining property and the commons...... 95 3.1.2 Early exploration of Antarctica and claims to ownership ...... 98 3.1.3 Choosing between the Antarctic Treaty or U. N. trusteeship...101 3.1.4 The creation and implementation of Antarctica World Park....106 3.2 Modern standpoints on property...... 109 3.2.1 Lockean and Marxist approaches to ownership ...... 110 3.2.2 Modern Property in Antarctica...... 114 3.2.3 Modernist property and Antarctic bioprospecting...... 118 3.3 Postmodern models of property and the commons ...... 122 3.3.1 Ostrom's critiques of modernist property ...... 123 3.3.2 Postmodern ownership in Antarctica ...... 127 3.3.3 Postmodern property ideas and Antarctic bioprospecting...... 128 3.4 Conclusions ...... 133

4. Is bioprospecting a threat to existing Antarctic governance?...... 135

4.1 How several activities within Antarctica have been governed...... 139 4.1.1 Governing all or part of Antarctic territory comprehensively..140 4.1.2 Governance of whaling in the Antarctic...... 144 4.1.3 Governance of tourism in the Antarctic ...... 149 4.2 Modern governance...... 154 4.2.1 Hobbes and subsequent realist ideas of governance...... 155 4.2.2 Realist governance applied to Antarctica...... 159 4.2.3 Modern governance applied to Antarctic bioprospecting ...... 161 4.3 Postmodern governance ...... 168 4.3.1 Governance not centered upon states ...... 169 4.3.2 Postmodern governance in Antarctica...... 173 4.3.3 Postmodern governance and Antarctic bioprospecting...... 175 4.4 Conclusions ...... 178

5. Synthesis...... 180

5.1 Theoretical Conclusions...... 184

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5.1.1 Modern geopolitics...... 185 5.1.2 Postmodern geopolitics ...... 188 5.2 Empirical Conclusions ...... 191 5.2.1 Concerns addressed separately, through modernist views ...... 192 5.2.2 Alternative approaches to Antarctic bioprospecting ...... 197 5.3 Synthesis of the Theoretical and Practical...... 203

Bibliography...... 208

LIST OF FIGURES

Figure Page

1. An illustration of the bioprospecting process...... 7

2. A map of Antarctic state territorial claims...... 15

3. Sack's 10 territorial tendencies...... 29

4. Berkman's diagrams of science's role in Antarctica ...... 68

5. ATCM 2006 lobby displays ...... 70

6. Edinburgh display next to Antarctic ship...... 71

7. The Crary science laboratory at McMurdo station...... 72

8. Property rights and rules bundled in system roles...... 96

9. Dates and area coverage of Antarctic territorial claims ...... 140

10. Graph showing annual number of tourists visiting Antarctica...... 150

11. Joyner's diagram of Antarctic governance ...... 160

12. Stratagene advertisement for Coldzyme...... 202

CHAPTER 1

INTRODUCTION

Nearly a quarter century ago, the greatest issue confronting the Antarctic continent was what to do about prospecting for mineral resources. Claims to mineral rights had the potential to become severely contentious, especially given that several states claimed overlapping sectors of the continent and other states did not recognize the legitimacy of any claims. The Antarctic Treaty, developed in 1959, offered no specific guidance on how to proceed other than the imperative that nothing should denigrate or substantiate such claims. The acceding members of the Antarctic Treaty met over the course of 12 years (1976-1988) to construct an agreement that they would eventually call the Convention on the Regulation of Antarctic Mineral Resource

Activities (CRAMRA). CRAMRA was opened for accession in June of 1988 and was effectively discarded within a year when both Australia and France withdrew their support and declared that they would not ratify it. One of the great weaknesses of

CRAMRA was that all who were involved in its negotiation considered Antarctic mineral extraction inevitable. Considerations of an outright ban on prospecting were not taken seriously, although this is eventually what was accepted in the 1991 Protocol on Environmental Protection to the Antarctic Treaty. One lesson to be drawn from the

CRAMRA experience is that consideration of diverse approaches to an issue prevents wasted efforts in agreements built upon faulty assumptions.

And yet, as Antarctic actors now begin to address the issue of prospecting for biological riches in the Antarctic, approaches to managing the commercial use of

Antarctic biota are still largely grounded in assumptions that do not always accord with reality. The search for Antarctic biota with commercial uses is called bioprospecting, and differs significantly from the threat posed by mineral prospecting mentioned above. For example, mineral exploitation has not taken place in Antarctica, while the derivation of patents from studying Antarctic biota has already taken place.

While bioprospecting is actively going on right now, the threats to Antarctica by bioprospecting are regularly framed as potential threats. The first threat is framed as a threat to the free exchange of scientific information guaranteed under Article Three of the Antarctic Treaty. If biological knowledge derived from Antarctica is used for commercial purposes, the possibility exists that research will not be shared freely because of trade secrets or restrictive patents. The second threat is the possibility that bioprospecting will change concepts of who owns Antarctic biota or the knowledge derived from them. The idea of deriving private profits from studying Antarctic biota challenges conceptions of Antarctica as a place of predominantly common property.

The third threat is that deciding who or what group is responsible for managing bioprospecting in Antarctica could challenge existing governance structures. If the

Antarctic Treaty System (ATS) cannot be relied upon to manage bioprospecting, does it weaken its legitimacy as a governing body? The responses so far to these concerns

2 have relied on a very particular set of assumptions about science, property, and governance and how these ideas operate in Antarctic territory.

In an effort to broaden the scope of inquiry surrounding Antarctic bioprospecting, the research presented here explores the discontinuities bioprospecting reveals in the ways that Antarctica has been established as a place. The proposed solutions to the problems listed above are built upon assumptions of science, property, and governance. Scientists are assumed to be disinterested about the impacts of their work, and would never purposely withhold valuable information for personal profit.

Property relations are assumed to be a choice between public or private forms of ownership rights. Governance is assumed to be the sole responsibility or right of territorial states or supra-state regimes composed of them, such as the ATS. The persistence of these established modernistic ideas is a testament to their utility in supporting the established governance system in the Antarctic. The poverty of social science research in Antarctica has also allowed such conceptions to go relatively unchallenged. Postmodern articulations of science, property, and governance reveal that there are alternative perspectives of these three concepts that could have an impact on how bioprospecting is dealt with in Antarctica. Through an investigation of the issue of Antarctic bioprospecting as a case study, this dissertation aims to reveal how these various established and new ideas operate in Antarctica.

This first chapter will introduce the issue of Antarctic bioprospecting and then clarify how the approaches to it will be studied both theoretically and empirically. A basic history of bioprospecting in Antarctica will first be established. This will include

3 an examination of what bioprospecting is and how it arose. The summary will focus primarily on actions taken in regards to bioprospecting by some of the major institutions in Antarctica, particularly the Scientific Committee for Antarctic Research

(SCAR) and the ATS. The history will end with a summary of the three main issues that linger regarding Antarctic bioprospecting, each of which is connected to a different discourse of science, property, or governance. Evidence that these discourses are applied to Antarctica is evident through acts of territoriality that reflect those views, and therefore theories of territory and territoriality must underlie this study.

The work of Robert Sack forms the foundation for much of the theory in this regard.

Finally, the methods used to collect and analyze the information will be presented.

These will include acknowledgement of the author's position as he ventured forth to gather textual data and observations from various Antarctic conferences and work- spaces. Since this is an effort to understand how certain ideas have been inscribed on the Antarctic continent, the analysis of the data is undertaken through discourse analysis.

1.1 Background on Bioprospecting and Antarctica

1.1.1 Bioprospecting in general

Bioprospecting, as a word, is a fairly recent invention. The term

“bioprospecting” is generally credited to Thomas Eisner, a chemical ecologist who

4 wrote an article in 1989 entitled “Prospecting for nature’s chemical riches” (Eisner

1989). This article came quickly on the heels of the invention of the term

"biodiversity," which is generally cited as appearing in first common usage in the mid-

1980s. The "National Forum on Biological Diversity" was one of the first arenas to make recorded and sustained use of the term "biodiversity". The conference took place in September 1986 under the patronage of the National Academy of Science and the

Smithsonian Institute in Washington DC. In its initial usage, there was value placed on biodiversity. This value could be expressed in moral terms, but has also been expressed in monetary terms. Areas "rich" in biodiversity tended to have many life forms with differing adaptations to their surroundings. The biological value of these organisms was high because it meant that in the event of a catastrophe or environmental shift, some life forms might have adaptations that might allow them to survive the transition. Eisner's vision for bioprospecting was an activity that could benefit poorer countries that are rich in biodiversity by commodifying the value of that biodiversity. The richer states that were better-equipped and desirous to exploit the

“biological resources” of the poorer countries were thereby obliged to compensate the people who managed the habitats. This solidified the notion of biodiversity having financial value.

Although bioprospecting has been seen as simply a continuation of human beings' propensity to modify the natural world for their own purposes, in truth it is a novel activity. Philip Reed cites examples of plant and animal genetic selection through breeding 10,000 years ago as the first examples of bioprospecting (Reed

2004). His conclusion ignores the fact that the term was only developed once genetic and chemical technology had advanced to the point of being able to exploit biota at an explicitly molecular level. The term was specifically called forth by a chemical ecologist with the know-how to patent chemical processes and not by a farmer performing selective breeding. Bioprospecting is centered on biological and chemical knowledge at the molecular level. Julia Jabour-Green and Dianne Nichol note that bioprospecting combines four main activities: the collection of samples, the isolation of compounds from those samples, the screening of those compounds for useful properties, and the development of a commercial product synthesized on the basis of that compound (Jabour-Green and Nicol 2003). The process is illustrated further in

Figure 1 . It is important to note that not all of the steps involved in the process known as bioprospecting are conducted in the same place or necessarily by the same people.

The original biota is seen as a resource from which chemical compounds may be derived from which genetic information may be sequenced. While a biotechnology company may wish to hold the discovery of a biota back as a proprietary secret to study it in an exclusive manner, the real profits are derived from patenting discoveries based upon aspects of the biota. The final step of bioprospecting involves the formation of intellectual property rights (IPR) based upon scientific research, generally codified in the form of a patent. Researchers cannot simply patent a life form that has been found or an obvious scientific process that can be observed from it. A patent-seeker must subsequently alter the organism or process from its natural state in order to invent something based upon it (Strathern 2001). Whereas in most cases

property rights are designed to address scarcity, intellectual knowledge is a resource that becomes scarcer through the creation of private property rights. Through the process of patenting an idea, making the implementation of the knowledge contained therein an exclusive product, intellectual property takes knowledge out of the community and makes it unavailable except when permission has been granted to use it.

Bioprospecting activity has generated political debate and legislation on both national and international scales. One of the most well-known examples of bioprospecting activity in the United States has been the Diversa Corporation's agreement with the National Park Service over the use of microorganisms found

7 within the hot springs of Yellowstone National Park (Doremus 1999). At the international scale, the idea of bioprospecting rapidly generated attempts at international agreements on how to manage the activity when individuals or organizations from one country collect biological resources from another country. One end result of this valuing of biodiversity through bioprospecting was the negotiation of the United Nations Convention on Biological Diversity (or CBD). This was signed by

150 countries in Rio de Janeiro at the Earth Summit which took place there in 1992.

One of the notable countries that did not adopt this agreement was the United States.

The CBD prohibits the exploitation of a country’s biological resources without a benefit-sharing plan having been negotiated first. In the text of the CBD, the member nations put forth their concern for the protection of biodiversity and sustainable use of natural resources. A key policy element that came out of the CBD was the promise to attempt fair and equitable sharing of benefits derived from the use of biological resources, specifically calling for biotechnology companies to share the benefits accrued by its research of a country’s biological resources with that country. The

TRIPS agreement was made in 1993 during the Uruguay round of the General

Agreement on Tariffs and Trade (GATT). The World Trade Organization (WTO) members present for the negotiation pledged to provide patent protection in all fields of technology, allowing for greater internationalization of the research and development industry.

1.1.2 The practice of bioprospecting in Antarctica

Antarctica presents an attractive environment for those seeking novel biotic compounds because of its extremely harsh environment and the fact that there is a high potential for encountering previously unknown organisms. Antarctica is an ideal area for the first stage of bioprospecting (collection) because of the preponderance of previously unknown organisms with adaptations to extreme environments

(extremophiles), which are highly in demand within the bioprospecting market (Hoyle

1998). Antarctica’s unique climate means that virtually every organism on the continent has a genetic or biochemical adaptation to the extreme environment, making it a target-rich environment for bioprospectors. The adaptations that are sought after within Antarctica are adaptations to the cold. This includes attributes found in both psychrophilic organisms (organisms that love/ thrive in cold environments) and psychrotolerant organisms (organisms that have optimal growth rates at higher temperatures, but can tolerate colder environments). For example, there is interest in an alkali-tolerant yeast Candida antarctica found in Lake Vanda, as well as the antifreeze glycoproteins produced by various fish in Antarctic waters (Dalton 2004;

Stix 2004; Johnston and Lohan 2005). The fact that there are areas within Antarctica that have not been fully explored with biota as yet uncatalogued by science is another attractive feature because it represents a frontier of biological science with potential adaptations about which researchers may be able to make exclusive discoveries.

Antarctica may become a more valuable resource because varieties of bacteria that

9 have been located in the Antarctic ice have been found to be revivable after being frozen for extremely long periods (Christner, Mosley-Thompson et al. 2001; 2003).

The glacial masses in Antarctica might therefore hold valuable biological resources that have yet to be fully exploited.

Aside from the potential that Antarctica holds as a producer of psychrophilic and psychrotolerant organisms, there is also the reality that various harvestings of biota from Antarctica have already led to patents based upon their genetic and chemical compositions. The first known patent based on an Antarctic biota may have come as early as 1988 1. This United States patent # US4720458 was developed for a heat sensitive bacterial alkaline phosphatase by inventors Kobori Hiromi of Japan and

Sizuya Hiroaki of the United States. It was derived from the Antarctic Bacterium HK-

47. Forty-two additional patents were filed between 1988 and 2003 based upon properties of certain Antarctic biota (Johnston and Lohan 2005). There have also been a few partnerships between industries and university scientists which went unquestioned by Antarctic governance structures at the time. These included an agreement between the Australian Antarctic Cooperative Research Centre (Antarctic

CRC) and the pharmaceutical company Cerylid Biosciences. The two institutions had an agreement from 1995 to 2002 that allowed the company to screen the Antarctic

CRC's Antarctic soil samples for isolates that could prove useful (Johnston and Lohan

2005). The rest of the patents filed are mostly by individual scientists in collaboration with other large biotechnology or pharmaceutical companies.

1 This is the earliest known patent based on an Antarctic biota that I am aware of, but there is an online project to discover and catalogue all commercial applications of Antarctic biota which may change this assessment: http://www.bioprospector.org/bioprospector/antarctica/home.action 10

1.1.3 How Antarctic bioprospecting has been addressed

In 1998 scientist Dr. David Walton became uneasy (Walton 2009). A number of his colleagues at the British Antarctic Survey (BAS) were to be involved, between

1999 and 2001, in a European biotechnology initiative called the Micromat project, which would seek to explore the microbial mats in several Antarctic lakes for biota and test them for potential useful properties. This project was a collaboration between several universities, biotechnology firms, and the BAS. The scientific goals of the project were acceptable to Dr. Walton, but it was the issue of what happened to the samples after the initial analysis that caused him concern. Those samples would become the property of the private companies which had contributed to Micromat, which would hold them and the data derived from them with limited access granted only to the partners within the Micromat project. These types of agreements between private industrial groups, universities, and governments had grown to be commonplace around the world, and had even been applied to other research projects in the Antarctic, but this was the first time that Dr. Walton had heard about it and he worried that this would hamper the free exchange of information that scientists who work in the region had come to expect. There were no standing rules or even discussions regarding bioprospecting within the ATS.

Since 1959, the Antarctic Treaty has been the main governance document for

Antarctica. The treaty has been granted legitimacy by political institutions around the world. The Antarctic Treaty and the ATS that has grown out of it are largely seen as a

11 supra-state organization composed of a number of states that send representatives to vote on various resolutions to manage the continent through consensus. The fifty-year- old treaty upon which the ATS is based contains a number of articles that not only proclaim this international status but set out particular goals regarding cooperation and scientific knowledge. Articles Two and Three of the Antarctic Treaty declare that scientific research is the primary activity through which humans may interact with the continent (Treaty 1959). This primacy of science makes Antarctica one of the few areas of the world where scientific institutions have an explicit influential standing in the governing process (Caflisch 1992). The parties of the ATS rely on the Scientific

Committee on Antarctic Research (SCAR) for their scientific expertise, and are also influenced by their political interests. SCAR is a non-governmental organization that is comprised of scientists and scientific institutions that focuses its efforts on the

Antarctic.

Concerns about intellectual property rights (IPRs) eroding the free exchange of ideas that allows for scientific advancement have been raised in a number of different places around the world, but the codification of free data exchange within the

Antarctic Treaty presented a particular hurdle. Dr. Walton's concerns about the potential for this occurrence happening in Antarctica were more actionable because the text of the third article of the Antarctic Treaty declares that "scientific observations and results from Antarctica shall be exchanged and made freely available" (Treaty

1959, Art. III, 1, c). Obstructing the free exchange of scientific information gleaned from Antarctic research runs counter to the main document that governs the area. Dr.

Walton took a number of actions to investigate how this was being addressed. He started within his own government (the United Kingdom), where his concerns were initially dismissed. The National Science Research Office and the Foreign &

Commonwealth Office approved of becoming scientifically competitive with the

Australians, who were engaged in developing biotechnology based on Antarctic krill.

He then brought his concerns to SCAR through its Working Group on Biology and the

Group of Specialists on Environmental Affairs and Conservation (GOSEAC) meetings in 1998. This was where he was able to get the most action taken, as he was both an influential member of SCAR (Thiede 2006) and the chairman of GOSEAC at the time.

GOSEAC's mission was to provide advice to the ATS 2. At the 1998 SCAR meeting, the issue was discussed in the Working Group on Biology and recommendation SCAR

XXV - 2 was drafted that called for the national representatives that comprised the

Antarctic Treaty System to become aware of the commercial use of biological information gathered from Antarctica, the possible detrimental effects on the Antarctic environment, and the fact that there was no clear legislation in the ATS to manage such an activity. This recommendation would stand as SCAR's primary recommendation to states participating in the ATS for ten years.

The issue of bioprospecting was mentioned afterwards at the 1999 Antarctic

Treaty Consultative Meeting (ATCM) as a concern brought up by SCAR, but no action was taken by the parties to the Antarctic Treaty then or at the next ATCM in

2 In 1998, the ATS had no centralized secretariat and was comprised of meetings every two years by the countries that were signatories to the Antarctic Treaty. These meetings are called Antarctic Treaty Consultative Meetings (ATCMs). Currently, meetings are held once a year and there exists a secretariat to the Treaty headquartered in Argentina and a website ( http://www.ats.aq/index_e.htm ). 13

2001. Dr. Walton continued to push for a clearer understanding of how bioprospecting should be managed in Antarctica, particularly within SCAR. He emphasized the utility of using the CBD as a model for managing bioprospecting activity in the Antarctic, but there were difficulties in its application to the region. This is referenced in the

Recommendation SCAR 25-2, which recognizes that international legislation regarding Antarctic bioprospecting is based in turn upon sovereign rights that are not applicable south of the Antarctic Circle. Part of what the CBD regulates is the fair compensation of sovereign countries when biological resources are extracted from them. Article Four of the CBD stipulates that the scope of a state's ability to regulate its biological resources is limited to the territory over which it has jurisdiction (CBD

1992). This situation presents problems for the Antarctic region because territorial jurisdiction is frozen. Article Four of the Antarctic Treaty states that no one "claim to territorial sovereignty" in Antarctica is privileged above others in the region (Treaty

1959). Territory is therefore a flexible idea within this governance system, which has preserved situations which would otherwise be untenable in the rest of the world. For example, the United Kingdom, Chile, and Argentina all claim overlapping portions of

Antarctica, but have not undertaken any military action to enforce their claims in the last fifty years ( see figure 2 ). As a result of this situation, international agreements that have already been formed in regards to bioprospecting and resulting IPR, such as the

CBD and TRIPS, are not easily transferable to the region.

Despite these difficulties, Dr. Walton still attempted to convince SCAR at its

July 2000 meeting to make a recommendation that the ATS consult with the

secretariat for the CBD in order to find out how that convention might apply to

Antarctica, as it is an area governed very differently than the rest of the world. His proposed alterations to the language of the SCAR bioprospecting recommendation were mirrored in the working group on biology's proposed recommendation, but were passed over in favor of the more neutral recommendation of the previous meeting.

Consultation with the CBD was again suggested at the 2002 SCAR meeting and discussed at the 2002 GOSEAC meeting. At the GOSEAC meeting the fact that the

CBD does not apply to areas beyond national sovereignty was brought up as a key point in relation to the Antarctic Treaty's Article Four. The working group on biology again proposed a recommendation that was more strongly-worded than its

15 predecessor, but it was again ignored in favor of the established recommendation from

1998. This proposal of cooperation between the CBD and ATS was developed into a

SCAR working paper for the 2002 ATCM, but was eventually withdrawn due to its

"political" nature which some felt strayed from their idealized role of SCAR as an objective advisor to the ATS 3. While that paper was withdrawn, another similar paper was put forth by the United Kingdom 4 and was praised by the ATS's Committee on

Environmental Protection (CEP) for its forward-thinking nature. The paper ended up stressing three questions that bioprospecting in Antarctica raises:

1) Is there a conflict between freedom of access to scientific

information and confidential information regarding commercial

products?

2) Whether, and if so how, bioprospecting activity should be affected

by regulation?

3) What regulations of revenues should be required?

The issues brought up still begin with concerns about the impact on Antarctic science, and furthermore instill the idea of regulating the activity of bioprospecting. The text of the working paper even suggests using the CBD as a model for regulation (United

Kingdom 2002). The paper also extols the ATS as having a long history of regulating activities before they had matured into commercial realities, and encourages the group

3 Part of what made the proposal of adopting principles of the CBD within the ATS difficult was the fact that the United States was a major country involved in the ATS which had not ratified the CBD. It has also been posited that the ATS looks with disfavor on proposals which dilute its authority in Antarctica. 4 Interestingly, this was also Dr. Walton's home government and it may be inferred that he was influential in advancing it. 16 to do the same with the issue of bioprospecting. The ATS took no action on the subject during the 2002 ATCM, but the subject was now public and ripe for discussion.

After 2002 and Dr. Walton's suggestion of courting the CBD for ideas on how to manage bioprospecting within Antarctica, more groups started examining the issue.

The International Union for the Conservation of Nature (IUCN) had mentioned the threat of the commercialization of science in the 1999 ATCM meeting 5, but SCAR was the primary group addressing the issue until 2002. In April of 2003, a

"Bioprospecting in Antarctica" workshop was convened by the Antarctica Policy Unit of the New Zealand Ministry of Foreign Affairs and Trade, Antarctica New Zealand, and Gateway Antarctica at the University of Canterbury. This workshop fleshed out more of the issues associated with bioprospecting within Antarctica.

One previously unconsidered issue that arose in this workshop was the view of

Antarctica as a type of commons and that this commons was threatened by the encroachment of commercial activity. The panel on environment, ethics, and equity at the "Bioprospecting in Antarctica" workshop, chaired by Julia Jabour, in its conclusions posed whether "wilderness or other values in Antarctica [are] compromised by bioprospecting" and "Whether criteria such as benefit to humanity, or priority for medical research etc., could be established" (New Zealand 2003). Alistair

Graham, in his contribution to the conference proceedings, wondered aloud if these biological resources were even capable of being owned (Graham 2005). The idea of

Antarctica as a common space is not one commonly articulated within the ATS, but it

5 Presumably, the IUCN was able to speak knowledgably about the subject because they were party to the discussions at the GOSEAC meeting. 17 is an impression that exists very palpably outside of it. Environmental groups had particularly grasped onto the concept, giving it expression as "World Park Antarctica."

One of the features of Antarctica that reinforces this idea is that there is no privately held land across the entire continent. Article Seven of the Antarctic Treaty states that all stations are subject to the inspection of other contracting parties of the treaty

(Treaty 1959). The right for an owner to exclude or deny access associated with private ownership is absent here. Certain activities are encouraged (scientific) and discouraged (military, nuclear) within Antarctica through the treaty, but there are no restrictions as to who may access the continent. The implication of all of these features combined is that rules and regulations that may work to regulate activities elsewhere in the world will not likely succeed within Antarctica without modifications that take into account how its sparse population and the relationship between humans and that extreme environment are managed.

As Antarctic bioprospecting was already taking place within Antarctica, questions of how it worked without legislation and how much of it was going on started to be asked. Investigations into how bioprospecting was functioning within

Antarctica started to be commissioned. Norway and the United Kingdom co-sponsored a United Nations Environmental Programme (UNEP) report on bioprospecting. Their first results were presented at the June 2003 ATCM in the information paper "The

International Regime for Bioprospecting: Existing Policies and Emerging Issues for

Antarctica" (Lohan and Johnston 2003). The research team at the UNEP subsequently continued to produce further reports on bioprospecting in Antarctica which have

18 served as a basis of knowledge for most of the bioprospecting activities taking place there (UNEP 2004; Lohan and Johnston 2005; Johnston, Laird et al. 2006). These reports started to catalogue patents based on Antarctic biota and investigate partnerships between states, industry, and academia that allowed for all four steps of bioprospecting to occur. Popular news articles also began to pick up the topic (Kirby

2004; Sample 2004). These articles focus on the potential for conflict over the profits or benefit-sharing schemes.

Issues of bioprospecting were debated by CEP members at the June 2003

ATCM in Madrid. In addition to the formal submissions of the information papers that represented the efforts of the earlier "Bioprospecting in Antarctica" Workshop and the commissioned report from the UNEP, there was an unofficial paper from Chile that called for the application of the precautionary principle in regards to Antarctic bioprospecting. The general agreement of the CEP was that the environmental impact of bioprospecting activities had been negligible so far and that the Environmental

Impact Assessment procedures that were required by the Environmental Protocol in

Annex I could be used to assess and manage any further impacts to the environment by Antarctic bioprospectors harvesting samples. During the discussion, representatives from SCAR reiterated the potential conflict between the freedom of scientific information and the requirements of confidentiality imposed by commercial developments. The CEP discussion on bioprospecting concluded by admitting that the activity raised additional political and legal issues that should probably be raised at a

19 future ATCM outside of the confines of the CEP. This was too broad an issue for the

CEP to handle on its own.

The question of how to handle bioprospecting in Antarctica was not just being asked by those within SCAR and the ATS or by academic observers who stood outside of it, but also by another sizable international treaty system, the CBD. During the Seventh meeting of the CBD treaty countries in February of 2004, the issue of

Antarctic bioprospecting was brought up in the context of access and benefit-sharing.

The CBD invited the ATS to share with the CBD some of its own ideas of how to manage access and benefit-sharing to its biological resources (CBD 2004). While this may have been a fairly innocuous act, it may also be interpreted as a kind of pressure for the ATS parties to define what it meant to conduct bioprospecting activities within

Antarctica or to have those terms dictated to them by the outside. The following June, the ATCM not only discussed bioprospecting in the CEP, but made it a major agenda item for the legal and institutional working group that exists within it 6. Antarctic bioprospecting has remained an agenda item at every subsequent ATCM.

While it has been a consistent agenda item for the ATCMs since 2004, there have been few definitive actions taken on the issue. This is not to say that the ATS parties have been completely inactive on the subject, just that most of the work has been to fill in gaps in their knowledge of Antarctic bioprospecting, reifying that the

ATS is the appropriate forum to address bioprospecting issues in the region. The 2004

6 This may have been the result of the external pressure applied by the CBD or by the natural progression of internal events as the CEP had planned to refer the legal and political issues to the rest of the ATCM at their previous meeting. It may have been one, the other, or both of these factors which led to the expanded discussion of bioprospecting by the ATS. The end result is the same and which action provoked more discussion of bioprospecting doesn't really matter here. 20

ATCM saw little debate on the issue, just the reading of one paper and a call for more.

The 2005 ATCM contained three papers and a resolution emerged from the Working

Paper from New Zealand. Resolution 7 of that ATCM was adopted and declared that

ATS member states should call attention to their bioprospecting activities (New

Zealand 2005). In the intervening years, only a few countries attempted to comply with this call for transparency. One development that did arise during this time was that SCAR started to surreptitiously address bioprospecting at its July 2006 SCAR

Delegates meeting in Hobart, Australia though two actions (SCAR 2006). One was in the form of SCAR recommendation 29-4 concerning the recording of confidential data from commercial activities, which urged national committees to centralize information about all commercial activities such as bioprospecting. The second was SCAR action

14, which circulated a draft of the SCAR "Code of Conduct for the Use of Animals for

Scientific Purposes in Antarctica." The code had not been updated since 1988 and was revised to clarify what constituted "animals" as well as what constituted their ethical use. While the main purpose of such a code is ostensibly to ensure that all fauna is treated responsibly for its own welfare, it also stipulates that all research on fauna must be reviewed by an ethical review committee for appropriate analysis. This would effectively allow such a committee to be able to review all biological research projects that involve experimentation, a procedure essential to the bioprospecting process. Dr.

Walton again appears here as a consultant to the SCAR Secretariat for the purposes of circulating this new code 7. During the 2007 ATCM, it was recognized that more work

7 A recent revised draft of this code has been posted as a document for consideration at the 2010 31st SCAR Delegate meeting as a contribution from the Life sciences specialty group (Biology Working 21 was needed to be undertaken on this topic and an intercessional contact group was formed to help keep Antarctic bioprospecting an issue that was exclusively managed by the ATS parties as opposed to "other international forums." SCAR was tasked in

2008 with surveying the scientific community to discover how widespread the phenomenon was, but they had very few responses to their inquiries. At the 2009

ATCM, a resolution was passed declaring that existing ATS bodies were the appropriate framework within which the issues posed by bioprospecting could be dealt with. No new legislation or rules were actually created, but it did clarify that the environmental issues posed by bioprospecting fell under the purview of the 1991

Environmental Protocol or the Convention on the Conservation of Antarctic Marine

Living Resources (CCAMLR).

The lack of clear regulations within the ATS regarding intellectual property rights in the region has made a number of biotechnology firms nervous about the legitimacy of their claims to research conducted in Antarctica. This uncertainty has led some firms to call for a regime which could establish such legitimacy (Johnston and

Lohan 2005). Because the effects of such exploitation on the Antarctic are unknown and because bioprospecting has the potential to be an unregulated industry, the pursuit of these extremophiles worries some Antarctic actors. For example, the Antarctic and

Southern Ocean Coalition (ASOC) (an environmental organization) started listing bioprospecting as a concern after the first United Nations University report came out in 2004. The 2005 United Nations University report on bioprospecting in Antarctica

Group successor): http://www.scar.org/researchgroups/lifescience/meetings/2010meeting/LSSSG- 10_Doc02_CodeAnimal2.pdf 22 cited the absence of clear property rules in the region as a restriction to further use

(Johnston and Lohan 2005). Future Antarctic bioprospecting regimes or legislation could invalidate exclusive use rights or confidential information could cost a biotechnology firm their significant investment in a quest to harvest new materials from Antarctica. This potential scenario has disinclined most firms from participating in arrangements such as Micromat. The current risks of paying for Antarctic research outstrip the potential rewards, especially when new Antarctic biodiversity databases can provide the same information without the expenses.

The summary of Antarctic bioprospecting history elucidated here can be said to center around three central issues. The idea that this is a threat to biotic populations has been discounted by both the CEP and the 2009 Resolution declaring that such issues are addressed through pre-existing rules found in CCAMLR and the 1991

Environmental Protocol. Therefore, it will not be included as one of the three central issues 8. The first issue is that bioprospecting may pose a threat to Antarctic science.

This is usually expressed through a concern that the open and transparent scientific process required by Article Three of the Antarctic Treaty may be compromised if a scientist is contracted to work for a biotech company that requires confidentiality about the research undertaken. This has also led to calls for scientists to police themselves or distinguish corporate science from a more aloof and objective science.

The second central issue is a concern that bioprospecting represents an infringement

8 Environmental degradation still has the potential to become an issue. The IUCN warned the ATS through a presentation to the ATCM in 2005 that bio-products based on marine living resources may require significant biomass to process out the amount of desired product. Companies may elect to gather large amounts of naturally-occurring samples from the Antarctic because this may result in a lower cost than synthesizing samples. 23 on an Antarctic commons. If the continent is held as a common property for all humankind, then any exploitation of that commons is either a violation of humanity's resources or something that must be compensated for in a way that benefits Antarctica/ humanity. Finally, there is the potential that if bioprospecting is not regulated by the

ATS, then its very legitimacy and ability to govern the continent are called into question. This can be seen in the actions taken by the ATS to define itself as the sole governance body capable of making decisions about bioprospecting in Antarctica.

These ideas of science, property, and governance may seem quite independent from each other as concerns about Antarctic bioprospecting, but they are all grounded by their practitioners needs to engrave these ideas onto the continent through acts of territoriality. Territory is the universal alembic that these ideas must pass through if they are to become "real" instead of just virtual possibilities about Antarctica.

Antarctica is the place upon which these ideas are enacted. The next section will explain some of the theory behind the ideas of territory and territoriality that will form the basis of how these issues of Antarctic bioprospecting are dealt with throughout the rest of this dissertation.

1.2 Theory

1.2.1 Modernism and Postmodernism

The two world-views that are present throughout this dissertation are modernism and postmodernism. People and groups adhere to the core principles contained within each philosophy whenever they frame ideas such as science, property, and governance. As a result, it becomes important to understand what each philosophy stands for before undertaking an investigation of these ideas.

Modernity is about ordering things into categories, frequently differentiating parts of a whole from each other. In describing modernity, David Clarke states that

"The basic idea is that modernity witnessed the separation of life into distinct spheres that had previously been inseparable (i.e. unified), allowing for their rational organization, monitoring, and surveillance" (Clarke 2006, p.108). More than just separation, though, there is the attachment of value and justice to this process. The project of modernity is one of purification, according to Bruno Latour (Latour 1993).

Distilling objects and ideas down to their essence provides a better way to understand them through modern approaches. Through the purification process, the purified element is kept and the rest of the material that comprised the original is discarded as either irrelevant or undesirable. Modernity is often simplified into a separation of two elements, with one being more valued than the other. Modernity in the natural sciences generally separates the humans conducting the observations from the rest of the

25 environment. Modernity applied to politics involves the separation of us (insiders) from them (outsiders). There is an inherent positive value to being us (or human) rather than them (or nonhuman) 9. The political distinction is typically centered on issues of European colonial control of other regions of the world and the justification for such action. Even after the era of European colonialism, ideas of development through "modernization theory" were based upon taking apart the historical components that defined European state development and projecting them onto other countries as the definitive way to become better states.

Postmodern interpretations of the world largely spring from these critiques of the modernist model. These critiques largely came to the forefront during the 1980s in response to ill-fitting applications of modernist thought to a world that was rapidly expanding and becoming more accessible for a greater number of people. An expansion of the awareness of how interconnected the world had become through the process known as globalization prompted scholars to engage with perspectives that they had not yet encountered in their specialization. Latour describes a "proliferation of hybrids" to illustrate the situation of how the neat categories that have been created to contain and explain phenomena encountered (and codify into newspaper sections) can be challenged by something as small as a virus:

"Headings like Economy, Politics, Science, Books, Culture, Religion, and

Local Events remain in place as if there were nothing odd going on. The

smallest AIDS virus takes you from sex to the unconscious, then to Africa,

9 Although this system can also be argued the other way, one is still working within the system to value the one over the other. 26

tissue cultures, DNA and San Francisco, but the analysts, thinkers, journalists

and decision-makers will slice the delicate network traced by the virus for you

into tidy compartments where you will find only science, only economy, only

social phenomena, only local news, only sentiment, only sex." (Latour 1993,

p.2)

Given the number of aspects of life that are touched upon by the subjects of research, the amount of study and explanation needed to explore each subject is daunting.

Clarke admits that postmodernity is inherently confusing because of this hybridization

(Clarke 2006). Above all else, postmodernity rejects the modernist narrative of progress derived from the enlightenment that an unending process of purification makes human society better (Luke 2007). Postmodernists seek instead to amplify the voices of those people and perspectives that have been under-represented or marginalized within modernity. While postmodern researchers recognize the need to categorize and simplify, acknowledgement of the process of doing so is important to them. Categories are not depicted as real but rather as social constructions erected in a particular case to explain a phenomena.

Modernism and postmodernism are regularly expressed through discourse, but they are also inscribed upon the world that we live in through practices of territoriality.

Any analysis of how modern or postmodern thought specifically affect the development of methods to control the act of bioprospecting within Antarctica must necessarily study how those ideas are both expressed and given form in the Antarctic

27 territory. Understanding how territory and territoriality function is therefore important before proceeding any further.

1.2.2 Territoriality

Territory is one of the most basic concepts within the field of political geography. Recent debates about what constitutes political geography confirms territory to be a central concept (Agnew 2003; Cox 2003; Cox and Low 2003) and

Robert Sack's views on territoriality are recognized as seminal by political geographers (Agnew, Paasi et al. 2000; Delaney 2005). Human territoriality is separate from the biological notion of inherent territorial behavior in animals because it is socially constructed. Sack defines territoriality as "a human strategy to affect, influence, and control" (Sack 1986, p.2). Territoriality is a way to affect the political relations that create territory. As a strategy to control/influence human behavior, this is a concept that is a close cousin to Michel Foucault's idea of "governmentality." Both of these concepts understand that there is a close connection between knowledge and power, with a particular acknowledgement of geographic knowledge's influence on power. Territoriality differs from governmentality in that governmentality is generally focused on a specific population to be controlled and its main technical instruments of control are through apparatuses of security (Foucault 2007) whereas the tendencies of territoriality are focused on defining a geographic area and are addressed to the broader population which seeks to engage with that area. Sack provides a list of ten

elemental tendencies of human territoriality based on social relationships and actions

(see figure 3 ). The tendencies are reflections of the territorial strategies employed through territoriality to affect human relations in a given territorial area. These tendencies may take place concurrently and form a "combination." Sack provides 14 examples of these combinations (Sack 1986, pp.34-40), of which this dissertation will focus on two types: hierarchical bureaucracies and territorial definitions of social relations.

1.2.3 Territoriality: hierarchical bureaucracy

Hierarchical bureaucracies employ all ten tendencies, to one degree or another, to form institutions organized around the control of space, such as the territorially- based state. The state is defined generally as an area with well-defined boundaries governed by institutions given legitimacy by the people who live within it (Dear

2000). For a number of political geographers, the state remains the focus of research in the field or the underlying geopolitical backdrop upon which other political actions can play out (Cox 2003; Flint 2003; Low 2003). This combination of territoriality tendencies includes not only the 192 world states that have been officially sanctioned through the United Nations, but also institutional hierarchies that are constructed through the cooperation of multiple states such as the United Nations itself or the

Antarctic Treaty System.

Even though the state (as a hierarchical bureaucracy) is the most popularly used combination of territoriality tendencies for analysis, there are some problems associated with its application. As stable as some of these institutions seem, Sack also warns that the control applied by hierarchical bureaucracies can backfire if the social relations are oppressive or seemingly without meaning or relevance. This can lead to the territoriality combination of secession in which resistance to the dominating aspects of the state leads to the creation of an alternative territorial form that is set up in opposition to the original hierarchical bureaucracy (Sack 1986, p.40). The other danger posed by the hierarchical bureaucracy combination is that it may be perceived

30 as the exclusive mode that can exert territoriality, even though Sack himself posits over a dozen different ways to see territoriality exerted. John Agnew has warned against falling into the “territorial trap”, part of which is thinking of the state as the exclusive container of territorial power (Agnew 1994). Finally, there is the privileging of dominating forms of power within this model. John Allen problematizes the unitary conception of power in his book Lost Geographies of Power by splitting power into two general categories ("power over" versus "power to") and naming several different types of power that can operate in a social-spatial context (authority, coercion, manipulation, seduction, and domination) (Allen 2003). The power relations expressed through hierarchical systems such as states are usually expressed in terms of "power over" and domination, which does not leave much room to account for agency or creativity that does not emanate from the leadership at the top of the hierarchy.

The Antarctic Treaty and the subsequent ATS are often viewed as the primary arbiters and legitimate enactors of territoriality in the framings of ideas of Antarctic science, property, and governance. Through this territorial perspective, the role of

Antarctic science is to be advisors to the central governing body (the ATS) through bureaucratic organizations like SCAR. SCAR is supposed to be apolitical from this perspective, offering suggestions gleaned from a purely scientific engagement with

Antarctica and the observations and insights gained from that relationship. Property rights are often perceived as absent because the Antarctic Treaty and ATS do not explicitly state anything about them, giving rise to the notion that they govern a global commons space that must either be protected from the encroachment of private

31 property or permit it through explicit regulation. Finally, the ATS is regularly regarded as the only form of governance that the Antarctic has. Member states participate through a consensus voting procedure during ATCM, but organizations such as SCAR or environmental groups are relegated to advisory positions in this governance framework.

In addition to the supra-state ATS territorial identity, other state-centered territorial conceptions are still applied to Antarctica. Although Article Four prevents

Antarctica from being claimed as sovereign space, states are still able to practice territoriality within the region. Most states practice territoriality by supporting scientific activities on the continent, and a few others supplement this strategy with other displays such as dispatching families of their citizens to the Antarctic in

“colonies” (Child 1988). In taking action against “Toothfish Pirates,” Australia sent an armed ship to patrol “its” Antarctic waters in 2004 (Ellison, Macdonald et al. 2004) and has utilized cartographic information on the underwater Antarctic continental shelf to emphasize its dominance in the region (Dodds 2010). Territoriality is used to promote the relative significance of groups within Antarctica, such as the United

States maintaining a station at the South Pole, the symbolic “center” of the continent.

Most social scientists have used modernist approaches that incorporate hierarchical bureaucratic territorial engagement when engaging Antarctica, and subsequently with the issue of bioprospecting on and around the continent. The only article in Political Geography to focus on Antarctica is a comment by M. Manzoni and

P. Pagnini from 1996, which deems Antarctica "a symbolic territory" with little to

32 offer political geographers (Manzoni and Pagnini 1996). The lion’s share of political geographic writing on Antarctica since Manzoni and Pagnini has come from Klaus

Dodds, who has approached Antarctica from the perspective of critical geopolitics

(1997a; Dodds 1997b; 1998; 2000). While his work, following in the tradition of critical geopolitics, has shed light upon the representations of Antarctica from a number of political perspectives, Dodds does have a tendency to frame analyses of

Antarctica in terms of state perspectives. For example, Dodds presents several different geographical conceptions of Antarctica 10 in chapter 2 of his book Geopolitics in Antarctica , but then proceeds to periodize them and centers each of the subsequent chapters around different state engagements with the continent 11 (Dodds 1997b).

Dodds has also started to develop the idea of a brand of sovereignty based around the

Antarctic Treaty or "treaty sovereignty" 12 . This concentration on the impact of geographical knowledge on state and supra-state policies towards Antarctica has allowed great insights into how Antarctica functions, but has been limited in interpreting how alternative conceptions of politics itself might be applied to

Antarctica.

This tendency to rely on hierarchical bureaucracies to impose territorial tendencies extends to the literature on Antarctic bioprospecting. Most articles on the subject, no matter which aforementioned issue of bioprospecting they take up, result in

10 These conceptions are (along with their periodizations): Antarctica as a partially filled space (1900- 40), Antarctica and the Cold War (1945-60), Antarctica as a place for science (1960s), Antarctica as a place of resource potential (1970s-80s), and Antarctica and the global environmental challenge (1990s). 11 Dodds focuses on "Southern Oceanic Rim States" because of their physical proximity to the continent. These states (with their respective chapters in the book) are: Argentina (Ch. 3), Australia (Ch. 4), Chile (Ch. 5), India (Ch. 6), New Zealand (Ch. 7), and South Africa (Ch. 8). 12 Klaus Dodds articulated the idea of "treaty sovereignty" during his 2010 Association of American Geographers meeting presentation and intimated that he might further articulate it in further articles. 33 policy suggestions for the Antarctic Treaty or its member states. In regards to the issue of bioprospecting threatening the freedom of scientific information, Alan Hemmings suggests that moral hazard is risked without a clear institutional separation of scientists as actors from scientists as advisors (Hemmings 2010). Julia Jabour and

Diane Nicol suggest that Antarctica is a commons that needs to have bioprospecting regulated within it (Jabour-Green and Nicol 2003). The stability of Antarctic governance can similarly be assured, according to Melissa Weber, if the ATS would adopt accreditation as a bioprospecting regulatory option (Weber 2006). The collective conclusions of the 2003 Workshop on Antarctic Bioprospecting were submitted to the

ATCM with the hopes of engendering discussion there. All of these approaches seek to influence the course of events by appealing to the bureaucracy of the ATS in the hopes that their suggestions will be adopted and then imposed by the ATS. Changes to the power structure are implemented from the top-down of a perceived Antarctic hierarchy in this model.

While this dissertation does not aim to denigrate the efforts of these scholars to resolve issues of bioprospecting through this approach to Antarctic territoriality, there do exist weaknesses to an over-commitment to this approach. The first is that this approach may be based on assumptions of how these ideas are configured. In approaching the issue through techniques of hierarchical bureaucracy, a scholar may not question the fundamental efficiencies of the bureaucracy itself and take the institution for granted. As time moves forward, institutions must adapt to new conditions and new configurations through adopting new values and perspectives. The

34 hierarchical bureaucracy territoriality combination in many ways relies on the state (as well as supra-state organizations that are comprised of states) as a container of power, an assumption that has been challenged (Agnew 1994). Secondly, an over-reliance on this approach may overlook solutions or perspectives that are engendered outside of state regulations or hierarchical bureaucracies. As Abraham Maslow has said, "It is tempting, if the only tool you have is a hammer, to treat everything as if it were a nail"

(Maslow 1966, p.15). It may be more effective to expand the toolbox of territoriality in regards to Antarctica to include combinations of territoriality conceptions that do not center upon state or supra-state hierarchical bureaucracies in order to finesse a solution to the issues that have arisen from bioprospecting in Antarctica.

1.2.4 Territoriality: the creation of geographical imaginaries

Sack provides thirteen other combinations of territorial tendencies beyond hierarchy and bureaucracy, but it is his "territorial definition of social relations" combination of territorial tendencies that is most closely tied to what postmodern scholars have elsewhere have examined as the creation of "geographical imaginaries."

In the "territorial definition of social relations," territories are used to define, enforce, and mold groups in a way that is removed from people or populations. The way that the space is socially articulated dictates the application of particular rules or expectations rather than the standing of an individual within a social group. The territorial tendencies of classification, enforcement, impersonal relations, and molding

35 are used to form an underlying geographic reality which shapes social interactions within the territory. Various authors have used this same concept, but done so with different terms such as "geographical imaginaries," "territorial imaginaries,"

"geopolitical imaginaries," "geopolitical traditions," and "imagined geographies." The term "geographical imaginary" is the most commonly used phrase to describe this application of territoriality. An acknowledged geographical imaginary shapes the social groups within the given territory by setting the terms and categories allowable within the scope of the territory. The social construction of territorial identities through geographical imaginaries has been a growing topic in the social sciences. A geographical imaginary is an active expression of a geopolitical culture. It is a way of thinking and defining a given area. Importantly, geographical imaginaries exist in the plural because there can be many different points of view from which a place may be constructed. This differs somewhat from Sack's original conception of territorial definitions of social relations as an exclusive tool of the "upper echelons of a hierarchy" (Sack 1986, p.36), but later scholars such as Klaus Dodds and Joanne

Sharpe have shown that this type of territoriality can also be performed by non- official/non-government-sanctioned sources (Sharp 2000; Dodds 2003; Dittmer and

Dodds 2008). This allows for all sorts of groups to invent and enforce their own territorialities. In Allen's conception of power, geographical imaginaries can allow for empowerment or a "power to" create territory from the bottom-up as well as the top- down (Allen 2003). Geographical imaginaries can frame knowledge of a particular

36 area in ways that empower or disempower certain groups, particularly through considering what to include, exclude, or rank within their discourse.

The idea for geographical imaginaries came about with post-structural and critical analyses of power dynamics. Edward Said critiqued "western" understandings and portrayals of the Arabic world and Palestinians in particular in his book

Orientalism (Said 1978). Benedict Anderson was concerned with the construction of nationalities in a number of post-colonial states, showing that an invented national consciousness is too big to be considered anything but an imagined community

(Anderson 1991). Peter von Ham has even expressed that current states must make efforts to actively build their images in order to attain various goals (Ham 2001).

These ideas are crystallized, expressed, and etched onto the physical landscape by various forms of discourse. Artistic expression is one way that ideas can be given form in the world, as are subtle acts of spatial inclusion/exclusion that can be enacted through hierarchical social relations imposed in specific areas.

Critical geopolitics can be employed to critique traditional understandings of world politics put forward by international relations scholars, particularly the idea that sovereign state governments should be the central focus of political and geographical study. Critical geopolitics shifts from a singular focus on states to investigation of how the world has been inscribed with particular dominant territorialities through the use of power (Ó Tuathail 1996). In so doing, critical geopolitics incorporates the study of governance, which recognizes that institutions outside the purview of formal government may be involved with governing (Young 1997). Governance also

37 acknowledges that these groups are coordinated through networks and partnerships as opposed to a top-down hierarchy (Painter 2000). Critical geopolitics includes governance in its study of territoriality by recognizing that non-state people and groups also strategize over, establish, and enforce claims over political space.

Attention to ways that critical geopolitics de-centers the state as the primary political actor and broadens notions of political territoriality thus raises questions about how multiple political actors’ perceptions of Antarctica as a geopolitical territory might affect the outcomes of bioprospecting negotiations. Critical geopolitics recognizes the potential for struggle between the various “geographical imaginings” of territories.

A wide variety of territorial conceptions of Antarctica are recognized when considering the multiplicity of groups asserting themselves. Major geographical representations include Antarctica considered as a place of common heritage, a world park, or a natural laboratory (Dodds 1997b). The colloquial reference to Antarctica as a natural laboratory was used by various scientific groups to reinforce the continent as existing within the domain of scientists (Crary 1962). From this perspective, the ATS only serves to manage activities on the continent to allow researchers to conduct science there. These various identifiers have been used by different interest groups to promote their agendas. Non-members of the Antarctic Treaty in the 1980s, such as

Malaysia, called for Antarctic to be considered a place of common heritage of the world so that members would not exclusively benefit from any minerals regime

(Tepper and Haward 2005). The world park identity was pressed by non-governmental organizations, such as Greenpeace and ASOC, interested in the conservation of

Antarctica’s environment (Dalziell and Goldsworthy 1994). Greenpeace even established a scientific research station on the continent (Clark 1994). Both of these conceptions regard Antarctica as a commons, either as filled with resources to be equitably exploited for the world or to be held apart from exploitation altogether.

Common heritage narratives have even been used to challenge the idea of states as the only eligible voting members of the ATS, as Greenpeace once applied for consultative status within the organization. This status was denied, but Greenpeace had made its presence felt through the boldness of its suggestion. Each of these narratives illustrates a geographical imaginary that is not based on a form of state territoriality, but is rather based on its own legitimacy. One of the other points to be made about these territorialities is that they co-exist and overlap within Antarctica.

Scholars have recently started to open up to the idea of multiple geographical imaginaries of Antarctica, particularly through feminist and post-colonial studies of the continent. Earlier work has suggested many perceptions of Antarctica (Kirby,

Stewart et al. 2001), but has done little to explore how they impact the conduct of activities on the continent. Other works that have been critical of Antarctica have been previously downplayed and isolated (Azraai 1987; Johnson 2005). Dodds has written a tentative piece suggesting areas that might be further explored by post-colonial scholars in Antarctica (Dodds 2006), but the real leaders in this field have been

Christy Collis and Dodd's student Kathryn Yusoff. Collis (with some help from

Quentin Stevens) has focused on Australia's continuing colonial ties to Antarctica

(Collis 2004; Collis and Stevens 2004; Collis and Stevens 2007). Yusoff has brought

39 scholarship to bear on the use of imagery to portray Antarctica in a number of different ways (Yusoff 2005; Yusoff 2007). One recent issue of Signs: Journal of

Women in Culture & Society provided discussion of the gendered perspectives on the continent (Collis 2009; Dodds 2009; Leane 2009; Rosner 2009) as did an issue of S&F

Online which also served to kick off a 2008 Barnard College conference called

"Gender on Ice" (Bloom 2008; Bloom, Glasberg et al. 2008; Glasberg 2008). The masculine-feminine binary of Antarctica and its explorers is a rich vein of scholarship to mine, but is not as useful when considering the alternative ideas of science, property, and governance in the context of bioprospecting. This study might still be classified as feminist, however, in its efforts to empower ways of seeing geographical imaginaries from different perspectives with attention to their standpoints.

1.2.5 Comparing the two territorial approaches

The three standpoints from which bioprospecting in Antarctica are considered in this dissertation should not be considered unitary or settled perspectives. The model of disinterested scientists serving as advisors to policy rather than empowered participants in creating territories and engaging in activities has been challenged by scholarship in the field of science-policy studies. Scientists are therefore empowered to effect how bioprospecting is addressed in Antarctica. Recent studies of property reveal that models based on the inexorable slide of common property to private property do not apply to all resources that property relations manage. Bioprospecting

40 in Antarctica becomes a more complex story when the different types of property involved (biological resources and intellectual resources) are considered. Governance in Antarctica may not lie entirely with the ATS when one considers the influence of various other groups in affecting behavior on the continent. The outcome of how bioprospecting is managed on the continent may have less to do with what regulations are put in place by the ATS and more to do with what the configuration of interested parties can agree upon. It is important to consider this second perspective of geographical imaginaries of science, property, and governance in addition to the territorialities employed by hierarchical bureaucracies if the most efficient solution to this issue is to be determined.

These two framings of territoriality are essential to the rest of the dissertation.

Each of the following three chapters will explore how one idea (science, property, or governance) has been expressed on the continent of Antarctica either through the territorial configuration of hierarchical bureaucracies (states and the Antarctic Treaty) or the territorial definitions of social relations (various geographical imaginaries). The dominant narratives in the literature surrounding Antarctica, and Antarctic bioprospecting in particular, derive most of their ideas of power and legitimacy through hierarchical bureaucracies. Scientists are seen as outside advisors to state- based policy-making; the management of an Antarctic commons is left to the ATS, as is the governance of the continent. But in examining the literature and discourse surrounding each idea, possibilities for expansion and empowerment are also revealed through alternative readings of science, property, and governance and connected to the

Antarctic through reconsidering the issues posed there by bioprospecting. This is not to suggest that the dominant narratives are invalid, but rather through an imbricated approach (Ettlinger 2009) suggest that understanding the different layers of the issues can provide a richer understanding of how to approach the problem in practical terms.

1.3 Empirical Approach

1.3.1 Reflexive account of initial research approach

At the start of this research, I entered very much from the established perspective that Antarctic bioprospecting was a problem to be solved, by regulation if at all possible. The study was initially armed with a set of questions regarding the interests of the various actors and regime analysis at the ready to try and understand why the ATS, SCAR, and the other interested parties had made the choices that they had. As the research progressed, these questions proved to be less and less useful.

Antarctic actors were very cautious when discussing bioprospecting, as the very terms that they were using were burdened with many layers of meaning and interpretation.

The author was excluded from the central sites of ATS and SCAR governance where ostensible discussion on bioprospecting was taking place as these were too high up in the hierarchy for a graduate student researcher to stand in as a witness. As some of the information that was originally thought to be solid fact (such as the idea that bioprospecting could be considered a discrete activity taking place wholly in

Antarctica) melted away into vague ambiguities, the study reformed itself to adapt to this world of shifting terms and laden meanings. To build a post-structuralist study on a foundation that involves many socially constructed terms is to invite an unstable world of multiple discourses.

The collapse of the ordered world that had been expected provided much turmoil, but there were several personal aspects that kept me grounded. The first was having experienced Antarctica as a non-scientific laborer. This allowed for non- scientist perspectives to be considered valid and empowered, even if they were not the conventional approach to the continent that had been publicly touted. The second was having a unique perspective into the motivation of scientists as patent-seekers through the vicarious experience of having a family member with several biomedical patents to her name. The conventional narratives of scientists as being either leading purely academic and monastic lives or being opportunistic money-seekers were complicated by personally knowing someone who was both a well-respected scientist and involved in biotechnology. Holding on to these critical and complex portraits of place and people, the task of collecting and organizing observations of Antarctic bioprospecting discussions was undertaken with care and an appreciation for complexity.

The choice of data collection and methods of analysis was also shaped by the contemporary nature of the issues involved in the study. As is evidenced by the preceding history of Antarctic bioprospecting, this research has been taking place while negotiations and ideas have been in flux. The contemporary and ever-changing nature of the activity of bioprospecting as an issue not settled by the Antarctic Treaty

System made this a challenge to study. The research therefore adopted a number of strategies associated with Grounded Theory: the simultaneous collection and analysis of data, sampling to refine emerging theoretical ideas, and the integration of a theoretical framework into the study (Charmaz 2000). Although the issue is very contemporary, the history of bioprospecting and the terms involved were considered to be very important and to serve as evidence of the various ideas and narratives that developed around the ideas of science, property, and governance within Antarctica.

History provides an important context, as does the geography of Antarctica. Data was therefore gathered about how ideas developed in general and particularly within the region.

1.3.2 Data collection and analysis

The main methods of data collection were archival research and participant observation. Archival resources such as bioprospecting publications, presentations, and fliers were a critical data source because these are often the most public face of the ideas on bioprospecting, in that the creators of them emit for mass consumption.

These textual sources identified some of the formal positions of the actors involved and their goals, as well as the construction of discourses and story-lines for each line of reasoning. These include papers submitted for SCAR meetings and ATCMs, summary reports of those meetings, academic articles on the subject of Antarctic bioprospecting, advertisements, and public displays. Participant observation at a

44 number of meetings provided a glimpse of how Antarctic issues such as bioprospecting were framed in both formal and informal ways, particularly by scientists and policy-makers. Since the object was to study how Antarctic bioprospecting is negotiated, it was important to examine how arguments and terms are constructed in the locations of Antarctic discussion and debate, particularly at meetings that involved Antarctic scientists and policy-makers. The National Science

Foundation's Doctoral Dissertation Research Improvement Grant allowed for travel to the 39 th Antarctic Treaty Consultative Meeting in Edinburgh (June 12-23, 2006), the

29 th SCAR meeting in Hobart, Australia (July 8-20, 2006), the first meeting of the

Association of Polar Early Career Scientists in Stockholm, Sweden (September 26-29,

2007), and the 30th SCAR meeting in St. Petersburg, Russia (July 8-11, 2008). In addition to these funded trips, the Antarctic Treaty Summit in Washington, DC

(November 30 through December 3, 2009) was also attended to hear additional individuals involved in the debate surrounding bioprospecting and to process their rhetoric regarding the Antarctic Treaty as it is currently articulated by a number of interested non-state parties.

At these meetings, presentations, press conferences, and other public events that were attended, the researcher was allowed to interact with individuals involved in

Antarctic science and policy on several different levels. The formal level involved listening to prepared speeches and lectures that subjects gave to attendees. More informal encounters involved catching individuals in between engagements or for a meal. The casual perspectives and off-hand remarks led to defining moments in this

45 research. Not having a set of pre-made questions made for greater flexibility than structured interviews and allowed participants to explore the topics in their own ways

(Bigman 2001). This was important, since the choice of words and discourse was essential to understanding how bioprospecting was framed by the actors involved.

Participants were also able to correct any perceived misperceptions upon the part of the researcher, which afforded them their rights to representation (Gergen and Gergen

2000). While this led to frustration at not fulfilling initial preordained hypotheses, it did allow this dissertation to grow into a fuller understanding of the subject matter.

Combined, these primary data collection methods provided access to the information on an immediate basis in order to perform iterative data analyses upon them as research progressed. Data were analyzed using discourse analysis to examine how ideas of science, property, and governance are created, negotiated, and managed by the various actors involved in their production for Antarctica. Discourse is a particular group of ideas that give meaning to social and physical realities and are produced through specific practices, narratives, and symbols (Hajer 1995). Practices, narratives, and symbols are practices which help to produce the realities that belong to a particular discourse. This study investigates the various realities constructed through stories, symbols, and debate analyzing the data collected by looking for the commonalities and differences between metaphors and interpretations of events that the various actors provide. In order to accomplish this, the context and content of the archival and first-hand sources were taken into account. The context of the statements can show how their source relates to their surroundings, and can also provide a sense

46 of how territoriality has been deployed. Statements regarding how bioprospecting should be undertaken in Antarctica reflected the source’s relationship to the continent.

Signs and markers could provide hints of how a particular space was territorialized as well.

1.4 Summary of the chapters to come

This dissertation is structured such that the three concerns about bioprospecting in Antarctica are each addressed individually before synthesizing them together in the final chapter. The central three chapters explore the central questions brought up about bioprospecting in Antarctica through the respective alembics of science, property, and governance. The general format followed in these chapters is to first present several historical events that illustrate how the central concept is embodied within Antarctica. Then a modernist interpretation of the concept is shown to be territorialized in Antarctica, along with a focus on how modernists approach the central concern posed about bioprospecting in the chapter. The section that follows considers a postmodern interpretation of the same central concept, and then seeks to reveal how that concept has also been territorialized within Antarctica. The chapter will assert how postmodernists could approach the issue. After considering Antarctic bioprospecting from all of these diverse perspectives, the fifth and final chapter synthesizes the lessons learned from its predecessors. A comprehensive approach to bioprospecting should consider all of these ideas together if it is to be successful.

CHAPTER 2

IS BIOPROSPECTING A THREAT TO ANTARCTIC SCIENCE?

An encounter at the 2006 meeting of the Scientific Committee on Antarctic

Research (SCAR) in Hobart, Australia provides an example of the discomfort that

Antarctic scientists had with bioprospecting, even for those who were conducting it.

Dr. Rachel Codd, a biochemical researcher presented her findings on cold adaptations in metallobiomolecules from Antarctic bacteria that allowed the organisms to attract iron molecules in iron-deficient environments. Her presentation made it clear that there were a number of possible commercial applications that could arise from research into these metallobiomolecules. When I asked her about the degree to which she was involved in bioprospecting, she became uncomfortable. She said that she preferred the term "biodiscovery" to bioprospecting, and stressed that she was more interested in how this research could benefit iron-deficient people through bioremediation rather than the industrial applications. She further disowned any interest in the applied aspects of her research by stating that she mostly wrote about applications to attract funding. The idea that the "biodiscovery" that she was involved in could compromise her scientific integrity or standing was clearly a concern for Dr.

Codd.

As mentioned in the first chapter, bioprospecting was introduced into the ATS by a scientist who was worried what the activity might mean for the exchange of science under Article Three of the Antarctic Treaty. This concern was articulated in the first working paper presented to the Antarctic Treaty System (ATS) on the subject.

In that document the United Kingdom noted that the first issue of Antarctic bioprospecting that warranted particular attention was:

"The potential conflict between the freedom of access to scientific information

provided for in Article III of the Antarctic Treaty, and the confidentiality that

inevitably surrounds the commercial exploitation of bioactive material (i.e.

patenting)." (United Kingdom 2002, p.2)

While the statement expresses that bioprospecting poses conflicts for the scientists that conduct it, the emphasis here is on the legal conundrum posed by this perceived binary. On the one hand, there is the obligation clearly stated in the Antarctic Treaty that "scientific observations and results from Antarctica shall be exchanged and made freely available" (Treaty 1959, Art. 3.1.c) and, on the other, there is the desire of biotechnology patent holders to retain a monopoly on potentially profitable information. The possibility that bioprospecting restricts scientists from doing science in a "proper" or "pure" Antarctic way is treated as an important issue by scientists because it helps to support a modern territorialization of Antarctica that privileges science as an elevated activity.

The effect of bioprospecting on the scientific territorialization of Antarctica has been framed as a legal and ethical issue of how to reconcile the two sides of the

49 conflict. In that vein, lawyers such as Kim Connolly-Stone have sought to negate scientific information-sharing concerns by arguing that since patents must be published or made public, no contradiction of Article Three is established (Connolly-

Stone 2005). While this might be keeping to the letter of the Treaty, it does not address the ethical issue of what is good and bad science in Antarctica. The ethics of this particular concern has been pursued by such scholars as Alan Hemmings, Julia

Jabour, Dianne Nicol, and others (Jabour-Green and Nicol 2003; Hemmings 2010;

Hughes and Bridge 2010). Hemmings recognizes the contingencies of the privileged position of science within Antarctica, but situates that power in an implicit assumption that scientists are objective and disinterested at the geopolitical level (Hemmings

2010). The privileged stability of Antarctica as a scientific realm of discovery and exploration would therefore be threatened by complicating the image of Antarctic scientists and what activities they are involved in within Antarctica. The scholars noted above tend to call for formal regulatory mechanisms to be employed to avoid perceived conflicts of interest.

While a formal declaration of what is or is not appropriate Antarctic science moving forward is one solution to this dilemma, another approach recognizing the dynamic agency of scientists and their ability to geopolitically engage might also be called for. These two ideas are not mutually exclusive, but modernist approaches have placed more emphasis on the former. A geographical imaginary of a scientific

Antarctica that views scientists as participant citizens rather than simply drones conducting the work of science would recognize the more active roles that scientists

50 have been playing in society, both around the world and in Antarctic affairs.

Knowledge-creation is a hallmark of science and is now recognized as a central component to power-creation through the works of Michel Foucault. Drawing upon

Foucault's train of thought, scholars have proposed models of scientists actively engaging with social issues and other social groups through techniques of hybrid management (Miller 2001). Scientists are already actively engaged in hybrid management techniques within Antarctica in order to deal with bioprospecting on the continent and so these proposals acknowledge a reality that exists rather than an ideal to aspire to. Scientists have been finding their own ways of addressing bioprospecting in the face of inaction by the ATS.

This chapter investigates the territoriality exerted by scientists upon Antarctica, and asserts that a model of geopolitical scientists might be more appropriate to address the issue of bioprospecting than a more traditional model of scientific territoriality.

Now that this section has pointed out how bioprospecting is perceived as a challenge to scientific regional identity and power, it is important to overview the history behind the rise of an Antarctic scientific terrioriality. The chapter's second section provides a short history of science in the region and illustrates how science ascended to the position that it holds now as a privileged activity on the continent. The third section illustrates the traditional model of science as objective and separate from other activities, and shows how this model has been exerted through territorial strategies.

The fourth section provides an alternative reading of scientific territoriality within

Antarctica which views scientists there as geopolitical actors capable of hybrid

51 engagements. The fifth and final section of this chapter argues that while the traditional model of science seems to privilege scientists within Antarctica, a geopolitical model is both more reflective of the way that science actually functions and more helpful in addressing the concerns posed by bioprospecting within

Antarctica.

2.1 A history of Antarctic science

The history of science in Antarctica is rather a broad topic, and therefore this section will focus on three particular periods of time: science as employed during the

'heroic era' of Antarctic exploration, the rise of science during the International

Geophysical Year (IGY) of 1957-58 with the subsequent establishment of the

Scientific Committee on Antarctic Research (SCAR), and the challenge of the environmental movement to Antarctic science. In general, this history reflects a neglect of science at first, then a steep rise in its influence, followed by a challenge to its authority. Since this discussion does not wish to portray this history uncritically, the perspective of a number of historians are employed in order to gain an enriched understanding of not only what was ostensibly going on but also how events have been interpreted. The discourses that the histories of the past are situated within can therefore be recognized and utilized as another tool to understand the construction of the scientific territorialities of Antarctica later on in the chapter.

2.1.1 Science during the early exploration of the Antarctic

Although scientists had ostensibly been attached to expeditions to the Antarctic from the turn of the 20 th Century onwards, it is generally agreed upon that science was not a great priority before the IGY (Briggs 1970). Before the IGY, most expeditions were explicitly focused on national territorial claims, personal aggrandizement, and/or economic exploitation. Early 19 th Century sealers and whalers were in a good position to add to the biological and geographic information about the Antarctic, but generally did not in order to protect knowledge of their hunting grounds and other trade secrets

(Walton and Bonner 1985). The adoption of effective technology during this period was spotty, Sir Robert Scott in particular demonstrating how cultural and nationalistic prejudices could take precedence over proven survival techniques by favoring man- hauling above dog sleds for the purpose of crafting a particular heroic narrative 13

(Pegg 1993). This period of time in Antarctic history is therefore labeled the "heroic era" as a reflection of the success of these narratives catching the popular imaginations of many people across national borders. Polar explorers at the start of the century utilized primarily private funding provided to promote the creation of national heroes

(Riffenburgh 1993; Dodds 1997). Potential Antarctic explorers would also seek money from the scientific societies and organizations of the day, and therefore include or promote the inclusion of scientific goals to their expeditions to curry favor and

13 While there is much criticism regarding Scott's adoption of the best technology for cold weather, there is no doubt that he also held scientific investigation in high esteem. Samples of coal gathered from the trans-Antarctic mountains were found among the remains of his South Polar expedition when the bodies were recovered, the additional burden to the man-haulers declared worthy of the additional effort used to drag the samples. 53 funding. Primary funding sources for expeditions shifted gradually to originate from national governments with the increasing involvement of the airplane in the late 1920s onwards as more and more states started claiming parts of Antarctica (Dodds 1997).

Of the sciences that were promoted during this time, geography sat at the forefront.

Geography was used during this period as a discipline to help colonial powers establish their dominance over regions of the earth through knowledge. Other sciences were relegated to a more minor role in these expeditions.

This is not to say that there was no scientific curiosity regarding Antarctica during this period nor were that explorers insincere when they included scientific enlightenment as one of the goals of their expeditions, only to point out that funding of expeditions did not focus singularly on scientific aspects. Cornelia Lüdecke has illustrated a number of examples of international scientific cooperation during this time (particularly encouraged through several international scientific meetings and

International Polar Years), yet the expeditions were publicized largely as being competitive with one another (Lüdecke 2003). The competition served to further national pride in each country’s scientific achievements. Beyond the exploration of the unknown aspects of the region, science conducted in Antarctica had the potential to reveal a great deal about global systems of climate patterns, plate tectonics, and particularly the field of geophysics (Walton 1987). The geophysical information that

Antarctica was in a unique position to reveal would be a primary factor in the large- scale involvement of the region in the IGY.

2.1.2 The rise of Antarctic science during the IGY

The IGY has become ensconced as a pivotal part of Antarctic history that stresses the preeminence of science on the continent. The IGY has been described as a

“scientific Olympics,” in which scientists from all over the world participated (Collis and Dodds 2008). This vision of scientists as valorous athletes is also supplemented by war-like rhetoric with scientists as hearty soldiers. Some accounts within National

Geographic characterized the event as a scientific assault on Antarctica (Byrd 1947;

Byrd 1956; Boyer 1957; Byrd 1957; Dufek 1959; McDonald 1962; Tyree 1963;

Matthews 1971). Scientists are also held as ingenious and independent organizers. As popular accounts tell it, the origins of the IGY can be traced back to a dinner-party held by James Van Allen for a number of fellow scientists (Shapely 1985; Walton

1987; Collis and Dodds 2008). The importance of the story is that it emphasizes the non-governmental origin of the IGY, and particularly how a group of scientists relaxing together can initiate one of the largest international scientific efforts that there has ever been. Lasting from 1 July 1957 to 31 December 1958, participating scientists from twelve nations tackled large-scale experiments synchronized across the globe studying the terrestrial environment in its entirety with the support of their respective governments as part of the IGY. Sixty scientific stations were set up in Antarctica during that time because many large-scale questions could not be answered without concrete data from Antarctica.

Many accounts of the IGY credit it with both leading directly to the creation of the Antarctic Treaty and being a strictly apolitical event. Depicting the IGY as the source of the Antarctic Treaty helps to ensconce scientists as necessary for the well- being and existence of Antarctic governance. Chronologically, the Antarctic Treaty did follow the IGY, in 1959, as the twelve nations who had participated in the IGY were invited by Dwight Eisenhower to participate in the negotiation of an Antarctic

Treaty. Peter Briggs and Paul Berkman draw fairly direct causal relationship between the IGY and the Antarctic Treaty (Briggs 1970; Berkman 2002). Former President

Richard Nixon would later allude to the Antarctic in a speech to the United Nations when he remarked that “science has provided a successful basis for international accord” (Pennisi 1991). Positing that the IGY resulted in the Antarctic Treaty also has the effect of concealing or erasing the years of diplomatic work that went into creating the document, as detailed extensively by John Hanessian (Hanessian 1960). Hanessian notes that there were some connections between the IGY and the Antarctic Treaty, but they are more correlative than causative. In recent years, other critiques of this valorization of the IGY have arisen. Adrian Howkins has described the IGY as having

“a Jekyll and Hyde personality” (Howkins 2008, p.596). In one regard, the idealism and international cooperation of scientists was very real, but the IGY also provided a venue for competition and political rivalry. Some of the scientific work that took place, for example seismic traverses across the ice sheet, could be interpreted as another venue for Cold War geopolitics (Naylor, Dean et al. 2008). In fact, Howkins points out that the possibility that scientific knowledge gained from the IGY might be

56 used for non-academic or intellectual purposes is in part what motivated the countries of Chile and Argentina to participate (Howkins 2008). State political interests were clearly a factor during the IGY 14 .

Whether or not the IGY directly resulted in the production of the Antarctic

Treaty, the tangible result was that science became the dominant activity in the

Antarctic from that point onwards. The conduct of Antarctic science may have been prioritized to give a veneer of credibility to Antarctic occupation for some states, but it was still both ensconced in territorial enactments on the continent and responsible for the initial formation of a strong Antarctic-focused scientific non-governmental organization (NGO). Logistic work undertaken originally for the IGY established facilities and infrastructure for scientific activities in the Antarctic. There was also a resulting boom in scientific output in terms of discoveries and publications. In order to manage scientific projects during the IGY, a permanent organization dedicated to

Antarctic science known as SCAR 15 was created (Summerhayes 2008). SCAR was formed and had its first meeting in the Hague from February 3 - 5, 1958 in order to continue international coordination of the scientific projects that had been started during the IGY. SCAR sends representatives to Antarctic Treaty meetings and has largely acted as the de facto secretariat of the treaty. Most ideas which find their way into the Antarctic Treaty Consultative Meetings have their origins in SCAR. Although

14 State interests during the IGY were particularly expressed outside of Antarctica in the "space race" between the United States and Soviet Union. It was during the IGY that the first space satellite was successfully launched by the Soviet Union, prompting fears that this technology could be used to launch nuclear weapons. The United States increased its support for scientific endeavors in the wake of that launch 15 SCAR existed in a different form leading up to and during the IGY as the Special Committee on Antarctic Research. It was expected to be a temporary group, but the end of the IGY saw its calcification into a more stable organization. 57 national delegations make up some of the membership of SCAR, there are also representatives from international scientific organizations. SCAR is funded through the International Council for Science (ICSU), which makes it independent from state funding. These factors ostensibly show SCAR to be an organization beyond the control of a single state or set of states. The projects that SCAR encourages emerge from ideas within the scientific community and generally take the form of temporary groups that are formed to address these problems. For a long time, SCAR existed as the primary non-governmental organization (NGO) that interacted with the Antarctic and ATS.

2.1.3 The environmentalist challenge to Antarctic science

This status as the sole NGO interest in Antarctica would later be challenged as

Antarctic scientists faced a crisis in the early 1990s. With the close of the Cold War, many national scientific groups were scrambling to justify their existence to their governments (Horgan 1996). During the Cold War, large scientific budgets for

Antarctic activities could be nationally justified by comparing their own science and facilities to those of their rivals. Without such an incentive, the need for substantial scientific stations at the expense of the state was questioned. At the same time, the expiration of the first thirty years of the Antarctic Treaty being in force came in 1991 with the demise of the Convention on the Regulation of Antarctic Minerals

(CRAMRA) and the hasty replacement of it by the Environmental Protocol to the

Antarctic Treaty (often called the Madrid Protocol).

During this time, environmental groups were seeking to promote themselves and gain legitimacy in a number of ways around the continent. Greenpeace took its brand of activism to the region with a series of ship-borne expeditions (May 1989) and evocative literature (Clark 1994). They even tried to gain voting status at the ATCM through efforts to conform to the Treaty’s Article 9 [2] by establishing a scientific station at Cape Evans, Ross Island from 1987 to 1993 (Clark 1994). The Antarctic and

Southern Ocean Coalition (ASOC) managed to obtain observer status at the ATCMS and published ECO there, a newsletter for the meetings to promote alternative environmentally-friendly proposals. In terms of discourse and environmental territoriality, environmentalists promoted the ideal of Antarctica as “a world park”

(Barnes 1982). This concept could be found in direct literature produced by Antarctic environmentalists (Davis 1990; Hempel 1994), and as a general sentiment popularly disseminated through popular media such as the National Geographic Magazine . The metaphor of Antarctica as a world park evoked the values of conservation, natural aesthetics, and respect for nature.

There was some trepidation about the rise of an Antarctic environmental identity among scientists. Some scientists feared that increasing environmental priorities would mean a reduction in the budget for Antarctic science that many were already worried about (Pennisi 1991), but it turned out that most state government enlarged their budgets to accommodate environmental interests. Some scientists also

59 feared a displacement of authority; that their scientific work could be misunderstood and shut down by non-scientists. G. E. Fogg tried to summarize the sentiments of

Antarctic scientists towards the Antarctic environmental lobby in the following way:

"However, although its [Greenpeace's] aims have the sympathy of many

Antarctic scientists its oversimplification of the issues and confrontational

tactics are looked on with less enthusiasm." (Fogg 1992, p.191)

The trepidation expressed here arises partly from the environmentalists' lack of nuance in addressing uncertainties that scientists had been used to addressing. The other fear arises from the confrontational style of the environmental organizations, which is seen as running counter to the Antarctic scientific ideal of cooperation. This is not to say that scientists were not sometimes confrontational when it came to dealing with what was perceived as their environmentalist opponents at the time. Scientists such as

William Bonner, a one-time head of the Life Sciences Division at the British Antarctic

Survey (BAS), reacted haughtily to environmentalists' territorialization of Antarctica as a "world park" by calling them ignorant:

"From the conservation lobby at large comes a clamour to declare Antarctica a

World Park, to hand over control of the area from the Treaty to the United

Nations, and to recognize Antarctica as part of the 'global commons' or the

'common heritage of mankind'. It is not easy to say why this has come about.

Possibly a very important factor was ignorance. Some of the principle bodies

involved in the debate had no, or very little, practical experience of the

Antarctic. The scale of the Antarctic - the fact that it constitutes a tenth of the

world's surface, both land and sea - was quite unappreciated and it was

generally believed that human activities there were imminently threatening the

whole region." (Bonner 1987, pp.145-146)

This quote hints at the fact that scientists may have felt more comfortable with their position within the ATS than any prospective relationship that they could attain to

Antarctica through another body such as the United Nations. Bonner even lords the expertise that scientists have gained through decades of closeness with the continent over those environmentalists who have no such advantage.

In some instances, this tension between the two groups would boil over. A number of confrontations during the 1988-89 voyage of the Greenpeace vessel

Gondwana were documented by Paul Brown, a reporter on board for The Guardian newspaper (Brown 1991). Most of these were confrontations between Greenpeace volunteers and national or commercial representatives, but a few involved scientists.

The Environmental Defense Fund (EDF) submitted a report 16 to the NSF in 1988 concluding that research activities posed a significant threat to the Antarctic environment (Tangley 1988). The EDF later sued the NSF in 1991 over its plan to install an incinerator at McMurdo station (Wirth 1993). The NSF had thought that it was undertaking environmentally responsible action in switching its methods of dealing with waste after the discovery of asbestos in its McMurdo landfill, and was frustrated by the protests of the environmentalists.

16 The report was entitled Securing Environmental Protection in Antarctica: Recommendations to the National Science Foundation for increased protection from Scientific Research Activities . 61

The fears of science being subsumed under an ill-informed environmental lobby were eventually quelled when scientists and environmentalists generally reconciled. One turning point in the relationship has been cited as arising from a 1985

Workshop on the Antarctic Treaty System sponsored by the United States Polar

Research Board that took place on the Beardmore glacier in Antarctica between various Antarctic governance representatives and representatives from some concerned environmental groups (Fogg 1992). Efforts were made to introduce environmentalists directly to the continent and educate them about the operation of the

ATS, which began to resolve the perceived issue of ignorance. In return, environmentalists became less confrontational once they felt that they were being heard and included in the governance process, allaying another scientific complaint.

As a result of the rules that emerged from the 1991 Environmental Protocol, scientists were largely put in charge of regulating their own environmental impacts on the continent. While budgets for geological exploration shrank due to a ban on mineral exploration for profit, budgets increased for understanding ecological systems and biology. Once these minor fears of budget and oversight were allayed, Antarctic scientists found that the ideals of Antarctic environmentalists were not contradictory to their own values. In fact, many ecological studies that took place in Antarctica highly valued it for its “pristine” qualities of being a region relatively undisturbed by humans.

The goals of Antarctic science were not about disrupting the world, but understanding how it functions. As such, many Antarctic scientists were able to internalize the messages that they received from environmental groups. In turn, the environmental

62 groups were usually conscientious about privileging scientific activities and distinguishing them from commercial ones.

2.2 Modern Science

With some of the important background for science within Antarctica established, this chapter will now explore the first of two scientific territorialities.

Traditional modernist scientific territoriality is an outgrowth of ideas of science that were in vogue during the time of the IGY and the writing of the Antarctic Treaty. This mode of thought, usually referred to as "Mertonian," will first be described before illustrating how the territorial actions were established both in the popular cultures of the Antarctic Treaty countries as well as on the continent itself. This section will then illustrate how the "threat" of bioprospecting to science has mainly been addressed through this territorial mindset. The end of this section will address some of the critiques of the dominant model.

2.2.1 The general articulation of Mertonian science

Science both describes a technical way of undertaking the activity of acquiring knowledge as well as an appropriate way of conducting oneself during that process.

Science at its most basic is defined as a system of acquiring knowledge, typically through a set of techniques known as the scientific method. The scientific method

63 involves specific steps: observation/research; forming a hypothesis; prediction; experimentation; and coming to a resulting conclusion. While anyone can theoretically engage in this process of knowledge-gathering, a privileged set of individuals are labeled scientists and rely on the knowledge generated by the scientists that came before them. This reliance on knowledge generated by others in order to gain further knowledge requires a certain degree of trust in previous generations of scientists and their work. Although many hold that “the scientific ideal is one of unconstrained investigative enquiry conducted by dedicated professionals” (Davis 1990, p.40), this still leaves open the question of what defines a dedicated professional of science.

Beyond the technical and procedural details of how science is conducted, Robert

Merton posited the existence of an ethos of science which had the moral qualities of

“universalism, communism, disinterestedness, and organized skepticism” (Merton

1968, p.607). Universalism refers to the idea that claims to truth are evaluated on universal criteria. Claims are thought to be more truthful and scientific if they are more "universal" as opposed to being specific to certain conditions or perspectives.

The communism of science is expressed through the renunciation of profits generated from the intellectual property generated by the scientific researcher in exchange for recognition, esteem, and trust. The disinterestedness of science is similar to the universalism value, but emphasizes that the scientist is rewarded for being unbiased and impartial. Organized skepticism entails scientists not accepting claims to truth unless they are able to be reproduced or tested in a way that ensures that the claims are reliable.

With the introduction of these moral principles, science has become more than just a set of methods one can conduct, but a way of conducting one’s life. The main purpose of creating this ethos for scientists to live by is to establish a shorthand code that empowers scientists to be trusted when they make claims to truth (Sztompka

2007). The argument of a scientist to another person regarding their claims to truth within this framework might go something like this: "I have a claim to truth that I have discovered through my research, and you can reasonably conclude that I am telling the truth about this because I follow an ethos of science that includes universalism, communism, disinterestedness, and organized skepticism." This creates a high ideal for scientists to live by, and as a result scientists are afforded a privileged position of trustworthy arbiters on describing how the world works. This is not to say that scientists the world over are unified in declaring what science is: in fact considerable heterogeneity exists in how science is practiced across the globe (Jasanoff 2005). Yet the Mertonian model captures how science is largely abstracted by most people. The most popular portrayals of science within the United States include its placement above other social forces and subsequently being in a position to describe reality objectively (Tourney 1996; Lahsen 2005). While there have been many critiques and challenges to this portrayal, this understanding of science is accepted by most non- scientists and perpetrated by scientists seeking to secure their influence.

The Mertonian ideal of science can be found reflected in a social contract model of science-society relations put forth by Vannevar Bush, one of the earliest proponents of the United States NSF. Bush's report calling for the establishment of the

NSF was called “Science: the Endless Frontier” (Bush 1945). Like the Mertonian ethos of science, Bush calls in that report for a freedom of scientific enquiry without being chained to practical outcomes. The expectation is that unfettered scientific research will generate useful applications of its own eventually, and that scientists work best when unconcerned and unbiased by political or practical matters. Robert

Byerly and Roger Pielke summarize three main assumptions generated by the “social contract” that Bush constructed: scientific progress is needed for social welfare, science provides a reservoir of knowledge which can be tapped for applications, and science works best when it is unbiased (Byerly Jr. and Pielke Jr. 1995). According to this model, scientists therefore are ultimately working for the public good and not for any biased or selfish reasons. The model clearly separates political life from scientific life, ensuring that it may be directed by political funding, but stipulates that the research itself should remain unbiased by political need or expediency. In this model, science became both an objective collector of knowledge about the earth and an altruistic force for society. Although Bush originally intended this for the national welfare, in the case of Antarctica scientific activity came to be seen as benefiting all countries because of the international nature of the research that was going on within the region during the IGY. Although this is an intangible ideal that was set in motion, its adoption was etched into popular culture and Antarctic governance.

2.2.2 Mertonian science in Antarctica

Antarctic science must be considered somewhat differently than the science conducted within states found elsewhere in the world. In most territorial states, literature on science policy is dedicated to critiquing funding levels or appreciating science within the government, which indicates that the government is privileged above science in terms of political power and impact (Gillmor 1986; Solingen 1994;

Department of Commerce 1997). The relationships between states and the scientists that help to empower them exist on an implicit level. Antarctica is set apart from the rest of the world in this regard, though. This separation is embodied both in the scientific organization that has developed in the region as well as in the popular and formal inscriptions of science into the Antarctic Treaty. Science is formally inscribed into the Antarctic Treaty in no less than three of its fourteen articles, a privilege not bestowed to science in the founding documents of other established states. These articles stress the cooperative aspects of the science conducted upon the continent

(Caflisch 1992). SCAR is an interdisciplinary and international organization that helps to establish research priorities for the region, establish connections between scholars from different countries, and collectively represent their interests and findings at meetings of the policy-makers for the Antarctic. Since science is empowered by the

Antarctic Treaty, it is therefore seen as dependent on the Treaty for legitimacy.

In this model of Antarctic scientific territoriality, science is imagined as a dominant force on the continent. In other words, there is a bureaucratic hierarchy and

67 scientists occupy a privileged position within it. Science is, after all, the main activity legitimated through the Antarctic Treaty. Paul Berkman extols in his book, “Science into Policy: Global Lessons from Antarctica,” that science is the keystone that holds all other aspects of the Antarctic Treaty together (see figure 4) (Berkman 2002, p.221).

Colin Summerhayes provides a table of 17 influences that SCAR has had upon

Antarctic Treaty political instruments (Summerhayes 2008, p.331). As scientific bodies determine and hold together Antarctic governance, they would seem to be a dominant force on the continent. Proponents of this view generally support the existing structure/ status quo of Antarctic governance. Reasons for this support range

68 from a genuine enthusiasm for the system to a more cynical calculation of how to establish and maintain influence and control of the continent. The ideal of Antarctica as a place exclusively for scientists is captured dramatically by such book titles as “A

Continent for Science” (Lewis 1965) and “Laboratory at the Bottom of the World”

(Briggs 1970). These titles reflect the strength with which the notion of Antarctica as a scientific space has been encoded. Laboratories are sites of scientific power. Although the actual practice of science within laboratories has been famously critiqued (Latour and Woolgar 1979), in their ideal form laboratories are controlled settings in which the scientist may experiment without interference from the world outside. Within the confines of the laboratory, the scientist is in control of things.

The clearest indication that this regional identity has clout within the ATS was on display at the 2006 Antarctic Treaty Consultative Meeting (ATCM) in Edinburgh,

Scotland. This was one of the ATCMs where activities for the public ran in concert with the state meetings taking place. Walking into the main exhibit hall of the conference centre where the meeting was being held, the public was greeted by the bold statement embossed on the official displays: "Antarctica: A Continent for

Science" (see figure 5) . The public was also invited to tour the two British Antarctic

Survey vessels RSS James Clark Ross and HMS Endurance on select days to witness scientific displays and various aerial and sea maneuvers. A number of information placards were set up next to the vessels for people to read while waiting in line to board, the last of which (before the ramp onto the ship) echoed the idea of Antarctica as a continent for peace and science (see figure 6) . Concurrent public scientific talks

centered on Antarctica were held during the meeting and special exhibits were set up at the local museums and zoo. During a press conference to promote the ATCM, officials warmly extolled the close connections between science and policy within the

ATS.

The hierarchical social structure can also be experienced directly at Antarctic bases such as McMurdo where requests by scientists can dictate who works where, what buildings may be accessed, and even who may be excluded from the continent. Some of these encounters with scientific authority have been captured by the people who work there, but are generally kept quiet. The Crary science lab at McMurdo who station is the only building that requires keypad access and generally excludes non-

scientists from entering except for guided tours (see figure 7) . The exclusive nature of access to the Crary lab is hierarchical territory writ large on the composition of the station. Cooks who serve specific outposts of scientists have been switched out at the request of those scientists.

2.2.3 Mertonian science applied to Antarctic bioprospecting

The Mertonian territorialization of science through the use of hierarchical bureaucracies can be witnessed through several examples of how the idea of bioprospecting has been addressed by scientists. At the June 2008 Antarctic Treaty

Consultative Meeting (ATCM) in Kyiv, Ukraine the legal and institutional working group tasked with addressing the issue of bioprospecting called upon SCAR in its role as a source of trusted technical experts to conduct a survey of what bioprospecting activities were going on and report back to the ATS about them. Part of SCAR's authority emerges from its position as a mediator between scientists who can collect information such as what the working group requested. Consideration was not given to tasking this out to other organizations, although the United Nations University (UNU) had not only already established a website and database to collect information on

Antarctic bioprospecting 17 , but also presented an Information Paper (# 67) to the 2007

17 http://www.bioprospector.org/bioprospector/antarctica/home.action 72

ATCM regarding their function and purpose. This UNU website was later adopted by several ATS member countries, but not officially sanctioned by the ATS. Working

Paper (# 1) was jointly submitted by Belgium, Brazil, Bulgaria, Finland, France,

Germany, The Netherlands, and Sweden at the 2009 ATCM in Baltimore which provided details about the database and encouraged ATS parties to voluntarily contribute information to it. The UNU does not have the established presence of

SCAR when it comes to Antarctic science, though, and such matters were handled internally by the bureaucracy, perhaps in an effort to consolidate territorial power, since the United Nations has already been established as a territorial threat by Bonner in his diatribe against environmentalists quoted earlier.

Bioprospecting first emerged as an articulated issue by coming up through the hierarchical bureaucracy that surrounds Antarctic governance. The manner in which

Dr. Walton raised bioprospecting as an issue was extremely bureaucractic and ran through a number of filters to make its way up through the hierarchy of Antarctic governance (first in a Working Group on Biology session, which then took the issue to the greater SCAR delegates group, which then passed a recommendation that was presented to the ATS at an ATCM). In this way, a scientist was able to influence the agenda of the ATS and place his concerns before them. Along the way, however, suggestions that were passed along had to be edited and refined so as to be sufficiently scrubbed neutral of "political" influence. Part of the reason that the issue of bioprospecting advanced as much as it did might be credited to the influential position that Dr. Walton held within SCAR's bureaucracy at the time (Thiede 2006), but rank

73 will only permit so much within a hierarchical bureaucracy. In the one instance where a 2002 SCAR Working Paper was either deemed too political or that it had not undergone significant internal SCAR review, it was withdrawn (Hemmings 2005).

This example shows the dominative capability of the hierarchical bureaucratic system to quash certain ideas or debates in addition to the previous example of allowing new issues to be officially introduced.

Although these popular and official accounts do confirm that there is a large degree of power and influence that scientists have within Antarctica, they also demonstrate that it is a constrained power expressed through a hierarchical territoriality of Antarctic science. The history of Antarctic science detailed earlier in this chapter set up not only how science had grown as an influential territorial activity within Antarctica, but also how the position that has been determined for science within the Antarctic hierarchical system is historically contingent and exorable.

Hierarchical scientific territorial power in Antarctica has been historically tied to an identity of science that is unbiased, altruistic, and cooperative. As long as Antarctic science holds true to that ideal, the legitimacy of such statements as “Antarctica: A continent for science” and "Don't bother the scientists in their labs - they are working for the good of us all" will hold sway in geographic imaginations. It establishes a shorthand of territorial power that justifies the priority of scientific activity and the elevated status of scientists above other station personnel just through the invocation of their status as science and scientists respectively. This does significantly inflate the desirability to use science to gain power within Antarctica and therefore groups

74 seeking to increase their political influence in Antarctica tend to establish, seek, or gain it through the territorial conduct of scientific activities there.

The loss of scientific apolitical and non-profit-seeking "purity" degrades the position and leads critics to question the legitimacy of science's trusted and objective position as the core activity that gives all else meaning within Antarctica. Science can be seen to act as a “currency of credibility” for states and other groups interested in operating in the region (Quilty 1990). If every group that interacts with the continent must do so through approaching it scientifically, then the stretched definitions of science may begin to wear thin and indeed lead to the moral hazard that Hemmings warned of at the start of this chapter. The fragility of the power granted scientists through an Antarctic hierarchical bureaucractic territoriality is complimented by critiques that this model reflects and perpetuates a reality of territorial power within

Antarctica that can be domineering and oppressive. While recognizing that science is the primary physical activity conducted on the continent, the critics of this perception of Antarctica see it as a mask for less "pure" motives. For Zain Azraai, this apparent credibility creates a set of claims to Antarctica that base their legitimacy in scientific expertise rather than explicit interests, thus masking a continuation of colonial activities by more affluent nations who are able to maintain expensive scientific stations there (Azraai 1987). According to Nicholas Johnson, a resulting issue is that this fiction masks a bureaucracy that stifles the curious and creative impulses of those who operate there (Johnson 2005). Therefore, scientific groups may think themselves dominant, but they are in fact guided by the state programs which fund and logistically

75 supply their existence on the continent. The negative effects of Antarctic bureaucracy on support workers and the exclusion of interested but scientifically poor countries from participation in the Antarctic governance process are two criticisms leveled by these individuals at the ATS and the scientists who enable its dominance.

Bioprospecting provides these critics with ammunition because of its overlap between science and both political and commercial interests.

2.3 Postmodern Sciences

If scientists may be stifled by modernist conceptions of science enacted through the hierarchical bureaucractic territorial strategies within Antarctica, it makes sense to consider alternatives that might allow for other considerations of the issue of bioprospecting within Antarctica. The Mertonian territoriality established above presents itself as a static portrait of Antarctic actors that have been holding their poses since the IGY with borders policed between them. Scientists are supposed to conduct science and member states of the ATS are supposed to vote and govern. This modern model of science claims its legitimacy through ideals of the Antarctic Treaty such as scientific cooperation, but comes across as ironically confrontational through its layers of bureaucracy. Only official governmental and institutional representatives are permitted to attend the meetings of the ATCM or SCAR delegates, and all others are physically excluded from attending these meetings. These aspects seem to run counter to the stated ideal of active cooperation among groups that the Antarctic Treaty is

76 supposed to hold above petty rivalries and "politics." Fortunately, one does not have to look far to find a model of Antarctic scientific territoriality that embodies cooperation in a more dynamic fashion. A more nuanced characterization of science has found expression through recent scholarship, and is particularly helpful in considering the issue of Antarctic bioprospecting's threat to science through the techniques of hybrid management discussed below.

2.3.1 Latour's reaction against modern science

While techniques of science remain generally the same under a new non- hierarchical model of science, the ethos of Mertonian science must be altered somewhat to adjust. A Mertonian ethos of science can be said to be a modernist project that seeks to distinguish the ethos of science from that of other forms of life, but the evidence suggests that this project fails to connect with reality. Latour reinforces the failure of the conception of modernism overall through his book, We

Have Never Been Modern (Latour 1993). Science itself may be a form of life distinct from other vocations, but the illusion that it remains disinterested from worldly concerns serves neither science nor society. Unfettered science pursuing lines of interest without regard for their impact on society is regularly warned against time and again within parables put forth by modern science fiction. Such a blind pursuit of knowledge at all costs regularly turns out to have potentially disastrous effects.

Universalism is also a problematic value. The pursuit of universal truth can devalue

77 the search for alternative perspectives or ways of doing things, leading to an acceptance of existing hierarchies and the status quo. Paul Robbins has illustrated how the reliance on certain scientific tools such as remote sensing has reinforced assumptions about how to interpret the landscape and silenced other, more local, interpretations and observations (Robbins 2001). This recognition and even valuation of interest and alternative perspectives can subsequently cast a shadow on the expectation of communism within science. It seems unreasonable to expect scientists to work without compensation for generating their intellectual property if there is not an expectation that scientists will be trusted and given privilege in return. The context of science has become increasingly commercial, and it would be wise to acknowledge that fact in any formulation of a new ethos of science (Goven 2006). Clearly the disinterestedness, universalism, and communism that compose three-fourths of the

Mertonian ethos of science have received significant challenges since their formation.

The Mertonian value of organized skepticism remains somewhat untouched through the years subsequent to its establishment. Myanna Lahsen has pointed out that although techniques of organized skepticism (such as peer review) can be fallible, the valuation of critical thinking is one of the ways that scientific experts are seen as more reliable than other knowledge-producers (Lahsen 2005). Stephen Turner stresses that this acceptance of criticism may be a more reliable bedrock of expertise than assumed professionalism, and can allow scientific expertise to be compatible with ideals of liberal democracies (Turner 2001). Organized skepticism allows scientists to openly demonstrate that their claims to truth are reproducible by anyone. The trust that is a

78 necessary bedrock component of conducting advanced modern science must not come from an established position that has been carved out of a bureaucratic hierarchy through adherence to values of disinterestedness, universalism, and communism, but rather through organized skepticism and a renewed commitment to transparency. In this model trust is earned through the researcher's honest disclosure of approach, methods, and interests rather than trust being assumed based on a researcher's position in a hierarchical bureaucracy. Not only are hierarchical positions unstable in a world of active power relations, but there is also a declining tendency for individuals to trust people in positions of power and authority. The transparent approach to gaining trust allows observers to build their trust in scientists through their own experiences and engagements with those scientists.

In place of a modern, Mertonian, science that does not align well with the reality of how science is practiced or perceived, Latour suggests that scientists should engage hybrids which straddle categorical divides rather than try to "purify" them into one category or another. Hybrids blend together elements from two or more forms of life. Latour's illustration of hybrids was quoted earlier in the first chapter's section on postmodernity, using the idea of the AIDS virus to connect many different categories of thought (Latour 1993). Hybrids may be conceptual or material artifacts, techniques and practices, or organizations which straddle two or more ways of life and engender interaction between them. David Guston and Clark Miller have analyzed how scientific boundary organizations such as the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate

Change (IPCC) contributed to the management of the hybrid “climate regime,” and in

79 doing so played an active role in negotiating power relations with policy-makers

(Guston 2000; Guston 2001; Miller 2001). Boundary organizations are described as institutions that sit on the boundary between politics and science and mediate between the two. Although Miller and Guston use institutional boundary organizations as the actors who conduct these actions, Tim Forsyth points out that social movements also have agency in this process and may take action (Forsyth 2003). One of the ways that scientists can engage with hybrids is through attempts to actively manage them. Miller elucidates four methods of managing hybrids: hybridization, cross-domain orchestration, deconstruction, and boundary management. The first two techniques involve the creation and maintenance of hybrids, while the latter two involve the dissection of the hybrid into component parts. By hybridizating two or more interests, information from one field may be synthesized by another, blending them together.

Cross-domain orchestration involves constructing a hybrid in coordination with groups in each of the different realms involved. Through deconstruction, a hybrid is taken apart into its constitutive components in order to understand (and perhaps change) the underlying assumptions. Finally, people can actively seek to demarcate and maintain the boundaries between the realms of life transgressed by the hybrid regulation taking place through boundary work. Addressing hybrids therefore involves both an embrace of the complexity that they represent as well as recognition that the "purity" to be gained through isolation of components is of limited use. Modernist models of science prefer to focus solely on the delineation and policing of borders through adherence to

Mertonian values.

2.3.2 Postmodern science in Antarctica

As the values of universalism, disinterestedness, and communalism prove to be difficult to apply across all of the postmodern landscape of science, there comes recognition that there are many different types of science being conducted within

Antarctica. While some distinctions between categories of what is "applied" and

"basic" have become recognized as fuzzy (Calvert 2006), there have been efforts to tease out different scientific tropes. Jabour and Nicol provide a diverse typology of

Antarctic science through five different categories of scientific activity taking place within Antarctica (Jabour-Green and Nicol 2003, p.101):

1. Inquisitive/ knowledge-driven (knowledge for knowledge's sake)

2. Exploitation-driven (searching for new fish stocks, geological surveys)

3. Management-driven (setting limits on commercial development)

4. Global science (weather forecasting, climate change, ocean circulation)

5. Technological research (developing biotechnology patents)

The presence of Mertonian scientific motivations still exist within this typology, but it is now recognized to be one of many different types of science conducted. Motivations for the conduct of science are broadened out. Science itself is a hybrid of mixed motivations being deconstructed into component impetuses. While in a modernist interpretation of the sciences, the motivations should be policed such that the "impure" are separated out and expelled from science so that the "pure" remain unsullied, this is a difficult task. It should be up to scientists to define which activities are scientific and

81 which are not as long as they can justify their reasoning. Such debate might be a return to the idea of some activities being pure science and others being impure, but this is also an opportunity to recognize and call out the shades of grey that exist and to recognize the complexity and diversity that exists within Antarctic science.

Attendance at events for young and early-career polar scientists has revealed their appetite for engagement, whether it is engagement with the public through outreach and the media, or engagement with policy-makers (particularly in regard to legislating climate change policies). The current momentum is for scientists to work together with others to improve the quality of life for humans and sustain life on the planet. A blind disinterestedness for knowledge's sake is hard to find among these early career scientists.

Antarctic scientists have a history of involvement in hybridization and boundary organizations. Scientists participate in cross-domain orchestration through their participation in SCAR and the advisory committees of the ATS. Scientists participate on the Committee on Environmental Protection (CEP), as dictated by the

Antarctic Treaty Environmental Protocol. Blending together the interests of different groups is not simply the purview of formal institutions, but hybridization is also open to popular depictions of geographic imaginaries. As mentioned earlier in this chapter,

Antarctica has been popularly territorialized as a kind of laboratory for scientists through a number of books and National Geographic . Other National Geographic articles would qualify the term laboratory in different ways to stress certain combinations between Antarctic interests, each of which could be considered an

82 attempt to hybridize science with something else. In a 1968 article, Antarctica was described as both an “International Laboratory,” linking it to the theme of international cooperation mentioned in the previous section, and a “Laboratory of Peaceful

Exploration” which may have heavily contrasted with the news of the Vietnam War that the United States was engaged in at the time (Matthews 1968). The laboratory metaphor would be expanded to encompass the world in one article (Matthews 1973), and so the classification of Antarctica as a “unique laboratory” became necessary

(Curtsinger 1986). As environmental identities of Antarctica arose, they were also incorporated into this metaphor as Antarctica became a “vast natural laboratory for the study of our planet” (Scott 1987, p.541). By studying the planet, the hope became to prevent environmental catastrophes: "The fifth largest continent is a giant outdoor laboratory where scientists strive to decipher clues to our planet's history and detect early warning signs of global pollution" (Hodgson 1990, p.3). This reference indicates that while the metaphor for a scientifically controlled area has grown to be a powerful icon for representing Antarctica, it has the capability of incorporating additional ideas into it. The scientific imagining is pervasive and has become a metaphor still tossed around in many descriptions of Antarctica. The concept of a laboratory has been eagerly adopted while at the same time questioned at times by scientists, particularly biologists who seek to avoid the "artificial" association that laboratory work has

(Siegel-Causey 1998). The propagation of such ideas about Antarctica has established an Antarctic scientific territoriality that has generated the mythos of an Antarctica

83 dominated by science that has been cited before in this chapter. What it also reinforces is the ideal that science is an unbiased ruler in this environment.

Participation in blending together different ideas through hybridization has actually contributed to the continuing relevancy and stature of scientists in Antarctica.

As mentioned earlier in the historical section of this chapter, scientists were able to weather and prosper from the intensification of an environmental sensibility on the continent by joining forces with environmental interests and utilizing environmental concerns about the state of the world to justify some of the large-scale and expensive scientific projects that were taking place in Antarctica. This hybridization of scientific and environmental concerns yielded much better returns to both groups than the confrontational encounters that had preceded it. But could a hybridization of scientific and commercial interests yield similar dividends in the case of Antarctic bioprospecting?

2.3.3 Postmodern scientific approaches to Antarctic bioprospecting

Although bioprospecting is sometimes represented as a completely scientific activity, bioprospecting should be considered a hybrid activity that involves other groups as well. As an activity, bioprospecting falls into the category of techniques and practices 18 . Bioprospecting blends distinct ways of life conducted by scientists,

18 The activity of bioprospecting is a hybrid practice, but one might also consider the end patent as a hybrid material artifact between non-human biological processes and human artifice. There are currently no hybrid organizations within Antarctica that are exclusively dedicated to bioprospecting, but outside of Antarctica the CBD might be considered such an organization. 84 business people, and politicians. Scientific expertise is needed to understand the biota being used and explored and to add to the realm of knowledge as to what effects their genes or what biochemical processes produce. People within industry use this information to produce and sell the useful properties produced by those processes.

Policy-makers serve to legitimate the process and regulate it through legislation of intellectual property rights (IPRs) within and across their borders. The role of scientists in managing this hybrid activity is non-existent within a hierarchical bureaucratic model of territoriality, but could be approached through more critical means provided by science studies scholars.

The process of deconstruction can be very helpful in terms of teasing apart the complexity of the bioprospecting process. Jabour and Nicol's division of bioprospecting into four stages of activity that together comprise the process known as bioprospecting is an example of this deconstruction (Jabour-Green and Nicol 2003).

The breakdown of the bioprospecting into the components of collection, isolation, screening, and development helps to show how complicated a process it is. Different stages can involve different people in completely different locations. Therefore a scientist who collects biotic samples from Antarctica might have nothing to do with the process of developing a product based upon some biochemical process generated by that biota. Given that the isolation, screening, and development of synthetic products based on Antarctic biota can take place outside of Antarctica, naming the IPR developed as a scientific observation or result from Antarctica that must be shared according to Article Three of the Antarctic Treaty is a bit of a stretch. Applying the

85 same logic, the movie March of the Penguins could be considered a set of Antarctic scientific observations that must be freely shared because the initial footage was gathered within Antarctica.

None of the scholars debating Antarctic bioprospecting seem to be calling for an out-and-out ban on all bioprospecting activities out of an allegiance to scientific

"purity," but there is a call to make bioprospecting there more transparent and comprehensive. The discussion of bioprospecting among scientists is complicated by the perceived shame or disempowerment of scientists involved in bioprospecting admitting that their research does not conform to Mertonian ideals. As referenced in the introduction to this chapter, there is a strong stigma within the Antarctic scientific community associated with expressing an interest in practical outcomes or, even worse, personal gain. This has resulted in public silence from scientists who would otherwise support bioprospecting endeavors. In the list of participants in the SCAR open science meeting in Hobart and the list of patent inventors involved with Antarctic biota, there is little overlap. The scientists who were filing the patents were not the scientists working to develop bioprospecting policy for Antarctica or principles for

SCAR to follow. Critiques of bioprospecting similarly seem to draw a line between scientists who do applied research for industry and scientists who do basic research for the good of humanity (Graham 2005). The research scientists helping to form the policies seemed disconnected and even slightly hostile to the scientists who sought industry funding. Collaborations with university lawyers to determine the potential of patentability is depicted as either scientists just going along with university policy or

86 as having been instigated by the lawyers with scientists hesitant to leave the lab.

Bioprospecting currently has the feel of a marginally acceptable activity that is just not spoken of in Antarctica by reputable scientists.

Decisions made through internal scientific boundary work about what the appropriate conduct of science is within Antarctica could also serve to resolve some of the issues that arise from bioprospecting. Efforts have already begun within SCAR to address the nuances of this issue in various ways. At SCAR's 29 th Delegate meeting in

Hobart, Australia in 2006, the delegates adopted Recommendation 29-4 "Concerning the Recording of Confidential Data from Commercial Activities." This recommendation urged national committees to request metadata be gathered in an

Antarctic Master Data Directory whenever possible. This is a weak first step towards an assertion of freedom of Antarctic information 19 . At the same meeting, Dr. Walton sought to amend the "SCAR Code of Conduct on the Use of Animals for Scientific

Purposes." While this was undertaken with primarily the threat of invasive species in mind, the principles in addressing biological resources examined for bioprospecting activities would also be covered under this code. A determination that the development of technology from Antarctic biota constitutes biotechnology and not science might instantly declassify bioprospecting as a scientific activity. In order for a viable patent to be issued on an idea, it must be novel and artificial. Scientific observations in and of themselves are not patentable. If scientists simply seek to derive knowledge of the truth of the environment that surrounds them, then invention is not a

19 This is noted as a weak step towards information-sharing because so few states have actively complied with the resolution and sought to share accounts of Antarctic bioprospecting undertaken by their own citizens. 87 part of that process. Invention is not a pursuit of knowledge, but an act of creation and creativity. Mario Biagioli colorfully declares that a "creative scientist … is a fraudulent one" (Biagioli 2003, p.257), because his definition of science is about observing natural phenomena rather than trying to invent something that has never been seen before. Depending on what types of science are allowable on the continent, bioprospecting may be embraced or banned. The distinction between science and technology is often blurry and the Antarctic Treaty does little to provide any distinction.

2.4 Conclusion: is bioprospecting a legitimate scientific activity?

The question of whether or not bioprospecting activities in Antarctica violate the principles behind the third article of the Antarctic Treaty is not a simple one to answer. In deconstructing the question, it seems to assume that bioprospecting is an inherently scientific activity, which has not yet been established solidly. If bioprospecting is to be considered a scientific activity, then scientists should take responsibility for explaining and/or defending it as such. Scientists seem unable to fully commit to this project, however, because bioprospecting is a hybrid activity that involves science, commerce, and politics. Bioprospecting may be considered either exploitation-driven or technology-driven science in the Jabour and Nicol typology mentioned earlier. As such, Antarctic scientists are seemingly faced with a choice to either call for this form of science to be accepted, as part of the diverse postmodern

88 typology of sciences is accepted, or reformed to match more Mertonian expectations of science in Antarctica. These two choices need not be considered mutually exclusive, however. Scientists could both accept bioprospecting activities as a type of

Antarctic science while at the same time engaging in efforts to tweak it to make it more acceptable.

Beyond the consideration of whether or not bioprospecting is science, there is the complication that arises from the territorial focus that arises from Article Three's declaration that observations and results from Antarctica should be shared. If bioprospecting research is conducted on data derived from a sample library which includes Antarctic biota (such as the Census of Antarctic Marine Life), but not conducted by scientists who have ever been to Antarctica, are the observations and results of their research still considered to be from Antarctica? The ability for the ATS or SCAR to control scientific research that is conducted outside of the territorial confines of Antarctica is questionable. Whereas such organizations might find success excluding scientists from returning to Antarctica if they violate expectations of scientific exchange, imposing penalties on parties that might not even be under the jurisdiction of ATS member states presents a seemingly insurmountable challenge.

Even if expectations are specifically set out to address the questions above, the third article of the Antarctic Treaty also makes it clear that the observations and results of Antarctic research should be made freely available. Yet this aspect is also fraught with complications. The article does not designate the speed at which scientific information is expected to be exchanged. Antarctic scientists regularly note that there

89 are different expectations for different disciplines. Meteorological observations are exchanged nearly instantaneously between stations of different nationalities to facilitate logistic planning on the continent. Geologists collecting rock samples from the Transantarctic Mountains might take years to publish results or share their collected samples with other scientists. The question of how fast biological information should be exchanged is open to debate under these circumstances, leaving open the possibility mentioned by Connolly-Stone at the beginning of this chapter that since patents derived from Antarctic bioprospecting are freely available to be seen and exclusive use lasts for limited amounts of time, then article three is being observed.

No one has ever held a scientist or government responsible for violations of

Article Three of the Antarctic Treaty. This may be due to high rates of scientific cooperation in Antarctica, but it may also be a product of the difficulty in proving how this rule has been violated. Acceptance of bioprospecting as part of a legitimate (if hybrid) form of science raises a number of additional complex questions. Disowning bioprospecting as not "pure" enough science for Antarctica seems nearly impossible at this point given the preponderance of sample collection and work that has already taken place under the rubric of bioprospecting. Even if the question of how bioprospecting fits into Antarctic science can be addressed, there still exists the problem of exclusive access to biological samples and exclusive profits to be derived from them. The next chapter will address those concerns through an exploration of property and the idea of the commons within Antarctica.

CHAPTER 3

IS ANTARCTIC BIOPROSPECTING A THREAT TO AN ANTARCTIC COMMONS?

Many people, companies, and governments have been excited about the exclusive economic returns that investments in biotechnology could generate for themselves and their localities. Australia held meetings in 2001 to pinpoint opportunities for their biotechnology companies and to recognize any impediments to the growth of this profitable industry that might exist. These hearings were conducted by the Commonweath of Australia's House of Representatives, through their standing committee on primary industries and regional services, and extended to the question of how biological research within Antarctica should be conducted. Dr. Thomas

McMeekin, a member of the Australian Society for Microbiology, testified that he faced a quandary in negotiating the use of samples that he had taken from Antarctica by the company Cerylid Biosciences:

"The major difficulty was the notion of exclusivity and the fact that Antarctica,

under the Madrid protocol, is a world resource and no-one is supposed to have

exclusivity of the resources from Antarctica." (SCPIRS 2001, p.30)

The use and consumption of certain resources usually implies an exclusive use. Dr.

McMeekin related that an international lawyer that he had consulted, Henry

Burnmeister, decided that soil or water samples taken from Antarctica could not be given exclusively to the company, but that isolates that scientists had labored to withdraw from the samples could be. This decision both recognized that there was an implication of common use of resources provided in the Antarctic Treaty System

(ATS) through the Environmental Protocol to the Antarctic Treaty, but that the extent of this common use need not extend beyond the samples directly collected by scientists in Antarctica.

Bioprospecting is often framed as a hunt for exclusive biotechnological profits using naturally-occurring biological resource material as inspiration. To this end, bioprospectors have been cast as villains stealing knowledge or natural resources from the people that they rightly belong to, occasionally acquiring the label of "biopirates"

(Shiva 1997). From this standpoint, any motivation to share biological resources collected from the common area or intellectual resources invented as a result of subsequent research would be obliterated by the desire to derive as much exclusive benefit from the resource as possible. The concern over the exclusive research of

Antarctic biological material and the knowledge derived from such research has its roots in questions of ownership, a concept encompassed by property rights. Private property rights (based on exclusive ownership) derived from Antarctic bioprospecting would impinge upon any common property rights (based on communal ownership) existing there.

Modernist interpretations of property relations tend to either valorize private ownership or communal ownership. Scholars following the philosophies of John

Locke promote the ideal of private property, while followers of Karl Marx tend to value common property above private. Both of these ideals are diametrically opposed, but are rooted in a modernist system that seeks to reduce property relationships to binary categories in which one choice clearly outweighs the other. One of the problems associated with this popular approach is that it tends to adopt an absolutist narrative in which resources can either be "pure" common property or make an irrevocable slide into the "impure" status of private property. Both sides in this modernist debate adopt a hierarchical bureaucratic territorial approach to Antarctica and bioprospecting within it, generally favoring the creation of further international regimes to enforce their ideals.

Postmodern theorists have developed theory that critiques the hierarchical model of property relations, and this leads to a new territorial model of the Antarctic commons. The alternative territorial model proposed is non-hierarchical and takes into account the complexity that property relations present. Property relations come in a number of different forms of social interactions and interact with the resources that they are supposed to regulate in ways that are specific to the characteristics of those resources. Alternative non-hierarchical territorial strategies that empower Antarctic program participants to create viable common property forms on the continent based on their own interactions can now be acknowledged through this approach to property.

This chapter will explore how ideas of ownership have been territorialized within Antarctica and the threat that bioprospecting poses to them. The first section will further define the bedrock ideas of property and the commons. It will then cover

93 some points in the history of Antarctica related to the development of an Antarctic commons imaginary or when considerations of common property have arisen. This history centers on early ideas of Antarctic property, the incorporation of commons ideas into the ATS and proposals for United Nations (UN) control of Antarctica, and the construction of Antarctica as a world park. Following that brief summary of

Antarctic history, the two modernist approaches to Antarctic common property will be expanded upon, followed by another section that details the alternate Antarctic common property territoriality based on postmodern thought. Integrating these accounts together, the final section will summarize the arguments for more strategies to include a less hierarchical territorial approach to common property when considering Antarctic bioprospecting.

3.1 A History of Antarctic notions of ownership

Before proceeding any further, it is necessary to provide concise definitions of the terms "property" and particularly "common property." Once these concepts are clear, this section will investigate three overlapping and interconnected periods of

Antarctic history. The first period encompasses legal property concepts and claims to resources that were applied to Antarctica during its initial days of exploration. The second period covers the rise of the Antarctic Treaty and alternate proposals of United

Nations (UN) to control Antarctic resources, resulting in the rise of a concept of

Antarctic resources as "the common heritage of mankind 20 ." The third and final period of Antarctic history related to property rights is the campaign started during the 1980s to reclassify Antarctica as a wilderness commons through "World Park Antarctica."

Once a backdrop of property relations within Antarctica has been established, it will be easier to examine the territorialities of property and the commons in the two sections that follow.

3.1.1 Defining property and the commons

While the word "property" is often strongly associated with the concept of private property in the English language, property, in fact, has a broader meaning.

Property is referred to as a system of rules that regulates access to and control of resources, particularly through enforcement of claims (Macpherson 1978; Waldron

1988). One important aspect of property is that the concept is an exceedingly social one. Most property rights are considered in terms of three broad categories of ownership - private, state, and community - but there also exist ways of engaging with property beyond ownership. Beyond ownership, Edella Schlager and Ostrom point out that there are those who engage with property through being a proprietor, claimant, or authorized user (Schlager and Ostrom 1992). All of these types are illustrated in

Figure 8. Ownership tends to be stressed most often because owners are generally accorded the most rights of any resource-users, although additional rules may govern

20 While I would just as soon de-gender this idea and make it the "common heritage of humankind," I will continue to refer to it in the form of constant reference in order to be consistent with the previous literature on the concept. 95

where those rights begin and end. The private ownership model assumes a unitary owner of an object of property (whether that is an individual, the state, or a community). This owner is separated from others by boundaries which delineate at which point non-owners may be excluded (Blomley 2004). Both state and community ownership models assume a collective interest to be met, and are often grouped together as public property. Within the model of state ownership, the property item is held in trust for all citizens by the state. The state may grant or deny access to the property item based upon its own rules and regulations (Demsetz 1967). Disputes over property use within this model are usually settled according to what benefits the collective interest most (Waldron 1988). References to commons have become so

96 ubiquitous in the general literature that this has led to problems associating the term with a specific definition, but most scholars can agree that a commons is a social pact that allows equitable rights of access to and withdrawal of certain resources of an area in exchange for operating under collectively decided-upon rules (Schlager and Ostrom

1992). Local community ownership allows public access to a resource predicated upon continued and active use of the item by an individual in the local community. In principle, the resource is available to all members of the community equally (Waldron

1988). A broader scale of community has also been considered at the global scale, and embodied in the concept of the common heritage of mankind.

The common heritage of mankind principle implies that the resource accorded this title should be held in trust for future generations of humans and not over- exploited by state or corporate interests. The distinction adds the component of time to the already broadened sense of a global community. Not only must the resources in the common heritage of mankind area be managed with the interests of the whole world in mind, but also with a consciousness of the future generations of the world. Ideas such as this had been circulating for a while, with aspects similar to the common heritage of mankind being articulated in the 1982 United Nations Convention on the Law of the

Sea (UNCLOS) 21 and the Outer Space Treaty of 1967. Jennifer Frakes presents the criticism that a unified definition of the "common heritage of mankind" concept is difficult to find, but proposes that the idea centers around five principles (Frakes

21 The genesis of the idea in its legal form is generally credited to Arvid Pardo during the intial negotiations for UNCLOS in 1967. Pardo was also a proponent of closing the gap between rich and poor states, so part of his proposal involved a responsible level of exploitation of marine resources that could produce wealth for a fund that would work to close that gap. 97

2003). The first principle is that the physical land or territory within a common heritage region cannot be appropriated. The status of communal property is therefore granted to the area not on the basis of physical inaccessibility, but through legal ban.

The second principle is common management, which means that management must be undertaken by representative from all and not just some states. The third principle is that benefits derived from resources in a common heritage region should be equitably shared among all of humankind. Fourth, the activities which occur within common heritage areas should be peaceful. The fifth and final principle regards the preservation of the common heritage area and resources for future generations. This principle incorporates principles of sustainability and conservation, but does not specify how far into the future long-term planning should extend or what level of equitable resource use is acceptable to preserve enough for future generations.

3.1.2 Early exploration of Antarctica and claims to ownership

Antarctica was first sighted during an era of colonial expansion when (mostly)

European empires and enterprising individuals sought to exploit the resources of whatever they could find. Before its discovery, any prospective land in the Southern hemisphere was legally considered terra incognita (undiscovered land). Even as the initial explorers mapped out Antarctica, the labeling of the continent as terra incognita on maps persisted through the early part of the 20 th Century because of the

98 incompleteness of the exploration 22 . Claims were initially considered allowable within

Antarctica based upon the widely held perception of the continent as terra nullius

(land owned by no one, or no-man's-land) or res nullius (thing owned by no one). The idea of Antarctica as terra nullius was easier to enforce than just about anywhere else in the world because the continent lacked an indigenous population that might otherwise have protested 23 . The most popular basis for claims to land and resources has been effective occupation, uti possidetis juris (as you legally possess), which usually implies a physical link between the possessor/ claimant and the possession/ claim.

The claim to effective occupation has been interpreted to mean that if one settles on a piece of land and develops its resources without any prior claims from others conflicting with the one established by the act, the land and resources are clearly the possession of that developer. Definitions of use and settlement become problematic in the Antarctic when it is not clear what resources are being utilized and settlements are impermanent. Still, the construction of Antarctic bases (however fleeting) and the conduct of scientific research based on observations of Antarctic resources have been used to establish a veneer of effective occupation on the continent. Some scholars can be quite critical of these attempts to establish an occupational force within Antarctica. Building on arguments put forth by Hugo

Grotius, Deepak Chopra cites the difficultly of controlling, regulating, or occupying

22 Antarctica was only deemed fully mapped out in the 1960s with the comprehensive photos and radar data gleaned from satellites. 23 The concept of terra nullius was used to devastating effect for Europeans to settle Australia by removing aboriginal groups from their previously-established territories. The application in Australia was thus less a statement of fact and more of a colonial land-grab. 99 broad swaths of Antarctica, while negating the idea that Antarctica could be terra nullius because of the impossibility of subsequently transforming it into uti possidetis juris (Chopra 1988). According to Chopra, these factors combine to result in the consideration of Antarctica and its resources as res communis (a communal thing) because it is nearly impossible to prevent access and because of the elimination of the possibility that it could be formally claimed under principles of effective occupation.

M. Manzoni and P. Pagnini follow a similar line of logic when they claim that

Antarctica is solely a symbolic territory incapable of effective occupation (Manzoni and Pagnini 1996). Despite the reasoning of Chopra, Manzoni, and Pagnini, claims to the continent continued to crop up during the beginning of the 20 th Century.

During this early period of exploration and claims, there were few explicit articulations of Antarctica as a place of common property resources. When initial expeditions were talked about or valorized, it was usually in nationalist heroic terms, including the property claims that came with them. One exception to this was expressed by President Herbert Hoover in reference to a recent expedition by Richard

Byrd:

"I do not minimize the scientific gains of such expeditions, but the human

values are so immediate and so universal in their effect that it may well be that

they transcend the scientific service. Every hidden spot of the earth's surface

remains a challenge to man's will and ingenuity until it has been conquered.

Every conquest of such a difficult goal adds permanently to mankind's sense of

power and security. Great explorers, therefore, do not merely add to the sum of

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human knowledge, but also they add immensely to the sum of human

inspiration." (Grosvenor and Hoover 1930, p.238)

Speaking in such broad human terms about the accomplishments of one of the United

State's biggest polar heroes might have been a ploy to aggrandize the United States through making its explorer's accomplishments the pinnacle of human accomplishments, but there seems to be a note of sincerity in the statement. There is a connection to a greater humanity through Antarctic exploration, an assumption that the activity is part of a larger human history. Hoover describes an uncommon experience that exemplifies a common human endeavor and goal. Sharing in the exploits of Byrd can be a common experience for all humans and provides a common resource of human inspiration.

3.1.3 Choosing between the Antarctic Treaty or United Nations trusteeship

As discussions for a possible Treaty to address the Antarctic region moved forward, the negotiations came down to a choice between a path to internationalization that would take the parties through the UN or another path that would restrict the initial agreement to interested parties. J.S. Reeves in 1934 made the argument articulated by Chopra, proposing the Antarctic be considered as a res communis rather than terra nullius because of the lack of effective occupation (Reeves 1934). In

February of 1948, the United States proposed two suggestions for Antarctic internationalization (Hanessian 1960). The first suggestion was that a UN trusteeship

101 be put in place for Antarctica. This notion was largely rejected for the reasons that there was no ostensible reason for the UN to be involved beyond token acknowledgement, that the UN was a security organization and, with no apparent strategic value, the Antarctic was useless; furthermore, a trusteeship was an arrangement set up to advance the needs of a local population - something that was lacking in the Antarctic. The second proposal was for a "multiple condominium" arrangement wherein authority and control would belong to states with a stake in

Antarctica already. While the scope of which states had a substantial stake in

Antarctica was questioned, in general this idea gained more traction. As time progressed, the empowerment of condominium thinking largely silenced the idea of common global interests being met by an Antarctic Treaty. The idea of Antarctic resources being managed by the UN for the good of humankind is one that would arise again and again, usually from states and groups not members of the Antarctic Treaty.

It was the "condominium" proposal which was eventually developed into what is today the Antarctic Treaty.

Nowhere in the texts of the Antarctic Treaty or its related documents is the word “property” ever explicitly used, and yet it is implicitly incorporated into the fabric of governance. Given the definitions of property above, Antarctic governance clearly regulates access to and use of a number of Antarctic resources. This implies that a limited set of property rights exist for certain objects on the continent, as legislated through the ATS. One observation that pervades is that freedom of access trumps any right to exclude within Antarctica. Other laws that might be applicable to

102 individuals in Antarctica are derived, according to Article Eight, from the states of which they are citizens: "[Personnel] shall be subject only to the jurisdiction of the

Contracting Party of which they are nationals" (Treaty 1959). This encapsulates national laws about property, allowing the ATS to rely on its member states to worry about the bulk of property law that has developed around individuals and their property rights.

The idea of a commons is another concept never explicitly advanced within

Antarctic Treaty documents, although there were a number of references to a greater

"mankind" being served through such international legislation. Within the preamble of the Antarctic Treaty, "mankind" is mentioned twice. The first time it is mentioned, it is in the context of the "interest of mankind" being served through the exclusively peaceful use of Antarctica. The second reference articulates the idea that the continuation of scientific freedom established during the International Geophysical

Year (IGY) would serve both the interests of science and the "progress of all mankind." The preamble also acknowledges the UN by saying that the member countries of the ATS are convinced that the treaty will further the goals of the UN

Charter. What UN involvement offers is the promise that nearly the entirety of humanity is represented by one government or another within its governance structure.

Such total inclusion is also joined by declarations of universal human values which all participant states have agreed to in the form of the UN Declaration of Human Rights.

Proposals that the "question of Antarctica" be directly managed by the UN have also been ignored or met with hostility.

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The idea of UN control over Antarctic has been repeatedly raised by individuals and some non-ATS member states before the creation of the Antarctic

Treaty. In September of 1948, Julian Huxley proposed that the UN should establish its own internationalization of Antarctica. In January of 1956, New Zealand Prime

Minister Walter Nash suggested that Antarctica could be classified as some sort of

"world territory" controlled by the UN. While these ideas were popular with polar personalities such as Admiral Richard Byrd and Sir Edward Shackleton 24 , they gained little traction in official circles. The first formal proposal by a state to place Antarctica under the control of the UN was put forward by India. India first proposed that the

"Question of Antarctica" be considered an agenda item for the UN at the 11 th UN

General Assembly in February of 1956. This proposal was in large part based upon the statement made by Nash. Klaus Dodds speculates that one important Indian motivation in bringing up the issue to the UN might be to prevent Indian exclusion from the pattern of resource exploitation in the Southern Ocean that was shaping up at the time (Dodds 1997b). India withdrew this proposal in November of 1956 at the behest of its British Commonwealth partners, who objected to the implication that their claims to the continent might be stripped away by any UN management. India brought forth a revised proposal for UN involvement in Antarctica in July of 1958 with language softened from its original 1957 proposal to accommodate the countries that had claims to Antarctica. The proposal was placed on the agenda of the 13 th UN

General Assembly. Once again, the proposal failed to gain wide support and the Nash

24 Ernest Shackleton (15 July 1911 – 22 September 1994) was the son of the Antarctic explorer Ernest Shackleton as well as a British Labour party politician and geographer. In 1971, he would become the president of the Royal Geographical Society. 104 government of New Zealand played a key role in reassuring the Indian government of the peaceful intentions of the selected states involved in exclusive discussion of

Antarctic internationalization (Dodds 1997b). India considered raising the same issue again in 1959, but decided not to because the formal negotiations of the Antarctic

Treaty were already underway.

After India acceded to the Antarctic Treaty and became one of its consultative parties 25 , politicians from Malaysia resurrected the idea that the resources of the

Antarctic would be better-managed under UN control. Rohan Tepper and Marcus

Haward provide a good summary of the political positions of Malaysia regarding

Antarctica in their article, "The Development of Malaysia's position on Antarctica:

1982 to 2004" (Tepper and Haward 2005). The Prime Minister of Malaysia, Mahathir bin Mohamad 26 , expressed concerns about the ATS similar to those posed by India earlier. Historically contingent factors leading to the Malaysian pursuit of this issue were remarkably akin to those listed above by Dodds as important for India, excepting the first concern about nuclear testing and militarization. The resource exploitation that concerned Mahahthir the most was the discussion of mineral exploitation going on within the ATS, which he considered a colonial agreement to be opposed.

Mahahthir, in his addresses to the UN General Assembly, drew strongly on the rhetoric of Antarctic resources being the common heritage of mankind and therefore

25 India acceded to the Antarctic Treaty on August 19, 1983 and was immediately granted consultative status on September 12, 1983. 26 Mahathir bin Mohamad (July 10, 1925 - present) served as Prime Minister of Malaysia from 1981 to 2003. During that time, he brought up the issue of Antarctica at the UN numerous times both personally and through official statements of his government. 105 their legitimate overseers were the countries of the entire world represented by the UN and not by the limited number of states represented by the ATS.

3.1.4 The creation and implementation of Antarctica World Park

The idea of declaring areas as the common heritage of mankind has been a bedrock foundation not only of states challenging the authority of the ATS, but of the environmental movement in Antarctica. The idea of a common heritage of mankind has been expressed within Antarctic environmentalism through the advocacy of a

"World Park Antarctica." This concept has often been credited with first emerging at the Second World Conference on National Parks in 1972, cosponsored by the

International Union for the Conservation of Nature (IUCN) and UNESCO. Within the text of the discussion of that conference, participant Dr. Ricardo Luti refers to the fact that a proposal to classify Antarctica as a World Park had previously been raised by

Argentina at an Antarctic Treaty Consultative Meeting (ATCM) 27 (IUCN 1972).

Despite this account, in many popular versions of the origin of the World Park

Antarctica idea, the Second World Conference on National Parks is credited as the origin (Barnes 1982; Peterson 1988; May 1989; Berkman 2002). The five components of the common heritage of mankind concept appear to be well-represented in the

27 Luti is vague about at which ATCM this proposal was introduced, and early final reports regarding ATCMs generally omit details about proposals discussed and not adopted. Early ATCM Final Reports focused instead on the recommendations that were adopted. At the first ATCM meeting at Canberra, Australia in 1961, however, it is clear that conservation of natural resources was a priority and a recommendation regarding "General Rules of Conduct for Preservation and Conservation of Living Resources in Antarctica" was adopted (Recommendation I -VIII). 106

World Park Antarctica recommendation that emerged from this conference. This idea was adopted by environmental groups with interests in Antarctica.

Using calls for a World Park Antarctica as a rallying cry, Greenpeace cautiously proceeded to both legitimate the ATS while at the same time deliver a harsh critique of its record on environmental issues. Greenpeace challenged the complacency of states involved in the Antarctic by sending their own inspectors to national stations in order to evaluate compliance with existing environmental standards, protesting several ATCMs, and establishing (from 1987 to 1992) a World

Park Antarctica base at Cape Evan on Ross Island, Antarctica. Greenpeace served as an oppositional force to the ATS by taking these independent actions without consulting the states involved, often disrupting planned activities by those countries on and around the continent. Greenpeace's actions might also be interpreted as attempting to conform to ATS standards by attempting to gain legitimacy within the ATS through the establishment of their own scientific base and enacting the Antarctic Treaty inspections allowed (and some say, encouraged) by Articles Seven and Eight of the

Treaty. Greenpeace clarified its contradictory positions and goals regarding the continent within John May's The Greenpeace Book of Antarctica: A New View of the

Seventh Continent (May 1989). May is quick to state that Greenpeace's position is that there is no need to go outside of the Antarctic Treaty to accomplish this goal.

Greenpeace's cautionary statement above seems to recognize that ATS parties would not even consider any proposals that force them to share authority with the UN. But

May does suggest that one UN body could provide an approach to creating a World

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Park designation for Antarctica. The Convention Concerning the Protection of World

Cultural and Natural Heritage, held at Paris, France in 1972 and sponsored by

UNESCO is specifically mentioned. Greenpeace campaign assistant Maj de Poorter articulated her criticism of the ATS states in the following way during a log of the

January 1987 voyage of the MV Greenpeace to establish the World Park Antarctica base in Antarctica:

"The ultimate aim [of the establishment of the World Park Antarctica base]: to

urge forward the declaration of Antarctica as a World Park, where the use of

natural resources to commercial ends will be prohibited. Seems logical? For

most people, yes, but not for the heads of the Treaty states, who 'manage'

Antarctica. They are at this moment busily negotiating the mineral exploitation

of Antarctica - behind closed doors, of course. We must put a stop to this

before we lose the last paradise on Earth." (May 1989, p.160)

The use of resources for commercial ends (i.e private property) is considered anathema to the ideal of a World Park. Since the representatives to the ATS were considering this they were seen as acting against both the will of "most people" and logic. One important loophole that this statement does extend is to allow for non- commercial use of Antarctic resources to be implicitly considered as potentially worthy.

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3.2 Modern standpoints on property

This section will explore the modern approaches to property and their engagements with Antarctica and the debate about bioprospecting there through the use of hierarchical bureaucratic territorialization. The section will begin by investigating some principle philosophies that underlie bureaucratic management of the commons, primarily those first articulated by Locke and Marx, and the subsequent scholarship that extends from (or has accreted on top of) these thinkers. The values of best use and equity are seen as best regulated through a bureaucratic structure that can prioritize the good of the many over the good of the few. The balance of these ideas is particularly tested through bioprospecting. The bureaucratic model of territoriality will then be shown to be reflected in the ways that the commons has attempted to be inscribed onto the Antarctic continent in general, particularly through the actions of environmental groups. Finally, this section will demonstrate how ideas of the

Antarctic commons have been regularly applied to the case of bioprospecting on the continent. Bioprospecting is regularly depicted as a one-way process of privatization within Antarctic discourses. In the course of this transformation of resources from common to private property, it is the responsibility of those who value an ATS commons to siphon off whatever equitable benefits they can for the common good.

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3.2.1 Lockean and Marxist approaches to ownership

Within modernist thought, there has been a conflict between the forces that favor a more limited form of property ownership through private property and the forces that favor common property ownership. There are accounts of property ownership throughout history, but two particular contributions have been crucial to form the sides of this debate. The first side of the debate requires a bureaucracy to step in and set the rules for a private property system. This approach is largely based in the writings of John Locke. The other side suggests that systems of private property have been built up to be exploitative and help certain groups dominate. The solution is to create a hierarchical bureaucracy that abolishes this private property and instead valorizes common or state property managed by organizations for the good of all of the people. Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels advanced this perspective. While the two sides might be diametrically opposed, both assume that hierarchical bureaucracies will establish their values in a territory through forms of property law.

The writings of John Locke gave private property its current moral underpinning. Locke's 1698 musings on property turned to the bible for reasoning about how property relations should ideally work. Locke found a divine command to use resources dictating a policy of "best use" (Locke 1960). According to Locke, everything is made by God and is not meant to be spoiled or destroyed by humans. All things start out as having been given in common by God, but it is through appropriating an item from those commons that it truly becomes property. Avoiding

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"spoilage" leads humans to use the objects from their environment in a very immediate way. Through labor and the use of resources, human beings and social groups are able to establish rights to private ownership out of what was originally a world without such order. Locke postulated that this was not only what happened, but that it was a good model to follow:

"To which let me add, that he who appropriates land to himself by his labour,

does not lessen but increase the common stock of mankind. For the provisions

serving to the support of humane life, produced by one acre of inclosed and

cultivated land are (to speak much within compasse) ten times more, than

those, which are yielded by an acre of land, of an equal richnesse, lyeing wast

in common." (Locke 1960, p.294) 28

Locke's line of reasoning endorses the granting of private property rights to those who can make the best use of whatever resource is in question. Central to Locke's narratives of privatization is the virtue of the resource in being privatized. This sentiment would later be valorized again through Garrett Hardin's argument in "The

Tragedy of the Commons," where he argued that when resources are managed in a commons they tend to become over-exploited and when private property rights are applied to those same resources better management arises (Hardin 1968). Human beings are assumed to always act in their own immediate self-interest when it comes to resource usage, and so this will inevitably lead to cheating in what Hardin perceived as an unregulated commons. The proposed solution to the perceived problem of the commons has been legislation. The main regulator and manager of private property

28 Original spelling preserved here from John Locke. 111 rights for both Locke (Locke 1960, p.299) and Hardin (Hardin 1968, pp.1245-1246) is the state. John Commons has pointed out that property precedes sovereignty in

Locke's view (Commons 1934, p.26), with God bequeathing resources to humans to use, but the proper way to accord property rights is usually translated through social institutions such as the state. While labor is supposed to be a basis of ownership, there need to be laws in place to protect resources from being acquired by the strong.

Property rights benefit strongly from a stable hierarchical bureaucracy in order to ensure fairness and work against the impulses of humans to accumulate for themselves at the collective expense.

The second, and opposite, prominent philosophy of property and its privatization from the commons comes from Karl Marx. In Marx's model of property relations, common property is valued above private property. Marx avoids the religious edicts that Locke used to underlie his system and instead interprets the concept of private property as originating from theft and dispossession. Marx provides examples of the expansion of private property at the expense of state and common property in the expropriation of land from serfs in the 14th Century, the taking of land from the Catholic church during the 16th Century reformation, as well as in actions taken during his lifetime in the 19th Century:

"The parliamentary form of robbery is that of 'Bills for Inclosure of Commons',

in other words decrees by landowners grant themselves the people's land as

private property, decrees of expropriation of the people." (Marx 1976, p.885)

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The creation of private property is therefore a negative act that leads to scarcity that is perpetuated by the capitalist system that developed afterward. The ideal should therefore be to correct this imbalance of ownership of resources and return to common property. While both Locke and Marx seem to acknowledge a historical shift away from common property rights for most resources to increasingly more private property rights of those resources, they disagree on whether or not this is to be desired. The central difference comes from each philosopher's goals with Marx desiring more of a return to common property and Locke encouraging the process of privatization. Marx and Engels would articulate this goal in their "Communist Manifesto" by calling for the abolition of private property and a return of property to a kind of commons (Marx and Engels 1978). In the manifesto, they address the question of whether they are seeking to destroy countries and nationalities by stating that the proletariat worker class that they seek to empower has no country that adequately represents them. It is therefore the communist goal to see that countries stop exploiting both their workers and whole other countries through colonialism and unfair trade practices. Marx and

Engels do not therefore seek to do away with states, but just their exploitative practices. In reference to the reformation of property laws, they even provide a laundry list of measures that may be implemented in "the most advanced countries" (Marx and

Engels 1978, p.490). Common (or state) property is therefore best implemented by hierarchical bureaucracies that control territories in Marx's model valorizing common property.

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3.2.2 Modern Property in Antarctica

The attitude that Antarctica contains no legal property rights and therefore requires the construction of such rights through international agreement is articulated at crisis points in Antarctic history. One such crisis point was the rejection of

CRAMRA and the promotion of a World Park Antarctica in the late 1980s, illustrated earlier in the historical section of this chapter. Phillip Law, the former director of the

Australian Antarctic Division (AAD) 29 , spoke in exasperation about environmentalist efforts to block CRAMRA in this vein:

"There is, at present no way of preventing a nation or a company from carrying

out prospecting or actual mining in Antarctica. There is a kind of 'gentlemen's

agreement' between the Antarctic treaty nations for a temporary moratorium on

mining, but this does not provide any legally enforceable measures and, in any

case, does not cover the non-treaty nations. Surely international agreement for

a minerals convention would be preferable to the present vacuum." (Law 1990,

p.79)

Law's articulation of a property rights "vacuum" is quite vivid and serves to empty the space of any property rights at all. It is a void to be filled. The argument for accepting the legislation of CRAMRA is therefore that something is better than nothing and that, as of 1990, nothing was in place to address mineral rights in the ATS. In Law's statement about Antarctica, he assumes that the condition of Antarctic resources revert to res nullius without legislation in place to declare otherwise. In such a state, all may

29 Phillip Law was the AAD director from 1949 to 1966. 114 access and claim the resources of Antarctica without fear of reprisal. This is an echo of the tragedy of the commons argument given by Hardin. The pristine and untouched nature of Antarctic space is used to conceptually empty it of any other social meaning or relationships that might actually exist within that space, a technique of territoriality pointed out by Robert Sack earlier (Sack 1986). This is one of the many techniques of territoriality that may be employed by bureaucratic institutions.

Another approach to this issue that involves Antarctic hierarchical bureaucracy as a territorial approach is the idea that Antarctica and its resources already exist as res communis . Christopher Joyner spends most of one book, Governing the Frozen

Commons , justifying why Antarctica should be considered the common heritage of mankind according to a number of different criteria. One of the main points given is the idea that since Antarctica is not under the sovereign control of a state or ownership of anyone, it must therefore operate as a commons:

"Since sovereignty claims are rendered nonoperative [sic] under Article IV of

the Antarctic Treaty, the condition that ownership rights not be actively

exercised is satisfied in part. Put another way, under the Antarctic Treaty

System neither the continent nor its circumpolar waters are owned by anyone

but are effectively managed by all treaty parties. While neither sovereignty nor

ownership rights are actively evidenced by state practice under the Antarctic

Treaty System, the rights and duties for such resource use and exploitation are

separately set out in appendage resource regimes. As a consequence, the

Antarctic Treaty System has evolved more as a free access regime than as a

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regime predicated on ownership rights. This situation made it easier to

appropriate resources in the Antarctic area without appropriating the entire

commons space." (Joyner 1998, p.253)

Joyner's perspective is that while ownership rights are not evident in the ATS, rights and responsibilities still exist in order to manage the commons space that he frames

Antarctica as. There is a lack of ownership rights, but that does not create an empty void in the social structure of the continent as it does for Law. Instead, the space is regulated by the ATS and its subsequent appendages as a free access regime. In envisioning a communal space, environmentalists have used the framework of a

World Park Antarctica to evoke what the management of such a space would look like. It evokes visions of a pristine area that is available for humans to visit, but withheld from commercial interests. This vision was physically enacted on the continent by Greenpeace volunteers establishing the World Park Antarctica base and conducting their own expeditions to the continent. The vision of an articulated world park stands in stark comparison to Law's vacuum that aches to be filled.

Lack of private ownership rights alone is not the only basis of a claim to an

Antarctic commons. There are arguments that build upon the nature of the resources under threat of privatization. Herber provides a body of work that has built a case for the consideration of Antarctica, as well as for the specific resources derived from it, as a general commons (Herber 1991; Herber 1992; Herber 2006; Herber 2007). Herber's case for the consideration of Antarctica as a "world park" commons territory is theoretically underpinned by two notions: the presence of common property resources

116 and the production of public goods (Herber 1992). The idea of common property resources generally refer to natural resources which are not restrained by any formal property rights and are therefore open to unrestricted access. Elements of the natural environment of Antarctica are considered common property resources by Herber because the ATS lacks explicit property rights. From Herber's perspective, a world park designation would produce or support a number of public goods: resources that are both non-rivalrous (consumption of the resource by one person does not denigrate or reduce the amount of the resource for use by others) and non-excludable (it is difficult to prevent individuals from accessing the resource). These public goods include political stability, the environment, and science.

The two impulses described above, one valorizing private property and the other valorizing communal property, are often counterposed to each other in Antarctic contexts. Keith Suter, at the behest of Australian Friends of the Earth, articulated the debate over mineral exploitation in stark contrast in the title of his book Antarctica:

Private Property or Public Heritage? (Suter 1991). The title provides only a mutually exclusive choice between a privatized Antarctica and one dedicated to public heritage.

As with visions of science in Antarctica articulated in chapter 2, the idea of Antarctica as a communal property space is often presented as a choice between purity and impurity. The advance of any commercial interest in Antarctica is therefore seen as a threat to the overall status of the continent as a purely communal area with resources managed by all 30 . Privatization of any resource derived from Antarctica is therefore

30 The perspective of Law in his quote presented earlier articulates the opposite view that private property is the pure good and common property is the impurity that creates problems. 117 perceived as a threat to the integrity of the communal nature of the place, and must be addressed as such. This protective attitude towards Antarctic resources has been evident in the rhetoric surrounding Antarctic bioprospecting, particularly in regards to

IPR.

3.2.3 Modernist property and Antarctic bioprospecting

Bernard Herber addresses both knowledge and biota as common property within Antarctica. Herber valorizes common property ownership and seeks to justify its status by building on Joseph Stiglitz's conception of knowledge as a global public good which cannot exclude others and can be consumed without taking away from others (Stiglitz 1999). Herber posits that a knowledge commons does exist in

Antarctica:

"[S]cientific research in Antarctica exhibits important global public good

characteristics since its benefits fall under the classification of the global public

good, knowledge." (Herber 2006, p. 143)

Herber cites the exchange of scientific personnel and trading of scientific observations as evidence that this commons exists 31 . Article Three of the Antarctic Treaty certainly frames the results of scientific labor as existing in the public domain, which is part of

31 There are a number of other examples of this that Herber does not mention. Meteorological stations work together to produce forecasts of weather on the continent that anyone can use. The exchange of data also exists in the biological sciences, with the Census of Antarctic Marine Life (CAML) not only creating a database of known Antarctic marine organisms, but placing that catalog online for open access to all through its companion organization the Scientific Committee for Antarctic Research's Marine Biodiversity Information Network (SCAR-MarBIN, accessible through http://www.scarmarbin.be/). All of this supports the notion of an Antarctic knowledge commons where information is freely exchanged. 118 the ethical quandary that Antarctic scientists are shown to be wrestling with in the second chapter. Any impingement on the qualities that make science a public good are interpreted as a form of corruption. Herber adopts this argument when he argues that patents derived from bioprospecting are a problem for the ATS:

"[P]atents take some knowledge out of the public domain and place it in the

private domain by assigning property rights to the inventor and, in doing so,

create the possibility of private sector profits. When such intellectual property

rights are created, the public good becomes 'mixed' with private good

characteristics and, hence, the resulting economic good may be more

appropriately termed an 'impure' or 'quasi' public good rather than a pure

public good." (Herber 2006, p.141)

The focus on the purity of public goods stresses an all-or-nothing approach to the argument about bioprospecting in Antarctica. If patents are allowed to be derived from biological research conducted on the continent, then the public status of knowledge is made 'impure' by attaching a property of excludability to it. Herber does not desire this.

Herber's argument is further extended to the common status of biota studied.

There is no claim here to a depletion of biological resources from Antarctica, just a corruption of their spirit. Herber cites ASOC for the following passage:

"In effect, bioprospecting amounts to another 'commodification' of Antarctic

nature, that is, the creation of tradable commodities from resources, in this

instance genetic or chemical compounds." (Herber 2006, p.143)

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Biological organisms are therefore re-"created" as tradable commodities. At the same time, Herber seems to acknowledge that there is no getting rid of bioprospecting from

Antarctica. Its commercial pollution of the Antarctic commons is irreversible, and now something that needs to be managed. Herber ends his article on Antarctic bioprospecting with a call to establish a comprehensive Antarctic bioprospecting regime (Herber 2006). He does note that the ATS has the option of doing nothing, but refers to this as a "reckless" path when compared to the options of allowing resources to be considered national public goods under a CBD-related regime or as global public goods under a common heritage principle.

While Jabour supports the idea of regulation of bioprospecting through the

ATS, she adopts the alternative discourse to Herber and views the continent as an unowned space where the commons is not the highest value. Jabour is quick to point out that there exists a perception of Antarctica as a sort of commons, but does not seem to fully support this interpretation (Jabour-Green and Nicol 2003, p.107).

Jabour's Lockean interpretation of the situation is that bioprospecting is an ideal industry for Antarctica (as well as the high seas) because it provides additional funding for science and is unlikely to have negative environmental impacts. The only question that remains is how to equitably divide the benefits of bioprospecting. In regards to the status of Antarctica as a commons, Jabour prefers to describe the area as unowned (Jabour 2010, p.27), reflecting a sentiment that the area and its resources are res nullius . Jabour goes further and characterizes the current situation of Antarctic bioprospecting as being akin to Hardin's tragedy of the commons (Jabour-Green and

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Nicol 2003, p.106), with resources under threat because they have not yet been regulated by a system of private property. This is more in line with Locke's reasoning on property. Jabour concludes that the few states and organizations that support a perception of Antarctica as a commons are not in a position to influence the ATS, the true bureaucratic authority in the area:

"The prospect of a challenge by developing countries based on commons

arguments is remote, to say the least, and the supremacy of the ATCPs 32 goes

unchallenged today, 50 yr into their governance. It is plain from their

behaviour that they do not embrace commons arguments except insofar as the

individual legal instruments promote peace, cooperation and science, and

environmental safeguards to help retain environmental integrity. Developing

countries are naturally limited in their ability to access Antarctic resources, due

in part to a lack of capacity, and the argument the ATCPs would run—if

challenged on how Antarctic activities benefit all mankind—is to offer peace,

scientific results and a pristine environment as alternatives, thereby satisfying

any possible contradiction over ethics." (Jabour 2010, p.28)

As long as the continent produces peace, scientific results, and a pristine environment as end results of bioprospecting, the activity is not only allowable but could be perceived as contributing to a greater good. It is an impressive claim that after any activity has taken place in the Antarctic it may still be considered pristine, but this is an example of delving back into the rhetoric of purity/ impurity to promote Jabour's position. There have been challenges to the ATS through territorializations of an

32 ATCPs = Antarctic Treaty Consultative Parties. 121

Antarctic commons in the past, as illustrated in the historical section of this chapter, but the present day situation has no evidence of organizations that are willing to confront the ATS with a similar commons territorialization regarding bioprospecting.

3.3 Postmodern models of property and the commons

This section will explore a more complex territorialization of the commons at work in the Antarctic. The section will begin with a brief summary of the work that

Elinor Ostrom has conducted on the reformation of the commons as a complex entity, reinforced by some voices from geography. The complexity shown by empirical studies illustrates that the values displayed by Marx and Locke can sometimes be seen in the same actions taken to alter property relations, that resources can have properties that make them more or less viable as common property, and that ownership types are social creations that can be altered through human action. Next, the chapter will dispel the oft-stated contention that Antarctica lacks property rights through a demonstration of private, state, and community ownership at one Antarctic base. The point that ownership types can be flexible is important and will be illustrated in that Antarctic context as well. Finally, the transformation of ownership types will be revealed to be a reality that does not threaten a geographical imagining of an Antarctic commons as long as it is not held up to purist standards. Acknowledgement of the legitimacy of other types of property ownership may be the first step to showing how the maintenance of an effective commons can hold them all together.

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3.3.1 Ostrom's critiques of modernist property

Ostrom challenged both Lockean and Marxist depictions of the commons, suggesting that alternative and more empirical studies of common property could yield more insight into how commons actually functioned. Ostrom observes that the universalization of the property theories advanced by either Locke and Marx has both

1) not always met with success enough to justify one over the other and 2) ignored realities that did not conform to its narrative. Ostrom then proceeds to cite and examine cases of self-organized and self-governing common property resources that avoid formal hierarchical bureaucracies. She does frame her study in terms of institutional organization and change, but Ostrom's concern is centered on how individuals can engage with these systems. One of the central questions that runs through Ostrom's teaching and research is "how can individuals influence the rules that govern their lives" (Ostrom 2002, p.191). This focus on ground-up social constructions of commons led to the exploration of a wide diversity of different types of locally-produced commons. This multiplicity of different geographical imaginaries of commons around the world is valued by Ostrom for its diversity rather than its uniformity (Ostrom, Burger et al. 1999). The take-away lesson is local conceptions of property and their interactions with unique cultures and resources must be acknowledged and valued by any common property resource system that is to be put into place. This is a precept not typically followed by the application of Locke and

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Marx, which both rely on the imposition of property hierarchies and values from above.

Ostrom's emphasis on studying the geographically particular imaginings of common property rather than examining them strictly through Lockean or Marxist assumptions has been recently echoed by a number of geographers. Nicholas Blomley echoes Ostrom's sentiment when he points out that the dominant view that private property is to be valued over common property "…obscures the varied and inventive ways in which property actually gets put to work in the world" (Blomley 2005, p.127).

An entire issue of Antipode in 2007 was dedicated to the exploration of the broad issue of privatization, and drew primarily on a number of different local examples of property relations from around the world 33 . In her introduction to the issue, Becky

Mansfield observes that privatization "…mystifies property relations by erasing complexity" (Mansfield 2007a, p.399). Mansfield goes on to say that one of the findings of the articles in the issue is that if one frames their approach to property relations in an essentialized way, the actual empirical results of property analysis seem unintuitive. Reality becomes problematic for strict believers in the universality of

Marx or Locke's theories.

The solution seems to be to acknowledge the complexity in the various activities surrounding property without ignoring the evidence that might contradict one theory or the other. The complex reality of property does not always conform neatly to the expectations articulated by theory. Charles Macpherson has been

33 This was Antipode 39(2) and was later turned into a book: Mansfield, Becky (ed.) (2008). Privatization: Property and the Remaking of Nature-Society Relations . Malden, MA: Blackwell. 124 particularly cited as trying to reform property definitions as including a right not to be excluded (Blomley 2010). This right not be excluded is part of a reformulation of property that blends the personal liberties extolled by Locke with the Marxist recognition that exclusivity has the potential to negate those liberties. In addition to

Macpherson, other property-related ideas have developed in order to strike a balance between the raw opportunity and exploitation offered by the private property valued by Locke and the needs of the human community as expressed by Marx. In

Mansfield's contribution to the Antipode issue mentioned above, she points out that the development of the community development quota for fisheries in Alaska has components of both a logic of neoliberal privatization and a logic involving the redistribution of wealth (Mansfield 2007b). The original concept of bioprospecting also represents a negotiated compromise between the ideals of Locke and Marx.

Recalling the origins of the term established in the first chapter, Thomas Eisner's original intent was to correct for the rampant exploitation of biota from poorer countries by putting a system in place that compensated such countries for the use of their biota (Eisner 1989). Without the concept of benefit-sharing derived from bioprospecting, there is no system set in place to compensate local people for the utilization of their biota for the purposes of refining their biochemical or genetic aspects for biotechnological purposes. Bioprospecting therefore encourages a system in which a state and/or local community is compensated with private money and/or a share of potential patent profits in exchange for the access that they grant companies/ scientists to publicly-owned biota.

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Similarly, the distinctions between user types of engagement with resources given property rights is also made complex by the fact that property relations can change. The most obvious changes are illustrated through the process of privatization, in which public (state or community) resources are transformed into privately-owned resources. The previously mentioned philosophical approaches of Locke and Marx seem to both assume that the commons exists as a natural state before human labor alters it. This is not entirely accurate. Since all property rights are social constructions, no property existed before human property invented the social relation. Res nullius is a perhaps more fitting term to describe a pre-social state of world resources. The communal aspects of resources are constructed by society and in no way natural. Marx elucidates on the need to use revolutionary class struggle to overthrow current property systems and install a commons in their place (Marx and Engels 1978).

Accounts of the early history of Antarctic exploration mentioned earlier in this chapter elucidate some of the ways in which state property has been created through effective occupation ( uti possidetis juris ). These three claims to ownership can be enacted through a number of different techniques, though, and not just the sweeping social constructions mentioned above. The imposition of each different form of property ownership is evidenced within Antarctica.

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3.3.2 Postmodern ownership in Antarctica

All three ownership forms of property can be said to co-exist in Antarctica on a practical level, and items may shift from existing in one category to another.

Antarctica does not simply exist as a global commons or as a pile of as-yet unclaimed private resources, but rather is comprised of a number of complicated property types.

Generally, transformations of property take place in converting from either state or private property into communal property. Certain huts and other structures left by early explorers are regularly regarded as common property, even if their origins were from private or state-funded expeditions. After the United States had decided to abandon Wilkes Station (which it had constructed in 1957 for the International

Geophysical Year), Australia took over the facility and renamed it Casey Station in

February of 1959 (Rubin 1996). One A-frame hut that New Zealand possesses was a discard from the United States Antarctic Program. As more and more states become interested in conducting scientific research in Antarctica, communally shared stations are also becoming more commonplace. It is therefore hard to neatly classify a single system of property within Antarctica as being solely state-owned, communally-owned, or privately-owned. What is needed is an understanding that incorporates the messy blending of all forms of property. The line between private and public interests can become blurred.

The implications of this reality on a geographical imaginary of Antarctica as a commons is that the area and resources within it should not strive to attain the status of

127 a "pure" commons or "pure" system of private property with no other property rights acknowledged, but rather strive to promote and encourage the adoption of common property as one of many different approaches to property. The insistence on a single, dominant ownership type of property would usurp the daily lives of the individuals working at bases such as McMurdo. Any policy regarding Antarctic bioprospecting would do well to be constructed along the system of logic of the people that actually work and live in Antarctica.

3.3.3 Postmodern property ideas applied to Antarctic bioprospecting

Bioprospecting in Antarctica may not be a threat to a geographical imagining of Antarctica as a commons if resource commons are regarded as essential components of Antarctic life rather than the sole dominating force of social relations on the continent. A complex territorialization of the commons in Antarctica acknowledges that common property rights are useful in facilitating social interactions on the continent, but are able to do so in concert with other ownership types.

According to postmodern understandings of property, the ownership characteristics of property can change in ways other than privatization. As mentioned earlier, patents provide a temporary monopoly on the use of IPRs. The owner of the patent may sell access to the intellectual property that is owned, but only for a limited amount of time 34 . The IPRs are private for a limited amount of time before becoming common

34 A typical patent in the United States is a 20-year monopoly on use, starting from when the patent application was filed. This is referred to as the term of the patent. 128 knowledge. The maintenance of a knowledge commons that is ready to receive the information coming from an expired patent is an important element of ensuring its continued utility. Patent law is seen as the only law that serves to regulate bioprospecting in any form in Antarctica at the moment (Tvedt forthcoming). While

Antarctic bioprospecting has been depicted as a form of privatization, Kim Connolly-

Stone has pointed out that it is only a temporary one (Connolly-Stone 2005). As such, the knowledge will rejoin the knowledge commons eventually. The question then becomes how long a period of exclusivity is too long for knowledge derived from

Antarctica? It is difficult to negotiate the solution to such a problem if the only stance that Antarctic commons promoters can take is that no exclusivity can be permitted at all. A switch from a confrontational to a cooperative style has benefited commons promoters before, as shown through the example of environmental commons efforts given in the historical section of this chapter.

The complexity involved in the consideration of bioprospecting concerns not only the criss-cross of theoretical ideals, but also in the two types of resources involved Every resource claimed to be owned has elements that distinguish it from others. This means that the study of how property rights work differs given the resource under consideration. Water is something that is necessary for human health and well-being, and therefore the privatization of access to water resources can be seen as a harsh act. That being said, the privatization of water supplies has been attempted in a number of localities (Bakker 2003; Swyngedouw 2004). The effectiveness of privatization of water is also limited by the complex modern delivery

129 systems that exist (plumbing), which are so extensive that they require public funding and oversight. Seeds have also become a commodity, but a difficult one to control because they are biological entities that reproduce (Kloppenburg 1988). Land is one of the most frequently cited forms of property, but debates often erupt over what is the

"best use" of a particular area of land (Blomley 2004). Central to this study of

Antarctic bioprospecting are the rights to biota and intellectual property rights, each of which bring their own complications to the idea of property.

Property relations regarding living things are complicated. These "biological resources" exist in the overlapping space between human society (the application of property relations) and the non-human environment (organisms which do not acknowledge social constraints). The reproductive capabilities of objects like seeds and their tendency to behave in ways that cannot be dictated by human social conventions pose problems for the application of property laws. There are a number of private property laws dedicated to regulating livestock and other biota which have been cultured and "tamed" by humans, and these are fairly well established. The exploitation of organisms that are gathered from the environment beyond typical human occupation (or "the wilderness"), is largely based on the concepts put forward by Locke that in the "state of nature" everything is considered to be common property available to the first human able to exploit it the best. It is the exploitation of biota gathered from outside of the regular social experience that concerns bioprospecting the most. The organisms being studied by scientists are rarely openly considered as the

130 property of anyone or anything, yet there are rules that dictate their use and how they are to be treated.

Knowledge is often depicted as existing in a common state, but there are other ways of framing knowledge. Scholars such as Mario Biagioli resist the notion that products of scientific research can even be considered property, when he states that

"scientific authorship is not about property rights but about true claims about nature"

(Biagioli 2003, p.254). Returning to the basic definition of property as a relationship between people mediated by resources, knowledge is certainly something that can be passed between people. Knowledge is transmitted by writing and reading material.

Knowledge can be actively engaged in classrooms where the most important relationship between teacher and student is the exchange of knowledge. Knowledge is regularly commodified whenever a tuition bill is paid. Knowledge/ ideas can be said to be an appropriate type of property in addition to the conception of knowledge as a true claim about nature. This is just another way of framing the relationship between the researcher and subject. While the realm of ideas would seem to make this resource immaterial, the ideas must, in fact, be physically enacted in order for them to become actualized and real. The ideas that are the subjects of IPR are perceived as human artifice; they can be based upon observed natural processes, but in practice are achieved through methods that are not obvious when observing nature. Peter Drahos and John Braithwaite have pointed out that in addition to the adage "knowledge is

131 power," 35 knowledge can also be the source of profits and IPR enables knowledge to be explicitly profitable (Drahos and Braithwaite 2002).

The transition between the biotic property and IPR is facilitated by the fact that both types within bioprospecting are considered largely in terms of the information that they hold or provide. While biota have the properties of being able to replicate and move independently as described above, one essential component to all life is

Deoxyribonucleic acid (DNA). DNA contains the genetic information that is used to determine the basic structure and functioning of the organism through the construction of certain amino acids that compose proteins. The field of bioinformatics is able to translate DNA into computer code that is simply raw information, transitioning the information from a "wet" to a "dry" form (Thacker 2005). The stage of bioprospecting that this involves is step two, isolation. Most individuals and/or companies involved in bioprospecting for genetic novelties are looking for biota with codes in their DNA (or certain proteins) which have allowed or lead to certain adaptations in the organism.

Bioinformatics allow the translation of such information in a way that makes the two resource types interchangeable, but definitely not the same. This mirrors the way in which the two philosophies of Locke and Marx may be blended together in some ways, and yet remain separate in others as described above. This again demonstrates the complexity of the resources involved in bioprospecting and the difficulty in simplifying the issue into a matter of one resource or the other.

35 An adage applied throughout the work of Michel Foucault and the work that emerged from his theory. This is illustrated throughout chapter two of this dissertation in which geographical imaginaries (a form of knowledge) help to dictate who holds power in Antarctica and to what degree. 132

3.4 Conclusions

Is the commons, as a territorial identity of Antarctica enshrined into its governance and practice through language and practice, threatened by the exclusivity posed by bioprospecting activity? The answer is dependent upon the modern or postmodern position taken. In the modernist narratives of Locke or Marx, bioprospecting is a simple case of privatization to either be resisted or embraced. The situation is only made slightly more complex in considering what is being privatized.

In either case, the governance body in charge of the territory, the ATS in this case, should arbitrate the situation and employ its hierarchical bureaucracy to enforce the course of action that will either limit or enhance the exclusive use of resources. This approach is straightforward and simple, but lacks the subtlety of addressing all of the complex issues involved.

As with the idea of the free exchange of science, the element of time becomes involved. Is the use of the resource truly exclusive if it is only exclusive for a limited time and over limited uses? The agreement between Cerylid Biosciences and the

Antarctic Cooperative Research Centre referenced at the start of this chapter was limited so that the company had only three years to develop human medical products based on the isolates derived from the research done by the Australian public center.

After three years, ownership of the isolates would revert back to the Antarctic

Cooperative Research Centre if no commercial uses were found for them. During that time, the research center was free to license other companies to use the same isolate

133 for different applications (such as for veterinary medicine). This represents a rather constricted view of exclusive rights that are neither total nor transferable, so that it would be difficult to describe them as purely communal or purely private property relations. Postmodern approaches to property that recognize the inherent complexity of property may be better equipped to address the potential complexity of rights involved in bioprospecting agreements. The value-neutral tone set by postmodernists also encourages interaction and collaboration between parties that might otherwise be diametrically opposed through their adherence to one modernist property trope against the other. Acceptance (or at least acknowledgement) of the value to be had in different perspectives is a key to cooperation. Whether or not those involved in Antarctic governance should be cooperating with other bodies over the issue of bioprospecting is a question for the next chapter.

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CHAPTER 4

IS BIOPROSPECTING A THREAT TO EXISTING ANTARCTIC GOVERNANCE?

Alan Hemmings was clearly worried at the 2006 Antarctic Treaty Consultative

Meeting (ATCM) that the Antarctic Treaty System (ATS) was in danger. The threat to the system could be found in the problem of bioprospecting. While Hemmings readily acknowledged the problems that Antarctic bioprospecting posed to the free exchange of scientific information on the continent and the question of ownership there, he seemed most concerned about whether the ATS would be the body to manage bioprospecting. He said that:

"[N]obody doubts that these are complex issues, but we need to discuss it. And

one of the reasons that we need to discuss them … from the perspective of the

Antarctic Treaty meeting is that it's already being discussed in other fora. In

the Convention on Biological Diversity, in the International Sea Bed Authority

discussions with CBD on jurisdictional issues between those two conventions

and so on. So if the Antarctic Treaty System doesn’t grasp the nettle of

bioprospecting, it will either continue to proceed in a totally unregulated way,

for the ad hoc, or it will be guided by other international institutions. The great

aim of the Treaty System is to be able to preserve this system’s hegemony over

Antarctic decision-making" (Hemmings 2006). 135

The statement alludes to a February 2004 meeting of the Convention on Biological

Diversity (CBD) treaty countries, which discussed Antarctic bioprospecting in the context of access and benefit sharing. While they did request ideas from the ATS of how to manage these activities in an Antarctic context, the implication seemed to be that it was the ATS that was answering to the CBD. The ATS might therefore have been perceived as subordinate to the CBD in this way. The lack of ATS bioprospecting regulations was also perceived as creating a legal hole that non-ATS states or companies could take advantage of to exploit Antarctic biota with abandon.

The solution to the question of establishing solid legitimacy over managing

Antarctic bioprospecting sought by most scholars is that the ATS should take action, particularly through legislating bioprospecting in Antarctica via a regime or agreement. This framing of the solution is based on a modern understanding that states and hierarchical bureaucracies are the only legitimate sources of governance over territorial issues, derived from the ideal of the state as a social contract developed by

Thomas Hobbes (Hobbes 1994). At the core of the Hobbesean philosophy is the idea of the sovereign state. Sovereignty indicates a quality of being the supreme and independent authority of a sovereign over subjects, often within a bounded geographic area. State sovereignty over territory must be recognized by other states in order to be legitimate; therefore, territorial sovereignty can be seen as a social contract between states as well. Sovereignty anoints the sovereign institution or individual with the authority to manage the activities of the subjects unless such regulation is excluded through the social contract involved. In a territorial sovereignty, this applies to the

136 activities undertaken within sovereign borders. Enacting governance through the state is therefore a dominative/ top-down method of deploying geographic power. A state- centered approach to territorial governance fits within Robert Sack's territoriality combination of hierarchical bureaucracy. Klaus Dodds recently dubbed the dominant territoriality exerted by the ATS "treaty sovereignty" 36 as a way to distinguish it from the sovereign states comprising the decision-making center of the ATS. In regards to bioprospecting, those that adhere to a hierarchical bureaucratic model of territoriality have called upon the ATS to enact one or another legislative regime which would ostensibly manage the activity.

There are alternative solutions to managing bioprospecting that may be imagined beyond the ATS or its member states that do not threaten the governance structure of Antarctica. Recent postmodern explorations of governance find that it is not wholly dependent on sovereign governments. Networks of institutions and individuals operating in a non-hierarchical fashion can adequately manage activities.

One scholar to articulate a vision of governance without state government at the center was James Roseneau (Rosenau and Czempiel 1992). Decoupling the idea of governance from hierarchical bureaucracies creates the freedom to define another territorial definition of social relations that is more networked and welcoming of other governance types. While much of the focus has been on interstate governance through the ATS, Antarctica already quietly accommodates a number of different governance types that coexist peacefully on the continent. The International Whaling Commission

36 Klaus Dodds used the term "treaty sovereignty" in his 2010 Association of American Geographer's talk and has recently stated that he is developing the term in a paper for the journal Polar Record that is, according to him, "speculative and argumentative." 137

(IWC) serves as another international regime that exerts authority in the seas surrounding Antarctica over whaling activities. The International Association of

Antarctic Tour Operators (IAATO) is an industry group that governs the tourism industry in Antarctica. Neither of these examples is subordinate to the ATS, and yet the ATS does not seem threatened by their governance work. This interaction allows for the possibility of non-ATS governance of bioprospecting without the threat of the collapse of Antarctic governance altogether.

This chapter explores the different territorialities of governance that frame the issue of bioprospecting within Antarctica. The first section provides a brief history of how certain activities have been governed within Antarctica. The original 1959

Antarctic Treaty explicitly forbids military activity and encourages scientific activity.

Other Antarctic activities that have established governance surrounding them include whaling and tourism. The second section will illustrate the hierarchical bureaucratic territoriality's theoretical basis, presence in Antarctica, and application to the issue of bioprospecting in Antarctica. The section after that will explore the alternate territorial definition of social relations in which non-hierarchical networked models of governance function. Evidence of this model of governance territoriality in Antarctica drawn from the historical section will be reiterated and potential application will be outlined as to how the model might work with bioprospecting in Antarctica. The goal of the chapter is not to suggest that only non-state governance solutions are best, but only that parties involved in Antarctic governance would do well to include them in their considerations of how to govern bioprospecting in the area.

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4.1 How several activities within Antarctica have been governed

Many activities must be considered in providing a history of governance in

Antarctica because otherwise the implication is that the governance of activities in

Antarctica is uniformly undertaken by a single institution or that all activities in

Antarctica are managed in the same way. There is both diversity in the types of organizations that oversee activities in Antarctica, and a diversity of ways in which they are managed. This section will therefore consider a number of different activities that have taken place in Antarctica, and the efforts that have been made to manage them through governance. The discussion will begin by detailing efforts to control all activities in the Antarctic (or sections therein) through sovereign claims and other government strategies. The activities managed by the original 1959 Antarctic Treaty are largely acknowledged to be limited in scope. The exploitation of whales will then be considered. Tourism is an activity that enjoys less governance through the Antarctic

Treaty and more from the industry that benefits from it. There are too many activities to consider providing a history of all of them here, but the selection provided will hopefully provide a glimpse of some of the diverse management techniques that exist in the region. These examples serve as evidence of both modern and postmodern approaches to governance.

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4.1.1 Governing all or part of Antarctic territory comprehensively

This is not to say that comprehensive governance of the Antarctic or sectors of the Antarctic has not been tried before. As stated in previous chapters, sections of the

Antarctic had been subject to claim by a number of different states. If enacted, the claims would exert the sovereign authority of the state in question over all activities conducted in the area of the claim. Figure 9 illustrates the seven claims of sovereign states that have been placed on the Antarctic, along with the area encompassed by each claim and when the claim was made. The overlap between the Chilean,

Argentine, and British formal claims to Antarctica meant that acknowledgement of

140 claims would be perceived as political support for one state over another, potentially leading to conflict. Donald Rothwell considers the activity of establishing sovereignty itself one of the main reasons for human beings being in Antarctica at all (Rothwell

2010). The potential conflict between claimant countries over Antarctic sovereignty was not the only conceptualization of Antarctic governance, as other states put forward alternative models of Antarctic governance. The United States put forward an

'open door' policy of engagement with the Antarctic continent allowing the country to exert its economic power into the area by not acknowledging the claims of other countries while not formally establishing an American claim. The United States reserved the right to make territorial claims of sovereignty to the continent, and took a number of actions to this effect 37 , but more access to the continent and its resources were opened up for the United States through this policy. H. Robert Hall depicts the

United States policy as part of the New Imperialism movement which led to the establishment of the other formal claims to Antarctica (Hall 1989). The previous chapter provided details of proposals of United Nations governance of the entire continent. Such a commons involves a governance model where the United Nations would serve as the sovereign institution and the subjects would be all of those who conduct activities in Antarctica. These overlapping territorializations of Antarctic governance have meant that finding a way to govern human activities on the continent

37 These actions included a number of independent actions. State Department official Edith Ronne took pictures of the American flag flying over a United States post office in Antarctica during her husband's 1946-48 expedition. American explorers such as Robert Byrd and Ellsworth Huntington planted flags during their expeditions and made statements about prospective American claims to regions of the continent that they had discovered. While these statements were well received by the United States government, they continued operating under the doctrine established by Secretary of State Charles E. Hughes 1924 response to the French claim to Terre Adélie in Antarctica. 141 requires a delicate balancing act in considering the different interests that come into play. Scholars such as Paul Berkman consider the ATS to be the embodiment of a comprehensive governance system of the Antarctic that allows all of these considerations to be balanced out (Berkman 2010). Although many have come to regard the ATS as the sole authority in the Antarctic, it is not clear that those present at the inception of the Antarctic Treaty had the same goals.

The negotiation of the Antarctic Treaty in 1959 was meant to create a forum in which such issues could be managed, if not resolved, by the interested parties.

Although ideas of "Treaty sovereignty" float around today, the original scope of the

Antarctic Treaty was more limited. The process of creating the Antarctic Treaty was highly contingent on a number of different factors and interests. The twists and turns of how the document was created are aptly covered by John Hanessian's article on the process (Hanessian 1960). The scope of both the subject matter that the treaty covered and the membership of the treaty were both contested items through the process of the

Treaty's negotiation, but the Treaty ultimately wound up focused on a small group of states making a small number of determinations about the continent. The two central human activities considered within the Antarctic Treaty were security (particularly regarding violent military conflicts among states) and science. Other, more commercial, activities related to the Antarctic were not even considered.

The context of the negotiation of the Antarctic Treaty is important. Peter Beck notes that it is impossible to understand the Antarctic Treaty without the context of the Cold War going on between rival superpowers the United States and the Soviet

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Union during its negotiation (Beck 2010). Within the context of the Cold War, the primary goal for the Antarctic Treaty to reach was not the successful resolution of all colonial claims to Antarctica but rather the careful balance of interests between the two superpowers. Creating the Antarctic Treaty with the U.S.S.R. as a signatory therefore suggested that both Cold War powers could keep each other in check in the region without having to resort to military threats. Neither the United States nor the

Soviet Union desired conflict over the region, so the 'limited purposes' of the agreement seemed to be a limitation on military activity on the continent. In order to justify continued national presence in Antarctica, scientific activities by Antarctic

Treaty states were encouraged through the treaty. Military presence is therefore justified in a logistical support capacity for scientific activity, but expressly forbidden for other military exercises (see Article One) or nuclear testing (see Article Five). As discussed in chapter two, science is encouraged through Articles Two and Three of the

Antarctic Treaty. The call for the sharing of scientific information through Article

Three shows that the openness about gathered observations is not an inherent part of science, but a stipulation of activity within Antarctica. This was also necessitated by the Cold War context because a number of American scientists had expressed close ties to the military and an inclination not to share information with their Soviet counterparts (Collis and Dodds 2008). Beyond science and peace, the original Treaty is vague as to how other human activities should be governed in Antarctica. Article

Eight of the Antarctic Treaty states that people in Antarctica:

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"…shall be subject only to the jurisdiction of the Contracting Party of which

they are nationals in respect of all acts or omissions occurring while they are in

Antarctica for the purpose of exercising their functions." (Treaty 1959)

All actions undertaken by individuals in Antarctica are therefore under the jurisdiction of the national government of which they are citizens, which means that beyond the stipulations about scientific and violent behavior all other activities were the purview of state governments. In the case that two states disagreed about jurisdiction, they were called upon to consult with each other in the following paragraph of Article

Eight. Further disputes between states were called upon by Article Eleven of the

Treaty to be resolved through consultation with all of the contracting parties. The blind spot for regulating human action in Antarctica is rather large and covers a wide range of industries, but the Antarctic Treaty did allow itself to become a focal point for the discussion of contentious Antarctic topics of what actions could be allowable within the region.

4.1.2 Governance of whaling in the Antarctic

As seal populations declined in the Antarctic, whalers were just beginning to get started at the beginning of the 20 th Century. Unlike sealers, the size of the prey involved in whaling required that the initial whalers have a proximate whaling station to process the dead whales. With the establishment of the first far-south whaling stations at Grytviken on South Georgia Island in 1904, harvesting whales for their oil

144 became truly feasible in Antarctic waters. The industry grew quickly in the Antarctic region, and by the 1910s the amount of whales harvested from the area was greater than the harvest from the rest of the world combined (Walton and Bonner 1985). The industry was altered in 1925 by the introduction of slipways onto factory whale- processing ships that allowed whales to be winched aboard (Dibbern 2010). Factory ships had existed before then, but usually did not have enough steam power to run both the motor and the whale processing machinery, meaning that ships needed a port to anchor in if they were to process their whales. The new ships did not require docking in a port to process whales. The number of these advanced ships increased from 1 in 1925 to 41 in 1930, resulting in an increase in whales killed per year rising from 14,219 in 1925 to 40,201 in 1931 (Fogg 1992, p.211). This not only led to a depletion of whales, but a glut of whale-oil on the market, sending prices down. As with the seal populations, whalers would focus on one profitable species before commercially exhausting its stocks and moving on to the next-most desirable species.

Initially, whalers targeted humpback whales in the region before exhausting that commercially-exploitable population and moving on to Blue Whales. As the Blue

Whale supply was exhausted in the region, whaling started to focus more on Fin and

Sperm Whales in the 1950s to 1960s, with the Sei Whale becoming the new focus of exploitation towards the end of the 1960s (May 1989). Since the 1960s, only the

Soviet Union and Japan conduct whaling operations in the Antarctic, and currently, the majority of whaling that takes place in the waters around Antarctica is conducted by Japan and is centered on Minke whales, with Humpback and Fin whales gathered

145 to a lesser degree 38 (IWC 2010). These whaling operations have met with protests and increasingly aggressive conservationists seeking to obstruct the operations of these whaling ships on the moral grounds that all whaling is wrong.

The initial moves towards governing the activity of whaling in Antarctica were not based on moral stances against whaling, but came out of a concern that the industry was unsustainable without management and that governments could profit from such regulation. The British government certainly had nationalistic intent in its

Antarctic claim, but the strategic value of having access to a large source of whale-oil was an additional reason for the British to loudly assert their claim to the area. Not only was whale oil used in the production of soaps, margarine, and lubricants, but a production by-product was glycerin (a component of nitroglycerin and therefore explosives) (Beck 1990). Through the Falkland islands 39 , the British issued a licensing system for whalers in order to gain some revenue from their profits, control the industry, and reinforce their sovereign authority in the area (Walton and Bonner

1985). In 1917, the British Colonial Office set up a committee to examine the whaling industry in the Antarctic area claimed by Britain (called the Falkland Island

Dependencies). The committee recommended in 1920 that a scientific research program be set up in order to understand more about the whales in the region, which led the United Kingdom to conduct their Discovery Investigations of the Southern

38 Japan's self-imposed scientific catch limits on whales in the Southern Ocean for each of its recent annual whaling seasons is: 850 (with 10% allowance) Antarctic Minke whales (Eastern Indian Ocean and Western South Pacific stocks), 50 Humpback whales (D and E stocks) and 50 Fin whales (Indian Ocean and the Western South Pacific stocks) (IWC 2010). 39 The Falkland Islands are also known as Las Malvinas, but since I am addressing them here in a British rather than an Argentine context I will use the British name for them. 146

Ocean from 1925 up to the Second World War. While the movement to slipway whaling ships meant that the British government soon lost the revenue and control of a whaling industry that no longer needed to process their whales in Southern British ports, the information gathered from the Discovery Investigations would be used in later international whaling agreements (Fogg 1992). The advances in whaling technology not only led to a steep decline in whale populations, but recognition that single-state governance of the issue was insufficient to regulate the industry.

The International Whaling Commission (IWC) was originally started as a group meant to promote a sustainable global whaling industry, but later transformed into an organization more concerned about conservation of whales for its own sake.

The first international attempt to regulate whaling was the Convention for the

Regulation of Whaling adopted in Geneva in 1931. The Convention was not very successful as Japan and Germany refused to sign it and of the pelagic whaling states, only Norway and the United Kingdom adhered to it (Fogg 1992). The IWC was established by the United Nations in 1946 through another International Convention for the Regulation of Whaling held in Washington, DC. The original purpose of the

IWC was to conserve whale stocks so that an "orderly development" of the whaling industry could be made possible (IWC 1946). This was an agreement and a commission set up to address world-wide whaling, which included, to a large degree, that which was going on within Antarctica. At its inception, the IWC was composed of countries with whaling industries or interests in whaling. As time progressed, scientific management was strengthened in 1974 and more preservationist interests

147 were introduced into the IWC (Skodvin and Andresen 2003). After a more rigorous scientific management regime was introduced into the IWC, certain species started to be closed to commercial exploitation. A ban on Fin whales started in 1976, followed by a ban on Sei whales in 1978, and ultimately there emerged a ban on all commercial whaling in 1982 which has not yet been lifted 40 (May 1989). The IWC is globally applicable, but it did focus on Antarctic waters in 1994 when it created a Southern

Ocean Sanctuary, where commercial whaling was banned completely. This might seem redundant given the overall ban on commercial whaling, but it did establish the

Antarctic as a safe zone for whales. The continued exploitation of whales in this region by the Japanese noted before is allowed because it is labeled "scientific whaling," 41 although this designation is contested by a number of different conservation groups. The research (or catching of whales) is undertaken by a privately-owned non-profit organization called the Institute for Cetacean Research, which is funded by subsidies from the Japanese government and contributions from

Kyodo Senpaku, a for-profit company that processes the whale byproducts that are gathered by the institute. Continued whaling action in Antarctic waters despite the

Sanctuary designation has driven a rift between Japan and non-whaling nations, especially Australia which views the scientific whaling program as a disguise for commercial whaling (Larter 2008). The ATS has not taken a stand on the issue, deferring to the IWC as the governance body to handle this issue.

40 Although the ban has been questioned at recent IWC meetings. 41 The specific whale research programs that have been touted by the Institute for Cetacean Research include JARPA (1988-2005), JARPA II (2005-present), JARPN (1994-1999), and JARPN II (2000- 2001). 148

4.1.3 Governance of tourism in the Antarctic

Tourism is one human activity that has been slowly gaining momentum through the life of the ATS. Tourism is a human activity that involves travel for recreational purposes, usually to a place that is unusual or exotic for the tourist. This is an activity that can be undertaken without utilizing facets of commercial tourism, but to take a non-commercial tour of Antarctica is a very difficult logistical task. The tourism industry is a service industry that caters to tourist needs by providing transportation, accommodations, and hospitality. The idea of taking tourists down to

Antarctica was first advanced in 1910, but not put into organized practice until the late

1950s (Herr 1996 b). The first tourist expeditions to Antarctica included a 1956 flyover of Antarctica where tourists could view the continent from the windows of their plane and a cruise that occurred in 1958 42 (Carvallo 1994). Regular "expedition" cruises to Antarctica were started by Lindblad Expeditions in 1966, and small numbers of tourists visited the continent this way for years. Overflights of the continent tend to be offered by neighboring state airline companies. Overflights and ship-borne cruises remain the methods by which the majority of tourists experience Antarctica, but there has also been the lure of adventure tourism. Adventure tourism tends to attract fewer individuals and a more elite clientele because of the prohibitively high costs involved, high effort on the part of the tourists undertaking it, and usually a higher degree of risk

42 The first tourist fly-over in Antarctica was conducted by 66 tourists in a DC-6 plane operated by Linea Aerea Nacional, the Chilean national airline. The first tourists to arrive by ship were a group of 100 paying passengers onboard Les Ecaireurs , an Argentine naval vessel. In 1959, a Chilean ship with 84 passengers crossed the Antarctic Circle (60º South latitude) on their way to Marguerite Bay. 149 than other forms of tourism. The first official company to manage adventure tourism within Antarctica was Adventure Network International, started in 1985 43 . Tourism was a modest industry, consistently bringing under 5,000 tourists to Antarctica up until the late 1980s when tourism rates started to climb sharply ( see Figure 10 ). Erik

Molenaar points to increased public curiosity about Antarctica fueling this tourism boom, which was itself engendered by the efforts of environmental NGOs to bring attention to the beauty and fragility of the continent in their effort to counter any exploitative mineral and marine resource harvesting that might take place there

(Molenaar 2005). Molenaar also notes that this increase historically came in

43 Adventure Network International's website is: http://www.adventure-network.com/ 150 conjunction with the collapse of the Soviet Union and Eastern bloc states in 1991, which freed up more ice-capable vessels for charter in the Antarctic region as the emerging Russian and eastern European countries sought new revenue streams. The end result was the availability of a larger fleet of tourist vessels combined with a worldwide public that was both aware of and curious to experience Antarctica.

Because a key selling point of Antarctic tours is the environment, the type of tourism that is largely espoused in Antarctica is "ecotourism." Ecotourism generally both seeks to have a low environmental impact on the areas visited and educate the tourist consumer about the environment encountered in the hope that they will contribute to its stewardship. While the ostensible success of achieving these goals through

Antarctic tourism has been questioned (Eijgelaar, Thaper et al. 2010), most Antarctic tour operators still depict themselves as operating in the spirit of ecotourism. There is an effort by tour operators to present the Antarctic as a natural preserve, devoid of people. This is a difficult illusion to pull off, since fewer than ten sites are visited by more than 10,000 people per year (Haase, Lamers et al. 2009). In order to achieve this effect, there is coordination between tour operators such that only one ship is visible at a sight at a time 44 . A degree of close management and coordination is necessary if tour operators are to provide their customers with a satisfactory Antarctic experience.

Governance of Antarctic tourism was slow to develop within the ATS, and so a great deal of governance was developed by the tourism industry itself. The ATS, wishing to shield scientists and historic monuments from the ill effects of tourism, first

44 This is known as the "one ship, one place, one moment" principle adopted by Antarctic tour operators, which seeks to reduce popular tourist site congestion of ships and people (Haase, Lamers et al. 2009). 151 considered the issue of tourism at its 1966 ATCM in Santiago, Chilé (Stonehouse

1992). The ATS developed Recommendation VIII-9 at the 1975 ATCM in Oslo,

Norway. This recommendation suggested the creation of 'areas of special tourist interest,' although none were actually developed as a result of this suggestion

(Stonehouse 1992). In the time leading up to 1991, only 7 recommendations were made at ATCMs regarding tourism, and very little action had come of them (ASOC

2008). In the meantime, tour operators had been functioning according to their own principles. In July1989, four prominent Antarctic expedition leaders 45 proposed an

"Antarctic Traveler's Code," which got widely circulated (Vidas 1996). Jack Talmadge of the Division of Polar Programs at the National Science Foundation (NSF) encouraged United States Antarctic tour operators 46 to form their own association, and in November of 1989 joint guidelines were formed between them (Vidas 1996). In

August of 1991, the initial group of three operators added four more Antarctic tourism organizations47 from other parts of the world to their ranks and officially formed the

International Association of Antarctic Tour Operators (IAATO). Representatives of the group then attended the 1991 ATCM at Bonn, Germany in October. They were not the only tour operator group to have sent representatives, though. The Pacific Asia

Travel Association (PATA), at the behest of its Australian members, also expressed an

45 These expedition leaders were Ron Naveen, Colin Monteath, Tui de Roy, and Mark Jones. They had collectively taken over 60 trips to the Antarctic and later published a book on their adventures called Wild Ice: Antarctic Journeys (Smithsonian Books, 1990). 46 The United State Antarctic Tour Operators who were submitted to this initial "friendly coercion" (Haase, Lamers et al. 2009, p.418) from the NSF were Society Expeditions, Travel Dynamics, and Mountain Travel (Vidas 1996). 47 In addition to Society Expeditions, Travel Dynamics, and Mountain Travel, the tour operators added to form the initial group of 7 IAATO members were: Ocean Cruise Lines, Salen Lindblad Cruises, Adventure Network International, and Zegrahm Expeditions (Vidas 1996, p.301 fn.30). 152 interest in Antarctic tourism and attended the 1991 ATCM (Herr 1996 b). Although

IAATO and PATA could be seen as rivals, they still met before the meeting to coordinate some common positions on Antarctic tourism. Both organizations were initially not recognized by the ATS at the 1991 ATCM, where another group, the

World Tourism Organization, was invited to represent the issue of tourism in an advisory capacity (Herr 1996 b). The World Tourism Organization was later recognized at the following ATCM as being inadequate to the task of managing

Antarctic tourism for ATS purposes and legitimacy was transferred to IAATO.

IAATO describes its contribution to Antarctic governance on its website this way:

"IAATO's original visitor and tour operator guidelines served as the basis in

developing Recommendation XVIII-1 of the Antarctic Treaty System, which

includes guidance for Antarctic visitors and for non-governmental tour

organizers. IAATO provides a forum for Antarctic tour operators to come

together to continually develop the highest standards and best practices to

better protect the Antarctic environment. IAATO has been represented every

year at Antarctic Treaty Consultative Meetings (ATCM) since its founding in

1991. IAATO presents its annual report and an overview of tourism activities

each year at the ATCM." (IAATO 2010)

Recommendation XVII-1 mentioned in the quote above references a recommendation regarding tourist and tour operator guidelines composed during the 1994 ATCM in

Kyoto, Japan. The boast that the recommendation was largely based on principles already established by IAATO indicates that the industry group had a significant

153 amount of influence on how it was to be governed. Scholars refer to the dominance of

IAATO in Antarctic tourism by either referring to IAATO as a steward of the

Antarctic environment (Splettstoesser 2000) or by affirming that tourism in Antarctica is a self-regulating system (Haase, Lamers et al. 2009). The only caveat to this independent governance by the industry of itself by itself is that the ATS Protocol on

Environmental Protection composed in 1991 was meant to apply to all activities within Antarctica. The industry is actually in line with the Protocol because it favors

IAATO interests by keeping the environment which visitors pay to see protected (Herr

1996 b). While concerns about tourism remain, very little action has been taken by the

ATS to impose unwanted regulations on IAATO or any other tour operators in the region.

4.2 Modern governance

While the previous section has illustrated a number of activities and how they came to be governed in Antarctica, this section will investigate the hierarchical bureaucratic model that most scholars have come to rely upon when studying governance in general and in Antarctica specifically. The origins of a hierarchal perspective of governance that stresses dominance will first be investigated through the writings of Thomas Hobbes and subsequent political realists. This approach generally sees the sovereign state as the central governance body, with state authority occasionally threatened by organizations at scales hierarchically above or below it.

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The application of these ideas of governance to Antarctica will then be illustrated.

Finally, the application of this view to the issue of bioprospecting within Antarctica will be shown not only to have an effect on how the issue is framed, but what moves toward resolution are taken.

4.2.1 Hobbes and subsequent realist ideas of governance

The modern strain of hierarchical bureaucratic governance theory has its roots in Leviathan by Thomas Hobbes through his concept of sovereignty. While it is true that the concept of the sovereign exists before Hobbes 48 (Beaulac 2003), it is Hobbes who gives the concept the theoretical grounding with which, in the thought processes of political realists, it has become so associated today. Hobbes defines the world as divided in two. Part of the world exists in a state of nature outside of social organization. A famous quotation from Hobbes states that humans existing in these conditions live in "…continual fear and danger of violent death, and the life of man, solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short" (Hobbes 1994, p.76). This is an anarchical world of all against all and nothing can be guaranteed because no society exists. The other part of the world is civilized society, ruled over by sovereigns. A sovereign may be a single individual or an assembly of people who have been granted the authority and power, though a social compact, to govern the actions of the humans that are the sovereign's subjects (Hobbes 1994, p.109). The contract between a sovereign entity

48 Stéphane Beaulac credits Jean Bodin as being the "father of sovereignty" and grounds the legitimacy of the sovereign in religious terms, something that Hobbes shies away from (Beaulac 2003). 155 and its subjects equates to the sovereign being responsible for protecting the subject from an anarchical world of warfare of all against all, and in exchange the subject yields the authority to govern its actions to the sovereign. This submission of the subject to the sovereign condones the dominating power of the sovereign over the subject, which, for Hobbes, is better than the alternative world of chaos. The choice is stark and absolute from this perspective, and fits into a territorial conception of a world ordered through hierarchical bureaucracy. The sovereign may delegate authority, after all, but ultimate power and authority resides within the sovereign. The sovereign was particularly empowered to undertake or instigate violent action not only against the forces of chaos that might threaten the subjects, but also against the subjects to enforce the governance rules under which they had entered into a social contract with the sovereign. The use (or threat) of force was crucial to Hobbes because

"…covenants without the sword are but words, and of no strength to secure a man at all" (Hobbes 1994, p.106). The coercion of violence is the ultimate weapon of domination that sovereignty holds over the heads of subjects.

This concept of sovereignty was largely territorialized through the form of the state, which became the centerpiece of realist political thought. As mentioned at the start of this chapter, most international relations theory refers to territorially-bounded states as sovereign entities responsible for the citizens who live within their borders.

States are amongst the few (if not the only) organizations which may legitimately employ violence as a tactic according to their laws. Such states, when legitimated by the international community of fellow sovereign states, are seen as having near-

156 absolute power to govern over what human activity goes on within their borders. As a focus of political power and authority to govern within the context of sovereignty, states have regularly been declared to be the central political units worth studying in international relations and political geography (Cox 2003; Flint 2003; Low 2003). The reasoning behind the focus on the state is presented as practical (it is where political activity is currently taking place) and normative (it is the location or scale at which governance over human activity should take place). Other alternative political spatial units exist, but the emphasis and power remain situated at the level of the state.

The state exists at a spatial extent, or scale, which is usually classified as less expansive than global or regional scales, but larger than local or urban scales. Often, concepts of scale can be taken for granted. One common assumption articulated by

Harriet Bulkeley is that "decisions are cascaded from international, to national, and then local scales," (Bulkeley 2005, p.876) as if the different scales were simply nested containers of power. Within the framework of the authority of one scale being automatically superseded by the authority of a scale with a broader spatial extent, the power of the sovereign state might seem belittled by that of regional and/or international organizations of which it is a member. These international organizations are often referred to as regimes, regimes being social institutions consisting of agreed- upon rules that govern the interactions of people in a specific area (Young 1997). The agreement upon the rules in these regimes is commonly achieved through negotiations between states. In this way, international regimes can be seen not so much as organizations to supplant sovereign state power, but rather as "…plugging the gaps

157 between state spaces, or expanding the collective territoriality of the state into the atmosphere and oceans" (Bulkeley 2005, p.878). This logic might also be applied as extending the collective territoriality of Antarctic Treaty signatory states into the

Antarctic through the regime that governs the region, the ATS. Gail Osherenko and

Oran Young note that political realists view international regimes as reflective of the interests of the state that has proved to be most hegemonic in the regime's creation

(Osherenko and Young 1993). Whether the hegemonic state achieves its goals through coercion or benign negotiation, realists tend to see a hegemon as a necessary precondition for an agreement at a broader spatial scale than the singular state. In this way, international regimes are still beholden unto the powers exercised by the sovereign state. Any challenge to the legitimacy of an international regime is therefore also a challenge to the authority of the states involved through their preferred configuration.

A world without the state as the central source of dominating power becomes a terrifying concept in the ideals of political realists. The stark choice between anarchy without the sovereign state and the totalizing control over human activities implied by the sovereign state (and its regimes) means that if states or state-created regimes collapse then only a devastating chaos can result. The fear of this condition drove many realists to regard the growth of globalization as a palpable threat to world international order. A redirection of attention away from the scale of the state and onto the global, or rescaling, generated a debate over whether or not globalization was eroding the power of states (Mansfield 2005). While Becky Mansfield ultimately

158 found the debate over rescaling to be an unhelpful argument to undertake in order to understand changing political and economic relations, the preoccupation over whether or not state power was collapsing was understandably an existential question for political realists. If the state were to lose power, or even collapse, in the face of political forces emerging from other scales, then according to Hobbesian logic a disordered and dangerous existence lay in wait.

4.2.2 Realist governance applied to Antarctica

The responsibility for governing Antarctica has been widely recognized as the purview of the ATS for the past 50 years of its existence. Under the realist model of governance, the authority to regulate all human activities on the continent emerges from the ATS regime, which is itself centered upon the Antarctic Treaty Consultative

Party states. These states are able to decide policy on what human activities are allowed and to what degree they may be performed. The separate regimes that have been developed separately to address different activities within Antarctica are regularly perceived as "sub-regimes" subordinate to the central tenants of the Antarctic

Treaty ( see Figure 11 )

The dichotomy between ordered state-centric systems and chaotic other systems has been applied to Antarctica, as illustrated through some of the examples of governance provided in the previous section. Despite a lack of industry interest in exploiting Antarctic minerals, the Treaty Party member states still perceived it as

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necessary to construct some form of regime to address the issue, or else the oft- repeated threat of chaotic exploitation loomed large in the future. This hysteria over mineral activity regulation was further heightened by the approach of the end of the

30-year moratorium on reviews of the Antarctic Treaty in 1991. The new potential crisis point has been moved to 2041 with the expiration of the consensus mineral ban in the Environmental Protocol and a switch in the voting procedures that could possibly extricate it. While governance of tourism has been largely left to IAATO with little ATS interference, this has not halted scholarly calls for stronger ATS regulation of the industry or even a separate tourism regime (Carvallo 1994; Molenaar 2005). In the words of Molenaar:

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"A continuing strong reliance by parties to the Antarctic Treaty on industry

self-regulation reflects an inadequate discharge of their self-assumed

responsibility for the governance of Antarctica and thereby undermines their

international legitimacy and that of the ATS." (Molenaar 2005, p.294)

In Molenaar's view, if the ATS does not exert a dominant power over the activity of tourism on the continent, it forfeits its legitimacy to govern the entire space. The sovereign parties, through the ATS, are not meeting their Hobbesean sovereign obligations under the social contract to protect subjects from the chaos of an ungoverned world. The idea that tourism, or perhaps even mining, could operate without the forceful dominative force of a state-centered system that can utilize the threat of violence to enforce its edicts does not match up with the ideas set forth by

Hobbes and reenacted by political realists. This threat has been most recently articulated by questioning if the ATS is able to govern currently unregulated bioprospecting activities within Antarctica.

4.2.3 Modern governance applied to Antarctic bioprospecting

If the legitimacy of the ATS is at risk without explicitly incorporating bioprospecting into its governance, then what forces could de-legitimize this regime?

Potential culprits that have been named include other (perhaps more global) regimes, states, and biotechnology corporations. These potential usurpers of the ATS's authority

161 hail from a variety of scalar levels. To start with, there is a threat from the global scale, as seen in this Alan Hemmings critique of the ATS:

"The ATS provides a restricted form of governance for the region, although the

tools it has available to it are rather limited - four treaties, two annual two-

week meetings, limited intercessional work through sub-groups and two

Secretariats. … It is not uncharitable to see this as a rather thin governance

regime. For so long as human activities in Antarctica were limited, this did not

greatly matter. … But, its failure to substantially develop the ATS further over

the past 16 years means it will be running to catch up. … If the capacity of the

ATS to manage, inter alia , modern commercial activities remains an open

question, a more substantive question is whether there is now the political will

and commitment to preserving a distinctly Antarctic regime at all, or whether

Globalism [ sic ] now makes the very idea of a separate continental regime look

archaic." (Hemmings 2007, pp.186-187)

It is important to note that the critique above hinges on the introduction of new human activities into the region, a classification regularly applied to bioprospecting. The ATS is depicted here as a sluggish regulator which may soon be superceded by new forms of global environmental governance (GEG). Sanjay Chaturvedi agrees with this assessment in the context of his writing on Antarctic bioprospecting; he states that

"Antarctica is now increasingly exposed to global forces and the ATS appears under pressure in terms of exerting its legitimacy, authority and effectiveness" (Chaturvedi

2009). Hemmings has also stated in other contexts that if the ATS fails to adequately

162 regulate bioprospecting in the region, the issue is likely either to continue on in an ad hoc fashion or be regulated by other regimes such as the Convention on Biological

Diversity (CBD).

Besides the possibility of ceding jurisdiction to larger GEG regimes such as the

CBD, others have voiced a concern that states might pose challenges to the ATS over the issue of sharing the benefits derived from bioprospecting. Chapter three provided an illustration of how the concepts of biodiversity and bioprospecting created a form of property known as "biological resources" and instantly declared them to exist primarily as a form of state property to be exploited at the direction of the government that oversees the territory within which the biota exist. The issue of state jurisdiction over biological resources is portrayed as both an external challenge arising from states outside of the ATS as well as from those within it. Hemmings articulates the threat of states that are not members of the ATS as arising from their interest in taking a share of the benefits:

"But as the latest resource issue to arise in the Antarctic, there is also likely to

be significant international interest beyond the Antarctic Treaty System

amongst states and other players who believe themselves excluded or

disadvantaged by the present dispensation. It has, therefore, the capacity to

trigger another period of wide international debate over the modalities and

appropriateness of the existing regime of Antarctic governance." (Hemmings

2005, p.101)

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The reference to "another period" is to the debate surrounding the creation of an

Antarctic minerals regime in the 1970s and 80s. Malaysia was a particularly vocal state during this period as it railed against what it saw as the exclusivity of the ATS in trying to manage a resource in an area that Malaysia took to be a global commons

(Tepper and Haward 2005). Claims to Antarctic biological resources between states that have claims within Antarctica might also cause jurisdictional conflicts. The issue of state territorial claims has never been completely resolved, as Article Four of the

Antarctic Treaty merely "freezes" claims. The potential for large profits emerging from bioprospecting might tempt some states to disregard the moratorium on enforcing territorial claims in the Antarctic so that they might benefit from the exploitation of the biological resources in their sectors. One example of a biological resource that has already drawn the interest of several countries is a flowering plant in the Antarctic ( Deschampsia antarctica ), which is part of a widely dispersed grass genus and could hold genetic secrets of how to make plants survive with less heat and light requirements (Nobel 2009). The overlapping claims of Chile, Great Britain, and

Argentina create an area on the Antarctic Peninsula where the ownership of biological resources could become contentious. While there has been no commercial windfall yet derived from Antarctic biota, the potential to benefit financially from such a windfall is seen as a strong motivation for states to exert as much control as possible over biological resources.

The potential for windfall profits is also seen as a strong motivation for biotechnology companies involved in bioprospecting to proceed in Antarctica

164 unregulated. As has been established in the first chapter, there are a number of companies that have already gotten involved in bioprospecting endeavors in the

Antarctic with the hope of cornering the market on a novel biotech development.

Melissa Weber encourages the ATS to collaborate with the biotechnology industry in order to create an accreditation mechanism to regulate bioprospecting in Antarctica, noting that:

"Collaboration and cooperation between industry and regulatory bodies would

minimize the risk of an industry body challenging an international convention,

which may occur through allowing unregulated industry activities to

undermine the regime's responsibility." (Weber 2006, p.355)

Biotechnology companies are imbued in the above quotation with the power to disrupt any bioprospecting regime for Antarctica of which they disapprove, which is still speculative at the moment since no such regime exists. Weber also notes that biotechnology companies may attempt to organize their own regime in the absence of direction from the ATS, but "[w]ithout ATCP 49 involvement, an industry-driven initiative is unlikely to provide an unbiased comprehensive process and currently little incentive exists for its development" (Weber 2006, p.354). Industry self-regulation has precedence in Antarctica through IAATO, though as mentioned before this is not a development with which political realists are comfortable. Biotechnology companies are also portrayed as hesitant to enter into bioprospecting in such an unregulated area because there exists a potential for new ATS bioprospecting legislation which could

49 ATCP refers to Antarctic Treaty Consultative Parties, states that have voting privileges within the ATS. 165 negate their early investments (UNEP 2004). This regulatory uncertainty looms as a large issue in discussing bioprospecting in Antarctica.

Although it is difficult to find an author who opposes the idea of bioprospecting in Antarctica entirely, most who have written on the subject are adamant that some sort of bioprospecting regulation needs to exist. No one has proposed a ban or moratorium on bioprospecting. Even the Anatarctic and Southern

Ocean Coalition (ASOC), which was a strong advocate for the ban of commercial mineral extraction within Antarctica, is hesitant to condemn this activity: "ASOC's position is that commercial bio-prospecting should not be accepted as a fait accompli, and that political choices are required by the governments to regulate this activity"

(ASOC 2009). The solution that continues to be proposed is regulation of some sort or another through government. Julia Jabour and Dianne Nicol present a panoply of regulatory choices in their article on Antarctic bioprospecting, suggesting some action, however weak, is better than no regulatory action at all:

"The legal and policy issues are likely to become more troublesome as the

bioprospecting industry develops. Consequently, it would be in the best

interests of the Antarctic Treaty parties to prioritise [ sic ] the development of a

policy position on bioprospecting with a view to developing a legal regime in

the future." (Jabour-Green and Nicol 2003, p.110)

Jabour and Nicol do not even seek to prioritize which policy position or legal regime they believe to be the best; they just seek to provoke some action out of the ATS 50 .

50 This stands in contrast to their student, Melissa Weber, who proposes industry accreditation (as mentioned earlier). 166

The absence of regulation allows speculation to run rampant as to the potential complications of bioprospecting within Antarctica. The status quo of non-regulation is never advanced as an explicitly positive outcome for biological prospecting in the region. The reason that regulation is pushed so hard as a solution to the potential conflicts generated for the ATS by Antarctic bioprospecting may have its roots in how governance is studied and perceived.

The realist model has been dominant in approaching the issue of Antarctic bioprospecting and has even garnered policy results that it favors. Recommendation

XXXII-9, adopted at the 2009 ATCM in Baltimore, Maryland 51 , expresses the intent of Antarctic Treaty consultative party states to stake out the issue of bioprospecting as one which they will address internally. The resolution points out that the Protocol on

Environmental Protection as well as CCAMLR both regulate the collection of biological material within Antarctica, which is the first stage of bioprospecting activity. Where the resolution extends itself beyond already established guidelines is in considering that use of biological material taken from Antarctica fall under the rubric of activities that the ATS either has the right or the responsibility to govern.

Furthermore, by declaring that the ATS is the appropriate framework for managing bioprospecting, Antarctic Treaty party states indicate that other frameworks such as the CBD, individual state regulation, SCAR, or industry groups are not appropriate forums for the governance of this activity within Antarctica. Through the crafting and adoption of Resolution XXXII-9, realist policy-makers succeeded in defining

51 Recommendation XXXII-9 was adapted from Working Paper 18 by Australia and New Zealand presented at the conference: "Regulation of biological prospecting under the Antarctic Treaty System". 167

Antarctic bioprospecting as an activity that must be exclusively governed by the ATS and its constitutive states.

The desire of Hobbesean realists for a discretely ordered society governed through state government is understandable, but ultimately limiting. This is not to say that the contributions of states and regimes should be ignored or devalued, but rather that the centering of governance on states is shown here to operate to the exclusion of the consideration of other forms of governance. Hobbes and subsequent realists have expressed either a fear that other forms of governance are anarchical or a contempt that arises from the idea that governance practiced without the underlying threat of violence are simply unenforceable words. But other forms of governance do exist and have not only proven to be functional, but have specifically governed human activities within Antarctica. The reality of governance within Antarctica is messy, and although realists might feel better if Antarctic governance were streamlined and made clear, the question of whether this mess can actually be made to function effectively is a question that realists can only dismiss.

4.3 Postmodern governance

Recent investigations into how governance works have shown that not all governance is entirely reliant on sovereignty or state government in order to function.

This section will explore non-hierarchical approaches to governance. The territorial definition of social relationships wherein territories are used to define, enforce, and

168 mold social groups in an impersonal way fits well with the idea of territorial governance of human activities. How better to mold social relations within an area than by dictating which human activities are appropriate to practice and which are not?

The approaches to a broader notion of governance than the one offered by Hobbes have historically emerged from the over-simplified rescaling debates that pitted the power of states against globalizing forces. Some scholars involved in this debate might have been over-zealous in declaring the obsolescence of states and the state system, but recent updates to this critical theory have been able to incorporate the state as one of many forms of effective governance. Empirical examples of effective governance systems that employ the territoriality strategy of territorial definitions of social relations exist within Antarctica itself. Finally, this section will apply the critical model of governance to the issue of Antarctic bioprospecting and point towards examples of its application that are underway already.

4.3.1 Governance not centered upon states

The movement to expand the definition of governance began within the last forty years as scholars attempted to adjust their theories to a changing world. For a long time, governance was synonymous with government, particularly when considered under the Hobbesian realist view. While at its core governance remains defined as managing human activity, recent scholarship on the subject has been able to separate out governance from being synonymous with government. Governance is

169 distinguished from government in that governance: 1) involves a wide range of institutions including, but not limited to, the state, and 2) involves a coordination of these institutions through networks and partnerships that are generally self-organizing rather than imposed from above (Painter 2000). B. Guy Peters and John Pierre trace the source of the academic discussion of "governance without government" back to the United Kingdom and the Netherlands where in the late 1970s government functions within those countries were supplanted by private companies (Peters and

Pierre 1998). One of the strongest voices in this discussion has been James Rosenau, who edited with Ernst-Otto Czempiel in 1992 the volume Governance without

Government: Order and Change in World Politics (Rosenau and Czempiel 1992).

James Morrison quotes Rosenau writing that "… for more than three centuries, the overall structure of world politics has been founded on an anarchic system of sovereign nation-states that did not have to answer to any higher authority" (Morrison

1992, p.11). In a reversal from traditional Hobbesian ideals, here Rosenau cites the system of sovereign states as being an anarchic and dysfunctional system for addressing global issues. One chapter in his edited book is even entitled "The decaying pillars of the Westphalian temple" (Zacher 1992), implying that the system of sovereign states created at Westphalia in 1648 is no longer viable as a governance system. There are networks of governance systems that do not depend on hierarchical ideals of power or decision-making imposed upon subjects through sovereign states.

The non-hierarchical characterization of the new conceptualization of governance does not fit well into hierarchical conceptions of scale mentioned in the

170 previous section. The inadequacy of traditional ideas of power cascading down from more geographically extensive scales to smaller ones has led to great debates about the nature of scale (Marston 2000; Brenner 2001) and even calls to consider the abolition of the concept within human geography due to its associations (Marston, Jones et al.

2005). Harriet Bulkeley, however, attempts to reconfigure conceptions of scale so that it is more useful for the network analysis of modern governance systems (Bulkeley

2005). In Bulkeley's understanding of scale: 1) scalar hierarchies should be read in terms of domination and subjugation without assuming that such a hierarchy is based on territorial extent, and 2) scale should be recognized as socially constructed and not assume that pre-existing official territorial boundaries necessarily limit their extent. As long as the effects of scale are not assumed, but instead reinforced with evidence gathered from empirical studies of relationships, it is a concept that may still be useful to geographers in the context of new governance forms. While the state is not eliminated as a scale of concern, a number of prominent geographers have argued against centering all studies around the state (Johnston 2001; Painter 2003). This de- centering of the state has allowed scholars to investigate governance activities undertaken at the household level and connect them with state or global governance practices in ways that challenge traditional readings of scale (England 2003; Marston

2003; Robinson 2003). NGOs are therefore able to impact governance directly, bypassing the traditional stage in which they beseech the sovereign state to act as a purveyor of influence. NGOs are capable of direct governance actions themselves.

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Given that NGOs are not simply organizations at a different scale from the state that serve to influence and advise, it is important to understand some of the other ways that NGOs can participate in this model of territorial governance. Although regime analysis is one way to study how NGOs can participate in governance, the technique finds itself limited to describing how NGOs influenced the states that were the actors making decisions or building the regime (Betsill and Corell 2001; Corell and Betsill 2001; Skodvin and Andresen 2003). The application of influence on states within networks to secure governance outcomes is useful, but it is only one strategy.

Paul Wapner provides an account of how three environmental NGOs impact the governance of the environment in other ways in his book Environmental Activism and

World Civic Politics (Wapner 1996). His first example of direct NGO governance of the environment shows how Greenpeace bypasses the state and targets the cultural realm of the general public to disseminate an ecological sensibility. In this way,

Greenpeace is able to spread their moral norms through symbolic actions such as navigating a small zodiac boat in between a whale and a whaling ship. Wapner then illustrates how the World Wildlife Fund raises money to build forest preserve fences and environmental research stations where African locals can be employed to participate in the preservation of wildlife. Rather than waiting for a given African state to establish its own forest preserve, the World Wildlife Fund has taken direct action to see that it is built. Finally Wapner illustrates how the Friends of the Earth creates a network of social relations between smaller environmental groups working on different local issues across the world in order to pool their knowledge and resources.

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Friends of the Earth also works at the interface between states and world civic society in order to make governments more accountable for the global environment. These examples illustrate that NGOs can have a large role in managing human activities in myriad ways across the world.

4.3.2 Postmodern governance in Antarctica

Antarctica has long been held up as an example of a geographic area in which conventional notions of governance do not apply. Richard Herr described Antarctica in the following way:

"Distrust of sovereignty (and the state system it sustains) is scarcely novel, but

pursuit of the ideal of a stateless society in which to demonstrate the

cooperative rather than the competitive in human nature has probably never

enjoyed such a grand laboratory or been perceived so widely to have

succeeded as in Antarctica." (Herr 1996 a, p.91)

States still play an important role in Antarctic governance, so Herr's depiction of

Antarctica as a "stateless society" is hyperbolic, but the ATS parties consistently try to erase or sublimate state interests to the interests of scientists publicly such that the perception of Antarctica as stateless might not be too farfetched. The description of science as a "shield" for state interests in the history section of this chapter supports this perception of Antarctica as governed without state interests at heart, even if they do exist just below the surface. Only seven states seek to exert sovereignty over

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Antarctic territories, and all of these states have been willing to delegate the authority to govern certain human activities within Antarctica to a panoply of different governance types. While Hobbesian realists might perceive a threat to Antarctic governance from other international or global organizations such as the CBD, the history presented shows that the ATS has been willing to cede authority over the governance of whaling activities in the region over to the IWC. The realist worry over states moving quickly to secure their own bioprospecting interests in the Antarctic, yet states remain concerned about more than resource access and business interests. The re-regulation of mining activities within Antarctica proves that states are willing to adjust their interests in order to accommodate widespread public opinion. While realists fret over the possibility that representatives from the biotechnology industry might step in and create their own legislation in the absence of ATS state action, they have also seen the historical development of an industry group, IAATO, to play a large role in the governance of Antarctic tourism. There currently exists very little in the way of formal ATS regulations regarding tourism in the region, and IAATO maintains a presence at ATCMs. All of the different ways that different human activities are governed within Antarctica can come across as not as neat as Joyner's diagram might lead realists to hope that it might be. At the same time, the governance in the region is more often based on the benefits of cooperation rather than the threats of enforcement. Recent articles noting the passing of fifty years of the Antarctic

Treaty praise the agreement and its subsequent tendency to foster cooperative governance as being highly effective, even if it was limited in scope and historically

174 contingent (Beck 2010; Berkman 2010; Dodds 2010). Cooperation is a major component in allowing non-hierarchical governance to work, because in order for agreements to be effective without the use of swords, there must exist a bond of trust between the various members of the network to allay the fears that are either quashed or heightened (depending on your view) by the threat of violent enforcement.

Cooperation is a concept that comes up many times in conjunction with Antarctic governance and science (Allison 2004; Jackson 2004; Press 2004). Cooperation offers an alternative way to frame the construction of governance there. It is a model based on hope and high expectations rather than the fear and low expectations of realist politics.

4.3.3 Postmodern governance and Antarctic bioprospecting

As a result of this particular vision of Antarctica, it becomes possible to imagine a role for non-state organizations in the governance of Antarctic bioprospecting. The previous section on hierarchical territoriality recognized the potential of organizational bodies other than the ATS and its member states playing a role in governing bioprospecting activity, but held these up as negative examples to be avoided. As the previous paragraph has suggested, each of the perceived threats to

Antarctic governance that are potential alternative venues for Antarctic bioprospecting governance have been encountered before by the ATS for other governable activities and incorporated into the messy system of governance that exists there. The

175 consolidation of authority over Antarctic bioprospecting set forth in Recommendation

XXXII-9 would seem to indicate that the state consultative parties within the ATS were only considering creating their own rules or regimes regarding bioprospecting, although the discussion about bioprospecting that emerged from the same 2009

ATCM indicated that there were many different perspectives on the issue. There were even those who suggested that the International Treaty on Plant Genetic Resources for

Food and Agriculture be consulted for guidance (ATS 2009, p.76). This matches up nicely with David Walton's original intent to consult the CBD to see what bioprospecting governance measures might be appropriate for Antarctica, an idea that was later quashed and suggested as being "too political" to be advanced by a scientist.

Even today, however, the scientists within SCAR have been quietly taking governance action regarding bioprospecting. As mentioned in Chapter One, at the 2006 SCAR

Delegates Meeting in Hobart, Australia took steps to govern bioprospecting within the organization by revising and recirculating an amended "Code of Conduct for Use of

Animals for Scientific Purposes in Antarctica" as well as putting out Recommendation

XXIX-4, "Concerning the Recording of Confidential Data from Commercial

Activities" (SCAR 2006). These actions manage the activities of scientists who might be engaged in Antarctic bioprospecting and provide a code of what actions are considered acceptable by SCAR. There is no evidence that these actions were ever brought to the attention of the ATS, but allowing SCAR to internally handle aspects of bioprospecting makes sense due to the involvement of scientists in the activity.

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Aside from being able to envision bioprospecting governance as moving beyond the confines of the ATS and the territorial state, such a governance might in fact be necessary given the process of bioprospecting. Given the four-stage model of bioprospecting illustrated in chapter one, it should be clear that it is unlikely that all stages of bioprospecting will be completed within Antarctica. In fact, such activities could be distributed between Antarctica and several other countries, depending on the actors involved. In the event that Antarctic biological materials are being processed for commercial use outside of Antarctica, it is not clear what authority or jurisdictional power the ATS has to intercede and dictate use as suggested by Recommendation

XXXII-9. Alliances with other governance bodies that regulate aspects of bioprospecting elsewhere in the world might be useful in this regard. The ATS is a very territorially-centered governance regime and might have difficulty enmeshing itself in global production processes without limitations. In this regard, it might help to break apart the concept of bioprospecting such that the ATS only addresses the harvesting of Antarctic biota. The idea of benefit-sharing as a result of the production process was originally intended to compensate economically poor but biologically rich countries for the exploitation of their resources (Eisner 1989). Since Antarctica is not a country, nor a poor country at that, the whole concept of benefit-sharing may not apply to the continent and could probably be dropped if the ATS would allow it. The various actors engaged in Antarctic governance through the messy network of laws, codes, and principles that comprise the social relations of Antarctica are already

177 managing the activities of bioprospecting. The question is, does a dominant regime to rule over the process of bioprospecting need to be composed for the region?

4.4 Conclusions

In addressing the urge to create a form of management to more explicitly address the activity of Antarctic bioprospecting, it is important to consider what ideals underlie the governance established. The Hobbesian realist approach believes that any formal imposition of governance by a sovereign entity is preferable to the perceived entropy that exists without it. The actual details of the agreement matter less than achieving an agreement in the first place and only serve the interests of whichever state has greater hegemonic power. As a result, a realist Antarctic bioprospecting regime might be able to regulate bioprospecting activity on the continent, but through structures of dominance. Under a critical model of governance, governance more effective than sovereign imposition might be achievable through the self-regulation of non-hierarchical networks. This model would allow the input of the actors involved in bioprospecting, and increase their interest in abiding by governance rules that they helped to create rather than having management hierarchically imposed upon them.

The growth of bioprospecting governance might be built upon the trust of the actors in the system, rather than built out of a fear that other groups might come in and disrupt the ATS.

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Currently, threats to the legitimacy and stability of the ATS from other groups are fictional (or at worst, only potential threats). While organizations such as the CBD have offered to aid in figuring out how to address Antarctic bioprospecting, no organization has directly questioned the existence of the ATS over their absence of direct regulations regarding bioprospecting in the region. The actions that the ATS has taken to ensure its supremacy over the question of how to govern bioprospecting within Antarctica are therefore unnecessary at best, and counter-productive at worst. If the ATS opened discussions of how to govern bioprospecting in Antarctica to other organizations, the resulting engagement might not only produce a more effective governance method but also engender the goodwill of the other organizations. This would provide additional legitimacy for any regime that was created and eliminate rivals or competitors through their inclusion in the process. The protectionist rhetoric espoused by Recommendation XXXII-9 only serves to isolate further Antarctic governance from the rest of the world and creates a greater burden on the policy- makers who work within it. There is little harm in listening to other groups and potentially more to be gained in expanding the connections to a non-hierarchical network.

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CHAPTER 5

SYNTHESIS

The Convention on the Regulation of Antarctic Mineral Resource Activities

(CRAMRA) was dead as of June of 1988, and its demise might have been presaged through an observation of the process that was used to construct it. Amongst the criticism that had been leveled at it was Malaysian Ambassador Zain-Azraai's accusation that the closed-door negotiations of Antarctic Treaty Consultative Parties, justified through their claims to Antarctic expertise, cultivated an air of exclusivity that diminished CRAMRA's legitimacy (Azraai 1987). The formation of CRAMRA had been largely facilitated through what Christopher Joyner called "corridor diplomacy," casual and private encounters between negotiators in between the larger sessions of convention negotiations (Joyner 1987, p.898). The image that the ATS cultivated through this process was that it was an exclusive club about to control the mineral resources of an entire continent. This was an image standing in contradiction to its stated goals of managing Antarctica in the interests of all of humankind.

The negotiation of the Protocol on Environmental Protection to the Antarctic

Treaty that followed reflected an alternate approach to regime construction that took into account diverse views and attempted to reconcile them. States and non-state organizations brought forth proposals that were considered at the Antarctic Treaty

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Consultative Meetings (ATCMs) where the Protocol was being negotiated. While the

Protocol was presented as an internal matter for the Antarctic Treaty System (ATS), environmental non-governmental organizations were authorized to attend the meetings as observers which could contribute ideas but not vote on approving anything (Clark

1994). State delegations banded together to present their ideas and compare them to those of others (Vicuña 1996). The process resulted in an agreement that was both more inclusive and more legitimated than CRAMRA had been, ultimately leading to its adoption.

If there is one thing to be learned from the previous three chapters and the example above, it is that valuing diversity (in opinions, ideas, and approaches) is a virtue in negotiating resolutions to complex issues. While the problems posed about bioprospecting in Antarctica can be considered separately, larger patterns emerge when the issues that frame them and the potential solutions are considered from a wider perspective. The earlier chapters have established several patterns within the various territorialities applied to Antarctica. This chapter will seek to synthesize what has been gleaned within the discussions of the various chapters of both theory and empirics. In addition, the chapter will explore the connections between theory and reality through territoriality.

Geopolitical theory arises in each chapter with a contrast between seeing the world through the lens of modern geopolitics and critical geopolitics. Modern geopolitical theories remain entrenched in powerful positions throughout ideas of

Antarctic science, property, and governance. These perceptions of how the social

181 world of Antarctica "really works" should not be totally dismissed as long as people in positions of power within Antarctic governance continue to take modern geopolitical ideas seriously and act upon them. However, it seems crucial to point out that critical geopolitics does not negate modern geopolitical visions of the world, but rather places them in a wider context which includes alternative perspectives. The views may be differentiated by where their values are placed. Critical geopolitics values an infinite diversity of perspectives and hybrid opinions that cannot be distilled for easier participation while modern geopolitics seeks to essentialize the issues into their component parts for easier management. This divide in theoretical approaches to the subject matter can generally be grouped into perspectives on power; with modern geopolitics focusing on achieving ends through domination and critical geopolitics aspiring to empower individuals and organizations to participate in a cooperative and non-hierarchical network. Domination and empowerment are different ways that power relations are established and built, with advantages and disadvantages to each.

Each chapter also contains substantial empirical implications. To start with, some seemingly intractable problems associated with bioprospecting become more manageable when re-framed through a different approach. The dissertation also prods various actors involved in the debate over Antarctic bioprospecting to act based on the understandings revealed in each chapter. Scientists are asked to examine what science is and consider more participation in the decision-making process through a hybridized vision of their activity. Environmentalists are asked to articulate if they embrace a vision of Antarctica as a commons, and are called to take independent

182 action based upon their principles. The Antarctic Treaty consultative states are asked if their legitimacy is truly threatened by outside forces, and then are called upon to engage with other groups in a constructive way. Taken collectively, these suggestions encourage a more open and cooperative model between interest groups in Antarctica.

Traditional roles within a nested hierarchy must be shed if the Antarctic Treaty System

(ATS) is truly going to move forward in the current century.

Finally, there is the nexus point between theory and reality that is territoriality.

Territoriality is an enactment of theoretical ideals on an actual area. Through its study, geographers have staked a claim to testing how social ideals are inscribed into everyday life both successfully and unsuccessfully. Any good theory should be backed up by empirical facts. If a theory fails to explain what is happening in reality, then it must either be augmented to accommodate what is happening (given a modernist approach) or there must be an acknowledgement that the perspective is situated and that alternative viewpoints should be sought (a postmodern approach). This dissertation has sought to connect evidence of how the ideas of science, property, and governance align with the activity of bioprospecting in Antarctica. The task has been made more difficult because the problems associated with Antarctic bioprospecting are given as prospective problems that have not yet been observed. Without solid evidence to back up claims of troubles caused by bioprospecting or the lack of them, this study has turned to regional historical precedent and the most recent theoretical explanations of science, property, and governance.

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5.1 Theoretical Conclusions

This section reviews the broad theoretical positions that each of the previous three chapters has provided and seeks to situate them in geopolitical visions of the world. Chapter one introduced the idea of geopolitics in the context of critical geopolitics, which this chapter now compares to modern geopolitics. Modern geopolitics is an identification that fits the most dominant geopolitical imaginings of

Antarctic ideas: a constellation of conceptions that include Mertonian notions of science, either Lockean or Marxist interpretations of property relations, and a realist notion of governance. All together, these categories could be labeled as "modernist," if, as a template for reality, modernism is considered as using European experiences and ideas for separating life into distinct spheres (Latour 1993; Clarke 2006). This may be seen as a valid, yet limited, way to approach geopolitics. Critical geography is situated in the postmodern era of thought, which does not negate modernist interpretations of the world, but instead points out that they are not the only valid interpretations. In this way, the larger constellation of postmodern thought includes modernism and simultaneously allows for ideas that lie outside of the modern realm of thought.

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5.1.1 Modern geopolitics

A modernistic approach is reflected in the dominant discourses from the earlier chapters. Mertonian science seeks to classify scientists as disinterested objective observers sitting apart from conflicts generated from differences of political opinion or economic status, who can therefore be trusted to adjudicate the truth of whatever subject they study. Scientists are set apart from nearly every other aspect of social life.

They are often given government funds through agencies like the National Science

Foundation (NSF) with their own oversight and governance of their scientific work through peer review. Institutions such as tenure within the university system are ostensibly set up to protect scientists from losing their job by pursuing lines of scientific curiosity that might run counter to dominant economic or political interests.

Scientists are given this privileged position with the expectation that they may speak truth to power without reprisal because they are dedicated to searching for the truth.

The social concept of property is dominated by two different lines of thought: the

Lockean ideal that holds that humans must privatize things that are held in common in order to attain their best use and the reverse idea held by Marxists. Both of these philosophies tend to reduce property into two states of being: held in common ownership or held by private ownership. Both place a higher value on one state over the other, and thusly satisfy the modernist mindset by reducing property to a simple duality wherein one type of ownership is pure and the other is impure. Finally, realist interpretations of governance envision states as the primary (or sole) institutions with

185 the authority and power to manage territories such as Antarctica. This realist conception might also be enlarged to accept supra-state organizations such as the ATS.

The realist conception of governance, as first expressed by Thomas Hobbes, reduces the political environment to a choice between being governed by a state or existing in a chaotic and perpetual war of all against all. Again, the dual classification system exists here with an emphasis on reifying state territorial sovereignty.

Modern geopolitics is a way of ordering the world in order to minimize chaos and categorize ideas, places, and people. Historically, geopolitics has had a complex history since its inception as a term by Rudolf Kjellen in 1899. John Agnew broadly categorizes three periodized discourses of geopolitics: civilizational geopolitics celebrated European uniqueness from 1815 to 1875; naturalized geopolitics cast states as organisms needing to expand their territories and evolve from 1875 to 1945; and ideological geopolitics shifted the emphasis to promoting particular socio-political orders during the Cold War between 1945 and 1990 (Agnew 1998). All three of these geopolitical traditions are encompassed by the label modern geopolitics because they share the characteristics of separating complex geopolitical situations into component parts and imposing a comparative value on certain aspects. Klaus Dodds specifically cites the use of geopolitics in the 1980s as being strongly influenced by political realists:

"By the mid-1980s, geopolitical discussions within the United States were

primarily shaped by a group of scholars strongly influenced by political

realism and the desire to maintain American power in the midst of the so-

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called second cold war following the collapse of détente. Geopolitics once

more became a shorthand for great power rivalries and signaled the importance

of the United States pursuit of its own national interests in an anarchical

world." (Dodds 2007, p.41)

Political realists are explicitly tied into Dodd's dominant geopolitical tradition of the

1980s. Recent incarnations of modern geopolitics have also been described as

"neoclassical geopolitics" by Alexander Murphy (Murphy, Bassin et al. 2004).

Michael Shapiro, from a critical standpoint, defines modern geopolitical discourse as silencing "the historical process of struggle in which areas and peoples have been pacified, named, homogenized, and fixed in modern international space" (Shapiro

1992, p.110) 52 . Through the process of categorization, some perspectives have been subsumed, erased, or ignored by those imposing the modern geopolitical worldview.

Modern geopolitics is a valid, but limited way to see and interpret the world.

Timothy Luke points out that modern geopolitics is dedicated to a world where there is a choice, rather than a world built on tradition where what has gone before is assumed to be the rote truth (Luke 2007). It is hard to imagine issues such as genocide, violent conflict over territory and resources, and the organized response to natural disasters being addressed without the military, political, economic, and logistical organizations that define modern geopolitics. The standardization of certain values, such as "genocide is wrong", can be credited with creating a better world. The division of the world into an assortment of territorial states also provides a degree of stability

52 This is referenced in Gearóid Ó Tuathail's 1996 book, Critical Geopolitics on p. 16 to help define modern geopolitics. 187 and predictability that subsequent social structures have come to rely upon. When states break down or "fail," the results are often violent and chaotic. Modern geopolitical models simplify the political world into abstract and heuristic components that are easier to grapple with than the complex undifferentiated realities that are faced everyday. Unfortunately, the application of some heuristic models does not always work once they have been universalized and applied to other areas of the world.

Problems arise when modern geopoliticians commit in blind dedication to their model of the world that runs counter to the reality encountered, thrusting them back into a traditionalist approach based upon a belief in their system.

5.1.2 Postmodern geopolitics

Examples of the postmodern are evident in the previous three chapters.

Chapter two provided evidence of hybrid approaches to understanding science as intricately interconnected with other aspects of life and complex in and of itself.

Mertonian ideals separate a very distinct type of scientist away from the rest of society without acknowledging that not all scientists ascribe to Mertonian philosophies. If scientists were truly aloof from the impacts of their research, they would not participate at all in the patenting of their work. Once the perception of scientists as disinterested advisors can be dropped within decision-making processes, scientists are allowed more agency to act upon their findings. Chapter three illustrated how the preconceived relationship between two categories of property ownership can be

188 complicated by considering more perspectives. Not all objects of property relations are either common or private. Some objects flow between ownership types and there are occasionally people who engage in property relations with rights outside of ownership.

Chapter four illustrated how recent studies of governance can turn realist expectations on their heads. A broader conception of governance includes more actors than states and accepts the empowerment of ideas from non-hierarchical systems.

Critical geopolitics was developed during the postmodern turn. This line of thought was strongly influenced by the postmodern philosophies of Michel Foucault, who studied the construction of society through discourse. Geopolitics is nothing more than a form of discourse according to Foucault's ideas, no matter how well-established it seems. Rather than take geography as an unchanging backdrop to events of the world stage, critical geopolitics recognizes that the understandings of geography may be both fluid and dependent upon the standpoint from which the geography is viewed.

A collaboration between Gearóid Ó Tuathail and John Agnew produced one of the first works of critical geopolitics in the early 1990s (Ó Tuathail and Agnew 1992).

Thinking along postmodernist lines, critical geopolitics sought to reveal the complexities of world politics by acknowledging the wide range of types of actors involved, the myriad kinds of techniques they used, the spectacle created through those techniques, and how these spectacles and techniques utilized space (Ó Tuathail

1996). Discourse analysis is the tool that allows for researchers to understand world politics in each of these aspects.

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There exists an apparent irony in eschewing a critique of modern dualities by creating a contrast between the modern and the post-modern, yet the difference between the two is not so simple. Clarke describes the relationship of the modern to the postmodern thusly:

"…let us begin by clarifying that postmodernity is not in opposition to

modernity. Not only is it not a distinct epoch coming 'after modernity' - which

would imply absolute historical discontinuity (a conception in evidence

wherever hyphenation finds favor: 'post-modern') - it is not even a shift in

dominance (a relative discontinuity, which is what all those tedious two-

column lists imply)." (Clarke 2006, p.114)

Postmodernists do not devalue the perspective of modernists, but rather seek to elevate and give credence to perspectives that have been tossed aside by modernists as

"impure" and to acknowledge the complex source that modernists differentiate. Within postmodernism, modernism is just another view. Ó Tuathail stresses that the modernist view is also predominant amongst circles of policy-makers:

"…contemporary geopolitical discourses are still relentlessly modernist in

method, deploying an uncritical Cartesian perspectivalism to render the world

as already manifestly meaningful, disciplining unruly complexity by appeal to

unproblematized authority and expertise, reducing deterritorial questions to

familiar territorial registers, and falling back upon an unquestioned

exceptionalism." (Ó Tuathail 2000)

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From Ó Tuathail's account, it is clear that postmodernism has not usurped the dominance of the modernist perspective, but revealed modernism's mission to tame the complexity of life. Elsewhere, Ó Tuathail has pointed out how modernists are ironically blind to the politics of their own gaze; that the act of overseeing and imposing order is a particular (and often privileged) standpoint and that other standpoints exist (Ó Tuathail 1996). Modernist thought and postmodernist thought may each be thought of as a different political imagining which may exert influence on how the geopolitical map of the world is constructed.

5.2 Empirical Conclusions

Aside from the reconciliation of the modern and postmodern modes of thought, there still exists the practical question of what should be done about the commercial use of Antarctic scientific research. This section will reiterate the three main issues that have been raised about Antarctic bioprospecting. Judging the effectiveness of the presented solutions is difficult because there has been little change to the act of bioprospecting in the area, the profits derived from such activity, or management decisions made. This dissertation can note, however, which solutions have been endorsed strongly and which have been dismissed and the reasons given for each.

Through an examination of the discourse surrounding the questions surrounding

Antarctic bioprospecting, alternative interpretations of how to frame the issues can

191 then be discussed as well as the possibility for considering different actors and what constitutes bioprospecting.

5.2.1 If concerns are addressed separately, through modernist views

Although it originated from David Walton's inquiry into Antarctic bioprospecting, the question of how to ensure the free flow of science as required by

Article Three of the Antarctic Treaty has not been addressed very much in the academic literature. Kim Connolly-Stone suggests that there is no inherent contradiction between patents brought about by bioprospecting and Article Three because the information is shared through the publication of the patent (Connolly-

Stone 2005). Connolly-Stone has not been argued against in the literature, although chapter two suggested that while the information might be available through patent publication its use would still be restricted. The role of scientists in the debate over bioprospecting has been discussed widely. Alan Hemmings suggests that the enshrined position of scientists in Article Two of the Treaty might be threatened if they do not police the boundaries between the types of science practiced (Hemmings 2010). Kevin

Hughes and Paul Bridge suggest that because the debate on bioprospecting involves so many issues related to science, scientists should be more involved in its debate in the

Antarctic Treaty System (Hughes and Bridge 2010). The circumscribed role that scientists have played in the debate over bioprospecting is illustrated by the continued expectation that they should serve as disinterested observers on this and all other

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Antarctic subjects. As mentioned in chapter one, the Scientific Committee on

Antarctic Research (SCAR) withdrew its paper advocating consultation with the

Convention on Biological Diversity (CBD) from the 2002 Antarctic Treaty

Consultative Meeting (ATCM) because it was deemed "too political". SCAR made few new recommendations to the ATCM after that, instead repeating its call for the

ATS and national committees to be aware of the issue. At the 2008 ATCM, SCAR was called upon to provide information about Antarctic bioprospecting to the ATS, but its input on the issue was not explicitly sought.

Concerns about the Antarctic system of property (or lack thereof) resonate with several scholars, but the identification of Antarctica as a commons area is regarded as politically idealistic and without much support within the ATS. Bernard Herber is the strongest proponent of considering Antarctica as a commons space, and calls for the intellectual property rights derived from Antarctic bioprospecting to be considered part of the global information commons (Herber 2006). The classification of knowledge derived from Antarctic bioprospecting should be considered a global public good in Herber's system. While Julia Jabour promotes the idea of Antarctica as a commons area, she is much more cautious about suggesting that a declaration of such is a feasible outcome. Jabour suggests that it is possible that the ATS parties could agree on a commons-based scheme for the intellectual property rights derived from bioprospecting, although bioprospecting already exhibits a degree of egalitarian standards that are in line with those articulated within the Antarctic Treaty (Jabour

2010). Morten Tvedt does express concern for "how this open space of genetic

193 resources and biological material can be safeguarded" (Tvedt forthcoming, p.9), but ultimately expresses a belief that the worldwide system of patent law will dominate any approach that the ATS may come up with. Discussion of Antarctica as a global commons is rarely to be found within the context of ATCM debates or solutions. Even groups like ASOC that would normally promote such an identity of Antarctica have been relatively silent on the rhetoric when it comes to bioprospecting. The question of the threat to the idea of Antarctica as a global commons has been dismissed out of hand as not a concern of the ATS.

The issue that has been of the greatest concern to the ATS is the potential threat that bioprospecting might pose to its authority in governing the continent by empowering other groups to encroach upon their authority by pointing out their lack of action on the subject. This fear has been regularly referenced by scholars writing on

Antarctic bioprospecting. At the end of their 2003 article, Julia Jabour-Green and

Dianne Nicol provide a list of six possible actions that the ATS could take to regulate bioprospecting in the region with a warning that the problems engendered by bioprospecting will grow over time if not addressed by regulation soon (Jabour-Green and Nicol 2003). Jabour's student, Melissa Weber, specifically recommends an accreditation scheme for Antarctic bioprospecting to engender goodwill between the biotechnology industry and the ATS (Weber 2006). Patrizia Vigni, Sanjay Chaturvedi, and Ann-Isabelle Guyomard all generally endorse the idea of the ATS taking some sort of regulatory action, but tend to be less specific about what that action should be

(Vigni 2007; Chaturvedi 2009; Guyomard 2010). The impending threat of other forces

194 than the ATS extending their authority into Antarctica is a constant specter in these works. This is the threat that seems to motivate the most action by the ATS on the issue of Antarctic bioprospecting. Following the mention of bioprospecting in

Antarctica at the CBD meeting in February of 2004, the June 2004 ATCM finally made an independent agenda item on bioprospecting. Resolution 9 at the 2009 ATCM explicitly states that the ATS is the appropriate framework to address Antarctic bioprospecting (ATS 2009). A corollary to this concern is that doing nothing is tantamount to conceding authority and that some action taken by the ATS establishes their authority better than no action taken at all.

The danger level of each of these threats is difficult to assess because they are regularly framed as potential threats to be avoided. Dr. Walton brought up the issue of bioprospecting in the first place out of a concern that an agreement between the British

Antarctic Survey (BAS) and several biotechnology firms called for the firms to get exclusive rights to any samples after they were processed. In spite of the fear that this might lead to claims against BAS about hording Antarctic scientific information, no complaint about the deal was ever brought up at the ATS or against BAS in general.

Little action is taken to enforce the sharing of Antarctic scientific information and there are no time limits given in terms of how quickly information needs to be shared.

In the case of polar meteorology, results are regularly shared instantaneously to help predict weather patterns on the continent. Some geological samples can languish on university lab shelves for years before any results are published about them or other groups are able to access the samples. In the case of threats to the Antarctic commons,

195 it is unclear to what degree and over what resources privatization is considered a problem. Is it the biological samples that must remain owned "in common" or must the scientific results that are based on the study of those organisms remain in an

"intellectual commons"? The nebulous articulation of an Antarctic commons generated by environmental groups like ASOC that purportedly support a "world park

Antarctica" vision provide little guidance as to what is or is not acceptable. A solid rejection of mineral exploitation was articulated in the 1980s, but the right to exploit certain levels of fish has not been contested. Although the ATS has composed resolutions declaring that it remains the singular forum where Antarctic bioprospecting must be addressed, it remains unclear what level of "outside" interference in Antarctic affairs constitutes a breach of ATS authority. The

International Whaling Commission (IWC) is seen as having the authority to oversee the pelagic resources of the Antarctic Southern Ocean and the International

Association of Antarctic Tour Operators (IAATO) is essentially given authority to regulate tourism in the area, but it is unclear why the ATS needs to address bioprospecting as a completely internal matter. Given the difficulties in assessing what constitutes success or failure in managing Antarctic bioprospecting, perhaps the parties involved should focus on addressing that issue before pursuing prospective solutions that may only complicate matters.

196

5.2.2 Alternative approaches to Antarctic bioprospecting

The issues themselves might also benefit from alternative perspectives and/ or re-framing of the problems. The solutions presented so far have been a limited set and little action has been taken to move forward on anything specific. This suggests that what has been presented so far is inadequate to the task for different reasons. The inclusion of different perspectives into the debate has been rejected on a case-by-case basis for different reasons. Scientists and scientific groups like SCAR have been seen as needing to remain outside of any decision-making processes because of their special status as objective observers. Chapter three has shown how those with interpretations of Antarctica as a global commons are generally derided within the

ATS or treated as a threat because they might prefer United Nations governance over the ATS's limited condominium arrangement. Input from outside international bodies such as the CBD have been rejected because they would imply a ceding of authority to these groups 53 . Earlier chapters have questioned the logic behind these justifications for exclusion, and instead suggested that an inclusive model of discussion might yield the best results. Discussion of possible solutions does not imply the imposition of one group's authority over the others or that the roles of any group have been violated.

This might involve the transgression of traditional decision-making boundaries, but the inability of the current governance body to either take specific action or justify not taking any action suggests that outside ideas might be more productive.

53 This is seen as particularly difficult in the case of the CBD because the United States is party to the Antarctic Treaty but does not belong to or recognize the CBD. 197

The decision to do nothing is regularly derided as a bad choice to make, but it is not clear that definite negative consequences will arise out of this choice. After all, the ATS has undertaken little to no action to legislate Antarctic bioprospecting so far and there have not appeared to be any repercussions. Still, authors regularly predict dire results if no action is taken. Herber suggests that "Option 1, the open access

(laissez-faire ) approach amounts essentially to a 'no policy' approach that would allow reckless access to, and exploitation of, valuable biological and genetic resources in

Antarctica" (Herber 2006, p.145). Vigni declares that "the absolute freedom of carrying out such activities could seriously undermine the fragile political balance"

(Vigni 2007, p.99). Jabour and Nicols echo this sentiment:

"The legal and policy issues are likely to become more troublesome as the

bioprospecting industry develops. Consequently, it would be in the best

interests of the Antarctic Treaty parties to prioritize the development of a

policy position on bioprospecting with a view to developing a legal regime in

the future." (Jabour-Green and Nicol 2003, p.110)

Given the pride that individuals connected to the ATS have expressed about its ability to anticipate and legislate problems before they become overly contentious, it is understandable that the ATS and its proponents would wish for it to regulate bioprospecting, even if threats have not yet materialized.

The potential for such vague threats is seen as enough justification to take action against them, but the opposing view has yet to be fully articulated. The precautionary principle, upon which this sentiment of pre-empting threats is based,

198 emerged from the Earth Summit of 1992 in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil 54 . Principle 15 of that declaration states:

"In order to protect the environment, the precautionary approach shall be

widely applied by States according to their capabilities. Where there are threats

of serious or irreversible damage, lack of full scientific certainty shall not be

used as a reason for postponing cost-effective measures to prevent

environmental degradation." (Rio 1992)

As stated in chapter one, the possibility of unregulated environmental damage by bioprospecting activities in Antarctica was ruled out by the ATS's Committee on

Environmental Protection (CEP), which declared that any activity regarding the study of biological material in Antarctica was already regulated through the Environmental

Protocol of 1992. The precautionary principle may be interpreted more broadly to consider potential conflict generated to science, property, or governance through the three problems that have already been framed. In this case, the onus is on proponents of bioprospecting to prove that there will be no harm in any of these categories generated through their activities. This is a perspective that has not been fully voiced at ATCMs. Reports by the United Nations University have indicated that industry groups are keenly interested in the legislative outcomes of Antarctic bioprospecting debates, but none have stepped forward to articulate a preferred vision for such a regime (Lohan and Johnston 2003; UNEP 2004; Lohan and Johnston 2005). The evidence so far is that current bioprospecting activities that have been taking place in

54 This is also referred to as the "Rio Summit" and it is also where the CBD was first opened for signatures. 199

Antarctica have not yet limited the circulation of scientific information, impinged upon the status of Antarctica as a commons space, or derided the authority of the ATS.

A representation of this perspective has been lacking in the discussions of bioprospecting in Antarctica.

Even the term bioprospecting itself seems to be an ill-fitting description of the process that is taking place within Antarctica. Recalling the inception of the term from chapter one, Thomas Eisner's original intent in coining the term was to provide lesser- developed countries with defined resources (biological and chemical) for the use of which more-developed countries would have to compensate them (Eisner 1989).

Without a defined group to compensate, is the commercial use of biological information gathered from Antarctica really bioprospecting? If the intent of the term is stripped away and the process itself is the sole consideration, as illustrated by Jabour and Nicol (Jabour-Green and Nicol 2003), the term is restricted in such a way that difficulty is presented in cases that do not align with the process. Take the example of the Antarctic bacterium Oleispira antarctica . Oleispira antarctica was first discovered in samples taken from Rod Bay in the Ross Sea region of Antarctica by an Italian scientific expedition during the austral summer of 1999-2000 (Yakimov, Giuliano et al. 2003). The biotechnology company Stratagene 55 extract chaperonins Cpn60 and

Cpn10 from these bacterium and insert them into Escherichia coli bacteria to be sold as "ArcticExpress™ Competent Cells" 56 (Stratagene 2010). These cells allow for lower cultivation temperatures for protein folding processes because of the

55 Aquired by Agilent Technologies in 2007 (http://www.chem.agilent.com/CAG/stratagene/agilent_stratagene.htm). 56 As of October 2010, ten .1 ml samples of the material are priced at $225 from their website. 200 chaperonins from Oleispira antarctica , but there are no patents based on this process that trace back to the Antarctic bacterium. The company is just utilizing components derived from the bacterium to produce the product. The fact that the product is derived from an Antarctic bacterium is proudly proclaimed in advertising for the product

(Stratagene 2006, see Figure 21 ). If there has been no patent claimed on the Antarctic biological material, should its commercial use still be addressed by regulations on

Antarctic bioprospecting? Stratagene was not a part of the original Antarctic expedition that discovered the microorganism, but it did eventually make use of it. If

Antarctic bioprospecting can only be addressed through the ATS and the ATS only has authority over Antarctica then this sort of exploitation seems difficult to address.

The questions of what bioprospecting is and where bioprospecting takes place are essential to any regulation which addresses it, and these are questions that have not been addressed.

What is needed is a forum to discuss issues of commercial uses of Antarctic scientific knowledge generally. Scientists, biotechnology industrialists, environmentalists, and participants in other bioprospecting regimes have all sat quietly on the sidelines as Antarctic policy-makers have jealously guarded their authority to legislate Antarctic bioprospecting. While national delegations discuss the issue at the

ATCMs, little heed is paid to these other actors, who are themselves key to the implementation of any Antarctic bioprospecting policy that might emerge.

Representatives of these groups should work together, whether through a formally

ATS-endorsed meeting or through communication between leaders representing each

201

202 of these groups, to establish a set of guidelines regarding how knowledge derived from

Antarctica should be used or commercialized once it extends beyond the continent.

These guidelines would set what the expectations are for knowledge that has its roots in the Antarctic environment. Guidelines for commercial uses of scientific information from Antarctica would also serve as a nexus point that the numerous territorializations of Antarctica could use as a pivot to help further clarify what kind of a place this southern continent is.

5.3 Synthesis of the Theoretical and Practical

Using a combination of modern and postmodern approaches, more solutions to potential political problems can be considered. Modernist approaches taken through enacting state legislations can go a long way to fixing problems, but additional work is necessary to complete the work. Consider the issue of Patagonian Toothfish overfishing in the Southern Ocean. Most policy work concerning the issue had focused on hierarchical bureaucratic territorialities, such as installing vessel monitoring devices on ships and instituting a catch documentation scheme. These were shown to be effective at ending roughly 66% of the illegal, unreported, and unregulated fishing that took place in the area (Agnew 2000). A number of nongovernmental organizations (NGOs) found creative ways of addressing not only the remaining 34% of fishers that could not be swayed by state or supra-state imposed regulations by setting up reward systems for turning them in, but also sought to address the wider

203 problem of staunching demand for the fish, one through a restaurant campaign entitled

"Take a Pass on Chilean Sea Bass". These NGOs did not seek permission from the

ATS or expect that the problem would be dealt with by state authorities, but took action by themselves to address the problem. The capacity for individuals like David

Walton or organizations like SCAR and ASOC to act is present in the current situation for Antarctic bioprospecting and exists for other issues elsewhere in the world as well.

Rather than simply call out for leadership on Antarctic bioprospecting, this dissertation has offered a number of different ways forward. The decision rests with all actors involved in Antarctic affairs what approach and ideals they will enact on the issues facing Antarctica through acts of territoriality. This dissertation attempts to broaden geopolitical horizons within Antarctica in the hopes that such broadening may serve as an example for the rest of the world as to how anyone can be empowered to make a difference in how the world is constructed. Working from the south pole northwards makes terribly good sense.

The practical management questions that bioprospecting poses to Antarctica are best addressed through a synthesis with the theoretical foundations upon which the questions are based. The strategy of territoriality bridges the gap between the theoretical geopolitical ideals that are held by the actors involved and the practical implications and ramifications that are wrestled with in the reality of addressing the activity. The territorializations of modernist approaches are revealed to have difficulty addressing the nuances posed by the commercial use of Antarctic biota. Antarctica might benefit from the inclusion of postmodern territorial approaches to understanding

204 and resolving the conflicts that surround such activities. For scholars to provide the most helpful insights on which the involved actors may base their decisions, they must recognize the standpoints that they are implicitly endorsing through their territorialities.

Chapter one declared that territoriality would be a major tool utilized throughout this dissertation to understand how different conceptions of science, property, and governance are actually enacted upon the Antarctic continent. Each subsequent chapter revealed both modern and postmodern approaches to each idea and how those approaches had practical implications for how Antarctic bioprospecting is addressed. The preceding practical section of this chapter illustrates that the majority of academic approaches (as well as actual policy approaches) to the issue of Antarctic bioprospecting are rooted in modernist expectations. The territorialities employed or endorsed by modernist thought are generally reliant on an approach that is focused on enacting policy through a hierarchical bureaucratic strategy. Scientists engage with the decision-making process only as advisors and objective observers. Property is reduced to a binary state as either public or private. Governance is only legitimately conducted through the state or supra-state organization such as the ATS. Most proposed solutions to bioprospecting problems call for action by the ATS, and the ATS has reinforced this through Resolution 9 from the 2009 ATCM.

There may yet emerge an official bioprospecting regime from the ATS that addresses the concerns that have been posed, but in the meantime a postmodern territorial approach to Antarctica might provide some insight that would resolve these

205 issues. As mentioned before, a postmodern approach acknowledges a variety of standpoints and allows for hybrids that would otherwise transgress modern boundaries. Hybrid models of how scientists conduct themselves would acknowledge the actual role that they play in the process of decision-making and enforcing decisions on the ground in Antarctica. Since scientists comprise a substantial amount of the population there and are the ones who are involved in bioprospecting-related activities of sample collection and processing, they will ultimately dictate how any rules are enacted on the ground. If the territorial concept of Antarctica as a commons is to be maintained, it will rely on its proponents being able to articulate exactly what that ideal means in territorial terms. This is a task that has been avoided so far by environmental groups such as ASOC in favor of focusing on specific issues of which they feel more certain. A postmodern conception of a commons as something beyond a private or public dichotomy could go a long way to allowing proponents of the common leeway to negotiate their vision of Antarctica into a feasible reality. Finally, a recognition that input to the ATS from other governance bodies does not equate to

ATS capitulation to them might allow the organization to open up and consider a wider range of possible ways to address the issue of bioprospecting. The current modernist mindset has the ATS parties tightly clutching to a model of dominating power. Accepting alternative territorial concepts of Antarctica is not only an opportunity to win allies and learn more effective governance techniques, it is also holding true to the spirit of the fourth article of the Antarctic Treaty. The acceptance of overlapping territorial conceptions lies at the heart of what has made the Antarctic

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Treaty a unique (and somewhat postmodern) agreement that accepts even seemingly contradictory claims as equally valid as long as they are not acted upon.

Political geographers are in a particularly good position to articulate how different visions of Antarctica are and can be articulated within Antarctica. Antarctica is a site of synthesis. Examples of modern and postmodern approaches to issues there abound. Scholars have not only a duty to reflect what the dominant territorial views are, but also to present alternatives that those in power might not already have considered. There is a role for modernist territorial approaches that focus on hierarchical bureaucratic methods, but there is also value in revealing the diversity of possible approaches to the situation that might be revealed through the postmodern territorial definition of social relationships.

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