“Sharks Are Important, but So Is Rice”

“Sharks are important, but so is rice”

Opportunities and challenges for shark fisheries management and livelihoods in eastern Indonesia

Vanessa Flora Jaiteh B.Sc. James Cook University, Townsville Honours Murdoch University, Perth

This thesis is presented for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy

Murdoch University Western Australia 2017

Confront uncertainty. Once we free ourselves from the illusion that science or technology (if lavishly funded) can provide a solution to resource or conservation problems, appropriate action becomes possible.

Donald Ludwig, Ray Hilborn, Carl Walters Uncertainty, Resource Exploitation, and Conservation: Lessons from History Science, 2 April 1993, Vol. 260, page 36

Sharks are important for the ocean because in the open ocean, there have always been sharks. They have to be there. It is just that now, buying rice is increasingly difficult, so we have to catch them.

Shark fisher, Pepela, 07/2013

Cover image: A fisher pulls ashore a scalloped hammerhead shark (Sphyrna lewini) caught earlier that morning on a longline near Solor, eastern Indonesia

Author’s Declaration

I declare that this thesis is my own account of my research and contains as its main content work that has not previously been submitted for a degree at any tertiary education institution.

Vanessa Flora Jaiteh

June 2017

Abstract

Targeted fisheries for shark fin are one of the main causes driving the unprecedented decline of shark populations. Despite widespread concern for sharks and calls for their conservation, a lack of data often delays regulatory action for shark fisheries. For over two decades, Indonesia has reported higher average shark landings than any other nation, but information on its shark fisheries is extremely limited. The eastern Indonesian shark fishery, here defined to extend from East Nusa Tenggara to Papua, is virtually data-less and beyond the focus of central fisheries agencies. The lack of essential information, including the location of fishing grounds, catch composition and fishing effort, as well as biological and socio-economic characteristics of harvested species and the livelihoods they support, impedes the development of effective fisheries management in this region. This thesis uses a transdisciplinary approach to address these knowledge gaps.

My findings are based on extensive field studies in three remote coastal communities with fishing grounds in the Seram, Halmahera, Aru-Arafura and Timor Seas. During my stay in each community, I involved fishers in collecting and interpreting fishery data, studied local fishing practices and patron-fisher relationships, and conducted in-depth interviews with fishers, shark fin bosses and other community members. This allowed me to portray the fishery from biological, economic and sociological perspectives (Chapter 2), and to investigate the reliability and accuracy of fisher data. The description of a range extension for the vulnerable fossil shark Hemipristis elongata demonstrates that fisher’s species identifications are not only reliable, but can lead to serendipitous findings on species occurrences (Chapter 3).

Expanding on the application of fisher data, I then use diverse data sources to provide the first sustainability assessment of the eastern Indonesian shark fishery (Chapter 4). The fishery targets over 40 species, many of which exhibit declining catch rates over the last two decades and are unable to sustain continued fishing pressure due to their low rebound potential and high fishing mortality. Finding that the fishery is most likely unsustainable, I move on to combine fishery and interview data from my case study sites with fishery-independent methods to examine key factors for successful shark conservation in one of the first studies to investigate the effectiveness of explicitly shark-specific spatial closures and their impact on shark fishers (Chapter

vii 5). The results of this study clearly show that effective governance of spatial closures can result in higher abundances of sharks by allowing them to recover, and providing a refuge, from heavy fishing pressure. However, it also becomes evident that exclusion from fishing grounds can have profound effects on fishers’ behaviour, evidenced by a shift of fishing effort to unprotected, less productive areas and the pursuit of alternative livelihoods, including, in some cases, illegal activities. The theme of livelihood diversification and alternatives is explored further in Chapter 6, where I deconstruct a series of recent developments that have cumulatively reduced the appeal and stability of shark fishing, a once prosperous livelihood. These developments involve multiple levels of governance from local to regional, bilateral and international scales, and include declining catches in all fishing grounds, a reduction in the demand for, and trade of shark fin, the loss of access to fishing grounds, transboundary fishing, restrictive debt with shark fin bosses, and limited options for livelihood alternatives. Indebted fishers find themselves trapped in an increasingly unprofitable livelihood but are unable to leave the fishery even when willing to do so, due to financial, technical or other constraints. Nevertheless, examples of livelihood diversification are evident in all case study communities, with varying success and without the impetus or support of outside fisheries management or community development interventions.

In Chapter 7, I contend that the eastern Indonesian shark fishery is characterised by levels of uncertainty and complexity that conventional methods of fisheries assessment and management were not designed to deal with. Instead, data-poor fisheries management based on precautionary principles, and actively involving fishers in knowledge generation, are needed to mitigate against continued fishery-driven declines of shark populations. The thesis concludes with twelve recommendations for proactive management, based on challenges and opportunities identified during my research. I propose that the most promising strategy for protecting shark populations in eastern Indonesia is a composite, data-poor management approach that features a combination of spatial protection, consistent implementation and enforcement of trade regulations, research- based fisheries regulations, and support for fishers’ livelihood diversification.

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Table of Contents

Author’s Declaration ...... v Abstract ...... vii Table of Contents ...... ix List of Figures ...... xiii List of Tables ...... xvii Publications during Candidature ...... xix Statement of Contributions ...... xxi Acknowledgements ...... xxv Chapter 1 General Introduction ...... 3 1.1 Background and rationale ...... 3 1.2 Ecological and economic importance of sharks ...... 5 1.3 Fishery effects and management challenges ...... 7 1.4 Indonesia’s shark fisheries ...... 10 1.5 Methodological approach ...... 14 1.6 Fieldwork preparation and overview ...... 18 1.7 Thesis structure, objective and aims ...... 21 Chapter 2 Fishing practices, catch characteristics and socio-economic aspects of the eastern Indonesian shark fishery ...... 29 2.1 Introduction ...... 29 2.2 Materials and Methods ...... 32 2.2.1 Study sites ...... 32 2.2.2 Biological and fishery data collection ...... 34 2.2.3 Socio-economic data ...... 35 2.2.4 Data analyses ...... 38 2.3 Results & Discussion...... 38 2.3.1 Interview summary ...... 38 2.3.2 Homeports...... 39 2.3.3 Pepela ...... 44 2.3.4 Fishing knowledge and practices ...... 48 2.3.5 Catch composition ...... 59 2.3.6 Processing and sale of shark fins ...... 73 2.4 Conclusions...... 76 2.5 Supporting Information ...... 79 Chapter 3 New distribution records of the Vulnerable fossil shark Hemipristis elongata from eastern Indonesia call for improved fisheries management ...... 85 3.1 Abstract ...... 85 3.2 Introduction ...... 85 3.3 Materials and Methods ...... 87 3.4 Results ...... 89

ix 3.5 Discussion ...... 90 3.6 Acknowledgements ...... 92 Chapter 4 Shark finning in eastern Indonesia: Assessing the sustainability of a data-poor fishery ...... 95 4.1 Abstract ...... 95 4.2 Introduction ...... 96 4.3 Materials and Methods ...... 97 4.3.1 Study sites and fishing practices ...... 98 4.3.2 Catch data ...... 99 4.3.3 Fisher perceptions ...... 100 4.3.4 Sustainability assessment ...... 101 4.4 Results ...... 103 4.4.1 Fishing practices ...... 103 4.4.2 Catch composition ...... 105 4.4.3 Fisher perceptions ...... 106 4.4.4 Sustainability assessment ...... 108 4.5 Discussion ...... 111 4.6 Acknowledgments ...... 116 4.7 Supporting information ...... 117 Chapter 5 Higher abundance of marine predators and changes in fishers’ behaviour following spatial protection within the world’s biggest shark fishery ...... 127 5.1 Abstract ...... 127 5.2 Introduction ...... 128 5.3 Materials and Methods ...... 132 5.3.1 Ethics Statement ...... 132 5.3.2 Primary study sites ...... 132 5.3.3 Fishery-independent surveys ...... 135 5.3.4 Catch composition ...... 140 5.3.5 Fishing community surveys ...... 141 5.4 Results ...... 142 5.4.1 BRUVs ...... 142 5.4.2 Comparison of BRUVs and catch data ...... 146 5.4.3 Fisher interviews ...... 147 5.5 Discussion ...... 149 5.6 Acknowledgments ...... 155 5.7 Supporting Information ...... 156 Chapter 6 The end of shark finning? Impacts of declining catches and fin demand on coastal community livelihoods ...... 161 6.1 Abstract ...... 161 6.2 Introduction ...... 162 6.3 Methods ...... 164 6.3.1 Communities ...... 164 6.3.2 General data collection ...... 165 6.3.3 Interviews ...... 166

6.4 Results and Discussion ...... 166 6.4.1 Fishing practices ...... 166 6.4.2 Changes in fin price and trade ...... 169 6.4.3 Catch trends ...... 171 6.4.4 Bosses, debt, imprisonment ...... 174 6.4.5 Livelihood futures ...... 180 6.5 Conclusions...... 183 6.6 Supporting Information ...... 185 Chapter 7 General Conclusions and Recommendations ...... 199 7.1 Conclusions...... 199 7.2 Recommendations ...... 207 7.2.1 Challenges ...... 207 7.2.2 Opportunities ...... 208 Bibliography ...... 211 Appendix A Data collection ...... 233 A.1 Fisher instructions for data collection ...... 233 Appendix B Interview questionnaires ...... 237 B.1 Interview questionnaire for fishers – English (Pepela) ...... 238 B.2 Interview questionnaire for fishers – Bahasa Indonesia (Osi) ...... 249

List of Figures

Figure 1.1. Map of Indonesia showing the main study sites at Osi, Dobo and Pepela (  ; bold italics), and other place names mention in this and other chapters, including provinces (bold large font), regional centres ( ; italics), oceans and seas (bold capitalised italics), and islands (lower case text)...... 11 Figure 1.2. Thesis structure ...... 23 Figure 2.1. Average national contributions (in thousands of tonnes) to global shark landings from 1993 – 2013. Indonesia (in dark blue) reported higher shark landings during this period than any other nation. Data source: FAO FishStatJ...... 31 Figure 2.2. Map of the study area showing the three case study sites of Osi, Dobo and Pepela (stars), their main fishing grounds (circles) and the GPS locations of fishing gear sets (light blue dots; boat tracks enlarged for Osi) at the time of fieldwork in 2012/13. Other places mentioned in this Chapter are also shown. Thin grey lines = Exclusive Economic Zone (EEZ) boundaries between Indonesia, the Philippines/Palau, Australia and Timor Leste...... 46 Figure 2.3. Schematic of a typical longline set used by shark fishers from the eastern Indonesian fishing ports of Dobo and Pepela. Note that perahu lambo or sailboats were only used in Pepela. Indonesian terms shown in parentheses. 1 depa ≈ 1.6 m...... 51 Figure 2.4. Aspects of the shark fishery at sea; a) typical motorised fishing boat (perahu) used in Osi and Dobo; b) sailboat (perahu layar/lambo) from Pepela; c) for up to eight weeks at a time, fishers eat, sleep and shelter in the confined cabins of their boats; d) whitetip reef shark Triaenodon obesus caught in a gillnet; e) four fishers from Osi pull in a grey reef shark, Carcharhinus amblyrhynchos; f) demonstrating data collection in the Seram Sea; g) a fisher fins a whitetip reef shark; h) kepel and low-value fins of deep-sea sharks drying on a perahu in Dobo...... 55 Figure 2.5. Diagram showing different shark fin cuts. Full bulan, or export cut, gives fins the highest value on the market...... 56 Figure 2.6. Aspects of the shark fishery on land; a) Osi fisher showing part of his last catch, ready to be sold to a buyer; b) dried pectoral fins of a dusky shark (hiu antuga/ Carcharhinus obscurus) in Dobo; c) a set of fins (2x pectoral, 1x dorsal, 1x lower caudal lobe) of hiu panda (probably pigeye shark, C. amboinensis); d) a trader in Dobo reconstructs the caudal fin of a dusky shark (hiu antuga) to show how fishers cut the lower lobe off the less valuable upper lobe; e) dried shark meat (dendeng) in front of a fisher’s house, Pepela; f) dendeng ready for sale; g) fresh, unprocessed stingray meat at a fish market in Dobo...... 57 Figure 2.7. The numbers of sharks and rays of different species or species groups caught by different gears in three eastern Indonesian fishing grounds. Fishers from Osi (green) used gillnets, fishers from Dobo used gillnets (light blue) or longlines (dark blue) and fishers from Pepela (purple) used longlines...... 61 Figure 3.1. Map showing the fishing grounds (red circles 1-3) where 19 individuals of Hemipristis elongata were recorded, 14 of which were sampled and genetically verified. Fishing grounds are numbered: 1 = Halmahera Sea in North Maluku province; 2 = Seram Sea, Raja Ampat in West Papua province; 3 = Arafura Sea, Aru in Maluku province. The 200 m bathymetric depth contour is shown in blue...... 88

xiii Figure 3.2. Neighbour-Joining tree of the family Hemigaleidae based on a 652 bp long fragment of the Cytochrome Oxidase 1 gene. Individuals analysed in this study are shown in bold. Internal branch labels represent bootstrap support based on 1000 pseudo replicate datasets. Scale bar represents number of changes per base pair ...... 90 Figure 4.1. Species composition of total shark catch (N = 1,881) recorded by fishers in the Seram-Halmahera Sea (green; encompassing the islands of Raja Ampat in the East and Halmahera in the Northwest), Aru-Arafura Sea (blue; encompassing waters of Maluku and Papua provinces) and Timor Sea (purple; the MoU Box) between March 2012 and September 2013. Species are listed and grouped according to frequency (shown for each plot) from top left to bottom right. IUCN Red List status is given for each species, or each of the fisher-identified species within a higher taxon, to the right of the frequency bar. LC = Least Concern, NT = Near Threatened, VU = Vulnerable, EN = Endangered, DD = Data Deficient, NE = Not Evaluated. *Within the family Mobulidae, fishers included Manta birostris and Manta alfredi (VU), and Mobula japonica (NT)...... 106 Figure 4.2. Fishers’ perceived changes in the catch of 16 shark and ray species during the last 5-10 years, and 10-20 years ago (reference year 2012/2013). Bubble size represents percentage of respondents; N respondents for each time period is given beneath the species name. Bubble colour represents the homeports of fishers fishing in the Seram-Halmahera Sea (Osi, green), the Aru-Arafura Sea (Dobo, blue), and the Timor Sea (Pepela, purple)...... 108 Figure 4.3. Size composition (total length in cm) of nine frequently landed shark and ray species caught and recorded by fishers from Osi (Seram-Halmahera Sea, green), Dobo (Aru-Arafura Sea, blue), and Pepela (Timor Sea, purple) during regular fishing trips. Size and length at maturity (Lm) is given as total length for all species except Rhynchobatus spp. and Sphyrna spp., shown as fork length. Total number (N) of measured individuals is given for each species. Range of published Lm is shown as a grey bar, with the number of studies (n) from which parameters were calculated shown in parentheses. Rhynchobatus spp. likely consists of R. australiae and R. laevis; Sphyrna spp. consists of S. lewini and S. mokarran. Fork length at maturity for S. lewini is shown in light grey, for S. mokarran in dark grey...... 109

Figure 4.4. Boxplots showing the ranges of rmax (maximum population growth rate) values of nine shark species frequently caught by eastern Indonesian shark fishers. Species fall within three broad categories: low rmax (Carcharhinus amblyrhynchos, C. obscurus and C. plumbeus); medium rmax (C. limbatus, C. melanopterus and Triaenodon obesus), and high rmax (Galeocerdo cuvier, Sphyrna lewini and Sphyrna mokarran). For the parameters used to calculate rmax, see Fig. S4.2 and Table S4.3 in the Supplementary Materials ...... 110 Figure S4.1. Fork length (FL) -Total length (TL) regressions for four shark species for which > 30 FL-TL measurements were made during this study...... 117

Figure S4.2. Triangular distribution of life history parameters used to calculate rmax (maximum population growth rate) for nine shark species. Am = age at maturity; M = natural mortality; Lit. Size = litter size; Breed Int. = breeding interval; Ã = annual number of female offspring. Parameter ranges were calculated using Monte Carlo simulations to draw 50,000 random parameters from a triangle distribution ...... 118

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Figure 5.1. Map of Misool island, showing the boundaries of the Batbitim and Daram No- Take Zones (NTZs) within the SE Misool Marine Protected Area, and the fishing grounds in northern Misool from which catch data were obtained. Colored symbols represent baited remote underwater video systems (BRUVs) replicates. Inset: The provinces of Papua and Maluku in Eastern Indonesia and locations of shark fishing villages where interviews were conducted (Osi island, Rote island and Aru Archipelago), and Halmahera island in North Maluku province...... 133 Figure 5.2. Different means of data collection used in this study. Top row – fishery- independent data collection: (A) deploying lightweight baited remote underwater video systems (BRUVs) with GoPro cameras; (B) BRUVs in situ; (C) Surface floats help to locate and retrieve BRUVs. Bottom row – fishery- dependent data collection: (D) Fishers from Osi island setting out for what was to be their last fishing trip to Raja Ampat; (E) shark catch from Misool, Raja Ampat; (F) dried shark fins from which tissue samples were taken to verify the fishers’ species identification of sharks they recorded for this study. .... 136 Figure 5.3. Images captured on baited remote underwater video systems. Top row – sharks: (A) juvenile blacktip reef sharks Carcharhinus melanopterus in a shallow bay in Daram No-Take Zone (NTZ); (B) presumably pregnant C. melanopterus, Daram NTZ; (C) a group of grey reef sharks Carcharhinus amblyrhynchos investigate the bait bag in Batbitim NTZ. Bottom row - species of high conservation or tourism value: (D) hawksbill turtle Eretmochelys imbricata feeding on bait, Batbitim NTZ; (E) bluespotted stingray Neotrygon kuhlii feeding on bait, Open Access Zone; (F) moray eel Gymnothorax javanicus guarding the bait bag, Batbitim NTZ...... 138 Figure 5.4. Relative abundance (mean MaxN per hour ±SE) of (A) shark species and life stages, and (B) fishery targeted reef fish families and species recorded in each of the three management areas surveyed in Southeast Misool Marine Protected Area. Juvenile sharks (hatched fields) were only recorded in the Daram No-Take Zone (NTZ)...... 144 Figure 5.5. Principal coordinate ordination (PCO) plot for the assemblage of all recorded taxa averaged to the site level. No-Take Zone (NTZ) sites are represented by green circles (Batbitim NTZ) and blue diamonds (Daram NTZ), Open Access sites by orange squares. Correlations of taxa towards sites are indicated by the length and direction of vectors...... 145 Figure 5.6. Proportions of shark species captured on baited remote underwater video systems (BRUVs, light blue) and recorded by fishers in their catch (dark blue) in waters surrounding Misool island in Raja Ampat. Both assemblages comprised mainly grey reef (Carcharhinus amblyrhynchos), whitetip reef (Triaenodon obesus) and blacktip reef (C. melanopterus) sharks...... 146 Figure 6.1. Map of case study sites in eastern Indonesia and their main fishing grounds (grey circles): Osi island off Seram with fishing grounds in Raja Ampat and Halmahera; Dobo in the Aru Archipelago, from where most fishing occurs between the Aru islands and Papua (Arafura Sea); and the village of Pepela on Rote Island, with fishing grounds in the MoU Box (Timor Sea). Red dots show fishing sets recorded by fishers using GPS (Dobo, Pepela) and by GPS tracker (Osi). Please refer to the online version for colour figures...... 168 Figure 6.2. Trends in the prices of medium sized fins of five shark taxa that represent different price classes, and the average price across all assessed taxa (‘All Sharks’, n=16 taxa). Prices are averaged across respondents (n=94) and given in Indonesian Rupiah (IDR) per kilogram (kg) of dried export cut fins (±1SE). At the time of data collection, IDR 12,000 ≈ US$1.00. Please refer to the online version for colour figures...... 170

xv Figure 6.3. Perceived changes in the abundance of five indicator taxa in shark fishers’ catches and all 16 taxa combined over a twenty-year period, from ~1993- 2013. Bubble size represents percentage of respondents who stated that their catches of a given taxa increased, remained stable, or decreased in either or both time periods. Please refer to the online version for colour figures...... 172 Figure 6.4. Reported trends in the characteristics of shark catches over years of fishing experience (max = 53 years) by fishers from three eastern Indonesian communities, and percentage of respondents who gave each answer...... 173 Figure 6.5. Flow chart showing how drivers of declining profits and increasing debt from shark fishing influence fishers’ decisions (particularly with regards to increased risk-taking and intensified exploitation to compensate for lost income) and examples of resulting governance challenges at domestic and international scales. Arrows showing relationships between drivers and decisions are simplified for clarity, i.e. do not show all possible combinations of cause and effect. MPA = Marine Protected Area; EEZ = Exclusive Economic Zone...... 177 Figure 6.6. Examples of self-initiated livelihood alternatives in eastern Indonesian shark fishing communities: (a) seaweed and anchovies for local sale drying on racks in Osi, Maluku province (photo credit S. Lindfield); (b) Bajo woman selling her husband’s tuna catch in Pepela, NTT province; (c) flying fish roe on sale at a fish market in Dobo, Maluku...... 182 Figure A.1. Illustrated instructions for longline fishers for data collection at sea...... 235

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List of Tables

Table 2.1. Summary of fishing practices, gear and catch data collected by 31 vessels during 46 fishing trips in the fishing grounds of the three eastern Indonesian shark fishing communities (homeports) of Osi, Dobo and Pepela. The total number of sharks measured by fishers from each community involved in this study is given as a combined total for gillnets and longlines. SD = standard deviation...... 52 Table 2.2. Indonesian, English and Latin names of baitfish species used on eastern Indonesian shark longlines ...... 53 Table 2.3. Common, scientific and local names of sharks caught by fishers from Osi and Dobo in Maluku, and from Rote in East Nusa Tenggara province. Local names from each case study also represent, or include, the names used by Butonese, Bugis and Bajo fishers, respectively...... 64 Table 2.4. Catch composition of sharks caught in three eastern Indonesian fishing grounds, the Seram-Halmahera Sea (1), Aru-Arafura Sea (2) and Timor Sea (3). Species are listed in the order of their contribution to total catch (n = 1881 sharks) and are grouped by fishers’ identification. Where fishers’ species names do not distinguish between similar species in a higher taxonomic grouping (marked *), species identified by genetic barcoding are listed within. Values in the column N barcoded samples represent the combined subset of barcoded samples from each fisher-identified taxon and do not indicate identification matches. Fishing gears are gillnet (GN), longline (LL) or deepwater longline (deep LL). IUCN status abbreviations: LC = Least Concern, NT = Near Threatened, VU = Vulnerable, EN = Endangered, DD = Data Deficient. CITES listings are shown as the relevant CITES appendix number...... 69 Table S2.1. Summary data, questions, and responses of interviews conducted in the three eastern Indonesian case study sites Osi, Dobo and Pepela. Responses are summarized and presented by respondent category. For many questions, more than one answer was possible. HH = Household. Where not all of the 247 respondents were asked a particular question, or not all answered, the total number of respondents for that question is given in bold in the respective ‘Sum/Avg’ column...... 79 Table S2.2. Interview questions and responses of interviews conducted in the three eastern Indonesian case study sites Osi, Dobo and Pepela. Responses are combined for all sites. For some questions, more than one answer was possible. Unless otherwise noted, responses are given out of the total of 247 respondents ...... 80 Table S2.3. Interview questions and responses of interviews conducted in the three eastern Indonesian case study sites Osi, Dobo and Pepela. Responses are summarised and presented by site. For many questions, more than one answer was possible. Where not all of the 247 respondents were asked a particular question, or not all answered, the total number of respondents for that question is given in bold in the respective ‘Sum/Avg’ column...... 81 Table 3.1. Sex, lengths and geographical coordinates recorded by fishers in eastern Indonesia for ten genetically verified specimens of Hemipristis elongata ...... 89 Table 4.1. Summary of fishing trip, gear and catch characteristics of shark fishing vessels operating in the Halmahera-Seram, Aru-Arafura and Timor Seas out of three eastern Indonesian case study sites (homeports). The combined total number of sharks measured by fishers involved in this study is given for each homeport...... 104

xvii Table S4.1. Equations and their sources used to convert shark lengths from fork length (FL) to total length (TL) in species for which length frequency distributions from this study are shown (Fig. 2). See Table S3 for full references...... 119 Table S4.2. Interview questions asked of active and retired fishers in the three eastern Indonesian shark fishing homeports of Osi, Dobo and Pepela as part of this study. Answers usually fell within, but were not restricted to, the anticipated categories given. For most questions, more than one answer was possible. Question 5 was asked about the 8-10 most common and most valuable taxa caught by fishers from each study site...... 119 Table S4.3. Life history parameters of the nine shark species for which maximum intrinsic rate of increase (rmax) was estimated (see Fig. 4). Where available, ranges for each parameter obtained from the referenced sources are shown...... 120 Table 5.1. Summary of the types and characteristics of spatial closures included in this study. Indonesian names italicised. Further details in Mangubhai et al. (2012...... 131 Table 5.2. Taxa recorded on baited remote underwater video stations during 160 deployments (depl.) within the Southeast Misool Marine Protected Area, Raja Ampat. The number of species identified within each genus is given in brackets. OAZ = Open Access Zone (n=80 depl.); NTZ 1 = Batbitim No- Take Zone (n= 40 depl.); NTZ 2 = Daram No-Take Zone (n=40 depl.)...... 138 Table 5.3. Permutational ANOVAs examining the relative abundance of sharks and targeted reef fish between management areas (No-Take Zones 1 and 2, Open Access Zone) and sites along with habitat co-variables (in italics). Post-hoc pairwise t- tests between management areas are shown below. Significant values (p<0.05) in bold...... 140 Table S5.1. Interview questions and answers given, shown as proportions of respondents at each study site. Active and retired fishers were asked all questions, non-fishers only those marked with an asterisk. For most questions, more than one answer was possible...... 156 Table S6.1. Interview questions asked of active and retired fishers (all questions) and non- fishing community members (questions marked with an asterisk) in the three eastern Indonesian shark fishing homeports of Osi, Dobo and Pepela as part of this study. Answers usually fell within, but were not restricted to, the anticipated categories given. For most questions, more than one answer was possible. Questions 5.8 and 6.13 were asked about the 8-10 most common and most valuable taxa caught by fishers from each study site (Table S3). Questions marked with a # were only asked in Pepela...... 185 Table S6.2. Summary data, questions, and responses of interviews conducted in the three eastern Indonesian case study sites Osi, Dobo and Pepela. Depending on the type of interview question, responses are summarised and presented by A) all sites and categories combined, B) respondent category, and C) site. For many questions, more than one answer was possible. HH = Household. Where not all of the 247 respondents were asked a particular question, or not all of them answered, the total number of respondents for that question is given in bold...... 191 Table S6.3. Scientific, English common and Indonesian local names of shark taxa that are high in value (marked *) and/or regularly caught in three eastern Indonesian fishing grounds ...... 195 Table A.1. At-sea shark measuring datasheet for gillnet fishers. Example from Dobo...... 234

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Publications during Candidature

Peer-reviewed journal articles included in this thesis

Jaiteh V and Momigliano P (2015) New distribution records of the Vulnerable fossil shark Hemipristis elongata from eastern Indonesia call for improved fisheries management. Marine Biodiversity Records 8: e79 Jaiteh V, Lindfield S, Mangubhai S, Warren C, Fitzpatrick B and Loneragan N (2016) Higher abundance of Marine Predators and changes in fishers’ behavior following spatial protection within the world’s biggest shark fishery. Frontiers in Marine Science 3: 1-15 Jaiteh V, Hordyk A, Braccini M, Warren C and Loneragan N (2017) Shark finning in eastern Indonesia: assessing the sustainability of a data-poor fishery. ICES Journal of Marine Science 74: 242-253 Jaiteh V, Loneragan N and Warren C (2017) The end of shark finning? Impacts of declining catches and fin demand on coastal community livelihoods. Marine Policy 82: 224-233

Peer-reviewed journal articles not included in the thesis

Jaiteh V, Allen S, Meeuwig J, Loneragan N (2013) Subsurface behavior of bottlenose dolphins (Tursiops truncatus) interacting with fish trawl nets in northwestern Australia: Implications for bycatch mitigation. Marine Mammal Science 29(3): E266-E281 Jaiteh V, Allen S, Meeuwig J, Loneragan N (2014) Combining in-trawl video with observer coverage improves understanding of protected and vulnerable species bycatch in trawl fisheries. Marine and Freshwater Research 65: 1-8. Momigliano P and Jaiteh VF (2015) First records of the grey nurse shark Carcharias taurus (Lamniformes: Odontaspididae) from oceanic reefs in the Timor Sea. Marine Biodiversity Records 8: e56 Momigliano P, Harcourt R, Robbins WD, Jaiteh V, Mahardika GN, Sembiring A, Stow A (2017) Genetic structure and signatures of selection in grey reef sharks (Carcharhinus amblyrhynchos). Heredity, doi: 10.1038/hdy.2017.21

Book chapter

Momigliano P, Jaiteh V, Speed C (2015) Predators in danger: Shark conservation and management in Australia, New Zealand, and their neighbours. In: Adam Stow, Gregory Holwell, Norman Maclean (eds). Austral Ark. Cambridge University Press.

xix Conference presentations

Jaiteh V, Allen S, Meeuwig J, Loneragan N (2011) Sub-surface behaviour of bottlenose dolphins (Tursiops truncatus) interacting with fish trawl nets in NW Australia. Australian Marine Sciences Association conference, Fremantle, Western Australia. Jaiteh V, Warren C and Loneragan N (2012) Predators as livelihoods: Shark fisheries in Eastern Indonesia. Combined Conference of the Australian Society for Fish Biology & Oceania Chondrichthyan Society, Adelaide, South Australia, 15 – 18 June 2012 Jaiteh V, Warren C and Loneragan N (2014) Building an understanding of the world’s biggest shark fishery through fishers’ knowledge and participation in scientific data collection. Sharks International, Durban, South Africa, 2-6 June 2014 Jaiteh V, Warren C and Loneragan N (2014) Sharks, Sails and Smugglers: Fishing for new livelihoods in Eastern Indonesia. 2nd World Small-Scale Fisheries Congress, Merida, Mexico, 21- 26 September 2014 Jaiteh V, Hordyk A, Braccini M, Warren C and Loneragan N (2015) What’s the catch? Recent trends in the Eastern Indonesian shark fishery. Conference of the Australian Society for Fish Biology, Sydney, Australia, 12-16 October 2015

Other presentations

March 2011. “Dolphin behaviour and bycatch in a northwestern Australian trawl fishery”. Part of the seminar series “The Blind Side of Biologists” at Universitas Indonesia, Jakarta, 15th March 2011. May 2012. “Predators as Livelihoods: Shark Fisheries in Eastern Indonesia” presented to Universitas Indonesia, Jakarta; Bogor Agricultural University, Bogor; and Kementerian Kelautan dan Perikanan, Jakarta. April 2013. “Livelihoods from Predators: Shark fisheries in Eastern Indonesia” presented by Neil Loneragan to Asian Fisheries and Aquaculture Forum, Korea. March 2013. “Pariwisata Hiu Paus di Kaimana”. Presented to the community of Namatota, Triton Bay, Kaimana, as part of an internship with Conservation International. August 2015. Alternative sources of data. Case study: The eastern Indonesian shark fishery. Presentation in a Training Workshop on Data-Poor Fisheries Assessment, hosted by Institut Pertanian Bogor, Java. August 2016. Assessing the sustainability of datapoor fisheries: a case study of shark fisheries in eastern Indonesia. Jaiteh, Hordyk and Loneragan. Presented by Neil Loneragan to staff and students in the Centre for Fisheries Research and Development, Ancol, Java.

Reports

Whitcraft, S, Hofford, A, Hilton, P, O’Malley, M, Jaiteh, V and P. Knights. (2014) Evidence of Declines in Shark Fin Demand, China. WildAid. San Francisco, CA.

Statement of Contributions

I conceived the study and developed its overall scope and methodological approach through discussions with my supervisors and colleagues. I was responsible for developing individual components of the research, collecting, processing and analysing data, writing first drafts and revisions of all chapters in this thesis, directing the input of others during the publication process, and developing responses to reviewers and handling editors. Individual contributions are specified below.

Chapter 1 – General Introduction Contributor Contribution Vanessa Jaiteh Developed chapter structure Wrote the chapter Neil Loneragan Commented on planned content and structure Provided editorial input Carol Warren Provided editorial input

Chapter 2 – Fishing practices, catch characteristics and socio-economic aspects of the eastern Indonesian shark fishery Contributor Contribution Vanessa Jaiteh Designed the study Collected the data Processed the data Analysed the data Wrote the manuscript Neil Loneragan Commented on structure and content, edited the chapter Carol Warren Edited the chapter

xxi Chapter 3 - New distribution records of the Vulnerable fossil shark Hemipristis elongata from eastern Indonesia call for improved fisheries management Contributor Contribution Vanessa Jaiteh Designed the study Collected the data Processed the data Planned and wrote the manuscript Paolo Momigliano Designed the study Provided reagents

Processed and analysed the data Wrote and edited the manuscript

Chapter 4 – Shark finning in eastern Indonesia: assessing the sustainability of a data-poor fishery Contributor Contribution Vanessa Jaiteh Designed the study Collected the data Analysed the data Wrote the manuscript

Adrian Hordyk Designed the life history/rmax analyses Analysed the data Wrote and edited the manuscript Matías Braccini Provided input for analyses and paper content Edited the manuscript Carol Warren Provided input for study design Edited the manuscript Neil Loneragan Provided input for study design and analyses Edited the manuscript

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Chapter 5 - Higher abundance of marine predators and changes in fishers’ behaviour following spatial protection within the world’s biggest shark fishery Contributor Contribution Vanessa Jaiteh Designed the study Collected the data Processed the data Analysed the data Wrote the manuscript Steve Lindfield Designed the study Analysed the data

Wrote and edited the manuscript Sangeeta Mangubhai Designed the study Provided logistical support Wrote and edited the manuscript Carol Warren Provided input for study design and analysis Edited the manuscript Ben Fitzpatrick Designed the study Edited the manuscript Neil Loneragan Provided input for study design and analysis Edited the manuscript

Chapter 6 – The end of shark finning? Impacts of declining catches and fin demand on coastal community livelihoods Contributor Contribution Vanessa Jaiteh Designed the study Collected the data Processed the data Analysed the data Wrote the manuscript Neil Loneragan Provided input for study design Edited the manuscript Carol Warren Designed the study Wrote and edited the manuscript

xxiii Chapter 7 – General conclusions and recommendations Contributor Contribution Vanessa Jaiteh Developed chapter structure Wrote the chapter Neil Loneragan Provided editorial input Carol Warren Provided editorial input

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Acknowledgements

As much as this PhD has been an expansion of my intellectual horizon, first and foremost it has been an expansion of my global family. The last five years have made me richer in data, experiences, and, well, years; but most of all, richer in connections to people who make this world a more vibrant and welcoming place.

I was lucky to be raised by parents who instilled in me an appreciation for other lands and cultures that I often drew from during my time in Indonesia. These early seeds of adventure have grown in ways probably neither of my parents (nor my brother, for that matter) anticipated, as it means that we rarely see each other. Unfortunately, I can’t see this changing anytime soon so I hope that my stories from far-away places make up for my sporadic appearances at home.

This PhD however would not have happened without the unwavering support and guidance of my academic parents, Pak Neil and Ibu Carol. I am deeply grateful for the opportunity to have worked with, learnt from, and been inspired by both of you. Your advice, expertise and open-mindedness allowed me to develop a project that was truly my own, with a rare freedom to explore the paths less trodden, both geographically and academically. I know that the support I have received from both of you far exceeds what is expected from a supervisor, and I can only hope that, should I ever be in a position of supervising students, I will be able to emulate your keen intuition for your students’ potentials and needs, and guide them with the same dedication I have been privileged to experience.

Neil, I will never forget the day I stumbled into your office for the first time, back in 2008, full of ideas and determination for an Honours project but without much structure to my thoughts. Throughout my PhD, you have provided that structure and the direction I needed, without getting in the way of my ambitions and some of my wilder ideas. Your unswerving enthusiasm for my project has been a source of motivation in times when my own inspiration was running low, and my memories of your visits to Osi and Candidasa are treasured souvenirs from this journey. I look forward to our next visit to Vincents, whenever it will be!

Carol, it has been so good working with you. You opened the door to the social sciences with the warmest, most assuring welcome I could have hoped for. Thank you for

xxv not just being willing to co-supervise a student with a purely biological background, but for doing it whole-heartedly and for making my foray into transdisciplinarity so enjoyable and rewarding. Your uncanny ability to know what I tried to express in my writing and make it much more elegant and clear is still a mystery to me, and I hope we’ll get to work together on other projects so I can try to crack that secret.

This thesis would be an extremely thin book without the many fishers and their families who gave so generously of their time and energy to this work. Their spirit is weaved into every page of this thesis. To protect their identities, and for sheer lack of space, I am unable to name them all, but I would like to acknowledge the indispensable assistance of a few individuals without whom I would have been stranded, literally and figuratively, on several occasions. To bapak-bapak Alimudin, Andi, Arianto, Chao, Dean, Hasanudin, Herman, Jawir, Kamal, Kasman, La Ale, La Bunga, Lana, La Sudi, Sahar, Sugianto, Man, Muhidin, Purnama, Rahman, Sadli, Saharuna, Ucu, and Widi – it was a priviledge to work with you. You taught me much more than what is contained within these pages, and although I may never be able to make it up to you, I am determined to give it my best effort.

To my host families in Osi, Dobo and Pepela: you gave me a home away from home, and provided tireless advice and practical help. In Osi, I thank Endang, Mila, Mama and Papa Jamal for letting me stay at their beautiful karamba and treating me as their daughter. In Ambon, the homes of Augy and Pamela Syahailatua and Mama Magdalena Tjan were always open for me, and every time I came back from the field, Mama Dika cooked me the best nasi kuning and tempeh manis in all of Maluku. In Dobo, Andi and Melinda Supriandi were instrumental in getting my fieldwork off the ground and finding a house to stay. In Pepela, Ibu Halima, Bapak Umar and adik Safri took me in and looked after me when I was knocked out of action for several weeks by a tiny mosquito. Endang Jamal, Andi Supriandi, Sadli Ardhani, Jermi Haning and James Riwu all provided logistical support for my fieldwork.

I am grateful for the funding I received to conduct this work. Murdoch University provided the APA scholarship that supported me during my studies, the Karl Mayer Stiftung in Switzerland funded the development of the stereo-BRUVs I tested in Raja Ampat, and the Graduate Women of Western Australia (GWWA) helped fund the genetic analyses of shark tissue samples. The Prime Minister’s Australia-Asia Endeavour Award

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provided all of the funding and a stipend for my fieldwork, as well as valuable logistical support. Without it, I could not have done such extensive fieldwork.

Dr. Augy Syahailatua from the Indonesian Institute of Science (LIPI) in Ambon kindly agreed to be my Indonesian sponsor, and remained supportive throughout the study despite the onslaught of forms he was requested to sign, and having to debate, over broken phone lines and non-existent fax machines, the validity of my permits with immigration staff in West Papua. I am thankful also to the Indonesian Ministry of Research and Technology (RISTEK) for granting me research permits that allowed me to work in eastern Indonesia. To the many people at various Indonesian Universities and Government agencies who made suggestions for field sites, or gave advice on various aspects of my work; please know that your input is greatly appreciated.

I was fortunate to receive insights and advice from Lida Pet and Sangeeta Mangubhai during my first trip to Indonesia, when my project started taking shape. Both shared ideas and recommendations that steered me in the right direction and no doubt saved me a number of detours. I also benefitted greatly from Cliff Marlessy’s in-depth knowledge about eastern Indonesia, and that of Purwanto, Pak Jan, Matt Fox, and Mark Erdmann. Pak Dharmadi, one of Indonesia’s foremost shark scientists, kindly agreed to accompany me on my first visit to Tanjung Luar, and has always answered my questions promptly and in detail.

A heartfelt Thank You to my research assistants, who often accepted less than optimal or comfortable conditions to make my fieldwork a success: Kate Fraser travelled to Raja Ampat from Australia with a broken arm to help me with BRUVs, and has remained a close friend even though I got her stranded on a remote island without food for a few days. Thank you for all the fond memories, dear one. Also in Misool, I’d like to thank Rajak, Dahlan, Becky and Calvin for going beyond their job descriptions to help me with the various challenges of doing a fishery-independent survey in such a remote place. For help with conducting the seemingly never-ending number of interviews, I thank Irene Purnamawati, Bertha Ronsumbre, Mila Jamal, Felix Eki Renwarin, Irma, Isal, Feby, Rizal, Rahma and Nila, and Didi for help with data entry. Nur Ismu Hidayat deserves a medal for coming to the rescue when my Access database turned into a knot of misery during a particularly low point of my PhD journey. Back in Australia, Irene Abraham helped with literature searches for Chapter 4, and Julian Tyne got me started with a database for my interviews. Deepest thanks to all of you - I quite simply couldn’t have done it without you.

xxvii My thesis and the resulting publications were enriched immeasurably by the input of my co-authors, who generously shared their talents to bring the best out of my research: Paolo Momigliano, your incredible ability to do high quality genetics work under less than favourable circumstances, and your willingness to go the extra mile to do the work in Indonesia, were truly impressive. Thank you for approaching me to work together, for bringing in many good ideas, for sharing meals at Massimo’s and for infusing our collaboration with your energy and motivation. Adrian Hordyk, you are like an academic big brother to me - constant in your encouragement, infinitely patient, and with R-coding talents that I will forever look up to. Thank you for all your work on Chapter 4; I learnt more from you than you can probably imagine. Sangeeta Mangubhai, your detailed knowledge of conservation efforts in Misool and Raja Ampat, and your steady support throughout this PhD, have been invaluable for Chapter 5. It means a lot to me that you are proud of my work. Ben Fitzpatrick, thank you for agreeing to build the first Go-Pro BRUVs frames for me, especially at a time when you had a little toddler to take care of. Steve Lindfield, what would I have done without your BRUVs expertise and data analysis skills! While I take all responsibility for errors and omissions in this thesis, I owe you a lot for all your help over Skype and sms during fieldwork, and afterwards with software problems, data analysis, making maps, and generally keeping me sane.

Many friends and family members around the globe provided emotional strength, mental relief and practical assistance throughout this PhD. To my dearest ones in Switzerland; Severino Butscher, Laila and Livio Sturm, Michelle Jaiteh, Michèle Zweifel, Dominique Birrer, Estée Bochud, Samira Reber and so many others; thank you for ignoring time zones and physical distances to stay in touch and be by my side wherever I was. Anna Kopps and Kathrin Bacher, I love that we haven’t lost sight of one another across the continents, countries and other life changes we’ve travelled through since we met. In Australia, Dirk Steenbergen was a great source of advice on all things eastern Indonesia, and, together with his partner Dee, took good care of my cat Yamini while I was away. Kate Sprogis, Delphine Chabanne and Krista Nicholson at the Murdoch University Cetacean Research Unit, and Charlotte Pham and Melissa Johnston at the Asia Research Centre all travelled parts of the PhD road with me and saved me from academic isolation during my long times away from the Uni. Georgia Scott and her lovely parents, Marg and Phil, provided a quiet, beautiful home during my visits to Fremantle, and helped wherever they could. Thank you for always being there for me; you have become my family in Freo, and I look forward to seeing you and HRH again soon! In Bali, Krista Clement, Greg xxviii

Morlaes, Christine Parfitt, Sarah Lewis, Matt Fox, Brian and Renate Stewart, Kathy Alexander, Dewi, Ketut and many others made the Island of the Gods a truly special place to live in, and gifted me with cherished friendships. In Jakarta and Ambon, Sandra Tjan kept me off the streets and out of trouble, and introduced me to rujak Natsepa. In Kaimana, Edy Setyawan kept my spirits high during yet another stranding episode. Thanks for all the coconuts, Edy, and for all the chats. In Palau, Pat and Lori Colin looked out for us when we most needed it, and were supportive in more ways than they probably know.

As seems to be the tradition, I’ve saved the best for last: Stevie, without you this journey would have been much less enjoyable, and at times perhaps impossible. From the moment we met, only a week before I embarked on a year of fieldwork, you expertly fulfilled the roles of an entire support team through weak internet connections and crackly phone lines. Many times you were the only person on the planet who knew where I was - at least roughly on which sea and on whose boat. Your excitement for my work and your unfailing belief in me are unparalleled in this world and an enormous source of strength. You have been a wonderful dad to our little boy, and have put your own work and rest on the backburner to help me finish this thesis while taking care of Keanu on many mornings and weekends. I can’t imagine how this PhD, or indeed my life, would have turned out had I not met you, and I look forward to all the adventures we are yet to embark on and the islands we will call home.

Finally, to my gorgeous baby Keanu – you are the most precious addition to my big family. Thank you for being patient and forgiving when I had to work instead of spending time with you. It’s been tough for both of us, but it’s done now and I can’t wait to run outside and play with you under the Palauan sun.

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To the fishers, of course.

Without you, this thesis would never have become.

To Steve.

You have been the guardian angel of this thesis, in more ways than I can put into words.

And to Keanu. Thank you for reminding me that there are more important things in life than a PhD. You are my pearl, my shell, my ocean as well.

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Chapter 1

General Introduction

Fishers from Pepela set sail to fish for sharks in the Timor Sea

Chapter 1

General Introduction

1.1 Background and rationale

Humans have fished and eaten sharks for thousands of years (Clarke 2004). Shark fin in particular, is a highly valued commodity on the Asian market. Recognised as a delicacy by the Chinese elite during the Sung dynasty (960-1279 CE) and served at imperial banquets since the Ming dynasty (1368-1644 CE), it is now available in most major cities in China (Clarke et al. 2007). China’s rapid economic growth and the expansion of its middle and upper classes in the 1980s drew with it an unprecedented demand for shark fin, leading to a worldwide surge in commercial shark fishing (Eriksson and Clarke 2015). The economic incentives of the rapidly growing shark fin trade transformed small-scale shark fisheries in some source countries, particularly those in the developing tropics (also known as the Global South), from predominantly subsistence-based to cash-based fisheries (Fabinyi 2011). Intensified fishing effort, the comparatively low value of shark meat and limited space aboard fishing vessels gave rise to the practice of finning, whereby a shark’s fins are removed and its carcass dumped back into the sea, enabling longer fishing trips and greater catch volumes (Fowler and Séret 2010).

Perhaps due to their historically small contribution to world fisheries catches (Bonfil 1994), elasmobranchs1 were long underrepresented in academic studies on commercially exploited fishes. The rapid growth of elasmobranch fisheries, both to satisfy a growing demand for luxury seafood products and to replace overexploited fisheries with non- traditional target species, has led to increased research efforts to better understand sharks, including their life histories and ecological roles (Bonfil 2000). However, this wave of research effort has generally favoured charismatic species over others – a phenomenon Momigliano and Harcourt (2014) described as ‘taxonomic chauvinism’. Moreover, shark research has not only been biased taxonomically, but also geographically; the majority of studies have been published by researchers from higher-income countries (Momigliano and

1Unless stated otherwise, I use the terms ‘sharks’ and ‘elasmobranchs’ (see definition in section 1.2) interchangeably throughout this thesis. Although strictly speaking this is taxonomically inaccurate, it improves legibility and avoids the use of lengthy descriptions each time I refer to the group. 3

Harcourt 2014). Meanwhile, some of the highest shark landings have been consistently reported from lower income countries, including Indonesia, India, Argentina and Mexico (Dent and Clarke 2015), where sharks are often targeted in small-scale fisheries that are important sources of livelihood. While these fisheries are likely to have detrimental impacts on harvested species, they are often data-poor, unassessed and largely unmanaged due to a local lack of resources necessary to conduct robust stock assessments, or to transform research findings into effective management approaches (Fabinyi 2011). Ironically, the need for responsible management is particularly urgent in such countries, given that unchecked shark fisheries may lead to overfishing and stock collapse, and, by extension, cause socio-economic hardship through the loss of livelihoods.

In this thesis I present an integrated, field research based approach to describing shark fishing livelihoods in eastern Indonesia - a region of exceptional marine biodiversity, widespread relative poverty and part of the world’s biggest shark fishing nation. To do this, I apply a transdisciplinary methodology that combines quantitative and qualitative data collected using methodological approaches from the natural and social sciences. Drawing on multiple data sources including fishers’ catch reporting, in-depth interviews and participant observation during extended field studies, I demonstrate the use of such data in expanding scientific knowledge where a shortage of local research and management capacity precludes conventional fishery assessments. Through a series of independent, but interrelated studies, I i) describe the fishing communities, their fishing practices and catch composition in three representative case studies in Maluku and Nusa Tenggara Timur provinces (Chapter 2); ii) test the application of fisher-collected catch data in delineating species’ ranges (Chapter 3) and conducting basic assessments of a virtually data-less fishery (Chapter 4); iii) examine the effects of no-take zones on shark densities and fisher behaviour in the Raja Ampat regency, Indonesia’s first shark sanctuary (Chapter 5); and iv) explore the multi-layered pressures across local, regional, national and international scales of governance that influence shark fishers’ decisions and shape their often precarious livelihoods (Chapter 6). By addressing these knowledge gaps, my main aim is to provide a starting point for future fishery management and shark conservation efforts in eastern Indonesia.

This thesis follows Murdoch University’s guidelines for a Thesis by Publication, with all data chapters either published in peer-reviewed journals (Chapters 3-6) or prepared for publication (Chapter 2). This Introduction provides a general background and overview of the thesis topic, with more specific Introduction sections relevant to the individual studies

4 Chapter 1 | General Introduction presented in Chapters 2-6. All published chapters have been re-formatted for consistency in style.

1.2 Ecological and economic importance of sharks

Sharks and rays belong to the taxonomic subclass Elasmobranchii within the class Chondrichthyes, an ancient group of fishes dating back to the Devonian period (~423 million years ago) whose main common characteristic is their cartilaginous skeleton, distinguishing them from the Osteichthyes or bony fishes. The Chondrichthyes also include the subclass Holocephalii (chimaeras); however, the majority of economically important chondrichthyans are elasmobranchs, which are further divided into the two superorders Batoidea (rays and skates) and Selachimorpha (sharks). The Selachimorpha alone comprise over 500 species that inhabit all marine environments, from cold arctic waters and deep ocean trenches to the warm, shallow waters of tropical coral reefs (Ebert et al. 2013). Most large sharks (> 3 m total length), including great white (Carcharodon carcharias), hammerhead (Sphyrna spp.), tiger (Galeocerdo cuvier), common blacktip (Carcharhinus limbatus), sandbar (C. plumbeus) and bull sharks (C. leucas), are apex predators at the top of marine food webs. Occupying the highest trophic level, these species fulfil key ecological roles in various oceanic and coastal habitats, such as structuring marine communities through predation and influencing prey behaviour (Heithaus et al. 2008). While they exhibit a wide range of natural productivity, sharks, like other high-level predators, tend to be K-strategists characterised by slow growth, late sexual maturity, low fecundity, and a generally low rebound potential, i.e. a low ability to recover from reduced population levels (Myers and Worm 2003). These conservative life histories make sharks vulnerable to even low levels of exploitation, e.g. that of artisanal and small-scale commercial fisheries. While shark fisheries have the potential to be sustainable, particularly if younger size classes form the majority of the catch (Walker 1998; Prince 2005), the populations of many species can decline rapidly if the adult size classes are readily available to a fishery (Musick et al. 2000; Gallucci et al. 2006). The rapid depletion of sharks in most marine environments is thought to have potentially far- reaching consequences, including ecosystem shifts through the cascading effects of predator removal and mesopredator release (Ferretti et al. 2010). However, the evidence for, and examples of trophic cascades following the loss of sharks from an ecosystem have been equivocal (Myers et al. 2007; Grubbs et al. 2016), particularly in coral reef systems

(Ruppert et al. 2013; Roff et al. 2016). Indeed, recent studies suggest that reef-associated species such as grey reef (Carcharhinus amblyrhynchos), blacktip reef (C. melanopterus) and whitetip reef sharks (Triaenodon obesus) tend to function as mesopredators alongside large piscivorous teleosts (Frisch et al. 2016; Roff et al. 2016).

While many shark species fulfil important functional roles within their habitats, they also form high value fisheries: in 2015, the declared total value of the global market for shark products approached USD 1 billion per year (Dent and Clarke 2015). Sharks are targeted or retained as valuable bycatch in diverse fishing gears and across magnitudes of fishing operations, from large-scale industrial fleets to small-scale commercial and artisanal fisheries. Although no robust estimates exist of the number of people involved in small- scale shark fisheries, these fisheries are assumed to support a large number of coastal community livelihoods in developing maritime nations (Bonfil 2000). Shark fins, particularly those of highly desirable species, are some of the most expensive seafood products in the world and commonly retail for over USD 400 per kilo in Hong Kong, the global centre of the trade in shark fins (Clarke 2004). Although prices of shark fin fall significantly down the trade chain and fishers are paid far smaller amounts for their catch, the value of shark fin remains unparalleled by other seafood commodities, providing an important source of revenue for fishing communities in source countries (Vieira et al. 2017). In western Indonesia, for example, prices were quoted at > USD 100 for top quality requiem (Carcharhinidae) and thresher (Alopiidae) shark fins and > USD 200 for guitarfish (Rhynchobatidae) fins (SEAFDEC, 2006). The high value of shark fins has at once enabled economic improvements in fishing communities of source countries, while also exposing these communities to the ebb and flow of international market dynamics. A recent decrease in China’s demand for shark fin has been mirrored by declining shark fin imports into Hong Kong and reductions in global shark fishery capture rates (Eriksson and Clarke 2015), and led to significant declines in sales (82%) and a decrease in retail fin prices (47%) between 2012 and 2014 (Whitcraft et al. 2014). Such fluctuations in the international shark fin market are likely to have significant implications for shark fishers in source countries, whose cash- dependence on shark fins and limited options for livelihood diversification make them particularly vulnerable to financial hardship (see Chapter 6).

More recently, the non-consumptive use of sharks through diving ecotourism has received increasing academic interest (Gallagher and Hammerschlag 2011; Vianna et al. 2011, 2012; Cisneros-Montemayor et al. 2013). Recognising that arguments for

6 Chapter 1 | General Introduction conservation based on sharks’ intrinsic and ecosystem values alone are insufficient to counter the economic incentives of the shark fin trade, researchers have argued that in places with a viable shark diving industry, the monetary value of live sharks to local economies far surpasses the value of their fins (Clua et al. 2011; Vianna et al. 2012). For example, 100 reef sharks were estimated to generate USD18 million in annual revenue to the GDP of Palau (Vianna et al. 2012), and the shark diving industry in the Bahamas has an estimated value of up to USD 80 million annually (Gallagher and Hammerschlag 2011). Now popular in over 40 countries, shark diving is a rapidly growing industry that is increasingly regarded as an economically compelling avenue for shark conservation, particularly in conjunction with ‘limit-based’ conservation policies (Shiffman and Hammerschlag 2016). Such policies stipulate that dive sites or areas designated for shark diving are closed to shark fishing in order to maintain or recover shark numbers, enhance divers’ experience and ultimately increase tourism operators’ revenue. The argument that ‘sharks are worth more alive than dead’ has rapidly gained traction among the conservation and ecotourism communities, with proposed benefits to local communities through revenues from shark ecotourism (Brunnschweiler 2010; Clua et al. 2011; O’Malley et al. 2013). In Fiji and Misool, Indonesia for example, long-term private-public partnerships have ensured that local communities maintain their traditional ownership and management over shark diving sites (Brunnschweiler 2010; Jaiteh et al. 2016). In Donsol, Philippines, fishers operate whale shark snorkelling trips using their fishing boats (Quiros 2007). In most cases, however, wildlife ecotourism tends to generate minimal benefits to local communities, since few tourism operators and local government agencies are willing to provide local community members with the specialised training required to become a tour or dive guide (Leisher et al. 2010; Vieira et al. 2017). The potential for continued shark fishing and resistance to shark tourism may be high in places where fishers feel deprived of the revenues of shark tourism without compensation, or where local stakeholders are limited in their capacity to self-organise (Gallagher et al. 2015). Therefore, while shark- based ecotourism can have substantial benefits for tourist operators and researchers, its role in shark conservation and livelihood diversification is contentious.

1.3 Fishery effects and management challenges

In 1994, Ramon Bonfil observed that elasmobranch fisheries were ‘coming of age’ and called for the responsible management of shark resources, noting that the shark and

ray catches of several countries showed an increasing trend (Bonfil 1994). In 2003 it was estimated that at least 28 elasmobranch populations, mostly batoids, had already become locally or regionally extinct, and several shark species had not been seen for decades (Dulvy et al. 2003). More recently, Dulvy et al. (2014) analysed extinction risk for sharks and rays, revealing that over half of all known chondrichthyan species faced an elevated risk of extinction, being either critically endangered, endangered, vulnerable or near threatened. Extensive declines in shark densities have been documented in coastal regions around the world, from the temperate Mediterranean (Ferretti et al. 2008) and North-West Atlantic (Baum et al. 2003; Myers and Worm 2003) to the tropical waters of the Caribbean Sea (Ward-Paige et al. 2010), the Indian Ocean (Graham et al. 2010) and the Great Barrier Reef (Robbins et al. 2006). In the Mediterranean Sea for example, the abundance of large predatory sharks was found to have declined between 96 and 99.9% during the last century (Ferretti et al. 2008). While the extent of shark declines in other parts of the world is debated (Burgess et al. 2005; Heupel et al. 2009; Braccini 2015), there is general scientific consensus that overfishing, combined with the low biological productivity and ecological sensitivity of many elasmobranch species, is the main cause of their reduced densities (Dulvy et al. 2014a). Even when fully protected from fishing, overfished elasmobranch populations can take decades to recover due to their conservative life history characteristics (Stevens et al. 2000).

While effective fisheries management is critical to preventing further declines and local or global extinctions, shark fisheries are notoriously difficult to manage for several reasons. First, the high demand for shark products has fostered a large-scale expansion of target fisheries, many of which are unmanaged and unregulated (Bonfil 2000; Barker and Schluessel 2005; Clarke et al. 2006). Second, up to 50% of the total worldwide shark catch is caught and retained as valuable bycatch in commercial fisheries targeting other pelagic predators, such as tuna and swordfish (Stevens et al. 2000; Oliver et al. 2015). Third, an unknown but potentially large proportion of the global shark catch is sourced illegally, e.g. individuals caught during unlicensed transboundary fishing in foreign waters; involving protected species whose capture or trade is prohibited; or fins obtained through shark finning. Although shark finning is now illegal in many countries and banned by most Regional Fisheries Management Organisations (RFMOs), compliance with finning bans is difficult to enforce and monitor (Fowler and Séret 2010; Clarke et al. 2012).

8 Chapter 1 | General Introduction

An additional set of management challenges stems from the geographic distribution of shark fisheries. Most of the world’s targeted shark catch is produced by small-scale fisheries in developing countries, with limited institutional capacity and political support for shark fisheries research and management (Bonfil 2000; Fabinyi 2011). This has precluded the strategic accumulation and analysis of even basic fisheries data; as a result, many shark fisheries are data poor. The pervasive scarcity of species-level data on catch volumes, fishing grounds, numbers of vessels and fishers involved, gears and methods used, but also of the market chains that drive these fisheries, seriously impedes management efforts and has allowed for the unchecked expansion of shark fisheries, especially in Asia (Camhi et al. 1998; Clarke et al. 2006). The challenges of managing data-poor fisheries are further exacerbated by the assumptions of conventional stock assessment methods, which typically rely on time-series information of historical catches and trends in abundance, and high quality biological information (Punt et al. 2000, 2005; Simpfendorfer et al. 2000). These constraints make the already complex challenge of managing shark fisheries virtually unattainable in many source countries, including India and Indonesia, the two biggest shark fisheries in the world (Dent and Clarke 2015). However, the lack of sustainable shark fisheries is not limited to countries with low management capacity. Sharks have declined even in well-managed coastal regions such as Australia’s Great Barrier Reef, where compliance with regulations is presumably high (Robbins et al. 2006; Heupel et al. 2009). Overall, there are very few examples of successful shark fisheries management to date (Stevens et al. 2000).

In 1999, the International Plan of Action for the Conservation and Management of Sharks (IPoA – Sharks) was adopted by the United Nations Food and Agriculture Organization (FAO). This voluntary tool was designed to help shark fishing nations and RFMOs develop shark assessment reports and National Plans of Action (NPoAs), with the aim of improving catch and landings statistics, as well as the monitoring and management of national and transboundary shark fisheries. Regrettably, only a few countries – and none of the top shark fishing nations - have developed fisheries assessments and NPoAs, and even fewer have reviewed and updated their plans (Techera and Klein 2011).

Despite these significant management obstacles, timely improvements in fisheries sustainability are urgently needed, particularly in developing source countries where small- scale fisheries form the livelihood basis for millions of people. Here, effective marine

resource management and species conservation are not only a pressing ecological issue, but also an urgent social and economic concern.

1.4 Indonesia’s shark fisheries

Indonesia is a country of superlatives. It is the world’s largest archipelagic nation, consisting of over 17,000 islands that straddle the equator and form part of the Coral Triangle, the global centre of tropical marine biodiversity (Veron et al. 2009; Allen and Erdmann 2012). Indonesia’s waters support significant fisheries, including the world’s biggest shark fishery with a reported average annual shark catch of 103,564 t between 1993-2013, or 17.5% of global annual shark catches (FAO FishStatJ 2015). Shark fishing occurs throughout Indonesia’s Exclusive Economic Zone (EEZ), which, at over 6 million km2, is the 6th largest in the world (Dharmadi et al. 2015). Indonesia’s fisheries are managed on three levels of government. Depending on the area fished and the gross tonnage of boats, fishing activity is regulated at the Central (> 12 nm, > 30 GT), Provincial (4-12 nm, 5-30 GT), and Regency/District (<4 nm, < 5 GT) level (De Alessi 2014). Millions of Indonesians rely on fisheries as primary sources of livelihood and protein, and many of them live in coastal communities of the poorer provinces far from the administrative centre, Jakarta (Fig. 1.1). The combination of these factors poses major constraints to effective fisheries management, particularly for under-studied species or species groups such as elasmobranchs.

Starting in the mid-1980s, Indonesia’s elasmobranch catches began reflecting the rise in demand and price for shark products on the Asian market (Clarke 2004). Between 1950 and 2006, elasmobranch catches increased by 7% per year, peaked at 118,000 t in 2003 and have since remained at or above 100,000 t per year (FAO FishStatJ 2015). While shark captures are often reported as bycatch in tuna longline and trawl fisheries (Tull 2009; Dharmadi et al. 2015), a large target fishery also exists (Fahmi and Dharmadi 2015). This fishery supports a large number of small-scale fishers and is for the most part under- or unreported (Dharmadi et al. 2015). Sharks are caught with a variety of gears, predominantly gill nets (jaring insang), bottom-set longlines (rawai dasar) and surface or drift longlines (rawai hanyut) (Dharmadi et al. 2015). A study of shark landings, spanning several years of data collection at fish markets in Java, Bali and Lombok (Fig. 1.1), found that whaler sharks (Carcharhinidae) made up almost 70% of the total number and ca. 60% of the biomass of all sharks landed (White 2007a). Blue sharks (Prionace glauca) contributed most to overall carcharhinid biomass (16.3%); other important target species included silky sharks (C. falciformis) and scalloped hammerhead sharks (Sphyrna lewini) (White 2007a; White et al. 2008). Catches of endangered and protected species such as hammerhead sharks (Sphyrna spp.) are of particular concern, especially where regional information on species-specific life histories and fishery data is insufficient to conduct species assessments. White et al. (2008) found that the vast majority of landed S. lewini were immature individuals and cautioned that this was likely a result of unsustainable levels of fishing mortality, which could cause serious depletion of this species in Indonesian waters. Another endangered species listed under CITES Appendix II, the oceanic whitetip shark C. longimanus, is also caught, although its contribution in numbers and biomass to the total catch is far smaller than that of S. lewini (White 2007a; White et al. 2008). Although there are no available estimates for the number of fishers targeting sharks and rays exclusively and no reliable catch data exist for large parts of the country, the life histories of most commercially valuable species leave little doubt that the Indonesian shark fishery as a whole has a serious impact on shark populations and marine ecosystems. Some shark stocks are shared between Australia and Indonesia, and as a consequence are affected by the harvest of both nations (Ovenden et al., 2009). Overfishing in Indonesian waters, therefore, may have consequences that go beyond the depletion of local stocks, affecting populations in neighbouring countries.

Within Australia, illegal fishing for sharks is largely attributed to Indonesian and, in smaller numbers, Taiwanese foreign fishing vessels (FFVs) that venture into the Australian Fishing Zone (AFZ) to harvest shark products (Marshall, 2011). However, fishing activity

12 Chapter 1 | General Introduction by Indonesian fishers in the shallow waters along Australia’s northern continental shelf began long before European settlement (Stacey, 2007) and it was not until the late 1960s that Indonesian fishing in Australian waters became illegal (Máñez and Ferse, 2010). The expansion of the AFZ to 12 nm (1968), and later to 200 nm (1979) with the declaration of Australia's EEZ brought about the loss of vast fishing grounds that had been frequently fished by Indonesian fishers since at least the 1920s (Stacey, 2007). A Memorandum of Understanding (MoU) between Australia and Indonesia prohibited Indonesian fishing in the AFZ, but allowed traditional fishing with unmotorised vessels on specified offshore islands and reefs under Australian jurisdiction in the Timor Sea, an area known as the MoU Box (Fig. 1.1). Shark fishing in the areas open to traditional fishing became more important from the early 1980s onwards, driven by the sharp increase in the demand for shark fins (Stacey, 2007).

Indonesian shark fishers’ loss of shallow water fishing grounds along the continental shelf and their confinement to the deeper water in the MoU Box led to the development of new fishing techniques, particularly longlines in place of traditionally used shark rattles (goro-goro) and hand lines, which proved ineffective in deep water (Stacey, 2007). Since then, many Indonesian fishermen, most of them sailing from the island of Rote, have been arrested for fishing illegally in what used to be their traditional fishing grounds. This has often created debt relationships between fishers and shark fin bosses who sponsor the fishing trips, as well as conflicts between Australia and Indonesia over shared marine resources and boundaries. A study of catch composition from 13 Indonesian and two Taiwanese FFVs that had entered the AFZ between 2006-2009 identified 1,182 individual sharks from 33 species within 8 families (Marshall, 2011). On Indonesian vessels, 59.4% of the recorded individuals were immature (Marshall, 2011). Based on an estimate of 22 FFVs per day in 2006 (Salini, 2007), Marshall (2011) estimated an annual shark catch by Indonesian vessels alone of approximately 290 - 1071 tonnes in 2006, which is comparable to the catch of the largest domestic shark fishery, the Northern Territory Offshore Net and Line Fishery (Marshall, 2011).

Following international concern over rapidly dwindling shark populations, government and non-government organisations in Indonesia have shown growing interest in protecting sharks. This is evident from the declaration of the Raja Ampat shark sanctuary in 2013 and of a nation-wide fishing ban on mobulid rays in 2014; several highly publicised trade busts involving body parts of recently-listed CITES species, including oceanic whitetip (Carcharhinus longimanus) fins and manta ray (Manta spp.) gill plates; and a

recent rise in the number of scientific publications on sharks by Indonesian researchers (Fahmi and Dharmadi 2015; Sembiring et al. 2015). While these developments reflect genuine efforts to protect threatened shark species, significant gaps in the scientific knowledge of the affected stocks prevent effective management of Indonesia’s shark fisheries. Virtually all of the available information on Indonesia’s shark fishery has emerged from research led by Australian researcher Will White and colleagues at landing sites in central and western parts of the country, such as Tanjung Luar in Lombok, Benoa in Bali, and Pelabuhan Ratu and Cilacap in Java (White et al. 2006b, 2008, 2012, 2006a, White 2007a, 2007b, 2007c; White and Cavanagh 2007; White and Dharmadi 2007, 2010; Blaber et al. 2009; White and Kyne 2010; Hall et al. 2012). Almost nothing is known about the shark fishery in the more remote eastern Indonesian provinces of Nusa Tenggara Timur, Maluku, Papua and West Papua, a region covering over one third of the Indonesian EEZ, where several factors constrain data collection. Here, ice or cold storage facilities are not normally available, so sharks are usually not landed whole to be sold at markets but instead finned at sea, with the carcasses returned to the ocean (Momigliano et al. 2014). While shark meat is often the primary product of the shark fishery in Sumatra, Java, Bali and Lombok (G. Moreno, IOTC consultant, cited in Jaiteh et al. 2017a), and incidental shark landings may constitute a welcome bycatch in tuna fisheries (Fahmi and Dharmadi 2015), the cash incentive of dried fins for the international shark fin market drives the fishery in the eastern provinces. Fins are sold directly to vessel owners or shark fin traders, rather than central landing sites where fishery officials could monitor the catch. Since the shark fishery, like coral reef fisheries in eastern Indonesia in general, is largely unreported and unregulated (Varkey et al., 2010), its true extent is unknown. This thesis addresses some of the knowledge gaps on shark fishing and the livelihoods it sustains in this region of significant conservation value, and aims to establish a basis for further research and to inform fisheries management in the region.

1.5 Methodological approach

Studying an essentially data-less shark fishery in a remote region of a developing country requires an approach that accounts for the inherent complexity and uncertainty of the situation. My first challenge was to balance an almost endless list of potential research questions against what might be possible to achieve within the limited time I had for fieldwork. Since the main objective of this research was to describe the shark fishery and

14 Chapter 1 | General Introduction the livelihoods it supports, I adopted a transdisciplinary methodology (Visser 2004) that integrates quantitative and qualitative methods from the natural and social sciences and moves beyond discipline-specific analyses and interpretations of data. Transcending the traditional boundaries of sociology, fish biology and fisheries allows for a holistic description of the fishery based on three case studies. Drawing on multiple data sources including fishers’ catch reporting, in-depth interviews and participant observation during extended field studies as well as fishery-independent methods, I demonstrate the value and use of such data in expanding scientific knowledge where a shortage of local research and management capacity precludes conventional fishery assessments. In developing the methodology, I placed particular emphasis on a) flexibility, so the approach could be adapted as circumstances required, and b) a strong participatory component that involved fishers and other community members in research design, data collection and interpretation, to ensure that their experiences were drawn on and represented.

Adopting this methodology was a departure from the mono-disciplinary approach commonly adopted by fisheries and conservation researchers to date. There were two main reasons for this departure. First, conventional fishery assessment methods rely on large, reliable datasets and are therefore impractical in data-limited contexts (Wilson et al. 1994; Johannes 1998). Second, conventional assessment methods tend not to incorporate social aspects of fisheries, and in so doing often exclude the main stakeholders –in this case fishers - from processes meant to improve management (Johannes 2000; Christie 2004). However, the causes of the social problems related to fisheries are multi-faceted and do not exist in isolation from one another, therefore requiring multiple solutions that cannot be found by applying a mono-disciplinary framework (Visser 2004; Sievanen et al. 2012). Consequently, the outputs of conventional fisheries assessments tend to have limited usefulness for resource management and community development in complex social- ecological settings (Wilson et al. 1994). Similarly, conservation studies to date have focused overwhelmingly on natural science issues and methods, despite the widespread recognition that social science and cross-disciplinary methodologies are vital to capturing the human dimension of fisheries and their contributions to human wellbeing (Lundquist and Granek 2005; Christie 2011; Bennett et al. 2017). This is particularly applicable to fisheries in coastal developing countries, where conservation policies are more likely to fail if they do not adequately account for the socio-economic and cultural aspects of pressing environmental issues, or the costs of conservation interventions to resource users (Mascia et al. 2003; Foale et al. 2013).

By applying a transdisciplinary lens to a topic typically examined through mono- disciplinary data and analyses, I was able to draw on various sources of information to fill knowledge gaps that could not have been addressed otherwise, given the relatively short timeframe and large geographic scale of the research. For example, involving fishers in the collection of catch data during fishing trips enabled me to construct a snapshot of current fishing effort and catch rates, but this had limited usefulness for determining the state of the fishery if it could not be interpreted in relation to past catches. Since no other catch records were available, much less time-series data, I interviewed fishers about changes in their catches over the previous 20 years and used their answers to interpret their catch data. In many cases, key informants and shark fin bosses helped to confirm or balance fishers’ statements. Conversely, my choice of approach was adaptive and experimental in many ways, requiring me to part with the biologist’s habit of conducting fieldwork guided by a fixed list of research questions, which I would answer by executing sets of previously planned and trialled experiments. Rather, my methodology implied that the scope and direction of my research were largely shaped by my case study sites and respondents.

One of my main goals in designing the structure of the thesis was to represent my research findings in a way that reflected the mixing of data and analyses by which they came about. Rather than separating the results into quantitative and qualitative chapters, the thesis is structured to represent this integrated approach, each chapter portraying an aspect of the fishery that is described through the different methods of obtaining and interpreting information. Ultimately, my goal was to provoke a more holistic way of thinking about data-poor fisheries and fishing livelihood issues: the former are often treated as natural science questions, while livelihoods are generally approached from a social science angle. It would be naïve, however, to deny that this somewhat eclectic methodological approach does not lend itself particularly well to criticism from both sides of the disciplinary fence. While I do not pretend to pre-empt such critical considerations, definitions are a common source of misinterpretation. The following definitions are thus offered to clarify some of the terms that are integral to this thesis.

1) Eastern Indonesia

Rather than reflecting official geographic boundaries, the definition of eastern Indonesia in this thesis serves to distinguish the focal region of this research from that of previous studies. As noted earlier, most of the previously published research on shark fisheries in Indonesia was based on data from landing sites in Lombok, Bali, Java and (to a limited extent) Sumatra. Although Lombok, as a part of West Nusa Tenggara province,

16 Chapter 1 | General Introduction geographically belongs to eastern Indonesia, in this thesis I define eastern Indonesia as the islands to the East of Lombok. This definition also facilitates comparisons between fishery characteristics and practices in the western and eastern parts of Indonesia, since the shark fishery out of Lombok has more similarities to the fishery operating out of Bali and Java than that operating to its East. These differences are illustrated throughout the thesis and particularly in Chapter 2.

2) Inferring commonality based on three case studies

While it is important to recognise the unique character and circumstances of each fishing community, perhaps even each fishing family in a focal region, treating each community separately is inefficient if the goal is improved management of marine resources combined with livelihood security and community development (Lundquist and Granek 2005). It is therefore more useful to identify common characteristics among distinct stakeholders, which allow them to be viewed as parts of a group that is viable for management purposes. In this thesis, three case study communities are the basis for describing the shark fishery in eastern Indonesia, a region of enormous size and cultural diversity. Notwithstanding their own unique characteristics, the three case studies portrayed here are broadly representative of coastal fishing communities in eastern Indonesia, and have enough shared features to justify a call for increased management effort in the region. Simultaneously, they are sufficiently distinct to prevent one-size-fits-all recommendations for fishery management that would be of limited usefulness to individual participants in the fishery.

3) Use of the terms ‘fishery’ and ‘fisheries’

A fishery can be defined based on any number of common identifying characteristics, such as the group of people involved in it, the target species, fishing grounds, fishing seasons, management arrangements, and vessel types or gears used. Throughout this thesis I refer to the ‘eastern Indonesian shark fishery’ rather than the plural form ‘[…]fisheries’ to reflect the broad commonalities of shark fishing communities in the region. These commonalities can be categorised broadly as fishery-specific and socio-economic characteristics. Fishery-specific characteristics include overall catch composition, the predominance of fishing during the East monsoon (between March and October), fishing gears, vessel types and infrastructure, and the focus on shark fin as the main product from the fishery. Socio-economic characteristics include the relative remoteness from Jakarta, limited access to infrastructure and means for livelihood

diversification, and general indicators of wellbeing such as general educational level, distance from schools, markets and hospitals, and access to electricity and running water. Even though there are differences among my case studies and between the case studies and other communities in eastern Indonesia, these broad commonalities allow a discussion of management challenges and needs that are largely applicable to this extensive region.

The application of the methodology described above is perhaps best illustrated in an overview of the approach to fieldwork, provided below. A detailed description of the methods used and of each community is given in Chapter 2.

1.6 Fieldwork preparation and overview

Prior to commencing fieldwork, I studied bahasa Indonesia through an introductory and an advanced language class at Murdoch University, and a month-long intensive course in Yogyakarta, Java. This was necessary to communicate and collect data in the three study sites, where most people did not speak English. Bahasa Indonesia was spoken in all communities, altered to varying degrees with expressions in the local dialect. At each site, I made an effort to integrate these expressions, often to the amusement of the locals who were more than willing to help me improve my spoken skills.

Having never visited Indonesia before, I carried out a preliminary scoping trip for three weeks in April 2011. This allowed me to meet several contacts from non-government organisations and Indonesian universities in Bali, Java, Sulawesi (Makassar), Ambon, Seram, and Papua (Biak and the Padaido Islands). Each of these contacts connected me to people in their networks who shared their knowledge of shark fishing in eastern Indonesia or suggested case study sites, making my orientation tour very successful and productive. My application for research permits was approved by the Indonesian Ministry of Research and Technology (Kementerian Riset dan Teknologi, or RISTEK) in January 2012 and I travelled to Indonesia the following month to finalise the paperwork for my temporary resident visa (KITAS) and research permits. Two of the proposed field sites - Pulau Osi (hereafter ‘Osi’) and Dobo in the Aru archipelago - were approved, while the third site, Kaimana in West Papua, was refused, apparently for safety reasons. Fieldwork in Osi began in March 2012, and I moved to Dobo in October. While in Dobo, I applied for an extension of my visa and a permit to conduct research in the village of Pepela on Rote

18 Chapter 1 | General Introduction

Island; both were granted four months later, and fieldwork in Pepela commenced in May 2013.

I spent at least three months in each community, with the exact timing determined by the approval of research permits, the monsoon seasons, and logistical constraints on certain aspects of the research. In each community, I studied the local fishing practices and livelihoods through biological data collection, participant observation on land and at sea, and semi-structured interviews with community members. Each case study began with a visit to the village or hamlet head (kepala desa or kepala dusun, respectively) to explain my broad research questions and methods, ask permission to stay in the village for several months, and request their help in spreading the word to shark fishers who might be interested in collecting data at sea. These visits were also an opportunity to have a host family officially assigned for my stay, even though this had already been arranged previously in each case.

To prevent early misperceptions about my work as an independent researcher, I entered each community alone or with someone who was not affiliated with any groups or powerful individuals working in the community. The first week in each site was dedicated to becoming familiar with the community and allowing people to approach me with questions or simply get used to seeing a buleh (foreign, white person) walk around their village. Community members in all three sites were generally far less apprehensive and intimidated by having a foreigner appear, and then live, in their village than I first anticipated. Nevertheless, my appearance – alongside the fact that I travelled alone during what was seen as a woman’s prime child-bearing age, researching a male-dominated livelihood in remote, underdeveloped fishing communities – generated a lot of open curiosity and seemingly never-ending questions about my name, age, marital status, and background. With almost no privacy at any given time, all my movements were observed and often commented on, from simple actions like brushing my teeth, to children, women and old men intently watching me enter data on my laptop. I found that the longer I had stayed in a community, the more people would share local gossip, but also their hardships, with me. It was clear that people in each community were hopeful that I could improve their circumstances, and I tried my best to curb such expectations by repeatedly stating the purpose of my stay and my very limited political power to sway governments in Indonesia and Australia in favour of these fishing communities.

Once word had spread about my intention of working with the shark fishers, I took advantage of natural opportunities to speak with captains and patrons (hereafter ‘bosses’) about involving crews in collecting data at sea. Setting up as many crews as possible with data collection kits (described in Chapter 2) and keeping track of outgoing and incoming boats as well as the catch of returning crews, took up most of my time in the first month or two. During this time, I also focussed on engaging with community members in their everyday life and participating in local ceremonies and events. Much of my understanding about the social dynamics in each site, and sensitivity to complex relationships and issues between community members, resulted from these informal conversations and meetings. Only after a strong rapport with the community had been built, I began approaching potential respondents about interviewing them. Interviews were therefore always the last, and most intense, data collection activity. At each site I conducted at least 80 interviews – 30 with active shark fishers, 30 with retired fishers, and 20 with non-fishing community members. In Osi and Dobo, I had assistants to help conduct the interviews. This was mainly done to be able to conduct the number of interviews within the available time, rather than to mitigate any apprehension of respondents in talking to a foreigner, as by that time most respondents knew me quite well, or had at least seen me in the community. In Pepela, interviews coincided with the fasting month of Ramadan, which meant that I had considerable difficulty finding suitable and willing assistants. Consequently, I conducted all of these interviews myself.

During and between my extended stays in the three communities, I took opportunities to visit other sites to complement and expand on what I learnt in my main case studies. For example, in April-May 2012 I spent a month doing fishery-independent underwater assessments of shark populations in Misool, Raja Ampat (West Papua), which formed the basis of the study presented in Chapter 5. While in Osi, I also visited the fishing village of Eli on the south-western coast of Seram, which gave me additional insights into shark fishing in this region and affirmed some of my observations from Osi. During my stay in Dobo, I had the fortunate opportunity of conducting a two-week tour of the Aru islands and speaking with shark fishermen and bosses in the villages of Longgar-Apara and Bemun in southern Aru (Fig. 1.1). Here, several villagers remembered and enquired about Patricia Spyer, an anthropologist who had repeatedly stayed in Bemun between 1984 and 1994, nearly three decades before my visit (see Spyer, 2000). While in Pepela, I also spoke with fishers from the sailing-trading village of Oelaba on Rote, and shark fishers in Kupang on Timor Island. The complementary observations and conversations obtained in this way

20 Chapter 1 | General Introduction provided valuable sources of knowledge, both through confirmation of earlier reflections and additional insights into shark fishing practices in eastern Indonesia.

Since all of my case studies were in remote coastal areas with limited electricity, food and possibilities for contact with the outside world, I took a number of short or longer breaks during fieldwork where I travelled to a nearby urban centre to buy food supplies, purchase or service research equipment, and check emails. The anonymity of the cities also allowed me to take a break from being under constant observation and questions by well- meaning and curious community members. From Osi I could sometimes get a lift on ojek (motorcycle) to Piru, a small town on Seram, which had a print shop, mobile phone reception and a convenience store with two-minute noodles. About once a month I took the ferry from Seram to Ambon, which gave me a chance stock up on fresh fruit and vegetables, contact friends and family, and reflect on my observations in the field with some physical and mental distance. Dobo was in itself the nearest urban centre in Aru, so with the exception of a two-week break in Bali with my brother who was visiting from Switzerland, I did not leave the Aru islands during the three months of fieldwork. In my first month in Pepela I contracted chikungunya, a mosquito-borne disease with symptoms comparable to those of dengue. This caused a delay in data collection of about three weeks, during which I was unable to leave the village due to bad weather. Once ferry service between Rote and Kupang re-commenced, I left Pepela for two weeks to recover in Bali. A series of health tests revealed that I also had a mild case of typhoid, probably acquired through repeated exposure to unclean water. When I returned to Pepela, the fasting month of Ramadan had just begun, which further delayed data collection. I eventually extended my stay for a month to allow enough time for interviews and to await the return of fishing crews that had collected data at sea.

1.7 Thesis structure, objective and aims

This thesis consists of seven chapters, five of which are data chapters. Chapter 1 provides the background for this study, identifies relevant knowledge gaps, and describes the broad objective and aims of the thesis. Chapters 2-6 are the data chapters, summarised below. Chapter 7 synthesises conclusions from the previous chapters and contains recommendations for the management of shark fisheries in eastern Indonesia. Chapters 2-6 were written as a series of stand-alone papers to facilitate publication. This has resulted in some repetition of key information in the Methods and Introduction sections of the

chapters. Examiners and others reading the thesis may wish to skim over certain sections in the data chapters describing, in particular, at-sea data collection by fishers, the content of surveys and the process of conducting interviews.

The main objective of this research is to identify opportunities and challenges for shark fisheries management and livelihoods in eastern Indonesia. Given the scarcity of information on shark fishing in the easternmost provinces of Indonesia, my overall aim was to research and describe different aspects of the shark fishery to address this thesis objective. Each data chapter represents one such aspect, explored through specific aims (Fig. 1.2).

Figure 1.2. Thesis structure 23

One of the fundamental questions examined in this thesis is ‘can fishery data collected by fishers form the basis for describing and assessing a virtually data-less fishery?’ I consider this question from different perspectives in Chapters 2-4. In Chapter 2, I describe the fishing practices, catch characteristics and socio-economic aspects of the eastern Indonesian shark fishery. This chapter sets the scene for the following data chapters, with a detailed Methods section describing how the different types of data were collected, and a combined Results and Discussion section that provides an overview of the fishery in terms of its technical, biological, socio-economic and traditional aspects. The structure of this chapter introduces the reader to the main locations and components of a typical fishing trip: the homeports, traditional fishing knowledge and current practices, the fishing boats, grounds and gears, catch composition across the three study sites, and the processing and sale of shark fins and meat. This chapter also contains a list of over 40 shark and ray species caught and recognised by fishers in eastern Indonesia, including local Indonesian, Latin and English species names.

In Chapter 3, I report a range extension of the fossil shark Hemipristis elongata, which is assessed as Vulnerable to extinction by the International Union for the Conservation of Nature (IUCN). Previously, this species was known within Indonesia only from the islands of Java and Borneo. However, fishers’ catch data revealed that the fossil shark’s distribution extends over 2000 km further to Papua, Indonesia’s easternmost province. Based on 14 fisher-identified and genetically verified individuals caught by fishers from Osi and Dobo, this new distribution record reveals that the fossil shark is at risk of fishing mortality throughout its range, with implications that should be considered by fisheries managers. It also shows that fishers’ species identifications are not only reliable in most cases but can facilitate spontaneous scientific discoveries. This chapter resulted from a collaboration with Paolo Momigliano as part of his PhD research at Macquarie University in Sydney, and has been peer-reviewed and published in Marine Biodiversity Records (Jaiteh and Momigliano 2015). A second paper produced from that collaboration (not included in this thesis) describes a new distribution record for the threatened grey nurse shark Carcharias taurus at a tropical oceanic atoll within the MoU Box, an area of Australian waters where Indonesian fishers hold traditional fishing rights. Targeted by fishers from Pepela in the MoU Box, C. taurus is Critically Endangered and fully protected in Australia (Momigliano and Jaiteh 2015).

Chapter 4 presents the first sustainability assessment of the eastern Indonesian shark fishery, based on catch data recorded for this study by fishers in the Halmahera-Seram,

24 Chapter 1 | General Introduction

Aru-Arafura and Timor Seas. The fishers’ catch data are augmented with published life history information to estimate maximum intrinsic rates of increase (rmax) of the most commonly caught species. I also draw on interview data that allow me to reconstruct trends in fishers’ catches over the previous 20 years. With my collaborators, Adrian Hordyk (Murdoch University) and Matías Braccini (Department of Fisheries Western Australia), I show that shark numbers, size and diversity all appear to have declined in the fishing grounds, primarily as a result of overfishing driven by the demand for shark fin. Length data collected by fishers indicate that the catches of several species were dominated by immature individuals even though fishers prefer adult size classes for their higher value fins, further indicating that the fishery is in decline and not sustainable. Some of the most frequently caught, unmanaged species are shown to have low resilience to fishing pressure

(low rmax). I conclude with recommendations for a composite management approach that includes resources for fisheries research, support for fishers’ livelihood diversification, and consistent implementation of restrictions on international trade. This chapter was published in ICES Journal of Marine Sciences (Jaiteh et al. 2017a).

A second key question explored in this thesis is ‘what are the main drivers of change for shark fishing livelihoods in eastern Indonesia?’ and, by extension, ‘how do fishing communities respond and adapt to such change?’ These questions form the overarching theme of Chapters 5 and 6. Following on from the finding that the fishery appears to be unsustainable, in Chapter 5 I assess the effectiveness of spatial closures as an approach to shark conservation in the Raja Ampat regency, which was declared a shark sanctuary in 2013. Using a fishery-independent sampling method (baited remote underwater videos – BRUVs), I show that the abundance and diversity of sharks is significantly higher in two privately managed no-take zones (NTZs) compared to a surrounding open access zone (OAZ) within the Raja Ampat shark sanctuary. This result is best explained by effective enforcement through an innovative relationship between the private sector and local communities, with direct benefits for dive tourism. Shark fishers, however, are found to displace their fishing effort to a region of low tourism and conservation interest after their primary fishing grounds were declared a shark sanctuary. I caution that spatial closures used as a conservation tool in a region of high livelihood dependency on sharks can lead to undesirable methods of income generation such as illegal petrol transport. I conclude by proposing that effective shark conservation in Indonesia needs to encompass efforts to provide fishers with options of securing and diversifying their livelihoods. This chapter was published in Frontiers in Marine Science (Jaiteh et al. 2016).

In the last data chapter (Chapter 6), I attempt to deconstruct a series of recent developments that have impacted shark fishing livelihoods in eastern Indonesia (Chapter 6). Often the result of various interconnected factors, these developments span multiple scales of governance and geography and include ecological change driven by anthropogenic activity, community-level patron-fisher relationships, regional trade of shark parts, bilateral political agreements between Indonesia and Australia, international market fluctuations, and globally inspired conservation initiatives. Through integrating perspectives on livelihood realities and fishery management needs, I describe how declining shark numbers, changes in fin prices, loss of fishing grounds, debt with shark fin bosses, trade regulations and the international refugee crisis all combine to act as a powerful catalyst for livelihood change. Using examples from my study sites, I show that change is already afoot, with many fishers wishing to, or already pursuing self-initiated alternatives to shark fishing. Without ignoring the tremendous challenges of managing an extremely data-poor fishery and of directing development aid to remote, largely anonymous shark fishing communities, I contend that without other options, fishers struggling to respond to the financial consequences of their fishery’s deterioration may resort to high-risk livelihood activities such as blast fishing, transboundary fishing or people smuggling. I then discuss options for more sustainable livelihood activities that may yield sustained improvements for both fishing communities and overfished shark populations. Chapter 6 was published in the journal Marine Policy (Jaiteh et al. 2017b).

Chapter 2

Fishing practices, catch characteristics and socio-economic aspects of the eastern Indonesian shark fishery

Shark fishers departing Osi Island for a fishing trip in Raja Ampat

Chapter 2

Fishing practices, catch characteristics and socio- economic aspects of the eastern Indonesian shark fishery

In this chapter, I provide an overview of the eastern Indonesian shark fishery based on three case study sites in Maluku and Nusa Tenggara Timur provinces. The purpose of this summary chapter is twofold: first, to describe in detail the field sites and data collection methods on which most of the material of this thesis is based; and second, to examine aspects of the fishery that have influenced its development and present status. I describe the rise, boom and decline of shark fishing in eastern Indonesia, major changes in the fishery over time, its social, ecological and economic impacts on shark fishing communities and their fishing grounds, traditional and contemporary fishing practices, and the local sale and trade of shark fin.

2.1 Introduction

Small-scale fisheries are an important source of livelihood and food security for millions of people in Southeast Asia (Allison and Ellis 2001; Foale et al. 2013). While most of these fisheries are thought to be heavily overexploited, many remain data-poor and insufficiently managed due to low research capacity, generally weak governmental frameworks for management, and a lack of effective decision-making systems to address over-capacity (Grafton et al. 2008; Salayo et al. 2008; Pomeroy 2012). Lacking or insufficient management can pose particular challenges for environmental protection and livelihood security when the target species are highly vulnerable to fishing pressure and when there is a significant dependency on the livelihoods derived from the fishery: rapidly declining fish stocks are reflected in lower catches, which results in lower income and,

sometimes, greater debt (Chapter 6 of this thesis, but see Béné, 2003 and Knudsen, 2016). This can drive increased fishing effort, which further depletes targeted populations.

Indonesia contributes 5 million tons to global fisheries production, which places it among the top three nations for wild capture fisheries worldwide (FAO FishStatJ 2015). Worm and Branch (Worm and Branch 2012) identified Indonesia as one of five fisheries conservation hotspots requiring immediate management action, based on its large number of endemic species, high biodiversity, large human population and low management capacity. While fish makes up 25% of the world’s protein consumption, it accounts for 57% of animal protein consumed in Indonesia (Briones and Garcia 2008). However, local coastal communities often consume lower-value fish, while higher value marine products are destined for national centres and international markets.

Shark fin is a high value fisheries product primarily harvested for the Chinese luxury seafood market (Fabinyi 2011; Dent and Clarke 2015). Indonesia has the largest shark fishery in the world, with reported average annual landings of 103,564 t between 1993- 2013, or 17.5% of global annual shark catches (FAO FishStatJ, 2015; Fig. 2.1). Sharks are caught in small-scale target fisheries throughout Indonesia, and as bycatch in industrial tuna longline fisheries in the Indian Ocean off Java and Sumatra (Moreno 2014; Fahmi and Dharmadi 2015). Elasmobranch catches experienced a boom starting in the mid-1980s in response to a rise in the international demand and price for shark products, particularly their fins (Clarke 2004). Indonesian shark landings peaked at 118,000 t in 2003 and appear to have experienced a slight but steady decrease since 2006, nevertheless remaining at or above 100,000 t per year (FAO FishStatJ, 2015).

Despite Indonesia’s species richness and the extent of its shark fisheries, little locally relevant data are available on the species composition and catch data of the fisheries, the extent and location of fishing grounds, the life history characteristics of targeted species and their stock structure, including the extent of shared stocks between Australia and Indonesia (Blaber et al. 2009; White and Kyne 2010). Most published studies describe biological characteristics of sharks landed at fishing ports on the southwestern and central Indonesian islands of Java, Bali and Lombok (e.g. Hall et al., 2012; Smart et al., 2015; White and Cavanagh, 2007; White and Dharmadi, 2010; White, 2007a, 2007b; White et al., 2008). However, a shortage of reliable data collection and reporting systems, and the near-absence of data from large parts of the country, have hindered the assessment and management of shark fisheries in the region, particularly in remote areas of Indonesia that are far from the country’s capital, Jakarta.

30 Chapter 2 | Fishery overview

Figure 2.1. Average national contributions (in thousands of tonnes) to global shark landings from 1993 – 2013. Indonesia (in dark blue) reported higher shark landings during this period than any other nation. Data source: FAO FishStatJ.

Very little is known about the extent and characteristics of the shark fishery in Indonesia’s eastern-most provinces, including East Nusa Tenggara, Central and Northern Maluku, Papua and West Papua. These provinces lie at the centre of the Coral Triangle, the region containing the world’s highest tropical marine biodiversity, and have been a place of species discoveries for naturalists from the time of Alfred Wallace’s journeys in the 1850s (Wallace 2000) until today. However, these provinces are also characterised by widespread poverty in their remote communities, which have limited access to regional, national and international markets and little political visibility. Given these characteristics, shark fin is an ideal product to harvest and trade for fishing communities in eastern Indonesia – here defined as the islands east of Lombok – since it is easily processed and stored, and fetches a higher price than most other products that such communities might be able to trade with the technologies and market connections available to them (Momigliano et al., 2014; Chapter 4 of this thesis). Shark fishing therefore probably offers important economic opportunities to marginalised coastal communities in eastern Indonesia, but may also have substantial impacts on the understudied shark populations that are harvested. Several studies have suggested the importance of shark fishing as a livelihood in eastern Indonesia (Stacey 2007; White 2007a; Ainsworth et al. 2008; Fox et al. 2009a; Varkey et al. 2010; Mangubhai et al. 2012), but to date the fishery has not been described.

The aim of this study was to provide baseline information on the eastern Indonesian shark fishery by describing catch characteristics and portraying local fishing practices of three rural fishing communities whose economies have been shaped significantly by shark fishing. To achieve this, I used a transdisciplinary approach, combining methods from the natural and social sciences to provide a general overview of the fishery. The resulting insights address a number of current knowledge gaps and form the basis for more detailed studies on various aspects of the fishery, presented in Chapters 3-6 of this thesis.

2.2 Materials and Methods

I conducted extended fieldwork in the three case study communities of Osi, Dobo and Pepela over the course of 18 months, between March 2012 and September 2013. These sites were chosen based on spoken or written reports by tuna traders (Osi), naturalists and anthropologists (Dobo) and researchers (Pepela), which all referred to the prevalence of shark fishing and its importance as a livelihood in these communities (Spyer 2000; Wallace 2000; Stacey 2007). During my stay in each community, I studied local fishing practices and the significance of shark fishing to local livelihoods using a suite of methods that included biological data collection, participant observation on land and at sea, and semi-structured interviews with fishing and non-fishing community members, as described below.

2.2.1 Study sites

Pulau Osi (3°01’22.04”S, 128°04’25.60”E) is a small, densely populated, sandy island with dimensions of approx. 900m x 450m, located 2km off Seram Island in Maluku province (Fig. 2.1). For many years it was only accessible by boat from Seram, until a wooden bridge, built in 2007, enabled access for pedestrians and motorbikes. Since there are no published descriptions of Osi, information gained through this study is provided under ‘Homeports’ in the Results and Discussion section below.

Dobo (5°45’31.53”S, 134°13’01.24”E) is a town of about 10,000 inhabitants on Wamar Island and the capital of the Aru Archipelago, which consists of about 180 islands (Fig. 2.1). Dobo is home to a blend of ethnicities, including indigenous Aruese, long- term migrants such as Chinese business owners and traders, resident Bugis and

32 Chapter 2 | Fishery overview

Butonese fishers from Sulawesi, and seasonal fishers from Kei, Papua, Lombok, Java, Sumatra, Sulawesi and Nusa Tenggara Timur, who work in Dobo during the musim barat or southwestern monsoon. While Dobo’s indigenous population is predominantly Muslim, most non-indigenous inhabitants are Christian. Dobo is the largest urban centre in the regency of south-eastern Maluku and has been an important trade hub for marine products in eastern Indonesia for over 150 years. The British naturalist Alfred Wallace may have provided the first written reference to shark fishing in the Aru islands, after residing in Dobo in 1857: “Living in a trader’s house everything is brought to me - bundles of tripang (…); dried sharks’ fins, mother-of-pearl shells, as well as Birds of Paradise (…)” (Wallace 2000). Several hundred resident and seasonal fishers work on shark fishing boats (perahu cari hiu, or simply perahu) fishing around the Aru archipelago and towards Papua during the calmer weather from October to March. In 2010, 429 seasonal fishers were recorded in Aru (Aru Census, 2012); typically they return to their home islands during the northeastern monsoon, between April and September.

Pepela (10°36’04.08”S, 123°22’44.27”E), also known as Papela under its Indonesian (as opposed to Rotenese) spelling, is a crowded fishing village in a sheltered bay on the east coast of Rote, Indonesia’s southernmost island, in Nusa Tenggara Timur province (Fig. 2.1). Unlike the predominantly Christian, Rotenese-speaking population in the regency (Kabupaten) of Rote-Ndao, nearly all of Pepela’s ~1,800 residents are Muslim, whose main language is Indonesian. The arid climate generally limits options for land-based livelihoods, and over 80% of Pepela’s approximately 600 households derive their income from activities related to fishing, predominantly for shark fin, teripang (sea cucumber), tuna and reef fish (Fox & Sen, 2002). For hundreds of years, Rotenese fishers have sailed their perahu layar (sail boats) from Pepela to the rich fishing grounds of the Timor Sea in search of teripang and trochus. In the late 1980s, they were introduced to shark fishing by Bajo fishers who initially used Pepela as a stop-over as they sailed from the Tukang Besi Islands in southeast Sulawesi to Australia (Stacey 2007). Some of these temporary Bajo migrants eventually established a small settlement on the beach of Pepela called Tanjung Pasir. Today, in addition to local captains and crew, shark vessels leaving Pepela often have crew from other fishing villages on Rote as well as the islands of Flores, Alor and Timor. They fish the reefs and oceanic atolls in a part of the Timor Sea known as the MoU Box (Fig. 2.1), an area within Australian jurisdiction where they retain traditional fishing rights based on a Memorandum of Understanding (MoU) between Indonesia and Australia. This MoU recognizes the traditional fishing grounds of Rotenese fishers, now part of the Australian

EEZ, under the condition that fishers use traditional methods exclusively, i.e. un- motorized sailboats, to access the MoU Box. Although fishers from all my study sites had fished in Australian waters, Pepela had by far the highest incidence of apprehensions, crew imprisonment and boat burnings. This aspect of Pepelan fishing activity is thoroughly covered in Stacey (2007), as well as Chapter 6 of this thesis and is therefore not discussed in depth here.

2.2.2 Biological and fishery data collection

2.2.2.1 Selection of fishers and pre-trip briefing

Fishers in each community who set out on a fishing trip were invited to collect data on each fishing operation during their trip, i.e. each gillnet or longline set. Whenever I heard about a boat’s impending departure (often directly from the captain or the owner of the boat), I visited the captain’s house and explained the intent of my research and the need for collecting fishery data at sea. If the captain agreed to assist, I explained to the crew what types of data I needed and how to measure different parts of captured sharks, using the data sheets they would use at sea (Table Appendix A.1) and a simple instruction sheet (Fig. Appendix A.1). All of the captains and crewmembers I approached agreed to participate in data collection.

I was not always aware of all boats leaving, particularly at the beginning of a stay in a community, before word had spread about my research involving fishers. However, once a few crews had been given instructions, other captains often came to my house to volunteer help. This motivation seemed to stem from a curiosity about the research and a genuine eagerness to assist, rather than the expectation of financial compensation, which I did not mention unless a fisher asked. In most cases, fishers only asked for cigarettes. I equipped crews with a bag containing enough data sheets to last the anticipated duration of the fishing trip, pencils and waterproof pens, a measuring tape, vials for tissue sample collection, some packets of cigarettes and a few bottles of Fanta, Coke and Sprite, which was a welcome change from stale water, the crews’ usual beverage at sea. After the trip, I paid each captain Rp. 2000 (~20 cents) per measured male shark and Rp. 3000 (~30 cents) per female shark, as females required more work. This was not enough money to entice fishers to record fake data if they asked about payment before the trip, but enabled crews to buy some treats for their next trip.

34 Chapter 2 | Fishery overview

2.2.2.2 At-sea data collection

Fishers recorded the following types of data: 1) information on the fishing activity for each day or night - the location of fishing grounds, weather, gear and bait used, soak time, approximate depth and, if available, GPS location of each set, and total sharks caught; and 2) information on the sharks caught - for up to ten individual sharks caught per set, they recorded the local species name, sex, and fork length; some crews in Pepela also recorded total length. For a subset of all measured sharks, fishers collected small tissue samples from the undersides of removed fins, either during fishing trips or immediately afterwards. Vials containing samples were labelled with the date of capture and the shark’s corresponding ID number on the data sheet. The subset of tissue samples from sharks depended on the number of vials available, and fishers were encouraged to sample different species from each set. Upon their return, fishers helped match the local species names to scientifically recognized species using regional identification guides (White et al. 2006b; Last and Stevens 2009). Fishers’ species identifications were verified through genetic barcoding of the tissue samples collected from a sub-sample of the catch. The materials and methods for the genetic analyses are described in Chapter 3 of this thesis (Jaiteh and Momigliano 2015).

2.2.3 Socio-economic data

2.2.3.1 Participant observation

To gain an understanding of the main social dynamics in each of my case study sites and to become familiar with the practical aspects of shark fishing livelihoods, spending time in each community was essential. Building rapport with community members through participating in events such as weddings, Eid al Fitr celebrations at the end of the fasting month, Ramadan, and community work, and interacting with people outside of all research activities, had many benefits. It allowed me to rapidly expand my network of contacts among the fishers, identified key informants, and enabled access to information from un- anticipated sources. For example, it was often through these informal encounters that I found out about boats leaving or returning, as some fishers did not understand the significance of their participation in data collection to my research, and so did not always think it important to tell me when they were about to go on a fishing trip, or when they had returned with shark fins. Key informants proved indispensable in navigating delicate situations and understanding kinship ties; for example, there were several instances in

which captains did not approach me because they disliked my host family, or thought I worked for the Australian government and would report them to authorities, causing them to be imprisoned on their next fishing trip. It was only through my key informants in the respective communities that I became aware of these captains and was able to resolve their misperceptions. Finally, the insights gained by being present and engaging in daily life for extended periods of time helped cultivate my intuition, which helped me interpret statements, reactions and contexts that would have remained arcane had I spent only a few weeks in each site.

In Osi, I had the opportunity to accompany a short three-day fishing trip with one of the first crews who collected data for me. The fishers wanted to see if they would find any sharks along the northwestern coast of Seram, where they had not fished for several years. This presented a unique opportunity to observe their activities at sea and demonstrate how to collect different types of data. Joining a normal fishing trip of four to six weeks would not have been feasible. Although it is not, as some believe, taboo for women to accompany shark fishing boats, the conditions on board - extremely limited space, lack of privacy and washing facilities, etc. – do not provide a culturally appropriate environment for men and women to interact. For this short trip, however, the captain agreed to take me along, although he, like everyone else in the village, could not quite understand why I wished to join a boat, and several women expressed their commiseration for what they perceived as unnecessarily self-inflicted hardship.

During the trip, I invited the crew to take photos and short videos with my camera to document our data collection (Fig. 2.4f). This documentation proved to be a valuable training resource in Dobo and Pepela, where I could show fishers how to collect data based on the videos and close-up photos from Seram. Seeing me participate in a fishing trip and measuring sharks had the additional, unintended benefit of immediately gaining the curiosity of fishers in the other sites, which often helped to break the ice as I approached them about data collection.

2.2.3.2 Interviews

Semi-structured interviews were used to collect specific information on the social and demographic characteristics of the fishing communities, as well as data on the fishery itself. The questionnaire and process for interviews were carried out under Human Ethics approval 2012/010 from Murdoch University. Interviews were guided by a questionnaire with 125 questions on various topics including household condition, history and

36 Chapter 2 | Fishery overview significance of the fishery to the community, fishery practices, trade aspects and livelihood alternatives (Appendix B). The same questionnaire was used in each site, with specific questions adapted to the local context. For example, fishers were asked about population changes in six to eight frequently caught or high-value species. These species reflected those found in their respective fishing grounds, and therefore were not the same at all sites.

At least 80 respondents were interviewed in each community. They comprised at least 30 active and 30 retired shark fishers, as well as 20 non-fishers. Trader-buyers, locally known as bos (from the English word ‘boss’, which will be used hereafter) or less commonly pembeli (buyer), were generally aware of the global controversy surrounding the shark fin trade and thus often hesitant to be interviewed. Therefore, rather than trying to speak to a certain number of bosses at each site, those willing to share information were interviewed opportunistically and usually informally. Since the format of these interviews was different from that of the other interviews, results from interviews with bosses are presented in a separate section below. Active fishers were defined as those who were fishing in the current season, or who had fished last season and were presently ‘resting’ but with either no intention or no means of changing to a different livelihood. Retired shark fishers had stopped fishing permanently or had taken up a different livelihood with no intention of returning to shark fishing. Non-fishers normally held important roles in the community, ranging on a broad spectrum from adat (village council) leaders, pemerintah desa (village government) and tokoh agama (religious leaders), to government employees such as doctors and nurses, to shop owners, traditional healers and tailors. Unlike the first two categories, this last category purposely included women.

Respondents were chosen randomly and opportunistically (according to availability), with the condition that only one member of a household was interviewed. Respondents who agreed to be interviewed were informed of the intent of the research, their right to withdraw from the interview at any stage, and of measures taken to protect their individual identity. All interviews were conducted in Indonesian. In Osi and Dobo, I had local assistants who helped conduct interviews. All assistants had been given prior training to ensure consistency of methods. In Pepela, I conducted the majority of interviews during the fasting month of Ramadan and had to do so by myself, since it was difficult to find local assistants willing to work while fasting.

All of the respondents I approached agreed to be interviewed, with the exception of one fisher in Pepela, who chose to end the interview when his colleagues pointed out that the name he had given was his nickname, and told me his full name. Despite being assured

that his name would remain confidential and being given the option of using a pseudonym, the fisher expressed concern that the information would be used against him in Australia, where he had been imprisoned several times for illegal fishing.

Despite the length of the full questionnaire, fishers did not seem to mind the time required to conduct a full interview. The only times fishers hesitated to give an interview (or ‘have a chat about their fishing experiences’, as I tended to frame it), was when they perceived their formal education to have been inadequate, leading them to question whether they would not know the ‘right answers’ to my questions:

If we want to talk about education… I don’t have a formal education. I mean, I can read and write, but I don’t have any proof of it.

(Active fisher, Dobo, 12/2012)

Many seemed to appreciate the opportunity to talk about their fishing experience, which few had ever been asked about. For some fishers, the interviews also offered an opportunity to voice their hardships and concerns, with some directly stating their hopes of me passing on this information to help their communities, for example by alerting the government to their situation or by sourcing funding for alternative livelihood projects, such as seaweed farming or sea cucumber mariculture.

2.2.4 Data analyses

Spatial data of longline and gillnet sets were illustrated using the open-source program QGIS. Socio-economic survey data were first entered into a Microsoft Access database and then exported and summarized in Microsoft Excel. Data collected by fishers at sea were analysed and plotted using the R language and environment (R Core Team 2015).

2.3 Results & Discussion

2.3.1 Interview summary

A total of 247 respondents – 218 men and 29 women - were interviewed in the three case study sites (Table S2.1). Of these, 95 were active fishers, 91 retired and 61 were non- fishers. The youngest respondent, an active fisher, was 19 years old, the oldest, a non- fisher, was 81. A total of 598 children lived in 201 of the 247 households that were

38 Chapter 2 | Fishery overview surveyed. Eighty-six percent of households had one to four children, while families with five to nine children were rarer (median = 3 children/household). Respondents represented 33 ethnic groups (self-identified), though the majority (63%) of respondents belonged to one of four groups: Butonese (36%), Rotenese (16%), Bugis (6%), and Bajo (5%) (Table S2). In addition to these respondents, eight bosses – seven men and one woman - also agreed to share information. These included the three Rotenese traders who worked in Pepela, three Chinese and one Aruese trader who worked in Dobo, and a fourth trader from Dobo who did not disclose their ethnic background.

The remainder of this paper follows the main locations and components of a typical fishing trip and describes: (i) the homeports, (ii) fishing knowledge and practices, (iii) catch composition, and (iv) processing and sale of shark fins.

2.3.2 Homeports

2.3.2.1 Study site overview

All three study sites were predominantly small-scale fishing communities shaped by several decades of involvement in the lucrative shark fin trade. One might expect these communities to thrive on the profits made from shark fin, which, at over $100 (all dollar values are Australian dollars unless otherwise specified) per kg for some species, are unparalleled in the trade of marine products. However, my overall impression of the sites was one of relative poverty; although most people’s basic needs for nutrition, housing and education were met, there was a general shortage of infrastructure, options for education and healthcare, and limited buying power. For example, nearly every respondent reported having financial difficulties in the year before being interviewed; almost half of all respondents said that they or a family member could not afford or reach a hospital if needed; and only 30% had a bank account (Table S2.2). In Osi and Pepela, the majority of respondents reported earning less than IDR 1 Million (~$100) per month, while most Dobo respondents earned Rp. 1-3 Million per month (Table S2.3). While approximately 88% of households in all sites had electricity, running water was less common – in Osi, only five respondents (2%) had running water (Table S2.3). Generators, computers and solar panels were rare (Table S2.3). Across all sites, the most common means of transport were motorised longboats, usually constructed of wood or fiberglass; only four respondents owned a car (Table S2.2). Very poor people, such as childless widows or handicapped individuals, were usually cared for by extended family or wealthier community members, and I did not witness abject poverty in any of the sites. However, I noticed that

my first impression of each site – clean and tidy in Osi, the lively small-town character of Dobo, or somewhat neglected like Pepela – heavily influenced my initial perception of a site’s economic status. Although Osi was less developed than Pepela overall (Table S2.3), Pepela’s slightly squalid appearance made it look poorer.

The vast majority of respondents agreed that improvements in the local economy were the greatest benefit of shark fishing (Table S2.3). Fishers spoke of the years around the turn of the millennium and especially 2002/03 as the ‘golden days’ of shark fishing (see also Chapter 6). It was a time when fin prices were higher than ever before (Dent and Clarke 2015), sharks were still abundant and living costs reasonable. Seventy-four percent of respondents said that shark fishing was the main source of income for their village in the past, which was commonly defined as the years 2002/03 (Table S2.2). The most frequently given reasons for the declining importance of shark fishing to the village were a reduction in fin price (60% of respondents), decreasing shark abundance (40%) and increasing fuel prices (41%; Table S2.2). Nevertheless, signs of the once-booming shark fin trade were visible in each village. The most obvious demonstrations of wealth were the impressive mosques (in Dobo also churches), which were generally much bigger and had amplifiers and speakers far more powerful than the size of the respective community would have required. Although none of the households represented in the interviews had landline phones, between 74-87% of respondents at each site had a mobile phone (Table S2.3). During the booming years of shark fishing in the late 90s and early 2000s, several fishers and their wives made the haj - the pilgrimage to Mecca – which required considerable funds and was another indicator of the financial incentive to join the fishery during those years. Still, fishers’ homes were generally very modest with few belongings, and most of my respondents could not remember what they had used the higher income of the golden days for, other than buying rice.

There was a marked difference in the educational level of fishers and non-fishers; the latter had higher completion rates of Junior and Senior High School, and all of the respondents with a Bachelor’s degree were non-fishers (Table S2.1). Active and retired fishers however, although often one or more generations apart in age, had very similar education profiles. The majority of both groups had only completed elementary school (54% and 56% of active and retired fishers, respectively), none had gone to University, and retired fishers had more senior high school completions than their younger colleagues (Table S2.1). Only 77 (33%) of the respondents had family members who worked outside the village (or town, in the case of Dobo; Table S2.1).

40 Chapter 2 | Fishery overview

Aside from these broad similarities among sites, unique circumstances and factors shaped the course of shark fishing in each community. The following site-specific descriptions aim to illustrate the context for contemporary shark fishing livelihoods observed in each site.

2.3.2.2 Osi

At the time of this study (August 2012), 963 people lived on Osi, a densely populated sand spit where a few coconut trees fought for space amid densely packed houses, some of which extended out onto the water. Almost all of Osi’s inhabitants were dependent on small-scale fishing, most commonly for sharks and anchovies. In the late 1940s to early 1950s, the first inhabitants of Osi had arrived by boat from Buton in Southeast Sulawesi. While the majority of people on Osi are still Butonese, marriages formed between shark fishers and women in far-flung fishing grounds have expanded the ethnic diversity of the exclusively muslim community.

Osi had two characteristics that were unique among my case study sites. One was the financial independence of most captains. Unlike their colleagues in Dobo and Pepela, they often owned or co-owned the vessels they skippered, usually worked with family members, and did not borrow funds from a boss to cover operational costs. Consequently, most captains had a high degree of autonomy in selling their shark fins, and it was not uncommon for buyers from Ambon, Sulawesi and even Kalimantan to travel to Osi, only to be turned away because the price they offered was not high enough. The second characteristic was the distinction between a sea captain (juragan) and a land captain (nakoda, or juragan daerah). The land captain was responsible for overseeing trip preparations, gear and boat maintenance and repairs, selling shark fins and dividing the profits, and any paperwork associated with fishing trips. The sea captain was responsible for navigating the boat at sea, deciding on fishing grounds and gear setting times, and for ensuring proper behaviour by the crew in accordance with traditional beliefs, taboos and rules (see the section on ‘Pamali’ below). This distinction between a land and sea captain is not unique to Osi, however; it is also used, for example, among Bajo fishermen from the Tukang Besi Islands (Stacey 2007).

For at least two decades prior to 2012, Osi was defined by shark fishing, with the majority of males on the island engaging in the fishery for some or all of those years (Table S2.3). Accounts of fishers in Osi, Misool, Sorong (West Papua) and Dobo suggest that in the early 1990s, Osi fishers earned a reputation throughout the region for their skill and the

geographic spread of their fishery. At that time, their fishing grounds extended north to Halmahera in Northern Maluku, east to Biak off the east coast of Papua, west to Bali and south towards, or past, the Australian border. During the late 1990s, some of Osi’s fishers had fished, and been apprehended, in Australian waters, spending jail time in Broome. To avoid future apprehensions and to save on operational costs following rising fuel prices, they began focusing their main fishing grounds to Halmahera in North Maluku province and the numerous islands of the Raja Ampat regency in West Papua, a popular province with dive tourists at the heart of the Coral Triangle. Nevertheless, declining catches eventually led to a marked decrease in shark fishing by the community (Table S2.3; Chapter 6). While Osi had owned around 50 shark fishing boats at the peak of the fishery in 2002/03, only five boats remained in 2012. The number of fishers likewise decreased tenfold from about 350 to some 35 fishers (Table S2.3).

During data collection for this study, Osi’s shark fishery underwent a further significant change following the apprehension of one of their boats in Raja Ampat as part of the regency’s newly announced – though not yet officially implemented – shark sanctuary (Chapter 5). All of the fishers were taken by surprise, since they had not heard of the sanctuary and were convinced that they were legally fishing in Raja Ampat, having bought ‘fishing permits’ from several villages along the way. The crew of the boat was released with a warning, but gear and catch from six weeks of fishing were confiscated. This event put an almost immediate stop to shark fishing in Raja Ampat by Osi fishers, who diverted their fishing efforts to what they called the less productive areas around Halmahera, or switched to a different livelihood. Some turned to catching, drying and selling anchovies; others transported fuel (illegally) from Maluku to West Papua using their shark fishing boats (Chapter 6). In 2013, a follow-up phone call with one of the former shark fishers revealed that Osi was in a challenging time of livelihood transition away from shark fishing, without outside support, and fishers were struggling to make enough money to meet the need of their families.

2.3.2.3 Dobo

Similar to Osi, published information on Dobo’s shark fishery is scarce. According to older fishers’ reports, commercial shark fishing in Dobo started in the early 1970s, ‘when the economic prospect of shark fishing was really good’ as one of the retired fishers recalled:

42 Chapter 2 | Fishery overview

There were only three ships here in 1972. They sailed from Selayar [Sulawesi]. Back then, there were no buyers in Dobo so they [middlemen] brought the fins to Makassar.

(Retired fisher, Dobo, 11/2012)

Fishers in southern Aru were introduced to shark fishing by Taiwanese fishers who searched for shark in the waters around Longgar-Apara, two remote fishing villages that form one administrative unit, and its neighbour village Bemun (Fig. 1.1, Chapter 1), both described by Spyer (2000). From the accounts of an old trader who was a shark fisher in his younger days, it appears that most Aruese fishers (including those from Dobo) entered the shark fishery with motorised wooden boats about 12 m long and 3 m wide, and several nets with stretched mesh sizes of 45-50 cm. Initial profits were turned into bigger boats of up to 30 m, better engines, and eventually GPS devices, radios and, in rare cases, even sonar fish finders. Although several fishers from Aru had fished in Australian waters, a number of arrests and increasing fuel prices focused their fishing grounds to the vicinity of their home archipelago, extending only eastward to the Papuan mainland.

We go to Irian [Papua] not because the sharks are bigger there. It all depends on where there is bait. Without bait, we can’t put out longlines. So if there is more bait in Irian, we go there; if there is more bait in Aru, we fish here.

(Active fisher, Dobo, 12/2012)

One of the first characteristics I noticed about the shark fishery of Dobo was that most fishers were bound to bosses – who could be boat owners and/or traders – by what Fox and Sen (2002) call ‘bonds of dependence’. This patron-client system, while enabling fishers to find work on boats they could not afford to buy themselves, also meant that many fishers were increasingly indebted as the conditions of the shark fin trade and declining shark catches resulted in dwindling profits from fishing trips (Table S2.3). Reflecting the course of the shark fishery in Osi, Dobo’s fleet had diminished considerably in the decade before my data collection. Fishers recalled up to 200 boats and 1,000 fishers at the turn of the millennium, compared with half that capacity in late 2012 (Table S2.3).

However, Aruese fishers do not depend on shark fishing year-round. When the sea is rough during the windy southwestern monsoon (November to April), fishers from Dobo supplement their income with the sale of flying fish eggs harvested from specifically built fish aggregation devices, while those in Bemun and Longgar-Apara dive for oyster shell and

sea cucumber, or catch fresh fish if there is demand from buyers visiting from Dobo or Jakarta (Boss interview, Longgar-Apara, 12/2012). During the windy season, some fishers also supplement their income with land-based activities, such as the production of copra (dried coconut meat), sago and sopi (palm wine). In late 2012, when shark fishers reported that fin prices had dropped steadily throughout the year (Table S2.2), many began to rely more heavily on these alternative sources of income to complement or replace lost income. This focus on alternatives was not only echoed in the complaints of bosses who struggled to find crew for their boats, but also in the number of active vessels: although Dobo had 50-100 shark fishing vessels in late 2012, only about three dozen were in use (Table S2.3).

2.3.3 Pepela

Of my study sites, Pepela was by far the most extensively studied and well documented. This is not surprising, given its location on Indonesia’s southernmost island, which has made it an important departure point for fisher-sailors from Rote, Alor, Pantar, Flores, and Sulawesi on their way to Australian waters for hundreds of years (Stacey 2007). This historical connection of Indonesian fishers to Australia, especially through their fishing activity in the Timor Sea, has been subject to profound changes over time. These changes have been well documented (Carnegie, 2013; Fox, 2009; Fox and Sen, 2002; Stacey, 2007) and are briefly summarised here to provide context for the current shark fishery.

The first major change was the adoption of a Memorandum of Understanding (MoU) between Indonesia and Australia in 1974, which acknowledged Indonesian fishers’ traditional fishing grounds in the Timor Sea (Stacey 2007). In 1989, following from the MoU, an area now known as the MoU Box was designated for use by Indonesian fishers who had traditionally undertaken fishing voyages to Australian waters, under the condition that they use ‘traditional methods’, i.e. un-motorised sail boats (Stacey 2007). The fact that fishers leaving Pepela did not have access to handheld Global Positioning Systems (GPS) until 2006, that the boundaries of the MoU Box cannot be construed visually using landmarks, and that the problematic definition of ‘traditional methods’ precludes sailors from having motors on their boats, making it less likely to reach safety in a storm, has led to hundreds of apprehensions of illegal Indonesian fishing vessels by Australian authorities in the four decades following the declaration of the MoU (Stacey 2007). As Stacey (2007)

44 Chapter 2 | Fishery overview points out, it is ironic that the MoU allows fishers to use only traditional methods, and at the same time ‘expects the accuracy of modern navigation’.

The second major change was a shift in target species in the late 1980s, away from trochus and sea cucumber to shark fin (Fox and Sen 2002). Although a decline of shark numbers in the MoU Box (or simply ‘the Box’) has not been scientifically demonstrated, fishers’ accounts of reduced catches and their expressed temptations to fish across the border in search for bigger sharks suggest that decades of intensive fishing have decimated shark populations within the Box (Meekan et al., 2006; see also Chapter 4). Repeated boat burnings and imprisonment as a result of fishing across the border, whether on purpose or accidentally by drifting out of the Box, have resulted in significant debt for the majority of fishers in Pepela (Chapter 6). Debt to a boss, in turn, is in itself a strong incentive to target bigger sharks outside of the Box, sometimes using motorized bodi (wooden canoes) in hopes that the motor will allow the fishers to quickly return to the Indonesian side of the border should an Australian spotter plane or border patrol vessel locate them. These tactics have resulted in even more incidents of imprisonment and greater debt, leading to the third major change – a search for alternative livelihoods.

Following the failure of seaweed (agar) cultivation in 2009 due to the Montara oil spill off the northwest Australian coast, people smuggling – i.e. the transport of refugees between Indonesia and Australian offshore territories- established itself as the main livelihood alternative of Pepela’s heavily indebted shark fishers (Balint 2012; Missbach 2016). Further debt and conflict with shark fin bosses arising from fishers’ people smuggling activity have not been helped by the fourth major change affecting Pepela’s fishers: the devaluation of shark fins on the international market since early 2012 (Dent and Clarke, 2015; Chapter 6). Coupled with reduced catches and increasing operational costs, the loss of fin value meant that at the time of my stay in Pepela in 2013, most fishing voyages did not return any profit, further deepening fishers’ debt (Table S2.3). The decline in the fishery was obvious during data collection in 2013, when only about a tenth of the former sailboats and fishers remained active and many fishers expressed the wish to leave the fishery (Table S2.3). To make up for lost revenue, some bosses sent their crews out to sea during the western monsoon, when the risk of encountering strong winds and cyclones is high. Imprisonment or death at sea often forced the affected fishers’ wives to borrow cash from their husbands’ bosses to meet their families’ daily needs. These funds were then added, with variable

interest, to the fishers’ existing debt. Some wives, unable to repay their husbands’ debt or to borrow sufficient funds, moved back to their islands of origin if their husbands were imprisoned for many months, or died at sea.

Figure 2.2. Map of the study area showing the three case study sites of Osi, Dobo and Pepela (stars), their main fishing grounds (circles) and the GPS locations of fishing gear sets (light blue dots; boat tracks enlarged for Osi) at the time of fieldwork in 2012/13. Other places mentioned in this Chapter are also shown. Thin grey lines = Exclusive Economic Zone (EEZ) boundaries between Indonesia, the Philippines/Palau, Australia and Timor Leste.

2.3.3.1 Financing of fishing trips

The most important prerequisite for a fishing trip was the availability of funds to cover operational costs (ongkos). In 2012-13, the ongkos for a typical fishing trip of three to six weeks ranged between IDR 3-5 Million and included fuel, food and spare gear, and in some cases large amounts of salt for salting fish or shark meat. Operational costs were normally the responsibility of the boat owner. In Osi, many captains either owned their boats or were financially independent and able to fund fishing trips alone, or by borrowing interest-free credit from a family member. In Dobo and Pepela, the majority of boats were owned by bosses, from whom captains borrowed funds. However, not all bosses owned boats; some simply lent funds to captains who owned their own boats but could not afford the trip costs.

46 Chapter 2 | Fishery overview

Eight bosses agreed to be interviewed for this study (Table S2.1). Their experience in the shark fin trade ranged from six to over 40 years, and four of them were second or third generation fin traders. Seven bosses stated economic prospects as the main reason they started working in the fin trade, but listed overfishing and decreases in fin prices as major changes in the fishery. As a result, three bosses had stopped trading; two of them in 2011/12 as fin prices began declining. Four of the bosses owned between 1 and 20 boats, and three had over 30 boats each; only one boss did not own any boats. All except one boss had under 200 fishers working for them; the boss that professed to employing over 200 fishers did not specify how many. Six of the bosses gave loans to fishers to cover operational costs, and three regularly gave fishing families loans for school fees and rice if money was short. The way in which these funds were repaid is described in the section Processing and sale of shark fins below.

2.3.3.2 Fishing trip preparation

Fishing trip preparations took one to two weeks and began with the repair and maintenance of gear and boats at the beginning of a fishing season or shortly after the end of the previous trip. To a researcher used to the logistics of trips to sea in Western countries, preparations for a fishing trip in eastern Indonesia looked surprisingly uncomplicated. Since most crews and their bosses had worked with each other for a season or longer (sometimes several years), many perahu had their set crew. Boat owners who had more perahu than they had crew for usually appointed a captain to assemble a crew. Once the operational costs for a trip were covered and the necessary boat and gear repairs made, the remaining preparations were quickly finalised. Captains would discuss with their crew the terms of the pending trip -loan amount, interest, profit shares, trip duration and fishing destination-, and purchase fuel (for motorised boats), provisions and gear replacements as needed. Provisions usually consisted of several large bags of rice, which would be supplemented with salted or freshly caught fish, and drinking water kept in round drums.

At least on the surface, departures were treated with remarkable casualness. One might have expected a departure to be a big event, seeing that the departing crew would be away for up to two months, surviving only on rice, water and the occasional fresh fish, handling sharks with nothing but their bare hands and perhaps a bamboo pole or harpoon, and relying on their wooden boats to battle rough seas with no radios, life vests or emergency beacons of any kind. Indeed, Stacey (2007) described boat departures from Bajo villages in southeast Sulawesi as a big event involving ritual prayers and family members

accompanying departing boats out to sea. In Bajo culture, fishing and sailing are regarded as sacred activities, where the moment of departure marks the crossing of the sailors into the realm of the ancestors (Stacey 2007). In my study communities, it was also common for fishers and their family members to pray for safety and success at sea before and during a fishing trip. However, the moment of departure was a quiet, seemingly ordinary event where boats, including Bajo-owned boats in Pepela, left without ceremony or escort. Fishers walked from their homes to the boat alone or with other crew, not with family members. Wives and children did not go to the harbour to see off crewmembers, and goodbyes were not said in public. A few fishers’ wives told me that saying goodbye to a husband was bad luck, as it implied he was not expected to return.

2.3.4 Fishing knowledge and practices

2.3.4.1 Crew and vessels

Vessels from all study sites had five to eight crew depending on trip length and availability of crew. Shark fishing was an almost exclusively male-dominated livelihood. Although women, particularly fishers’ wives, sometimes helped with drying and selling shark meat, they did not go to sea to fish sharks. The only exception was a single female shark fisher in Pepela. Her father had died and she had gone on a few fishing trips to support her now female-only family, including her almost-blind mother and a niece with a physical disability. Like many fishers from her village, she was imprisoned in Australia for illegal fishing; once released, she stopped going to sea.

Many fishers (69%) stated that economic prospects were the reason for starting shark fishing (Table S2.1). Fifty-six percent of those said that their family had only been shark fishing for one generation, though other families had been doing it for many generations. Some got into shark fishing through family members or friends who were captains or deckhands. Others stated a variety of reasons for entering the fishery, including responsibility for their wives; thinking it would offer a better work-for-income ratio than the reef fishery; turning to shark fin after sea cucumbers and trochus ‘finished’; because it was considered the best paid work; a friend or family member introduced them to a captain or boss; they were curious about the experience; or because there was no other livelihood option.

Shark fishing perahu were made of wood and fiberglass in Osi and Dobo (Fig. 2.4a, Table S2.3). Fishers from Pepela travelled on non-motorised wooden sailboats (perahu layar

48 Chapter 2 | Fishery overview or perahu lambo; Fig. 2.4b) and, at times, small motorised bodi (Table S2.3). The use of motorised boats by Indonesian fishers was illegal in the MoU Box (and elsewhere within Australian waters, where fishing from any vessel was illegal), and I did not obtain data from, or was aware of, any fishing trips on bodi during my stay in Pepela. This could have been because fishers had indeed stopped using them to try and catch reportedly bigger sharks in Australian waters outside of the MoU Box, or because they kept any illegal trips secret for fear of negative consequences. Shark fishing vessels varied in length in each homeport; most were 7-17 m long (range = 4-30 m, Table 2.1). The boats of 96% of respondents had water tanks, but many did not carry a life raft (where present, this constituted a wooden canoe), and few had a generator or solar panel (Table S2.2). Several crew said that they had a radio onboard their boat, though these turned out to be for musical entertainment, not for signalling distress at sea. About half the interviewed fishers worked on a boat that belonged to a family member or unrelated community member, and the other half worked for a boss. Only 23% owned the boat they worked on (Table S2.1). The majority worked on 2-5 boats (37%) or on more than 5 boats (28%) during their fishing career. The proportion of fishers that worked for only one boss, and those who had worked for two or more bosses, was almost the same.

2.3.4.2 Navigation

Traditionally and as of 2012/13, most fishers navigated by memory, compass, map, landmarks and the stars (Table S2.1). At the time of this study, most fishers in Dobo and Pepela also owned a GPS, but not all made ready use of it. Younger fishers appeared to use GPS more often than older fishers, who relied more heavily on traditional methods of navigation. None of the fishers in Osi had a GPS at the time of interviews in 2012. At fishing locations or when passing shallow coral reefs, fishers used lead weights on ropes or fishing line to check water depth.

2.3.4.3 Fishing gear

Shark fishers in the three case study sites used two main gear types for catching sharks; longlines and gillnets. The type of gear used depended on the fishing grounds, size of boats and, in some cases, the boss for whom a fishing crew worked, but in all cases, these gears were specifically intended for shark fishing. This is important to note, given that the majority of western Indonesia’s shark landings seem to come from bycatch on tuna longlines (Vieira et al. 2008; Tull 2009; Fahmi and Dharmadi 2015). Osi vessels carried only gill nets, and all Pepela perahu used longlines, while Dobo had a mix of both gears (Table

2.1). Of the vessels involved in data collection for this study (n=31), four had gillnets and 27 had longlines (Table 2.1). Both types of fishing gear were made of monofilament fishing line, manually deployed and retrieved, and usually set in the late afternoon to soak overnight. Longlines were either deployed near the water surface or in mid-water (pelagic longlines) or close to the sea floor (demersal longlines). Gillnets and demersal longlines were typically weighted with large rocks attached to both ends of the net, or the end of the longline that was not attached to the vessel. Pelagic longlines were held afloat with buoys attached to both ends of the line; buoys were also used to hold gillnets upright in the water column so that they were stretched taut.

Osi fishers used several unbaited, bottom-set gillnets of up to 120 m length and 3 m height with a stretched mesh size of 19-23 cm, which were set in a straight line or a star configuration (extending out from a central point) at 3-75 m depth and soaked for 11.5-15 hours before being manually retrieved (Table 2.1). Most Dobo fishers used one to six pelagic and demersal longlines that ranged in length from 150 m to 6.4 km and had up to 450 hooks. Three of Dobo’s longline crews that participated in this study specialised in targeting deep-water sharks for shark liver oil, fishing down to depths of 900 m. Another two Dobo vessels were equipped with unbaited gillnets to catch shovelnose rays (Rhinobatidae) and guitarfish (Rhynchobatidae) (Table 2.1). Fishers from Pepela, who were limited to sail boats, used a single pelagic or demersal longline, 0.1 to 1.7 km long; short enough to allow for quick retrieval if wind or currents required them to pick up their gear and move. Pepela fishers used about one hook every 10 meters, or 83 hooks for a line of 830 m length. A typical longline set used by fishers from Dobo and Pepela consisted of a 7 mm thick main line (tali mai), to which 15-450 gangions or branch lines (tali anak), approximately 5 m long and 5 mm in diameter, were attached, each ca. 16 m apart from the next (Fig. 2.3). The upper half of the gangions was made of fishing line to which a swivel (anting-anting) connected a metal wire (kawot), which formed the lower half and which terminated in a stainless steel hook (kali) (Fig. 2.3). Fishers usually referred to the hooks they used as tuna hooks (kali tuna) or simply referred to their sizes - #0 to #3. The length of branch lines and the distance between them was commonly given in depa, which was the measurement from the outer edge of one’s shoulder to the tip of the opposite hand, with the arm stretched out horizontally. A standard depa was about 1.6 m (Fig. 2.3).

50 Chapter 2 | Fishery overview

Figure 2.3. Schematic of a typical longline set used by shark fishers from the eastern Indonesian fishing ports of Dobo and Pepela. Note that perahu lambo or sailboats were only used in Pepela. Indonesian terms shown in parentheses. 1 depa ≈ 1.6 m.

2.3.4.4 Bait

During the day or at dusk, longline fishers used handlines to catch reef fish that could be used as food for the crew, and as bait (umpang). Bait for the longlines usually comprised freshly caught tuna, groupers, trevallies, unicornfish, seabream and jobfish (Table 2.2). When no fresh fish was available, shark meat and, on rare occasions, speared dolphin (lumba lumba) were used as bait. In desperate situations when none of these bait sources were available, some fishers used their own provisions – dried, salted fish – as bait, while other fishers stopped setting their longlines until they caught fresh bait, which they claimed attracted more sharks than dried fish.

52 Chapter 2 | Fishery overview

Table 2.2. Indonesian, English and Latin names of baitfish species used on eastern Indonesian shark longlines Indonesian name Common name Latin family name Latin species examples

Tongkol, Cakalang (Baby) Tuna Scombridae Euthynnus affinis, Auxis thazard, baby tuna (any sp.) Ikan Kerapu Groupers Epinephelidae Epinephelus coioides, E.fuscoguttatus, Variola spp., Plectropomus spp. Ikan Ume Unicornfish Acanthuridae Naso spp. Ikan Gandola Jobfish Lutjanidae Pristimoides multidens Ikan Bobara Jacks/Trevallies Carangidae Caranx spp., Gnathodon speciosus Ikan Dusu Emperorfish, Lethrinidae Gymnocranius grandoculis Seabream

2.3.4.5 Fishing methods

Fishing trips departing Osi averaged five weeks but ranged between three and six weeks. Depending on the fishing grounds, fishers covered distances of 600 - 2000 km for a round-trip using motorised wooden longboats (bodi) of 4-16 m length (Table 2.1). Fishers in Dobo used slightly bigger motorised wooden vessels (perahu) that were 8-30 m in length and had a larger deck for processing and drying fins (Fig. 2.4a). Fishing trips averaged three weeks but were shorter around the Aru islands and longer if fishers targeted waters near the Papuan coast or towards the Australian border, up to 500 km away from their homeport (Table 2.1). Browse Island in the MoU Box, about 400 km from Rote, was the main fishing ground of Pepela’s shark fishers (Table 2.1, Fig. 2.2). Occasionally sharks were also caught at Scott Reef, usually by fishers focusing on teripang. Fishing trips from Pepela were more variable in duration than those departing Osi and Dobo because winds and currents affected the sailboats’ movements, and fishers had less freedom to move to more productive fishing grounds due to their confinement to the MoU Box. Notwithstanding regulations, declining catches and increasing debt drove many fishers from Pepela to try their luck setting longlines in Australian waters outside the MoU Box. Fishers who intentionally fished outside the Box often used motorised bodi boats, which allowed for quicker escapes if they were spotted by Australian coast guard planes or vessels. Still, many served jail time after being apprehended and their boats were confiscated and burnt (Table S2.3). I discuss this aspect of Pepelan fishing and its impact on livelihoods in more detail in Chapter 6 (see also Fox, 2009; Fox and Adhuri, 2009; Fox and Sen, 2002; Stacey, 2007).

Fishers from Osi and Dobo who used nets, often deployed them during the low tide and retrieved them again at the next low tide. Fishers using longlines showed more

variation in fishing practices. While some set and picked up their longlines at a similar time every day, others seemed to have a more random approach, leaving the gear to soak for varying periods of time. These fishers may have considered water depth, weather, knowledge of shark numbers in the area, fishers’ moods, and the timing of other tasks such as diving for teripang. Similarly, some fishers used the same number of hooks and longlines or nets each day, while others tried to maximize their catches by varying the number of nets or hooks and lines each day. Overall, older or more experienced crews were found to have more consistent practices than those consisting of younger and less experienced fishers, who may not have had the same familiarity among crewmembers and with their fishing grounds, or who were happier to experiment with how they could maximize their catches.

Bringing sharks aboard without winches or other mechanical means was hard and often dangerous work (Fig. 2.4d, e). Reef and other small sharks were normally pulled up and processed immediately, even if they were still alive. Although finned sharks were sometimes thrown back into the water alive, according to my respondents most sharks were dead by the time they were returned to the ocean. Large, dead sharks were often pulled alongside the boat with a gaff and cut into smaller pieces in the water before being pulled on the boat. Large live sharks were sometimes killed with harpoons and gaffs in the water, or pulled aboard larger boats, the crew awaiting their death at a safe distance. Some fishers recalled waiting an entire night or day for large tiger sharks and other resilient species to die, struggling on deck as the crew hid inside the small cabin. Conversely, hammerheads were said to die quickly, often being motionless by the time the fishing gear was retrieved. Processing sharks was normally the task of one or two deckhands who, equipped with a machete, began by finning the captured sharks (Fig. 2.4g).

54 Chapter 2 | Fishery overview

Figure 2.4. Aspects of the shark fishery at sea; a) typical motorised fishing boat (perahu) used in Osi and Dobo; b) sailboat (perahu layar/lambo) from Pepela; c) for up to eight weeks at a time, fishers eat, sleep and shelter in the confined cabins of their boats; d) whitetip reef shark Triaenodon obesus caught in a gillnet; e) four fishers from Osi pull in a grey reef shark, Carcharhinus amblyrhynchos; f) demonstrating data collection in the Seram Sea; g) a fisher fins a whitetip reef shark; h) kepel and low-value fins of deep-sea sharks drying on a perahu in Dobo.

2.3.4.6 Finning

Fishers from all study sites practiced finning, a controversial method of removing a shark’s fins before dumping its carcass back into the sea. Sharks were finned to maximize the small holding space on fishing boats by filling it with the most valuable part of the catch. Furthermore, none of the boats in my study sites had cold storage and the communities did not have the infrastructure to produce ice in the quantities necessary to keep entire sharks for the duration of fishing trips. According to one fisher, the boat space used up by 20 shark carcasses could hold the fins of over 200 sharks.

Fins were removed in one of three typical cuts - straight along the body, which fishers called potong biasa (normal/common cut); in a slightly concave curve that avoids most vertebral remains in the dorsal fin, called semi bulan (half moon); and strongly concave, with the curve pointing towards the tip of the fin, known as full bulan or export cut (Figure 5). As the name implies, export cut gives fins the highest value, since it removes more unwanted tissue and cartilage than other cuts. Once fins were removed, they were

laid out on deck or the cabin’s roof to dry in the sun. Depending on the size and type of fin, drying them could take two days to a week. Some fishers salted the fins, believing this made them heavier so they would fetch a better price. Dried fins were packed into large fabric sacks in sets of four – the first dorsal, the two pectoral and the lower lobe of the caudal fin from each individual, with a string threaded through a small hole near the tip of each fin (Fig. 2.6a,b,c,d). The only exception were the fins of lemon sharks, which were packed and sold in sets of five containing two dorsal fins of almost equal height. Although there are differences between species, these main four or five fins contain the highest concentration of ceratotrichia or ‘needles’, the gelatinous structure that gives shark fin soup its texture and is ultimately what shark fins are sought and used for. The upper caudal, anal, pelvic and second dorsal fins, collectively called kepel, contain far less needles and are therefore packed separately and sold for a fraction of the price of the main fins (Fig. 2.4h).

Figure 2.5. Diagram showing different shark fin cuts. Full bulan, or export cut, gives fins the highest value on the market.

If there was space on board towards the end of a trip, some carcasses were kept and processed into dendeng, dried strips of meat that were consumed and sold locally (Fig. 2.6e, f). With declining catches in most fishing grounds at the time of my fieldwork, fishers had increasing difficulty filling their holding spaces with fins. Consequently, many fishers returned from fishing trips with more dendeng than they did in earlier years. A retired fisher from Dobo recalled that in the 1980s, fishers easily caught 100 sharks per day and filled their vessels with just the fins; at most, they would keep one or two sharks on the last day of a fishing trip to bring home some meat for their families. Although the shark boats

56 Chapter 2 | Fishery overview involved in this study were rarely full, the crews usually kept only the fins because they did not consider the small price of shark meat (~ IDR 20,000/AU$2 per kg) worth the work required to cut, prepare and dry it (but see Fig. 2.6h).

Figure 2.6. Aspects of the shark fishery on land; a) Osi fisher showing part of his last catch, ready to be sold to a buyer; b) dried pectoral fins of a dusky shark (hiu antuga/ Carcharhinus obscurus) in Dobo; c) a set of fins (2x pectoral, 1x dorsal, 1x lower caudal lobe) of hiu panda (probably pigeye shark, C. amboinensis); d) a trader in Dobo reconstructs the caudal fin of a dusky shark (hiu antuga) to show how fishers cut the lower lobe off the less valuable upper lobe; e) dried shark meat (dendeng) in front of a fisher’s house, Pepela; f) dendeng ready for sale; g) fresh, unprocessed stingray meat at a fish market in Dobo.

2.3.4.7 Pamali (Taboo)

Bajo captains and their crewmembers in Dobo and Pepela repeatedly mentioned pamali, taboos that are thought to safeguard seafaring people (see also Stacey, 2007). Although older captains and crews observed pamali more strictly than younger generations, fishers generally believed the taboos to be valid, making them easily enforceable. While the purpose of pamali is to intercede with spirits and other supernatural powers, many taboos seem rooted in common sense, encouraging sensible conduct at sea to ensure safety, order and politeness aboard the boats. Disobeying a taboo is thought to provoke strong winds and waves. One example of pamali requires crew to wear at least a sarong and a hat or other head cover when setting and retrieving gear. It is prohibited to eat, kill chickens, throw

food remains overboard, urinate or be rambunctious (main gila) while fishing gear is set. Likewise, it is prohibited to brush or remove one’s hair or use soap during a fishing trip. Not all captains who observed pamali enforced all of these rules, but even fishers who did not observe any taboos said that they would not wash cooking utensils and dishes directly in the sea but rather in a bucket, the contents of which are then poured across the deck and washed over the side of the boat. The same procedure is required for ashes from the firebox (Stacey 2007). Alongside traditional rules, such as making an offering of betel nut (sirih pinang) before setting gear for the first time on a trip, more modern pamali are in place, including a ban on the use of fish bombs. Several decades ago, when fishers from Pepela still used shark rattles (goro-goro) made of a bamboo pole and empty coconut shells to attract sharks, it was forbidden to spit in the water while shaking the rattle; for some, this rule has persisted through the transition to longlines.

In some cases, pamali served a traditional form of fisheries management, for example through adat (customary law) concerning spatial or seasonal harvest closures (sasi) on sea cucumbers, abalone and shrimp (Table S2.2). Depending on their ethnic background, some fishers observed permanent fishing bans on whale sharks (hiu paus), whales (paus), octopus (ikan gurita) and dolphins (Table S2.2). Similarly, pamali was known in Northern Lombok until the mid-1960s as part of sawen, a natural resource management practice based on traditional ecological knowledge (Satria 2007). Following the fall of the Suharto regime, sawen was revitalised in 2002, with pamali rules that reflect both the old practice and modern challenges to marine resource management. Fish must be ungilled individually from fishing nets before being taken home, and the capture of marine organisms during the closed season and of ornamental fish at all times is prohibited, as well as the use of certain fishing methods such as trawl and gill nets, dynamite and poison (Satria 2007).

In the Aru islands, pamali stemming from a story of origin is still observed by indigenous Aruese today. According to an old fisher in Dobo, a long time ago there was a war between the people of Aru, who belonged to two tribes: the Ursia and the Urlima. The people of the Ursia tribe were assisted by a shark that carried them across the sea, while the people of Urlima had a whale on their side, carrying them on its back between the shores of the Aru islands. Since that time, the Ursia and the Urlima people are not allowed to eat shark nor whale. When asked how this pamali fits with the economic incentives of the shark fin trade, the old fisher explained that although they should not be eaten, it is no offense to catch sharks and sell them for export.

58 Chapter 2 | Fishery overview

2.3.5 Catch composition

Between March 2012 and November 2013, 31 vessels collected data from 1,912 sharks during 46 fishing trips in the three fishing grounds, and also recorded the total number of sharks caught each day (Table 2.1; some Pepela fishers I had given datasheets to had not returned by the time my fieldwork ended in September 2013, and continued collecting data until the end of the fishing season). There were distinct differences in the average numbers of sharks caught, depending on fishing grounds and gears used. Overall, the relative catches of fishers targeting sharks with gillnets, and those fishing on reefs, far exceeded those of non-reef and longline fishers (Table 2.2). This is of interest for two reasons; first, most of the published literature on shark fisheries, including that from Indonesia, does not concern reef sharks; and second, it reflects findings from an analysis of global elasmobranch fisheries, which showed that a majority of sharks are caught in gillnets (Bonfil 2000).

Osi fishers had the highest catch rate with an average of 20 sharks per day and 419 sharks per trip; at least twice the average catch of Dobo fishers (10/125 sharks per day/trip; Table 2.1). The average catch in the MoU Box was an order of magnitude smaller than those in the Seram and Arafura Seas (4/19 sharks per day/trip); likewise, the number of sharks Pepela fishers measured and identified during 28 trips (n = 487) was not much higher than that provided by Osi fishers from only three trips (n = 415; Table 2.2). Given the long history of shark fishing in the MoU Box (Stacey 2007), the low numbers of sharks caught by Pepela fishers may reflect the effects of long-term localised exploitation around Browse Island. Although the vast majority of fishers in all homeports had noticed declines in the numbers and sizes of captured sharks in the previous 5-10 years, a greater proportion of respondents from Pepela reported having observed no change, even in the previous 20 years, compared to respondents from Osi and Dobo (Chapters 4 and 6). This suggests that shark populations in the MoU Box could have experienced earlier declines than those in the other fishing grounds. Other studies of shark and teripang stocks in the MoU Box have led to similar conclusions (Meekan et al. 2006; Field et al. 2009), which indicates that fishers’ claims of declining catches in the MoU Box and bigger, more abundant sharks across the border are legitimate. The contemporary and potential consequences of reduced catches are discussed in detail in Chapter 6.

The reefs of Raja Ampat, which supported the biggest catches, are at the heart of the Coral Triangle, famous for its globally unparalleled tropical marine biodiversity and a

popular destination for shark fishers and dive tourists alike. Chapter 5 of this thesis examines the implications of well-enforced no-take marine protected areas for the recovery of local shark populations, as well as the impact of fishing bans on the behaviours and decisions of shark fishers.

Of the 1,912 sharks and rays that were measured and recorded at sea, fishers identified 1,881 individuals by their local names. Upon their return from a fishing trip, I would ask fishers to point out the various species recorded on their datasheets using species identification guides by White et al. (2006) and Last and Stevens (2009), which allowed me to assign scientific names to the local names in the recorded catch. During this process, fishers often pointed out other species they recognised in the books but had not caught on their most recent trip. The resulting list represents the first comprehensive collection of shark species names used in eastern Indonesia (Table 2.3). The distinction in names between study sites illustrates regional and linguistic variations in species names, stemming broadly from the main ethnic groups of fisher respondents at each site (Butonese, Bugis, and Rotenese/Bajo, respectively; Table 2.3). These variations ranged from slight differences in spelling to certain names being used for different species in different sites. For example, the dusky shark Carcharhinus obscurus is called Antuga or less commonly Antuka in Dobo, and Antukang in Pepela (Table 2.3). Osi fishers distinguished between the blacktip reef shark Carcharhinus melanopterus (hiu meti) and the common blacktip C. limbatus (hiu pesawat), whereas fishers in Dobo and Pepela referred to both species as Rantikolo (Table 2.3). In Dobo and Osi, hiu putih described the fossil shark Hemipristis elongate, while in Rote, hiu putih was the name for a completely different species, the sandbar shark Carcharhinus plumbeus (Table 2.3).

In several cases, fishers did not distinguish between similar species, although they could spot even slight differences in appearance. Rather than being scientifically accurate, the use of species names was almost always a practical matter as at the most basic level; fishers only needed to know as many species groups as there were fin price classes. However, many respondents demonstrated a much more detailed knowledge when asked to distinguish between similar species or taxa. Deep-water fishers targeting Centrophorus spp. and Squalus spp. for shark liver oil called these species collectively hiu minyak or oil shark, but on request were able to distinguish between eight different species, creating two-letter species codes that were assigned to individuals recorded on datasheets and that were later ‘translated’ into scientific names with the help of identification books (Table 2.3, Fig. 2.7).

60 Chapter 2 | Fishery overview

Figure 2.7. The numbers of sharks and rays of different species or species groups caught by different gears in three eastern Indonesian fishing grounds. Fishers from Osi (green) used gillnets, fishers from Dobo used gillnets (light blue) or longlines (dark blue) and fishers from Pepela (purple) used longlines.

The main shark species caught differed between the three fishing ports (Fig. 2.7, see also Chapter 4). Although Osi fishers had the highest catch rate (Table 2.1), their catch was made up of the lowest diversity with only seven species recorded. These species were predominantly reef-associated sharks known to inhabit shallow coral reef habitats, which is where Osi fishers placed their nets (Fig. 2.2).The grey reef shark Carcharhinus amblyrhynchos was the most abundant species caught in the Raja Ampat fishing grounds, but was entirely absent from the catch of Dobo fishers fishing the Aru-Arafura Sea, a shallow sea with a mainly soft sediment substrate. Dobo’s net fishers predominantly caught the demersal shovelnose rays (Rhinobatidae) and guitarfish (Rhynchobatus sp.), reflecting the setting of gillnets over the soft sediment substrate and the use of larger mesh sizes to target these high value species (Fig. 2.7, Table 2.1). The gillnet and longline fishers from Dobo caught the greatest diversity of sharks, with at least 34 species of which many were represented by only a few individuals (< 5; Fig. 2.7). Those caught in the highest numbers by longliners

were the common or Australian blacktip shark (Carcharhinus limbatus/tilstoni), a generally pelagic shark found over continental and insular shelves (Last and Stevens 2009); hammerhead sharks (Sphyrna spp.); and several species of deepwater shark of the genera Centrophorus (gulper sharks) and Squalus (spurdogs), targeted for their liver oil rather than their fins.

Just as the catch of gillnet fishers differed between Osi and Dobo, the species composition also differed in the catch of longliners from Dobo and Pepela. This was again a reflection of the different habitats in which the sharks were caught, with fishers from Pepela targeting reef-associated sharks around oceanic atolls far from any mainland (Fig. 2.2). Although Pepela’s fishers had a much lower catch rate than the other fishers (Table 2.1), their species diversity was relatively high (Fig. 2.7). Of the 24 species recorded, the most commonly caught was the sandbar shark Carcharhinus plumbeus (Fig. 2.7). Due to the large size and high needle content of its dorsal fin, the sandbar shark has the second highest value (after guitarfish and shovelnose rays) in eastern Indonesia (Chapter 6). Tiger sharks (Galeocerdo cuvier), dusky whalers (C. obscurus) and blacktip sharks (C. limbatus/tilstoni) were also frequently caught. The catch composition of the three fishing grounds therefore appears to reflect both the habitat that the fishers can access, and the selectivity of their gears. The lower value of the reef sharks targeted by Osi fishers was balanced by the high numbers in which they were caught. This pattern was reversed for fishers from Pepela, who caught far less sharks than the fishers from Osi and Dobo, but targeted larger species that have a comparatively higher value on the market (for further detail on fin prices see Chapter 6). Dobo fishers were the only group of fishers using different gear types to catch the highest value species in their respective fishing grounds, targeting different species groups that inhabit demersal, pelagic and deep-water environments.

The species composition recorded in the three focal fishing grounds differed in several respects from that described from surveys at western Indonesian fish markets and landing sites. For example, both Sembiring et al. (2015) and Fahmi & Dharmadi (2015) reported that silky sharks (Carcharhinus falciformis) made up the greatest catch proportion in the targeted fishery out of Lombok, while blue sharks (Prionace glauca) dominated the bycatch of the tuna longline fishery. Thresher sharks (Alopidae) were also found to represent a large proportion of the elasmobranch catch sampled at landing sites in Java (Prehadi 2015; Sembiring et al. 2015). Neither of these species were recorded in the eastern Indonesian catch, where other carcharhinids, such as C. amblyrhynchos and C. plumbeus, dominated catches from the Seram and Timor Seas, respectively, while shovelnose rays

62 Chapter 2 | Fishery overview

(Rhynchobatidae) and deep-sea gulper sharks (Centrophorus spp.) and spurdogs (Squalus spp.) were most frequently caught in the Arafura Sea. It is clear from these observations that research findings from western Indonesia do not accurately reflect the entire Indonesian shark fishery. This must be taken into account in management strategies to conserve and sustain shark populations, and highlights the importance of local or at least regional fishery data and observations.

Table 2.3. Common, scientific and local names of sharks caught by fishers from Osi and Dobo in Maluku, and from Rote in East Nusa Tenggara province. Local names from each case study also represent, or include, the names used by Butonese, Bugis and Bajo fishers, respectively. Common name Latin name Osi/Butonese name Dobo/Bugis name Rote/Bajo name Shark Hiu Hiu/Mangewang Hiu Blacktip Reef Shark Carcharhinus melanopterus Hiu Meti Rantikolo Rantikolo Common/Australian Carcharhinus limbatus, C. tilstoni Hiu Pesawat Rantikolo Rantikolo, Hidung Mudah (Pepela), Kacuka Blacktip Shark (Bajo) Spinner, Bignose, Graceful C. brevipinna, C. altimus, Rantikolo, Hidung Mudah (Pepela), Kacuka shark C. amblyrhynchoides (Bajo) Balanak Fossil Shark Hemipristis elongata Hiu Putih (Gigi Banyak) Hiu Putih Lapis Gigi Grey Reef Shark Carcharhinus amblyrhynchos Hiu Lautan Tenggiri Balanak, Semburu/Semboro, Hiu HaHa, HaiHo Silvertip Shark Carcharhinus albimarginatus Hiu Ikan Tenggiri Hiu Laru/Larung (Bajo), Balanak (Pepela) Spottail Shark Carcharhinus sorrah Hiu Balanak, Rantikolo Whitetip Reef Shark Triaenodon obesus Hiu Batu, Hiu Coklat Hiu Tujuh-Tujuh/ Sirip Tujuh Hiu Batu, Hiu Coklat Guitarfish Rhynchobatus spp Hiu Lontar Panro/Lontar Lontar, Nunang (Bajo), Hiu Pasir/Paridung (Pepela) PX (Surabaya) Zebra Shark Stegostoma fasciatum Hiu Bodoh Hiu Bodoh Hiu Bodoh (Japanese) Devilray Mobula japonica/ Mobula spp Pari Gulema Pari Panka/Papasa Papasa (Bajo), Balalang*/Kepala Dua (Pepela) Whitetip Shark Carcharhinus longimanus Hiu Koboi Hiu Koboi/Hiu Rumput Koboi Manta Ray Manta birostris Pari Gulema Pari Panka/Papasa Papasa (Bajo), Balalang*/Kepala Dua (Pepela) Shovelnose Rays Rhinobatus spp. Hiu Kikir Lontar, Nunang, Hiu Pasir/Paridung Hammerhead Shark Sphyrna spp. Kepala Kepala Bingko/Bingkung (Bajo), Tatara (Pepela), Panggayung/Martil Panggayung/Martil/Bingkung Gede (Surabaya) Tiger Shark Galeocerdo cuvier Hiu Macan Hiu Macan Mangali Bigeye Thresher Alopias superciliosus Korea Hiu Tikus/Korea 3 Layur, Korea Pelagic Thresher Alopias pelagicus Korea Hiu Tikus/Korea 3 Layur, Korea Shortfin Mako Isurus oxyrinchus Korea 2 Hiu Raja, Tenggiri Lemon shark Negaprion acutidens La Lu’u, Hiu Merah, Balanse Cont’d next page…

64 Chapter 2 | Fishery overview

Table 2.3 cont’d Bignose Shark Hiu Balanse Indo Wobbegong Orectolobus ornatus Hiu Batik Hiu Batik Hiu Bodoh Shark ray Rhina ancylostoma Panro bodoh/Panser/Kupu-kupu Nunang Sawfish Pristis spp Hiu Gergaji Hiu Gergaji Mackerel Sharks (group) Lamnidae Hiu Tenggiri, Hiu Raja Blackspotted Whipray Himantura toshi Pari Licin/Pari Mutiara Cowtail Stingray Pastinachus atrus Pari Bendera Whitespotted Eagle Ray Aetobatus narinari Pari Burung Pelagic Stingray Pteroplatytrygon violacea Pari Burung Reticulate Whipray Himantura uarnak Pari Lungkur Gulper Sharks, Spurdogs Centrophorus, Squalus Hiu Minyak Hiu Botol/Hiu Minyak Hiu Mata Hijau Whale shark Rhincodon typus Hiu Paus, Belimbing, Hiu Paus/La Bajie Hiu Tokek***, Hiu Bodoh Tokek Grey Nurse Carcharias taurus Lapis Gigi Tawny Nurse Nebrius ferrugineus Mata Buta, Buta Dusky shark Carcharhinus obscurus Antuka, Antuga Antukang Pigeye shark Carcharhinus amboinensis Panda Buranti Silky shark Carcharhinus falciformis Sila (Pepela), Semburu/Semboro (Bajo) Sandbar Carcharhinus plumbeus Hiu Putih Bullshark Carcharhinus leucas Panda? Panda, Buranti *Balalang means ‘kepala dua’ – two heads ** Tenggiri means mackerel; Hiu tenggiri = Mackerel shark (also Hiu raja, King shark) *** Toke/Tokek = big spotted gecko

Genetic analysis (barcoding) was performed on a subset of the individuals recorded by fishers (see also Chapter 3). A total of 605 tissue samples (32% of all recorded sharks) from 22 species were successfully barcoded (Table 2.4). The proportion of samples for each species varied and, overall, was not representative of the total catch. However, the barcoded subset allowed the accuracy of fishers’ species IDs to be estimated. The match rates between the two methods for species IDs were high for all homeports - 98% in Osi, 75% in Dobo and 83% in Pepela. Most identification errors on the fishers’ side were attributed to handling errors (e.g. taking tissue samples of several sharks at once before transferring samples to vials and labelling them, rather than processing one sample at a time). This was particularly obvious for the two gillnet fishers in Dobo, who repeatedly mislabelled vials containing hammerhead and guitarfish or shovelnose ray samples, all of which are species that these fishers undoubtedly knew. Their high catches probably placed constraints on data collection, and it is likely that samples were mixed up or mislabelled as a result of tissue collection taking place amid the finning and other shark processing, in rough weather or at night, or that fishers were not clear on the importance of correctly matching vials with the individuals recorded on the data sheets.

Barcoding was also valuable in establishing the presence of look-alike species that fishers did not distinguish between. For example, fishers in all sites only had one name for all hammerhead sharks, while barcoding revealed that this group contained scalloped hammerheads, Sphyrna lewini, and great hammerheads, S. mokarran (Table 2.4). Similarly, barcoding identified common/Australian blacktips, spinner sharks and spottail sharks within the group name Rantikolo, which fishers from Dobo and Pepela used (Table 2.4). Although the fishers could tell these species apart when they were shown a species guide, there was no need for them to distinguish species with the same (fin) value.

Full results of the genetic analyses are being prepared for publication with my collaborator Dr. Paolo Momigliano, who led the genetic analyses of the samples. Data on the lengths of measured sharks are analysed and interpreted in Chapter 4.

Of the 40 identified species, 31 were assessed as Near Threatened, Vulnerable or Endangered by the IUCN (International Union for the Conservation of Nature) (Table 2.4). The combined hammerhead species, making up the 5th most commonly caught taxon and 7.5% of the total catch, are classified as Endangered by the IUCN and have been listed on Appendix II of CITES (the Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species of Fauna and Flora) since 2014. The export and trade of species listed on CITES Appendix II is limited, and Indonesia has responded to the listing by placing a total export ban on all

66 Chapter 2 | Fishery overview hammerhead products (Table 2.4). While CITES listings are a tool for limiting international trade, they do not require nations to limit the take of listed species. It is clear from the results of this study that hammerheads and other CITES-listed or domestically protected species are still being caught, although they are disappearing from areas where they have been fished extensively, such as the reefs of the MoU Box (Meekan and Cappo 2004). Customs officials in Indonesia’s international ports are unlikely to inspect all fins being shipped out of the country, or indeed being able to identify all fins to the species level. Several high-profile seizures of protected manta gill raker shipments may have had the unintended consequence of increasing the export of illegal shark and ray parts through less obvious trade routes such as Manado, Lombok or even Bali. However, the export ban on CITES-listed sharks and rays, and the total protection, including from fishing, afforded to manta and mobulid rays are the only domestic management and conservation measures applicable to the species recorded in this study. None of the other species are currently protected or managed, whether at local, regional or national scales (Table 2.4). It should be noted that nation-wide protection is also afforded to whale sharks (Rhincodon typus) and thresher sharks (Alopidae), which were not recorded in this study.

Globally, about one-quarter of sharks and rays are estimated to be threatened (listed as Vulnerable, Endangered or Critically Endangered) and another quarter are Near Threatened (Dulvy et al. 2014a). These estimates account for uncertainty in Data Deficient species, which make up nearly 50% of elasmobranch species diversity. Indonesia forms part of the Coral Triangle, or what Dulvy et al. (2014a) call the ‘Indo-Pacific Biodiversity Triangle’, a region of high conservation priority due to its high species diversity and endemism, low management effectiveness, high proportion of threatened species, and, for Indonesia specifically, the high percentage share in global chondrichthyan landings and the shark fin trade (Worm and Branch 2012; Dulvy et al. 2014a). Big international NGOs (or BINGOs) have readily capitalised on the enormous conservation goals implicit in the ‘biodiversity hotspot’ status, attempting –but often failing - to reconcile efficient resource management interventions with stated goals of improving food security, equity and other human wellbeing indicators (Clifton and Foale 2017). Regardless of the agendas and mechanisms by which environmental and human wellbeing goals are to be achieved, the scope and effectiveness of both is based on accurate data, the availability of which is often correlated to a country’s economic wealth (Momigliano and Harcourt 2014). Indonesia, a developing country with millions of small-scale fishers (De Alessi 2014), thousands of islands and a predominantly unregulated and unreported shark fishery (Momigliano and

Harcourt 2014) does not have the funding resources or the research capacity to conduct studies of the type and scale required to successfully conserve many of its natural resources. Consequently, Indonesia’s position as the world’s leading shark producer and the conservation concern of its chondrichthyan fauna stand in stark contrast to the country’s scientific output (Momigliano and Harcourt 2014). Between 1993 and 2013, less than a dozen studies were published on sharks in Indonesia, all of them led and authored predominantly by foreign researchers (e.g. White et al., 2006, White, 2007a, 2007b; White and Cavanagh, 2007; White and Dharmadi, 2007, 2010; Blaber et al., 2009; Varkey et al., 2010; White and Kyne, 2010; Hall et al., 2012). It is encouraging that although Indonesia’s scientific output still lags far behind that of wealthier countries with smaller chondrichthyan catches, such as Australia and the USA, the number of published studies on the country’s shark fauna and fisheries is growing at a faster rate than previously. Moreover, studies published since 2013 are increasingly led by Indonesian researchers, indicating a growing interest and capacity by Indonesian scientists to conduct and publish such studies (Dharmadi et al. 2015; Fahmi and Dharmadi 2015; Sembiring et al. 2015).

68 Chapter 2 | Fishery overview

Table 2.4. Catch composition of sharks caught in three eastern Indonesian fishing grounds, the Seram-Halmahera Sea (1), Aru-Arafura Sea (2) and Timor Sea (3). Species are listed in the order of their contribution to total catch (n = 1881 sharks) and are grouped by fishers’ identification. Where fishers’ species names do not distinguish between similar species in a higher taxonomic grouping (marked *), species identified by genetic barcoding are listed within. Values in the column N barcoded samples represent the combined subset of barcoded samples from each fisher-identified taxon and do not indicate identification matches. Fishing gears are gillnet (GN), longline (LL) or deepwater longline (deep LL). IUCN status abbreviations: LC = Least Concern, NT = Near Threatened, VU = Vulnerable, EN = Endangered, DD = Data Deficient. CITES listings are shown as the relevant CITES appendix number. Family Sp. Scientific/ Eastern Indonesian N (%) fisher N Fishing Fishing IUCN CITES Status in # Common name name(s) catch barcoded grounds gears Indo- samples nesia Carcharhinidae 1 Carcharhinus Hiu Lautan, 311 (16.5%) 119 1, 3 GN, LL NT amblyrhynchos Hiu Ikan Grey reef Rhinobatidae- Shovelnose 2 Glaucostegus typus Hiu Kikir, Lontar, 266 (14.1%) 45 2 GN VU rays* Giant shovelnose Nunang Carcharhinidae – Black- 3 Carcharhinus Hiu Pesawat, 257 (13.7%) 72 1, 2, 3 GN, LL NT/LC tipped sharks* limbatus/tilstoni Rantikolo, Hiu Common/ Hitam; less Australian blacktip commonly Hidung 4 C. brevipinna Mudah, Kacuka, Spinner NT 5 C. sorrah Balanak Spottail NT Carcharhinidae 6 Carcharhinus plumbeus Hiu Putih 141 (7.5%) 66 3 LL VU Sandbar Sphyrnidae 7 Sphyrna mokarran Hiu Martil, 141 (7.5%) 25 1, 2, 3 GN, LL EN II Export - Hammerhead complex* Great hammerhead Bingko/Bingku ban 8 Sphyrna lewini Kepala-Panggayung Scalloped H’head EN II Export ban

Family Sp. Scientific/ Eastern Indonesian N (%) fisher N Fishing Fishing IUCN CITES Status in # Common name name(s) catch barcoded grounds gears Indo- samples nesia Centrophoridae 9 Centrophorus sp. Hiu Minyak, Hiu 99 (5.3%) 27 2 Deep LL Unspecified gulper Botol, Mata Hijau 10 C. moluccensis PC, Z, Hiu Minyak 69 (3.7%) 7 2 Deep LL DD Putih 11 C. lusitanicus CT, X, Hiu Minyak 52 (2.8%) 4 2 Deep LL VU Coklat

12 C. isodon CM, Y 39 (2.1%) 1 2 Deep LL DD

13 C. atromarginatus AM, Hiu Minyak 23 (1.2%) 1 2 Deep LL DD Abu-Abu

14 C. acus AT 1 (0.1%) 1 2 Deep LL -

15 C. niaukang CB 1 (0.1%) 0 2 Deep LL - Carcharhinidae 16 Galeocerdo cuvier Hiu Macan 78 (4.1%) 28 2, 3 LL NT Tiger shark Carcharhinidae 17 Triaenodon obesus Hiu Batu, Coklat, 78 (4.1%) 70 1, 2, 3 GN, LL NT Whitetip reef Sirip Tujuh Carcharhinidae 18 Carcharhinus obscurus Antuka(ng), Antuga 68 (3.6%) 33 2, 3 LL VU Dusky Rhynchobatidae 19 Rhynchobatus australiae Hiu Lontar, Panro, 63 (3.3%)* 13 1, 2, 3 GN, LL VU - Guitarfishes* Whitespotted guitarfish Nunang, Hiu Pasir, Paridung, PX

20 Rhynchobatus laevis See previous VU Smoothnose wedgefish Carcharhinidae 21 Carcharhinus melanopterus Hiu Meti 53 (2.8%) 30 1 GN NT Blacktip reef

70 Chapter 2 | Fishery overview

Family Sp. Scientific/ Eastern Indonesian N (%) fisher N Fishing Fishing IUCN CITES Status in # Common name name(s) catch barcoded grounds gears Indo- samples nesia Carcharhinidae 22 Carcharhinus Hiu Ikan, Tenggiri, 24 (1.3%) 9 1, 3 GN, LL NT albimarginatus Laru, Balanak Silvertip Squalidae 23 Squalus hemipinnis/ AT, Hiu Minyak 24 (1.3%) 0 2 Deep LL NT chloroculus Hitam NT Indon. shortnose/ Greeneye spurdog 24 Squalus sp. cf C KP 8 (0.4%) 8 2 Deep LL - Indon. highfin spurdog Carcharhinidae 25 Carcharhinus amboinensis Buranti 13 (0.7%) 7 3 LL DD Pigeye Carcharhinidae 26 Negaprion acutidens La Lu’u, Hiu Merah, 12 (0.6%) 8 3 LL VU Lemon shark Balanse Carcharhinidae 27 Carcharhinus leucas Panda, Buranti 9 (0.5%) 1 2, 3 LL NT Bull shark Carcharhinidae 28 Carcharhinus falciformis Hiu Sila, Semburu 8 (0.4%) 6 3 LL NT Silky Ginglymostomatidae 29 Nebrius ferrugineus Hiu Mata Buta 7 (0.4%) 6 3 LL VU Tawny nurse Odontaspididae 30 Carcharias taurus Hiu Lapis Gigi 6 (0.3%) 4 3 LL VU Grey nurse/ Sandtiger Hemigaleidae 31 Hemipristis elongata Hiu Putih, 6 (0.3%) 8 1, 2 GN, LL VU Fossil shark Gigi Banyak, Hemigaleus microstoma Lapis Gigi 32 Sicklefin weasel Q 4 (0.2%) 2 2 LL VU

Family Sp. Scientific/ Eastern Indonesian N (%) fisher N Fishing Fishing IUCN CITES Status in # Common name name(s) catch barcoded grounds gears Indo- samples nesia Rajiformes 33 Ray sp. Pari 4 (0.2%) 0 2 GN, LL - Unspecified ray Mobulidae 34 Manta spp Pari Gulema, 3 (0.2%) 0 2, 3 LL VU, II Fully Manta rays Panka/Papasa, NT protec- (Mobula japonica Balalang, ted Spinetail devil ray) Kepala Dua NT Rhinidae 35 Rhina ancylostoma Panro bodoh, 3 (0.2%) 1 2, 3 LL Shark ray Panser, Kupu-kupu VU Pastinachus atrus Dasyatidae 36 Cowtail stingray Pari Bendera 1 (0.1%) 0 2 LL Lamnidae 37 Isurus oxyrinchus Hiu Tenggiri, Raja 3 (0.2%) 2 3 LL VU Shortfin mako Stegostomatidae 38 Stegostoma fasciatum Hiu Bodoh 3 (0.2%) 0 2, 3 LL VU Zebra, leopard Carcharhinidae 39 Carcharhinus altimus Hidung mudah, 2 (0.1%) 1 3 LL DD Bignose Balanse Carcharhinidae 40 Carcharhinus dussumieri Identified through 1 (0.1%) 0 2 LL NT Whitecheek pers.comm. Total 1881 (100%) 605 (32%)

2.3.6 Processing and sale of shark fins

Once crews returned from fishing trips, their catch of fins and meat had to be processed and sold. Depending on the weather at sea or time since capture, some fins needed more time to dry. Laid out on racks in front of fishers’ homes or in storage rooms in the homes or shops of their bosses, the entire catch was usually dried and ready for sale to a trader within a week. Fishers from Osi usually called traders (pembeli) they knew to let them know that they had fins for sale; the traders then came to Osi to negotiate a price and buy the fins. At other times the price was discussed on the phone, and the highest offering trader was invited to collect the fins. The fishers knew the going prices for different species and size categories from talking to other fishers and traders, and were not afraid to decline bad offers. During my stay in Osi, a trader from Kalimantan left without fins because he was not prepared to pay what the fishers requested; they sold the catch to a trader from Ambon with whom they had conducted business before. In Dobo and Pepela, fishers sold their catch to their boss - either the person who owned the boat they worked on, or who had financed their fishing trip.

Bosses calculated the value of fins taking into consideration multiple factors, the most important of which were species, size and cut of the fins, weight, colour and quality (how well preserved or dry the fins were). Understanding how fin prices were calculated was complicated by the fact that not all bosses considered all of these factors, or to the same degree as others. For example, while some bosses paid more for fins cut full bulan, others preferred to process the fins themselves and only considered species, size and/or weight in determining the price paid to fishers. Whether fins were weighed, measured, or both, depended on the species. Fins of low value sharks such as whitetip reef (Triaenodon obesus), leopard (Stegostoma fasciatum), and deepwater sharks (Centrophorus spp. and Squalus spp.), as well as the kepel fins, were normally only weighed, whereby all fin sizes were weighed together and sold for around Rp. 20,000/kg (~$2.00). The sets of more valuable fins were sorted according to species and size. Fin size was usually determined by the height of the dorsal fin in each set, although some bosses looked at the pectoral fins; in either case, size was almost always measured by eye and sometimes confirmed by hand widths, never by tape measure. To weigh the fins, bosses used three or four size categories: small, medium, large, and sometimes a super size class for the largest fins. The boundaries of these categories differed between different species and bosses, but were approximately as follows for dorsal fins, measured from the middle of the base to the tip:

Small (Kecil): < 25cm

Medium (Sedang): 25 – 45cm

Large (Besar): 45 – 65cm

Super: > 65cm

According to the interviewed fishers, most fins were weighed in the large or super categories, though it was unclear whether this was truly reflective of a large proportion of the catch consisting of big sharks, or fishers’ perceptions being inaccurate (i.e., fishers best remembered profits from the largest fin categories). The common species categories used by bosses and average prices paid for fins in each category are presented in Chapter 6.

Some boats took several hundred kilograms of salt to sea. Although this was mainly intended for making dendeng, dried shark meat, some Dobo fishers admitted to salting fins at sea, attempting to increase their weight. One boss who confirmed that he was aware of this practice said that bosses applied substantial penalty fees if they noticed that fins had been salted. While all bosses said that size and weight mattered, seven bosses also considered colour (as an indication of proper drying) and demand for certain species in determining the price paid to fishers. The most valuable species were guitarfish (Rhynchobatidae), closely followed by shovelnose rays (Rhinobatidae). Guitarfish were also considered one of the rarest species apart from sawfish (gergaji), which were so rare that only a few old fishers remembered ever seeing or catching one.

Although most interviewed bosses said that fishers had a say in determining the price they were paid for fins, further questioning revealed that this was usually a matter of a few cents. However, bosses’ and fishers’ statements both agreed on the fact that fin prices were newly calculated and negotiated after each trip, even if the fluctuations in price were minimal. In early 2012 however, at the onset of my fieldwork in Osi, shark fin prices declined greatly, which was reflected in a reduction in imports to large trade centres such as Hong Kong and mainland China (Eriksson and Clarke 2015). Some reports attributed this to reduced demand for shark fin following awareness campaigns and food safety scares from fake shark fin (Whitcraft et al. 2014). Other researchers of the shark fin trade interpreted the drop in imports to be a result of worldwide changes in custom commodity codes, resulting in shark fins being reported as shark meat, and diminishing supplies following global declines in shark stocks (Fabinyi and Liu 2014). The latter argument is in line with estimates of reduced shark fisheries production (Dent and Clarke 2015)

74 Chapter 2 | Fishery overview and fishers’ observations of declining catches in the last decade, which are presented and discussed in detail in Chapter 4 of this thesis.

Before fishers were given their share of the profits, the trip’s operational costs had to be repaid. Even though boat owners relied on fishing crews to earn an income, the operational costs were often deducted at interest from a trip’s profits. Fishers reported the average total value of the catch to be 10-20 million rupiah, or $1000-2000, whereas bosses quoted a wider range of profits, between $500 and $5000. It became apparent from interviews that depending on the site and boss, a trip’s profits were split in a multitude of ways to cover operational costs, gear and vessel repairs, and crew salaries. The following describes a general procedure, whereby the profits were initially split into three parts: one for the captain and crew, one for the boss, and one for the boat. The boss’ part was removed first; it included the loan for operational costs and added interest, and the boss’ share of the profits. The remaining amount was split equally among the crew and boat. The boat’s share was taken by the boss and, at least theoretically, used for repairs and gear replacements. By 2012/13, after dividing the third part into equal parts for each deckhand and a slightly higher amount for the captain, many fishers returned home with barely any profit and had to borrow money from their bosses to be able to feed their families. These loans were then deducted, often at interest, from the next trip’s profits. None of the bosses specified how much interest they charged for loans, but fishers often complained that it was enough to prevent them from making headway on their debts. Few fishers felt that their bosses treated them fairly, and it was not uncommon for them to hint that their relationships with their moneylenders were uneasy:

I am selling to Boss Rudi now. Actually, I am still selling to Boss Yau at the moment, it’s my plan to change to Boss Rudi because Boss Yau…well I’d rather not say, otherwise people will say I am badmouthing him.

(Active fisher, Dobo, 12/2012)

Dire circumstances created by declining catches and fin prices, rising fuel and operational costs due to the need to travel further in search of sharks, and increasing debt, led many fishers in Dobo and Pepela to quit the fishery, if only for a season or two. This in turn gave the fishers who remained more power to negotiate fin prices and interest rates for loans, since a shortage of captains and deckhands was a problem for bosses who lost income with every vessel that remained in port or was left on the beach. The problem of

debt and the role of bosses in providing social safety nets by providing loans to fishers is discussed in more detail in Chapter 6.

Most fishers did not know where their fins were sold or exported to after they had sold them to their boss, or what they were used for. Some thought they were used for medicine or food, and others were curious as to why the fins had so much value that it prompted the dumping of most of the animal during successful fishing trips – a practice many found wasteful. Although fishers from Osi and Pepela, in particular, started retaining more carcasses and processing them into dendeng as catches declined, the taste of shark meat was said to be too intense to be enjoyed. Fishing families rarely consumed dendeng, but instead sold it in nearby farming villages, or to small shops in the nearest town. This represents a further distinction from western Indonesia, where the value of shark meat appears to often exceed that of the fins, and represents a powerful incentive to target sharks or retain them as bycatch (G. Moreno, cited in Jaiteh et al., 2017).

Some of the local bosses were also traders who bought fins from other bosses in their town before selling them on to a higher-level trader in a bigger city or regional entrepôt. The percentage added to the original buying price for fins sold on to the next trader ranged from <5% to 35%. Four of my respondents always sold to the same trader and cited longstanding relationships as the reason for this, while the other four sold to multiple people (2 to >5) depending on the price they offered. All of the interviewed bosses had known their own bosses for at least five years, and two bosses had business relationships that were over 20 years old. Two bosses from Dobo and one from Rote sold fins to traders in Surabaya, Indonesia’s main export city for shark fin and other marine products; three sold their fins to traders in Dobo, and two Rotenese bosses sold to a trader in Kupang. From there, bosses said their fins were then sold to higher-level traders in Surabaya, China (Hong Kong) and Singapore. None of the bosses knew how much value the fins gained on their way up the trade chain until they reached the final buyer.

2.4 Conclusions

In this chapter, I have provided an overview of the eastern Indonesian shark fishery, an understudied component of the world’s biggest shark fishing nation. Although eastern Indonesia encompasses over a third of Indonesia’s EEZ (about half the EEZ, including Sulawesi) and is well known within conservation circles as a marine biodiversity hotspot

76 Chapter 2 | Fishery overview with high species endemism, almost nothing was known of the shark fishery in this region. Based on two case studies in fishing communities in Maluku and one in Nusa Tenggara Timur province, I described the fishery’s technical and traditional aspects, and its social, ecological and economic significance to shark fishing communities. Following a detailed description of the methods used for collecting a mix of qualitative and quantitative data, I interpreted fisher-collected catch data to identify harvested species, delineated fishing grounds, described traditional and contemporary fishing practices, and investigated the local sale and trade of shark fin. The findings summarised below constitute the main considerations that would ideally underpin any efforts to manage the fishery.

Fishers from each study community fished in distinct and extensive fishing grounds that were often several hundred kilometres away from their homeports. Notwithstanding the size and distance of fishing grounds and the commercial (rather than subsistence) motivation for the fishery, it is a small-scale fishery characterised by its dynamic, data-poor and decentralised attributes. The catch composition implies that the fishery affects over 40 species of sharks and rays and contributes significantly to Indonesia’s total elasmobranch production. However, this contribution is largely invisible: the fishery is essentially unregulated, and shark landings appear to be almost entirely unreported due to the way sharks are processed and traded. In particular, fishers generally fin sharks at sea and only retain the fins, which are sold to middlemen or traders upon the fishers’ return to their homeports. The main driver for the fishery is the international market for shark fins, while local demand and consumption of shark meat plays only a minor role, and on its own does not constitute a sufficient incentive for fishing trips. These are important considerations for management purposes, because they imply that there are fundamental differences between this shark fishery and that in the western parts of Indonesia, where most of the information on the country’s shark fisheries has been generated (White 2007c; Fahmi and Dharmadi 2015; Dharmadi et al. 2016). In particular, sharks tend to be retained whole and landed at fish landing sites in Lombok, Bali, Java and Sumatra, which greatly facilitates documentation and monitoring of shark catches, and implies that shark meat is an important driver of the fishery (G. Moreno, IOTC consultant, pers. com.).

Another research finding of importance to management is the difference in catch composition between the eastern and western Indonesian fisheries. While researchers in western Indonesia determined that silky (Carcharhinus falciformis) and blue sharks (Prionace glauca) represent the greatest proportion of targeted and bycatch landings, respectively, neither of these species were recorded by the fishers involved in my study. Instead, they

recorded grey reef (Carcharhinus amblyrhynchos) and sandbar sharks (C. plumbeus) in high numbers in the Seram and Timor Seas, respectively, while the catch from the Arafura sea was dominated by deep-sea species such as gulper sharks (Centrophorus spp.) and spurdogs (Squalus spp.), and shovelnose rays (Rhonobatidae) in shallower waters. These findings imply that management approaches will need to reflect the marked differences between the eastern and western Indonesian shark fisheries, and that a closer examination and better quantification of eastern Indonesia’s contribution to total national elasmobranch landings is warranted. There is a caveat, however; the fact that sharks caught in eastern Indonesia’s remote provinces are generally not landed at fishing ports, places significant constraints on data collection and emphasises the need for alternative, data-poor management approaches that are strongly grounded in the application of precautionary principles.

Previous studies have called for a greater involvement of resource users in data collection and monitoring, as well as incorporating fishers’ traditional knowledge in data- poor fishery assessments (Johannes 2000; Berkes 2004; Almany et al. 2010). The description in this chapter of eastern Indonesia’s understudied shark fishery relied heavily on the involvement of fishers in data collection at sea, and their willingness to share their fishing experience, traditional fishing practices, and observations of recent ecological and economic developments that have affected the viability of their livelihoods. As such, the insights presented here strongly endorse the claim that actively involving fishers in knowledge generation can produce vital fishery information that can be used for the development of management and conservation strategies in data-poor or data-less settings.

78 Chapter 2 | Fishery overview

2.5 Supporting Information

Table S2.1. Summary data, questions, and responses of interviews conducted in Osi, Dobo and Pepela. Responses are summarized and presented by respondent category. For many questions, more than one answer was possible. HH = Household. Where not all of the 247 respondents were asked a particular question, or not all answered, the total number of respondents for that question is given in bold in the respective ‘Sum/Avg’ column. Interview question Active (A) Retired (R) Non- Sum/Avg Fishers Site profiles 1.1 Total Respondents 95 91 61 247 Male respondents 95 90 34 218 Female respondents 0 1 27 29 Children, all sites 223 263 112 598/3 per HH Children Median 3/household Children Max 9/household 1.1 Average age of respondents (years) 35 42 48 41 Maximum age 79 74 81 - Minimum age 19 27 21 - 1.1 Educational level? 235 Never went to school 3 3 0 6 Elementary School (SD) 51 51 16 119 Junior High School (SMP) 22 11 11 44 Senior High School (SMA) 18 24 10 52 University (Bachelor’s Degree; S1) 0 0 14 14 1.3 Any family members who work outside the 26 31 20 77 village? Fishing experience 3.1 Years of fishing experience 1-53 1-39 - 15 (A)/12 (R) 3.3 Reason to start fishing 183 Family business 28 27 - 53 Economic Prospect 69 57 - 126 Other 15 13 - 28 3.5 Task on the boat 186 Captain/skipper 61 53 - 114 Deckhand 36 45 - 81 Shark processing 1 4 - 5 Selling fins 1 1 - 2 3.8 How many generations shark fishing? 184 This generation (1) 43 60 - 103 Two or several generations 40 19 - 59 Since ancestry 11 11 - 22 Nature of the fishery 4.1 Do you 186 … own your boat 22 20 - 42 …rent your boat 0 1 - 1 …work for the boat owner 78 72 - 150 4.8 How do you navigate? 184 Map 55 55 - 110 Compass 91 90 - 181 GPS 57 25 - 82 From memory 49 51 - 100 By the stars 62 56 - 118

Table S2.2. Interview questions and responses of interviews conducted in the three eastern Indonesian case study sites Osi, Dobo and Pepela. Responses are combined for all sites. For some questions, more than one answer was possible. Unless otherwise noted, responses are given out of the total of 247 respondents Interview question Responses (all sites combined) Community profile Total respondents 247 1.1 Total number of ethnic groups (self-identified) 36* Main ethnic groups (63% of respondents) Buton 36% Rote 16% Bugis 6% Bajo 5% 1.5 Means of transport Unmotorised longboat 44 Motorised longboat 106 Motorbike 76 Car 4 1.8 Respondents who had financial difficulties in the last year 180 of 181 1.10 Respondents who had a bank account 73 1.11 Respondents who could go to hospital if needed 136 of 240 Importance of shark fishing to the village 2.8 Shark fishing is main source of income for village 235 Now 76 In the past 175 Never 13 2.9 If no longer, why not? 180 Fin price decreased 108 Shark abundance decreased 73 Fuel price increased 74 Fishing grounds closed or decreased 57 Better alternative livelihoods 23 Nature of the fishery 4.7 Which items are on your boat? 184 Water tank 176 Life raft (i.e. wooden canoe) 38 Generator 32 Solar panel 47 Radio (that plays music) 36 Traditional rules, Pamali (Taboo) 7.1 Traditional beliefs, adat rules for fishing? 220 Not aware of traditional/adat rules 165 Sasi on certain species 19 Adat prohibits taking of whale sharks 9 Adat places diverse rules 29 Obey pamali while fishing 11

80 Chapter 2 | Fishery overview

Table S2.3. Interview questions and responses of interviews conducted in the three eastern Indonesian case study sites Osi, Dobo and Pepela. Responses are summarised and presented by site. For many questions, more than one answer was possible. Where not all of the 247 respondents were asked a particular question, or not all answered, the total number of respondents for that question is given in bold in the respective ‘Sum/Avg’ column. Interview question Osi Dobo Pepela Sum/Avg Household condition Total Respondents 81 84 82 247 1.4 Facilities in household 244 Running water 5 66 52 123 Electricity 72 71 73 221 Generator 5 18 8 31 Solar panels 2 4 2 8 Landline (home phone) 0 0 0 0 Mobile phone 61 73 61 195 Computer 2 5 12 19 1.6 Earnings/month/household < Rp. 1 Million (≈ $100) 44 11 58 113 1 – 3 Million 36 46 17 99 3-5 Million 1 13 4 18 > 5 Million 0 13 1 14 Importance of shark fishing to the village 2.1 Time village has been shark fishing (years)* 15-25 20-30 43 2.2 Main changes in the fishery since its beginning Decreased fishing, Decr. fin prices, Decr. fin prices, decr. abundance decr. abundance decr. abundance 2.3 Highest number of boats ever in village* ~ 50 150-200 ~100 2.4 Number of boats in village now* 5 50-100 15 2.5 Highest number of shark fishers ever* ~350 500-1000 ~1000 2.6 Number of shark fishers now* 35 500 100 2.7 Greatest benefit of shark fishing 235 Improved economy 84 76 60 220 Status 8 31 1 40 Nature of the fishery 4.6 What type of boat do you work on? 222 81

Interview question Osi Dobo Pepela Sum/Avg Wood or wood & fiberglass, motorised 81 80 2 163 Wooden sailboat 0 0 59 59 4.23 How many fishing trips per year? 2-5 4-7 4-7 (most did 5-6) ~5 ---PEPELA ONLY--- 61 4.14 Ever been arrested in Australia? Not yet 12 Once 10 2-5 times 29 6-10 times 9 More than 10 times 1 4.15 Reason for being arrested? Fished for shark outside MoU Box (with/without motor) 31 Fished for shark inside MoU Box using motorised boat 3 In transit (not fishing) outside MoU Box using motor 1 Fished for shark inside and outside MoU Box with motor 10 I was wrongfully arrested 2 Other/Don’t want to say/Don’t know why 14 4.17 Boat was burnt by the Australian government 47 4.19 More debt upon return from Australia 44 People smuggling (Pepela only) 60 8.12 Considered taking asylum seekers to Australia Yes 33 Not yet 27 8.13 Reason for considering people smuggling? 33 Repay debt with boss 16 Pay my children’s school fees/other necessities 7 Both of the above 10 8.14 Taken asylum seekers to Australia 35 Yes 9 Not yet 26 8.16 How long were you detained or imprisoned for? 10 1-3 months 6 6-12 months 1 1-3 years 3

Chapter 3

New distribution records of the Vulnerable fossil shark Hemipristis elongata from eastern Indonesia call for improved fisheries management

The pile of fins that revealed the presence of fossil sharks in eastern Indonesia

This chapter is published: Jaiteh V and Momigliano P (2015) New distribution records of the Vulnerable fossil shark Hemipristis elongata from eastern Indonesia call for improved fisheries management. Marine Biodiversity Records 8: e79

Chapter 3

New distribution records of the Vulnerable fossil shark Hemipristis elongata from eastern Indonesia call for improved fisheries management

3.1 Abstract

Genetically verified catch data from fishers in eastern Indonesia provide new distribution records for the fossil shark Hemipristis elongata in the Halmahera, Seram and Arafura seas. Previously only recorded from the islands of Java and Borneo (Kalimantan), this study reports a range extension for this species of >2000 km across the Indonesian archipelago, suggesting that fossil sharks are subjected to fishing pressure over a much larger geographic area than implied by previous species records. We recommend a review of the current species assessment to reflect the reported range extension and inform management of this fishery-targeted shark.

3.2 Introduction

In the last two decades, shark populations around the world have experienced unprecedented declines driven largely by target fisheries that supply the shark fin trade (Baum et al. 2003; Dulvy et al. 2008; Ferretti et al. 2008). According to the United Nations' Food and Agriculture Organization (FAO), Indonesia has the world’s biggest shark fishery with a reported average yearly catch in excess of 100,000 tons over the last decade (FAO FishStatJ 2015).

Global efforts to protect sharks from overexploitation have been informed and recommended in recent years by a substantial rise in the number of scientific studies on various aspects of shark biology and fisheries (Momigliano and Harcourt 2014). However,

this global trend of increased scientific, government and non-government attention to the plight of sharks has largely eluded Indonesia for various reasons, such as the size of the Indonesian archipelago, the logistics of accessing remote fishing grounds, the difficulty of obtaining research permits and insufficient allocation of government resources (Momigliano et al. 2014). The published scientific studies from the region (e.g. Blaber et al., 2009; White, 2007a; White et al., 2008; White and Dharmadi, 2010) have focused on relatively easily accessible parts of Indonesia, or were based on fish market surveys where the location of capture was not always known. As a result, essential data on the diversity, biology and distribution of fishery-targeted shark species remain sparse or lacking for large parts of Indonesia, impeding effective management and conservation efforts. Where data are scarce and rigorous fishery-independent assessments not possible, catch data can provide critical information on the status of a species, for example as part of species assessments (Froese et al. 2012). Determining the distribution range of a species and the geographic extent of the fisheries targeting it are important components of a species assessment, allowing managers to develop location-specific strategies to protect populations from anthropogenic pressures.

The fossil shark Hemipristis elongata (Klunzinger 1871) is a tropical shark known to occur in shallow waters to depths of at least 130 m in coastal regions of the Indo-western Pacific, including southeastern Africa, the Red Sea, India, Southeast Asia and Australia (Last and Stevens 2009). Due to the high quality of its meat and fins, H. elongata is targeted by intensive and largely unmanaged coastal fisheries throughout its range with the exception of Australia, where it has little commercial value (White 2003). Fish market surveys in the Gulf of Thailand and on Java in Indonesia have indicated that the species has declined where it was once common (White, 2003). Despite the strong likelihood that H. elongata has experienced significant population declines in the last two decades, biological information for the species is limited. It grows to about 240 cm and females are thought to have two to 11 young every other year (Stevens and McLoughlin 1991). Size at maturity and growth is not well understood (White, 2007b).

Based on the most recent species assessment (White, 2003), the IUCN classifies Hemipristis elongata as globally Vulnerable with a decreasing population trend (IUCN, 2014). Indonesia is one of the countries in which fossil sharks are likely to be heavily exploited, but to date they have only been recorded from fish markets on Java (White, 2003; 2007b). The author of the IUCN assessment of H. elongata suggested that market surveys are likely to provide a relatively good representation of the population of this species in Indonesia

86 Chapter 3 | Range extension

(White, 2003). However, fish market surveys are unlikely to yield reliable data in eastern Indonesia, where sharks are rarely landed whole and sold at markets; instead, fishers often discard the carcasses at sea, bringing back only the fins which they dry and sell directly to traders close to their homeports (Momigliano et al. 2014). If not accounted for, this ‘invisible’ fishing pressure can limit the accuracy and usefulness of regional population assessments for local management purposes. One way to obtain fishery data in the absence of carcasses for species identification is to work directly with fishers to collect catch data at sea. Recent fishery surveys with the objective of describing the species composition of eastern Indonesian shark fisheries (V. Jaiteh, unpublished data) suggested the presence of Hemipristis elongata in a region outside of its currently known range. Here we report a range extension of >2000 km for H. elongata into far eastern Indonesia from genetically validated catch data collected by shark fishers in the Halmahera, Seram and Arafura Seas. We discuss the implications of this species’ occurrence and exposure to fishing pressure in three distinct fishing grounds from where it was not previously described, and recommend a review of the IUCN species assessment for H. elongata.

3.3 Materials and Methods

Fishers from Seram island and the Aru archipelago in Maluku province, Indonesia recorded 19 specimens of Hemipristis elongata during four fishing trips between March and December 2012 in their usual fishing grounds: the Halmahera sea surrounding Halmahera island in North Maluku province; the Seram sea in the Raja Ampat regency of West Papua province; and the Arafura sea around Aru regency, Maluku province (Fig. 3.1). All three fishing grounds are at a distance of 2000 to 2500 km from the island of Java. Fishers who agreed to take part in this study were trained in data collection and recorded the following information for each longline or gillnet set: the local species names of the first ten sharks caught, their total length and sex. For males, clasper length and a basic assessment of calcification (yes/no) were noted, females were checked for embryos. After each fishing trip, local species names were matched to scientific names using identification guides (White et al. 2006b; Last and Stevens 2009). Fishers also recorded water depth and, if a GPS was available, the coordinates of each set. Samples of muscle and fin tissue were collected from sharks caught in bottom-set gill nets or baited longlines with a soak time of 10 – 15 h over night. Fishers collected tissue samples from 14 specimens: all individuals caught in Halmahera (n=3) and Raja Ampat (n=5), and six individuals from Aru, where a

further five specimens were recorded from which no samples are available (Fig. 3.1). Fishers from Aru collected tissue samples during their normal fishing activities and stored them in vials that they labeled with the local species name. Fishers in Halmahera and Raja Ampat took tissue samples from the underside of dried fins that they identified to species- level immediately after the respective fishing trips. In all cases, samples were stored in a NaCl saturated solution containing 20% dimethyl sulphoxide and 0.25 M ethylenediaminetetraacetic acid.

Figure 3.1. Map showing the fishing grounds (red circles 1-3) where 19 individuals of Hemipristis elongata were recorded, 14 of which were sampled and genetically verified. Fishing grounds are numbered: 1 = Halmahera Sea in North Maluku province; 2 = Seram Sea, Raja Ampat in West Papua province; 3 = Arafura Sea, Aru in Maluku province. The 200 m bathymetric depth contour is shown in blue.

DNA was extracted from the 14 specimens following the modified chelex protocol (Walsh et al. 1991) described by (Ward et al. 2008). A 652 bp long fragment of the Cytochrome Oxidase 1 gene was amplified following the protocol outlined by Ward et al. (2008), using the primer pair FishF1 and FishR1 (Ward et al. 2005). PCR products were sequenced using the forward primer FishF1. All sequencing reactions were carried out by a commercial company (Macrogen Inc.). The obtained sequences were deposited in GenBank (accession numbers: KR003984-KR003997) and matched with sequences deposited in the Barcode of Life Data System (BOLD, http://www.boldsystems.org/) database using the BOLD Identification System (IDS). Sequences from these specimens

88 Chapter 3 | Range extension were aligned with sequences from other Hemigaleidae obtained from BOLD. A neighbour- joining tree was constructed as outlined in Momigliano & Jaiteh (2015).

3.4 Results

All of the 14 samples for which genetic analysis was carried out were unambiguously identified as Hemipristis elongata by the BOLD IDS system. In the phylogenetic tree all individuals grouped with 100% bootstrap support with known sequences of Hemipristis elongata (Fig. 3.2), therefore verifying the suspected occurrence of this species in far eastern Indonesia. Fishers identified the species as hiu putih, or ‘white shark’ when referring to identification images of H. elongata in White et al. (2006) and Last & Stevens (2009). All fossil sharks recorded by the fishers were caught at depths between 17 and 125 m. Of the ten genetically verified individuals that were measured and sexed by the fishers, all females (n=6) were immature with no embryos while all males (n=4) were mature with calcified claspers (Table 3.1).

Table 3.1. Sex, lengths and geographical coordinates recorded by fishers in eastern Indonesia for ten genetically verified specimens of Hemipristis elongata Specimen Sex Total length F: Number of embryos Latitude Longitude (cm) M: Claspers calcified (y/n) HE 1 F 102 0 1° 44.223' S 129° 57.586' E HE 2 F 109 0 1° 42.630' S 129° 46.944' E HE 3 F 89 0 1° 50.971' S 129° 38.125' E HE 4 F 85 0 0° 37.991' S 130° 10.625' E HE 5 F 102 0 1° 38.638' S 129° 54.744' E HE 6 F 112 0 6° 57.239' S 134° 46.505' E HE 7 M 145 y 6° 43.29' S 133° 51.129' E HE 8 M 210 y 6° 43.29' S 133° 51.129' E HE 9 M 220 y 6° 43.29' S 133° 51.129' E HE 10 M 210 y 6° 27.197' S 133° 57.021' E

Figure 3.2. Neighbour-Joining tree of the family Hemigaleidae based on a 652 bp long fragment of the Cytochrome Oxidase 1 gene. Individuals analysed in this study are shown in bold. Internal branch labels represent bootstrap support based on 1000 pseudo replicate datasets. Scale bar represents number of changes per base pair

3.5 Discussion

In Indonesia, fossil sharks have previously only been recorded from Java (White 2003), which is bounded by the Indian Ocean to the South and the Java Sea to the North (Fig. 3.1), and Borneo, to the north of Java. This study provides new information on the distribution of Hemipristis elongata across the archipelago, extending its known range by >2000 km into the Halmahera, Seram and Arafura Seas. The IUCN assessment for H. elongata states that “the intensive and largely unmanaged net and trawl fisheries that occur throughout its range (…) fish heavily in its known habitat and are likely to catch this species if present” (White, 2003). Our results confirm that this is the case in eastern Indonesia, where H. elongata has not been documented before and shark fisheries have barely been described. This has important implications for the management and

90 Chapter 3 | Range extension conservation of H. elongata and other species caught in the eastern Indonesian shark fishery, where catches are generally not reported.

Shark management has been slow to develop in Indonesia, partly due to a lack of information about the species occurring in Indonesia’s waters, their distributions and the level of threat they are exposed to through target fisheries and bycatch (Blaber et al. 2009; White and Kyne 2010). Their more charismatic relatives, manta rays (Mobulidae), have the same IUCN threat status as fossil sharks but owing mostly to their value for tourism, are now protected throughout Indonesian waters with violation of the law incurring a fine of 250 million rupiah (approx. US $20,000). H. elongata however, along with the majority of species caught in Indonesia’s shark fisheries, is not protected by national law, and there are currently no fisheries management plans in place for this species. The Raja Ampat shark sanctuary declared in 2012 is the exception to the current lack of effective shark protection in Indonesia, and the fishers that provided data for this study from their Raja Ampat fishing grounds no longer fish there.

Species assessments are important sources of information for management plans, making the availability of accurate biological and fisheries data essential for effective conservation of threatened species. The IUCN assessment for H. elongata lists as recommended Conservation Actions “Recent species composition and catch data for fisheries within its range are required to assess the population trends, especially in areas where there is a very high level of fishing pressure.” This study contributes recent catch data from eastern Indonesia, a region with extensive shark fisheries from which H. elongata was not previously known to occur. The length and sex data collected by the fishers imply that all caught females were immature, with lengths <120 cm and no embryos while all males were mature at lengths >136 cm (Last and Stevens 2009) and calcified claspers (Table 3.1). Our results highlight the value of catch data recorded by fishers, in combination with genetic verification of their species identifications, to provide fundamental information on the distribution and status of a Vulnerable species. This information calls for an update of the IUCN species assessment, as well as improved fisheries management strategies in one of the world’s most significant shark fisheries.

Indonesia lies within the global center of tropical marine biodiversity known as the Coral Triangle. Despite this, the available data suggest that this region harbors a surprisingly lower biodiversity of elasmobranchs than the tropical waters of its neighbour Australia (White and Kyne 2010), which is regarded to have the highest abundance of elasmobranch species in the world (Last & Stevens, 2009). However, Indonesia has far less

resources to study the shark species in its waters and the threats they face. Nevertheless, in recent years previously unobserved species have been reported from various parts of the island archipelago (White et al. 2005; White and Last 2006; Allen et al. 2013) suggesting that elasmobranch biodiversity in the region has likely been underestimated. A more extensive study of the catch composition of eastern Indonesian shark fisheries would help to identify further knowledge gaps and support the development of management plans for these fisheries.

3.6 Acknowledgements

We sincerely thank the fishers who gave their time to provide tissue samples, identify sharks and answer our questions. N. Mahardika, Aji and Andre from the Indonesian Biodiversity Research Center generously allowed us to use their laboratory space. Data collection and analyses were conducted under ethics permits 2012/010 and O2484/12 respectively to V. Jaiteh, and Indonesian Research Permits #13/EXT/SIP/FRP/SM/I/2013 to V. Jaiteh and #03B/TKPIPA/FRP/SM/III/2014 to P. Momigliano, issued by RISTEK Indonesia. This work was supported by a Prime Minister’s Australia-Asia Endeavour Award (V.J.); the Graduate Women of Western Australia (V.J.); the Department of Biological Sciences at Macquarie University (P.M.) and the Sea World Foundation (P.M., project SWR/7/2013).

Chapter 4

Shark finning in eastern Indonesia: Assessing the sustainability of a data-poor fishery

Fisher from Osi finning a whitetip reef shark, Triaenodon obesus

This chapter is published: Jaiteh V, Hordyk A, Braccini M, Warren C and Loneragan N (2017) Shark finning in eastern Indonesia: assessing the sustainability of a data-poor fishery. ICES Journal of Marine Science 74: 242-25

Chapter 4 | Sustainability assessment

Chapter 4

Shark finning in eastern Indonesia: Assessing the sustainability of a data-poor fishery

4.1 Abstract

For over two decades, Indonesia has reported higher average shark landings than any other nation, but very little local information exists on the fishery and life histories of targeted species. This poses severe challenges to shark sustainability and conservation in this vast archipelago. We draw on diverse sources of data to evaluate the sustainability of the shark fishery in eastern Indonesia, a particularly data-poor region where sharks are primarily targeted for their fins. Shark fishers from three coastal communities were interviewed on their perceptions of catch trends over the past twenty years and asked to collect fishing data during fishing trips in the Seram, Arafura and Timor Seas. For the most frequently harvested species, we estimated maximum intrinsic rates of increase (rmax) to predict their resilience to fishing pressure. Our results indicate that shark fishing practices in the region are likely to be unsustainable. The catches of several species largely comprised of immature individuals and most fishers attributed observed declines in shark numbers, size and species diversity to overfishing. Hammerhead sharks have relatively high intrinsic resilience but are nevertheless at risk of local extinction due to their availability to the fishery and the value of their fins. Sandbar, dusky and grey reef sharks have lower resilience and are frequently caught but not managed. We recommend a composite management approach, including consistent implementation of existing trade restrictions, fisheries research and opportunities for fishers’ livelihood diversification, to stem shark harvests in eastern Indonesia.

4.2 Introduction

The combination of a rapid expansion of shark fisheries in the last three decades in response to a booming market for shark fins and meat (Clarke et al. 2006), the capture of sharks as bycatch in fisheries targeted at other groups (Stevens et al. 2000; Oliver et al. 2015) and their intrinsically low biological productivity has led to unprecedented declines in several shark populations around the world (Davidson et al. 2016). In practice, managing shark fisheries is difficult due to the high demand for shark products, particularly their fins (Barker and Schluessel 2005). Furthermore, a lack of resources and institutional capacity to accumulate, analyse and interpret fisheries data often hinders the development of effective management strategies, especially in tropical and developing regions (White et al. 2015).

Over the past 20 years, Indonesia has been the top shark fishing nation, reporting average annual elasmobranch landings of 100 000 t (FAO FishStatJ 2015). Situated within the global center of tropical marine biodiversity and identified as a fisheries conservation hotspot (Worm and Branch 2012), Indonesia’s waters harbour at least 118 species of sharks and rays, several of which were only recorded in recent years (Dharmadi et al. 2015). Despite Indonesia’s species richness and the extent of its shark fisheries, few local data are available for assessing the sustainability of shark landings. Several factors contribute to the scarcity of data, including the vast extent of the archipelago which straddles the equator with over 18 000 islands, covering the 6th largest exclusive economic zone in the world; huge numbers of (unregistered) vessels; the remoteness of many coastal fishing communities that are often unknown to scientists and managers in the national and regional capital cities; low to no catch reporting or recording; low research capacity; political and institutional challenges including power hierarchies, decentralization issues, disconnect between levels of government and between the government and stakeholders, and corruption; and the high socioeconomic value of shark fisheries to many small-scale fishers (Dirhamsyah 2005; Blaber et al. 2009; De Alessi 2014). Although basic information has begun to emerge in recent years (e.g., White and Cavanagh, 2007; White, 2007), time series of relative population trends (e.g., catch and effort) do not exist for elasmobranch species in the region, making it impossible to apply conventional stock assessment methods. However, data-limited assessment approaches and declining catch rates in southwestern Indonesia suggest that many of the species are overfished (Blaber et al. 2009).

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There are ~ 2.7 million fishers in Indonesia (MMAF 2011), many of whom live in the biodiverse eastern provinces of East Nusa Tenggara, Maluku and Papua where fishing is an important coastal livelihood. Poverty is widespread in remote fishing communities, which are severely disadvantaged in terms of access to markets, education and health care (Fox et al. 2009a). Within this context, shark fin is an ideal product to harvest and sell for such communities: it is one of the most valuable fisheries commodities currently traded; it can be harvested with relatively simple gear; even small boats can carry large numbers of fins if carcasses are not retained; and the dried fins are easily stockpiled in the absence of electricity and cooling facilities until the next opportunity for transport out of the community arises (Momigliano et al. 2014). We therefore predicted that shark finning is commonplace in this region, compromising the sustainability of the local shark populations.

Here, we use a holistic approach to evaluating the sustainability of the eastern Indonesian shark fishery by drawing on biological and sociological data sources from three case study sites. Specifically, we 1) identify the key species in the fishery in terms of catch composition and conservation concern; 2) illustrate perceived shark population trends based on fishers’ observations over the past 20 years; 3) determine the intrinsic resilience of frequently caught species to fishing pressure; and 4) highlight the usefulness and limitations of fisher data and the need for local and regional knowledge of fishery and species characteristics. We then interpret these data collectively to describe the impact of the eastern Indonesian shark fishery on a number of frequently harvested species, and identify research priorities for improved management and conservation.

4.3 Materials and Methods

This study was carried out under animal ethics permits O2484/12 and human ethics permits 2012/010 approved by the Research Ethics and Integrity Committee, Division of Research and Development, Murdoch University, Western Australia, and Indonesian research permits 035/SIP/FRP/SM/I/2012 and 13/EXT/SIP/FRP/SM/I/2013 to VFJ, issued by RISTEK Indonesia. All human participants gave written or oral informed consent to be interviewed. Prior to being interviewed, every respondent was informed of the purpose of the interview, the confidentiality of information provided, and the right to omit questions or end the interview at any stage.

4.3.1 Study sites and fishing practices

Interview and fishery data were collected in three coastal fishing communities – Pulau Osi (hereafter ‘Osi’), Dobo and Pepela - and their fishing grounds in the Halmahera- Seram Sea, the Aru-Arafura Sea and the Timor Sea, respectively (Fig. 4.1). These sites were chosen based on reports by fish traders (Osi), naturalists and anthropologists (Dobo) and researchers (Pepela), which indicated that shark fishing was a prevalent livelihood in these communities. Another consideration for choosing these sites was their geographic location, representative of three major sea basins in eastern Indonesia. Data were collected on Osi between 3rd March and 31st August 2012, in Dobo between 1st October and 14th December 2012, and in Pepela between 2nd June and 14th November 2013. The first author (VFJ) stayed in each community to collect information on the fishing practices of shark fishers through observation, participation in short fishing trips, interviews and informal conversations with fishers.

Osi (3°01’22.04”S, 128°04’25.60”E) is a small (900 m x 450 m) sandy island off Seram in Maluku province (Fig. 4.1). In 2012, 963 people lived in the community, many of whom relied almost exclusively on income from shark fishing or were dependent on other, less lucrative small-scale fisheries such as locally sold anchovies. Anecdotal reports indicate that Osi’s fishers were introduced to commercial shark fishing in the early 1990s by a fisher from the island of Buton in Sulawesi. Osi fishers soon became known throughout Maluku and neighbouring provinces for their shark fishing skills. At the time of this study, their fishing grounds extended to Halmahera in North Maluku province and to the islands of Raja Ampat in West Papua province (Fig. 4.1), which were declared a shark sanctuary in late 2013 and thereby became inaccessible to shark fishers.

Dobo (5°45’31.53”S, 134°13’01.24”E) is the capital of the Aru archipelago, situated in south-eastern Maluku (Fig. 4.1). Home to about 10 000 inhabitants, Dobo has been an important trade hub for shark fin and pearl in the eastern provinces of Indonesia for over 150 years (Wallace, 2000 [1869]). The town sees a large number of seasonal fishers who work on shark fishing boats during the western monsoon from October to March and return to their home islands during the eastern monsoon, between April and September. Shark fishers from Dobo fished mainly around the Aru islands and eastward to Papua, and less frequently south towards Australia. As most vessels were equipped with GPS and several captains had previously been imprisoned for fishing in Australian waters, they stayed well north of the border.

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Pepela (10°36’04.08”S, 123°22’44.27”E) lies on the eastern tip of Indonesia’s southernmost island, Rote, in East Nusa Tenggara province (Fig. 4.1). The arid land offers few livelihoods, so for hundreds of years, fishers have sailed their perahu layar (sail boats) from Pepela to the rich fishing grounds of the Timor Sea. The majority of Pepela’s 600 households derive their income from fishing livelihoods, predominantly shark fin, teripang (sea cucumber) and reef fish fisheries. Rotenese fishers were probably introduced to shark fishing by Bajo fishers who sailed from southeast Sulawesi via Pepela towards Australia. Today, targeted shark fisheries are typically focused within the MoU Box (Fig. 4.1), an area within Australian jurisdiction where Rotenese fishers retain traditional fishing rights based on a Memorandum of Understanding (MoU) between Indonesia and Australia.

4.3.2 Catch data

For each day at sea, fishers recorded the location of fishing grounds, type of gear and bait used, soak time and approximate depth, and total sharks caught. For up to ten individual shark from each gillnet or longline set, they recorded the local species name, sex, fork length (FL) and sometimes the total length (TL), to derive FL – TL relationships. Upon their return, fishers helped match the local species names to scientifically recognized species using regional identification guides (White et al. 2006b; Last and Stevens 2009).

To verify species matches, we asked fishers to collect small (~5-10 mm) tissue samples from the undersides of removed fins from a subsample of their catch for genetic identification. To store tissue samples, fishers were given vials holding a NaCl saturated solution containing 20% dimethyl sulphoxide and 0.25 M ethylenediaminetetraacetic acid. The samples were genetically barcoded (Jaiteh and Momigliano 2015) and incorporated into a forthcoming study on the species composition of shark fisheries in eastern Indonesia (Jaiteh et al., Murdoch University, unpublished data). To illustrate total species composition (Fig. 4.1), fishers’ species identifications were used unless a different species had been identified by genetic barcoding, in which case the genetic ID replaced that assigned by the fisher. We grouped genetically barcoded species into higher taxonomic groups if fishers did not distinguish between look-alike species (e.g., Sphyrna lewini and S. mokarran were grouped as Sphyrna spp.), or if there was taxonomic ambiguity within a genus, even when fishers distinguished between species therein (e.g., Centrophorus spp.).

Most fishers recorded FL, except fishers from Pepela, who measured both TL and FL. While many species were recorded in relatively low numbers, sufficient length data were available to examine the size frequency composition of nine frequently caught species

– grey reef sharks (Carcharhinus amblyrhynchos), common blacktip sharks (C. limbatus), blacktip reef sharks (C. melanopterus), dusky whalers (C. obscurus), sandbar sharks (C. plumbeus), tiger sharks (Galeocerdo cuvier), guitarfishes (Rhynchobatus spp), hammerhead sharks (Sphyrna spp.), and whitetip reef sharks (Triaenodon obesus). These species fulfilled the following criteria: they were frequently caught (i.e., 50 or more individuals, Fig. 4.1), we had a high level of confidence in the fishers’ species identifications, and sufficient published life history data were available to derive length at maturity (Lm) and determine species resilience to fishing (see section 2.4). To apply published Lm ranges to our size frequency distributions and make them comparable with other studies, we transformed the measured lengths of these nine species, where applicable, from FL to TL. For four of these species, we had two length measurements from more than 30 individuals and used linear regression to estimate the relationship between FL and TL: C. limbatus, C. obscurus, C. plumbeus, and G. cuvier (Fig. S4.1). To convert lengths of the remaining five species, we used published TL-FL relationships (Table S4.1).

4.3.3 Fisher perceptions

In each community, we studied fishers’ perceptions about local shark populations using semi-structured interviews. Interviews were guided by a questionnaire, with five questions directed at fishers’ observations about changes in their catches (Table S4.2). The same questionnaire was used in each site, with some questions adapted to the local context. For example, fishers were asked about population changes in six to eight frequently caught or high-value species. These species reflected those found in their respective fishing grounds, and therefore were not the same across sites.

The respondents comprised at least 30 active and 30 retired shark fishers in each community. Active fishers were defined as those fishing in the current season, or those who had fished last season and were presently resting but with either no intention or no means of changing to a new income source. Retired shark fishers had stopped fishing permanently or had taken up a different livelihood with no intention of returning to shark fishing.

Respondents were chosen randomly, according to availability but with the condition that only one member of a household was interviewed. All of the respondents we approached agreed to be interviewed, and were subsequently informed of the intent of the research, their right to withdraw from the interview at any stage, and of measures taken to

100 Chapter 4 | Sustainability assessment protect their individual identity. Interviews were conducted in Indonesian by VFJ and local assistants who had been given prior training to ensure consistency of methods.

4.3.4 Sustainability assessment

The proportion of the catch that is mature is often used as a simple measure for determining the sustainability of a fishery (Froese 2004; Cope and Punt 2009). We searched the literature for estimates of Lm for nine of the most frequently caught species, and overlaid the resulting range in Lm on the length frequency distribution of each species. Since no estimates of life history parameters were available for these species from the region in which they were caught, we used a range of parameters from studies conducted in other parts of Indonesia and the world.

Biological resilience to fishing was determined based on the intrinsic rate of increase, rmax, which is the theoretical rate of population increase at very low population size, when population growth is not limited by density-dependence (Dulvy et al. 2004). Therefore, rmax is also the rate at which a population will rebuild if fishing stops after it has been fished down to very low numbers. For example, an r max of 0.1 represents an annual population increase of approximately 10% per year until density dependence occurs and the growth rate decreases. As rmax describes the maximum rate of population increase, it also provides an estimate of the rate of fishing mortality that, if applied over an extended period, would result in the extinction of the stock. That is, if the rate of population decline, caused by fishing mortality (F), exceeds the maximum rate of population increase, the stock will continue to decline to extinction.

This rate, sometimes referred to as Fext, can be used to compare the extinction risk of exploited species (Gedamke et al. 2007; Garcia et al. 2008).

We estimated rmax for nine species using the Euler-Lotka life history model, following methods similar to that of Dulvy et al. (2014). The nine species were the same as those for which length frequency distributions were examined, with the exception of Rhynchobatus spp., for which insufficient life history data were available. Instead, the two species that were genetically identified within the Sphyrna spp. group – the scalloped hammerhead Sphyrna lewini and the great hammerhead S. mokarran – were analysed separately to account for their individual life histories.

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Three life history parameters are required to estimate rmax using the Euler-Lotka model: 1) age at maturity (αm); 2) natural mortality rate (M); and 3) annual production of female offspring (푎̃), which was determined as

푎̃ = litter size/breeding interval * sex ratio.

We searched the literature for all published information on αm, M, and estimates of litter size and breeding interval (Table S4.3). Reliable empirical estimates of M are notoriously difficult to obtain (e.g., Prince et al., 2015). We used maximum age and the Hoenig (1983) method to estimate M for species where this was not already available (Table S4.3). We assumed a sex ratio of 0.5 for all species.

No local estimates of life history parameters were available for the nine shark species, and published parameter estimates varied considerably between geographic regions. In most cases, few independent estimates exist and it was not possible to construct empirical distributions. To account for the uncertainty in life history parameters, we used Monte Carlo methods to draw 50,000 parameter sets from each species’ parameter range. Parameters were drawn from a triangle distribution, which is often used when few data exist (Cortés 2002), ranging from the minimum to maximum values and a mode at the median value observed in the literature. The scarcity of independent parameter estimates can under-represent the actual uncertainty surrounding the value of the parameters. Where only one estimate was available for

αm, M, or litter size, a coefficient of variation (CV) of 0.15 was assumed.

Using the obtained random parameters, a range of plausible rmax values was estimated by numerically solving the following equation for each of the 50,000 parameter draws for each species:

푎̃ = (푒푟푚푎푥)훼푚 − 푒−푀 (푒푟푚푎푥 )훼푚−1

The resulting distribution of estimated rmax values was displayed using boxplots to evaluate the relative extinction risk of the nine species.

All analyses and plotting were done using the R language and environment (R Core Team 2015).

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4.4 Results

4.4.1 Fishing practices

Information on the fishing practices of the three study sites was collected from 31 vessels during 46 fishing trips in their respective fishing grounds (Table 4.1). Fishing trips averaged a month in duration but varied depending on the catch and distance to fishing grounds (Table 4.1). To catch sharks, Osi fishers and two Dobo vessels used unbaited, bottom-set gillnets, while most fishers from Dobo and all from Pepela used pelagic or demersal longlines (Table 4.1). Longlines and gillnets were commonly set in the late afternoon and soaked overnight before being retrieved manually. Both types of fishing gear were made of monofilament fishing line. Gillnets varied in length between 30 m (in Dobo) and 120 m (in Osi), with stretched mesh sizes of ca. 20 cm in Osi and 45 cm in Dobo (Table 4.1). The nets were weighted with rocks, arranged in a linear or star configuration and stretched taught to the extent possible. With few exceptions, longline sets contained a mainline of 99 – 6400 m length and 7 mm diameter, which had 15 – 450 gangions attached approximately 16 m apart. Each gangion was about 5 m long and consisted of fishing line in the upper part and steel wire in the lower, terminating in a stainless steel hook. Bait for the longlines usually comprised freshly caught tuna, flying fish and reef fish; when these baits were not available, fishers used shark meat, dried fish, or hand-speared dolphin (probably of the genera Tursiops and Stenella). Three of the Dobo longline crews that participated in this study specialised in deep-water sharks for shark liver oil, fishing down to depths of 900 m; the other fishers generally fished in < 70 m. Osi and Dobo fishers used motorised wooden vessels, but Pepela fishers were restricted to un-motorized sailboats since the use of traditional methods is a condition of access to the MoU Box. Vessels from all study sites had five to eight crew depending on trip length and availability of funds and crew.

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Table 4.1. Summary of fishing trip, gear and catch characteristics of shark fishing vessels operating in the Halmahera-Seram, Aru-Arafura and Timor Seas out of three eastern Indonesian case study sites (homeports). The combined total number of sharks measured by fishers involved in this study is given for each homeport. Fishery characteristic Fishing grounds Halmahera-Seram Sea Aru-Arafura Sea Timor Sea Homeport Osi Dobo Pepela Total fishing trips 3 15 28 Trip duration 3-6 weeks 2-5 weeks 3-8 weeks Distance to fishing 300 – 1000 km 25 – 500 km ~400 km grounds Vessel type Wooden, motorised Wooden, Sailboats, unmotorised motorised # Vessels 2 10 LL, 2 GN 17 Target product Fins Fins, liver oil Fins, dried meat Gears used Gillnets (GN) Longlines, GN Longlines (LL) Gillnets Demersal (reef) Demersal (sand) - Length/Height/net 55 – 120 m/ 3 m 30 – 60 m/ NA - Nets/set 6-10 59-124 - Mesh size 19-23 cm 40 – 49 cm - Depth 3-75 m 10-50 m - Soak time Range: 11.5-15 h Range: 6.5 – 21 h - Most sets: 14-14.5 h Most sets: 17-19 h Longlines - Pelagic, demersal Pelagic, demersal Length/line - 150 – 6400 m 99 – 1694 m Lines/set - 1-6 (most sets: 1) 1 Hooks/line - 46-450 15-150 Bait used - Tuna, mixed reef Tuna, mixed reef fish fish Depth - Shark fin: 5- 90 m 2-300 m Liver oil: 200-900 m Soak time - Range: 1-26 h Range: 6-16 h Most sets: 12-13 h Most sets: 10-13 h Avg # sharks/day ± 1SD 20 ± 8 10 ± 12 4 ± 3 Avg # sharks/trip ± 1SD 419 ± 72 125 ± 100 19 ± 13 Sharks measured 415 1010 487

All fishers finned sharks at sea and discarded most carcasses, since no iceboxes were on board the vessels to store meat, and storage space was limited. However, fishers sometimes retained a few carcasses towards the end of a trip to make dendeng, strips of dried meat, which they sold locally. The fins of deep-water gulper sharks (Centrophorus spp.) and spurdogs (Squalus spp.) targeted for shark liver oil were retained to ‘pay for vegetables’, as fishers described their low value.

The average numbers of sharks caught differed markedly between fishing grounds and gears used. On the reefs of Raja Ampat, Osi fishers caught at least twice as many sharks per day (N=20) and trip (N=419) compared to Dobo fishers (10 and 125,

104 Chapter 4 | Sustainability assessment respectively, Table 4.1). With an average catch of only four sharks per day and 19 per trip, Pepelan fishers had the lowest catches. Collectively, the four crews that used gillnets measured 766 sharks in 101 fishing days, or an average of 1.9 sharks/day/vessel. Conversely, the 27 longline vessels measured 1,155 sharks in 273 fishing days, or 0.2 sharks/day/vessel. These data suggest that almost ten times as many sharks are caught in the gillnet fishery compared to the longline fleet.

4.4.2 Catch composition

The 31 crews that participated in this study recorded data for 1,912 sharks and rays (Table 4.1) and identified 1,881 of these individuals as belonging to 15 families and at least 42 species within 21 genera (Fig. 4.1). Of these 1,881 individuals, 605 (32%) were successfully barcoded. Matches between species identifications provided by fishers versus genetic barcoding differed between homeports; Osi had a match rate of 95%, Dobo of 72% and Pepela of 87%. The majority of mismatches appeared to be a result of handling error (e.g., several fishers processing and labeling fin clips during fishing operations) and taxonomic ambiguity, especially within the genus Centrophorus. As a result, we grouped species individually identified by fishers within this genus. Carcharhinus amblyrhynchos was the most frequently caught species (N = 306), followed by Centrophorus sp. (N = 283). Of the 32 species with an International Union for the Conservation of Nature (IUCN) status, 27 were Near Threatened, Vulnerable, or Endangered (Fig. 4.1). Two Endangered species, Sphyrna lewini and S. mokarran, were the 5th most numerous combined taxon in the fishers’ catch (Fig. 4.1). A further five of the 10 most frequently caught taxa were listed as Vulnerable.

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Figure 4.1. Species composition of total shark catch (N = 1,881) recorded by fishers in the Seram-Halmahera Sea (green; encompassing the islands of Raja Ampat in the East and Halmahera in the Northwest), Aru-Arafura Sea (blue; encompassing waters of Maluku and Papua provinces) and Timor Sea (purple; the MoU Box) between March 2012 and September 2013. Species are listed and grouped according to frequency (shown for each plot) from top left to bottom right. IUCN Red List status is given for each species, or each of the fisher-identified species within a higher taxon, to the right of the frequency bar. LC = Least Concern, NT = Near Threatened, VU = Vulnerable, EN = Endangered, DD = Data Deficient, NE = Not Evaluated. *Within the family Mobulidae, fishers included Manta birostris and Manta alfredi (VU), and Mobula japonica (NT).

4.4.3 Fisher perceptions

We interviewed 186 fishers (95 active, 91 retired) about their observations of changes in their fishery over the last two decades (1993-2012/13) as a way of retracing how targeted shark populations may have responded to fishing pressure over time. While all approached respondents agreed to be interviewed, some fishers were not able to answer certain questions, for example because they had not fished during a certain time period, or did not know an answer. Therefore, the number of respondents for each question varied.

Active and retired fishers spent an average of 15 and 12 years fishing, respectively (active: N=89 fishers, range = 1-53 years; retired: N=90 fishers, range = 1-39 years). From a total of 158 respondents, 80% reported that the numbers and/or sizes of sharks they catch have decreased over the time they had been fishing, and only 8% and 12% thought

106 Chapter 4 | Sustainability assessment that shark numbers or sizes, respectively, had increased (Q1, Table S4.2). Similarly, when asked about their observed changes in catch composition over time (N respondents = 149), most fishers (65%) said that their catch increasingly contained fewer species, fewer large sharks (51%) and less valuable species (46%; Q2, Table S4.2). A fisher from Dobo commented,

We rarely get this one [hammerhead]. Very rarely. Well actually, we get them on every trip, one or two animals. But their size has reduced, they are smaller now. It’s rare to get a big one. Even in the past, we didn’t get more animals, but we used to get bigger ones.

(Active fisher, Dobo, 11/2012)

Fishers who had observed changes in their catches were asked whether they would agree or disagree with various possible reasons for these changes (Q3, Table S4.2). Of 143 respondents, 63% believed that overfishing was the main cause, while the majority of fishers disagreed with the suggestion that different fishing grounds (74%) or fishing closures (80%) explained their observations. Other reasons given were that there was less fishing because fin prices had lost up to 40% of their pre-2012 value, or fuel prices had increased, making fishing trips less worthwhile; that the number of fishers had increased; or that changes in fishing gear, namely from shark rattles (goro-goro) to longlines, had caused declining catches.

As an additional indicator of changes in catch composition we asked fishers if there were species they used to catch frequently, but now rarely or no longer encounter (Q4, Table S4.2). Rhynchobatus sp. (49%), Sphyrna sp. (23%) and thresher sharks (Alopias sp., 16%) were repeatedly mentioned by both active and retired fishers, followed by whale sharks (Rhincodon typus, 7%), which are usually released alive if caught on longlines in this region. Most fishers (92%) had never caught a sawfish (Pristis sp.), and only three had done so, many years ago.

Finally, we asked fishers whether they had observed an increase, decrease or no change in the catches of the most common and/or valuable species during the last 5 to 10 years (~2002/3 - 2012/13), or the last 10-20 years (~1992/3 - 2002/3) (Q5, Table S4.2). Most declines were observed in the last 5-10 years, while many fishers had not noticed any change 10-20 years ago (Fig. 4.2). Species that exhibited the declining trend were Triaenodon obesus, Hemipristis elongata (fossil shark), Carcharhinus albimarginatus (silvertip), C. melanopterus, C. limbatus, C. amblyrhynchos and C. leucas (bull shark), and the Rhinobatidae (shovelnose

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rays). Declines of Sphyrna sp., Rhynchobatus sp. and C. plumbeus were reported as having started as early as 20 years ago. While no species was observed to have increased in abundance over the two time periods, a noticeably greater proportion of respondents from Pepela reported no change in catches of different species, compared to respondents from Osi and Dobo (Fig. 4.2).

Figure 4.2. Fishers’ perceived changes in the catch of 16 shark and ray species during the last 5-10 years, and 10-20 years ago (reference year 2012/2013). Bubble size represents percentage of respondents; N respondents for each time period is given beneath the species name. Bubble colour represents the homeports of fishers fishing in the Seram- Halmahera Sea (Osi, green), the Aru-Arafura Sea (Dobo, blue), and the Timor Sea (Pepela, purple).

4.4.4 Sustainability assessment

The size composition of nine frequently caught species indicated that a large proportion of sharks are caught immature, or before 50% of individuals have reached their length at maturity (Lm; Fig. 4.3). This pattern was particularly pronounced for C. amblyrhynchos, C. plumbeus, Galeocerdo cuvier and S. mokarran. For some species or stocks, this seems to vary between fishing grounds. For example, T. obesus (whitetip reef shark) is completely immature in catches from Dobo and mixed in Osi and Pepela, while Rhynchobatus sp. caught by Osi fishers are mostly immature, mixed in Dobo and mainly mature in Pepela. Although fishers did not differentiate between S. lewini and S. mokarran, genetic analysis of a subsample of these individuals confirmed the presence of both species

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in the catch. Overlaying the two species’ Lm ranges suggests that the majority of S. lewini were caught at 50% maturity, while most S. mokarran were immature in all locations (Fig. 4.3).

Figure 4.3. Size composition (total length in cm) of nine frequently landed shark and ray species caught and recorded by fishers from Osi (Seram-Halmahera Sea, green), Dobo (Aru-Arafura Sea, blue), and Pepela (Timor Sea, purple) during regular fishing trips. Size and length at maturity (Lm) is given as total length for all species except Rhynchobatus spp. and Sphyrna spp., shown as fork length. Total number (N) of measured individuals is given for each species. Range of published Lm is shown as a grey bar, with the number of studies (n) from which parameters were calculated shown in parentheses. Rhynchobatus spp. likely consists of R. australiae and R. laevis; Sphyrna spp. consists of S. lewini and S. mokarran. Fork length at maturity for S. lewini is shown in light grey, for S. mokarran in dark grey.

The nine assessed species appeared to fall within three main resilience groups given their median rmax values – low, medium and high (Fig. 4.4). Carcharhinus amblyrhynchos, C. obscurus and C. plumbeus had low rmax values (~0.1; Fig. 4.4), indicating low intrinsic resilience and higher extinction risk from relatively moderate levels of fishing mortality. Carcharhinus

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limbatus, C. melanopterus and T. obesus had median values of 0.19 – 0.25, while S. lewini, S. mokarran and G. cuvier had the highest intrinsic resilience with median values of ~0.3-0.4.

Estimates of rmax were most sensitive to the natural mortality rate and age at maturity

(Fig. S4.2). Sphyrna lewini had the greatest variability in Am, M and 푎̃ (Fig. S4.2, Table S4.3), which was reflected in the widest ranging estimates of rmax (Fig. 4.4). Long-lived species such as S. mokarran, which reach maturity at a relatively young age, were most resilient.

Likewise, a large litter size, such as that for G. cuvier, resulted in higher values of rmax, indicating species that are more resilient to overfishing.

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4.5 Discussion

The eastern Indonesian shark fishery is largely beyond the focus of national and regional fisheries management agencies, resulting in a virtually data-less fishery that lacks essential information needed for conventional stock assessments. This study provides a first evaluation of the fishery’s sustainability and demonstrates the usefulness of applying data and information provided by fishers to a question of conservation interest. In data- poor regions with a lack of baseline data, the use of multiple data sources, including non- conventional indicators such as fishers’ perceptions, can provide the basis for assessing a fishery’s sustainability (Ainsworth et al., 2008; Godoy et al., 2010) and inform the need for, and practicality of, potential management strategies (Ban et al. 2009; Hind 2015). Our results suggest that the eastern Indonesian shark fishery has a considerable impact on several target species and requires active management, including consistent trade controls, catch/effort restrictions and alternative livelihood opportunities.

The fishery’s impact on regional shark populations is likely substantial, due in part to its broad geographic range and a diverse catch of over 40 species from a variety of habitats. Fourteen (35%) of the taxa recorded by fishers are currently in an IUCN threat category (Vulnerable, Endangered or Critically Endangered), compared to 17.4% of all chondrichthyans (sharks, rays and chimaeras) assessed by the IUCN (Dulvy et al., 2014). A further 13 species recorded in this study (33%) are assessed as Near Threatened. Most of these species are not protected in Indonesia, with the exception of mobulid rays (Manta spp. and Mobula japonica), which are fully protected under Indonesian law (KepMen #4 2014), and the Endangered hammerheads Sphyrna lewini and S. mokarran, for which there are export restrictions in accordance with CITES (PerMen 2015). One of the species caught by Pepela fishers in the MoU Box (Carcharias taurus) is protected under Australian legislation (Momigliano and Jaiteh 2015), and two other species (Carcharhinus plumbeus, C. obscurus) are managed in Western Australia through a suite of catch and effort control measures to prevent unsustainable exploitation which, in the past, has led to inadequate breeding stocks (McAuley et al. 2015). However, eastern Indonesian fishers are largely unaware of these restrictions and fisheries managers are either unaware of the fishery or the species it targets, leading to poor monitoring and law enforcement (Dirhamsyah 2005). Additionally, the recent discovery of the Vulnerable Hemipristis elongata in the catches of Osi and Dobo fishers extended this species’ known range by over 2000 km eastward (Jaiteh and Momigliano 2015) and highlighted not only gaps in knowledge about species

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occurrences in eastern Indonesia, but also the need for focused management efforts in the region to protect threatened species from un-quantified levels of exploitation.

Another indication of the fishery’s impact is that the length frequencies of harvested species reveal large proportions of immature individuals in the catch, a possible sign of unsustainable fisheries. Even though many shark fisheries target smaller, usually immature individuals for sustainability (e.g., McAuley et al., 2007) and other reasons (e.g., higher catch rates, better meat quality, lower mercury content), fishers in eastern Indonesia have predominantly targeted large sharks due to the higher prices of their fins. In the absence of local information on Lm and based on life histories from other regions, it appears that many individuals of the species targeted in eastern Indonesia are now captured before they have had a chance to reproduce, particularly C. plumbeus, G. cuvier, S. mokarran, and the most frequently caught species, C. amblyrhynchos. A high proportion of immature individuals in the catch is not necessarily of concern in managed fisheries, where fishers target juveniles while adults are protected from fishing mortality to prevent recruitment overfishing (Prince 2005). For unmanaged fisheries, however, a considerable reduction in average size may indicate overexploitation as the larger (and hence breeding) individuals of a population are disproportionately removed (Walker 1998). Hence, a decline in the adult size classes in the catch of the analysed fisheries suggests that the size composition has shifted toward smaller individuals over time due to excessive fishing pressure, and can indicate an unsustainable fishery. To understand if these size frequencies were due to ongoing fishing pressure or fishers only targeting juveniles, we drew upon fishers’ perceptions and found that over the last two decades, most observed a decrease in the overall numbers and sizes of sharks in their catch, which many attributed to overfishing. While Sphyrna spp. and Rhynchobatus sp., which have the most valuable fins, and C. plumbeus began to decline 10-20 years ago, the declines of eight other taxa including Galeocerdo cuvier, C. albimarginatus, C. obscurus, Rhinobatidae and several species of reef sharks (Fig. 4.2) were mainly observed during the last five to ten years. These declines suggest that the dominance of immature individuals in the catch of several species is due to increased fishing pressure since the peak of shark fishing in the early 2000s, which the affected populations have not been able to absorb. These findings parallel those of White et al. (2015), who reported declines in eight of 12 diver-monitored shark species in Cocos Island, Costa Rica, in the same time period we report on here (1993-2013). A study of fishery depletions in Raja Ampat, eastern Indonesia, also found that fishers reported steep declines in shark catches between 1990 and 2000 (Ainsworth et al. 2008).

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Fishers also referred to declining catches without being asked directly about their perceptions. For example, when asked what determined the end of a fishing trip, a fisher from Dobo said

We come back from a fishing trip when the boat is full [of fins] or when we’ve run out of cigarettes. These days we normally run out of cigarettes first.

(Active fisher, Dobo, 12/2012)

Fishers from Pepela reported fewer declines, but also much lower catches than Osi and Dobo fishers. While this may stem in part from the prohibition on motorized vessels in the MoU Box, which limits fishers in their ability to fish during bad weather, it appears more likely that low catches are the result of long-term, continued fishing which may have reduced shark numbers earlier than 20 years ago (Meekan et al. 2006). Fishers’ awareness of changes in the fishery was evident from their reflections on reduced catches, for example

It’s been three years since I stopped shark fishing, but I am keeping these jaws [a shark jaw and a sawfish rostrum] as a souvenir, I won’t sell them. So that when I have grandchildren, they can see them and say ‘oh, granddad was a good shark fisher’. Because maybe by that time, there won’t be any more sharks.

(Retired fisher, Pepela, 07/2013)

Combined with fishers’ catch data and observations, our estimates of the maximum intrinsic rate of population increase (rmax) of nine frequently caught species showed that, mainly due to their high and frequent reproductive output, S. mokarran, S. lewini and G. cuvier had the potential to recover at a faster rate than other assessed species if they were protected from fishing pressure. However, the majority of individuals caught and recorded from these species were immature and fishers reported decreases in their numbers over time, suggesting that these species are overfished. Deep-water sharks, such as those caught by some Dobo fishers for shark liver oil, have even lower resilience and can be driven to extinction with about half the fishing mortality applied to oceanic and coastal sharks (Garcia et al. 2008). The sharks with the lowest intrinsic resilience from our estimates – Carcharhinus amblyrhynchos, C. obscurus and C. plumbeus - were among the most frequently caught species, but none are managed in Indonesia or through international trade restrictions. Several recent studies have reported declines in reef sharks, such as C. amblyrhynchos, from different ocean basins (e.g. Graham et al., 2010; Nadon et al., 2012).

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The fact that these species have low intrinsic resilience and form a major part of the eastern Indonesian shark catch calls for their inclusion in fishery assessments and management plans.

Despite its apparently significant impact on several harvested species, there is currently no effective management of the eastern Indonesian shark fishery. First, existing species protection is mainly enacted through export bans, even in the case of mobulid rays for which there is a total fishing ban (Dharmadi et al. 2015). Second, these export bans are currently enforced only through spot checks of shipments in the main airports on Java, although shark fins and gillrakers are also, and perhaps increasingly, exported from other international airports in the country (Dent and Clarke 2015). With limited enforcement of national law, it is likely that catches and exports of mobulid rays and hammerhead sharks will continue practically unhindered in eastern Indonesia. Due to the value of their fins and meat, Endangered hammerheads are not only a favorite catch of exclusive shark fishers, but also a commonly landed secondary target or bycatch species of tuna fishers in western Indonesia (Drew et al. 2015). Conservation strategies for hammerhead sharks should therefore extend beyond export bans to include fishing restrictions throughout the country’s territorial waters. Third, the harvest of vulnerable sharks by Indonesian fishers within the MoU Box presents unique challenges for management. As part of the agreement reached between Australia and Indonesia in 1974 on the use of the MoU Box, traditional fishers are exempt from Australian fisheries regulations concerning Commonwealth (>3 nm off the coast) and State waters (Stacey 2007). It is unclear to what extent this rule relates to the taking of species that are protected under Australian law or listed on CITES Appendix II, because the 1974 agreement and subsequent modifications limited the definition of protected species to turtles, dugongs and clams (Fox and Sen 2002). The coordinated protection of transboundary stocks is a particular challenge of neighbouring nations, and Indonesia and Australia are no exception. Here the issue is further amplified by the economic inequality between the two countries and the resulting disparity in research and management capacity, which hinders collaborative efforts to protect vulnerable species across the countries’ EEZ boundaries (Fox and Sen 2002).

Reliable, regionally accurate fisheries assessments are a prerequisite for effective management. In many tropical fisheries, a lack of regional data has precluded robust assessments (Ainsworth et al. 2008; White et al. 2015), including the one described here. No regional statistics are available on the numbers of fishers or vessels in the fishery, their fishing grounds and gears, or the species targeted. For example, while our study sites were

114 Chapter 4 | Sustainability assessment the most well known shark fishing communities in eastern Indonesia, an unknown number of specialized or opportunistic shark fishers operate outside of these communities and the combined fishing effort in the region remains unknown. Dharmadi et al. (2015) studied shark landings at fishing ports in south-western Indonesia and concluded that about 300 fishers and 100 vessels participate in the nation’s shark fishery. However, this estimate did not include any of the 31 vessels that participated in our study, which represented an unknown subsample of all shark fishing vessels in eastern Indonesia, where we identified over 240 shark fishers in three villages alone. The scarcity of information on this and other fisheries in eastern Indonesia is particularly concerning since the region forms part of the Coral Triangle, which has been identified as a hotspot for conservation in several studies (Myers et al. 2000; Roberts et al. 2002; Worm and Branch 2012).

Life history traits underlie accurate assessments of exploited stocks and of species’ vulnerability to fishing pressure (Stevens et al. 2000; Hordyk et al. 2015), but often vary between populations of circumglobal shark species (e.g. Miller et al., 2012; Mourier et al., 2013). Our length data indicate that Carcharhinus limbatus from eastern Indonesia grow larger than their conspecifics in the northwest Atlantic (Branstetter 1987). Additionally, Smart et al. (2015) found that C. limbatus landed in Lombok live longer and mature later than their conspecifics in America and South Africa, making them less resilient to fishing pressure. For many other species evaluated here, our assessment of sustainability is limited by the uncertainty in life history parameters, particularly natural mortality rate (M), maximum size and size at maturity, highlighting the need for locally obtained biological data. To inform improved management approaches, more focused research should be directed into the species-specific characteristics of the Indonesian shark fishery as a whole, and eastern Indonesia in particular. Examples of active management might include improved efficiency of regional and local fisheries agencies to strengthen capacity for basic fisheries monitoring, improved efforts to identify and track traders, and consistent enforcement of trade bans in all known shark fin export locations. Active management of shark fisheries in Indonesia would also benefit from extending the list of prohibited species for export to others known to have low resilience to fishing pressure, such as shovelnose rays and guitarfishes, and sandbar sharks.

However, to be effective, short and long-term management goals need not only to be defined, but also to be traceable, which is complicated in a nation where thousands of fishers operate without licensed vessels, logbooks or recorded catches (De Alessi 2014). Indonesia is limited in its institutional capacity to include those in poorer social layers into

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management approaches (Dirhamsyah 2005; Fox et al. 2009a). In this study we showed that fishers are aware of shark declines and suspect overfishing to be the main underlying cause. However, these fishers live in some of the poorest communities in Indonesia’s least developed provinces (Resosudarmo et al. 2009; Ramenzoni 2013), and do not have the economic freedom to voluntarily reduce their ecosystem impact for future generations of sharks and fishers, while they struggle to provide food and education for their families today. As one fisher expressed it

(Active fisher, Pepela, 07/2013)

Any singular or composite approach (Pitcher and Lam 2010) to managing the shark fishery must account for this dilemma by including appropriate and economically viable incentives for livelihood alternatives. Failing to do so could result in low compliance, greater socio-economic inequity and poverty (Crona et al. 2015), or a rise in illegal activities such as poaching and petrol or people smuggling (Jaiteh et al. 2016) as fishers struggle to compensate for lost income and unpaid debt.

4.6 Acknowledgments

We sincerely thank the fishing communities of Osi, Dobo and Pepela for their generous assistance with data collection at sea, and for sharing their fishing knowledge. B. Ronsumbre, E. Renwarin and I. Purnamawati helped with interviews. A. Syahailatua from LIPI Ambon kindly acted as VFJ’s Indonesian counterpart. We thankfully acknowledge I. Abraham’s assistance with literature searches for life-history parameters. P. Momigliano led the genetic analysis of shark tissue samples, detailed results of which will be presented in a forthcoming study. This research was funded through the Prime Minister’s Australia-Asia Endeavour Award, an Australian Postgraduate Award for PhD studies and a Graduate Women of Western Australia Bursary to VFJ.

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4.7 Supporting information

Figure S4.1. Fork length (FL) -Total length (TL) regressions for four shark species for which > 30 FL-TL measurements were made during this study.

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Table S4.1. Equations and their sources used to convert shark lengths from fork length (FL) to total length (TL) in species for which length frequency distributions from this study are shown (Fig. 2). See Table S3 for full references. Species Equation used Reference Carcharhinus amblyrhynchos TL = 1.19FL + 4.2 Robbins PhD thesis 2006 Sphyrna lewini TL = 1.3FL + 1.3 Stevens & Lyle 1989 Sphyrna mokarran TL = 1.3FL + 3.6 Stevens & Lyle 1989 Triaenodon obesus TL = 1.12FL + 7.5 Robbins PhD thesis 2006 Carcharhinus melanopterus STL = 1.17FL + 4.1 Chin et al. 2013 (STL = stretched TL) C. limbatus TL = 1.13 FL + 7.3 This study C. obscurus TL = 1.08 FL + 27.9 This study C. plumbeus TL = 1.15 FL + 11.4 This study G. cuvier TL = 1.15 FL + 13.2 This study

Table S4.2. Interview questions asked of active and retired fishers in the three eastern Indonesian shark fishing homeports of Osi, Dobo and Pepela as part of this study. Answers usually fell within, but were not restricted to, the anticipated categories given. For most questions, more than one answer was possible. Question 5 was asked about the 8-10 most common and most valuable taxa caught by fishers from each study site.

1. Has the number/size of sharks you catch increased/decreased over the time you have been fishing? a) Numbers inc./dec. ( ) b) Size inc./dec/ ( ) c) Both inc./dec. ( )

2. Has the species composition of your catches changed over the time you have been fishing? If yes, how? a) More species b) Less species c) More large sharks d) Less large sharks e) Less valuable species (e.g. guitarfish) f) More valuable species (e.g. guitarfish) g) Other ______

3. If there have been changes in shark catches, what do you think are the reasons for this? Agree or disagree: a) Different fishing grounds ( ) b) Fishing closures ( ) c) Overfishing ( ) d) Other ( ) ______

4. When you first started fishing sharks, did you catch species that you no longer catch? If yes, which species? a) yes ( ) ______b) no ( )

5. In your opinion, has the number of Hiu [insert shark species] in your catch changed in the last: 5-10 years i) increased ii) no change iii) decreased 10-20 years i) increased ii) no change iii) decreased

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Table S4.3. Life history parameters of the nine shark species for which maximum intrinsic rate of increase (rmax) was estimated (see Fig. 4). Where available, ranges for each parameter obtained from the referenced sources are shown. Species Natural Maximum Age at Number Breeding References mortality age maturity of pups interval -1 (M y ) (years) (Am, (years) years) Carcharhinus 0.17 – 0.22 19* 11 1 – 4 2 1–4 amblyrhynchos Carcharhinus 0.27 – 0.42 10 – 17 4.5 – 7.5 2 – 10 2 4–12 limbatus Carcharhinus -** 10 – 15 3.2 – 8.0 2 – 6 1 4,13–21 melanopterus Carcharhinus 0.08 – 24 – 64 15.5 – 29.6 2 – 10 2 – 3 22–26 obscurus 0.094 Carcharhinus 0.08 – 0.28 15 – 50 16.9 3 – 12 2 1,26–34 plumbeus Galeocerdo cuvier -** 27 – 47.5 7.5 – 11 33 – 46 2.5 1,4,13,35–42 Sphyrna lewini 0.11 – 0.35 12 – 39 5.7 – 15 8.2 – 25 1 43–56 Sphyrna mokarran 0.09 – 0.13 31 – 44 5.5 15 2 13,43,50,57,58 Triaenodon obesus 0.19 14 – 19 3 2 – 3.5 2 2–4,59,60

* where only one estimate was available, a coefficient of variation of 15% was assumed. ** no estimates found, estimated from maximum age using the Hoenig equation.

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46. Kotas, J., Mastrochirico, V. & Petrere Junior, M. Age and growth of the Scalloped Hammerhead shark, Sphyrna lewini (Griffith and Smith, 1834), from the southern Brazilian coast. Braz. J. Biol. 71, 755– 761 (2011). 47. Branstetter, S. Age, growth and reproductive biology of the silky shark, Carcharhinus falciformis, and the scalloped hammerhead, Sphyrna lewini, from the northwestern Gulf of Mexico. Environ. Biol. Fishes 19, 161–173 (1987). 48. Schwartz, F. J. Shark ageing methods and age estimation of scalloped hammerhead, Sphyrn lewini, and dusky, Carcharhinus obscurus, sharks based on vertebral ring counts. in Proceedings of the International Workshop on Age Determination of Oceanic Fishes: Tunas, Billfishes and Sharks (eds. Prince, E. D. & Pulos, L. M.) 167–174 (NOAA Technical Report: Miami, FL., 1983). 49. Noriega, R., Werry, J. M., Sumpton, W., Mayer, D. & Lee, S. Y. Trends in annual CPUE and evidence of sex and size segregation of Sphyrna lewini: Management implications in coastal waters of northeastern Australia. Fish. Res. 110, 472–477 (2011). 50. Stevens, J. & Lyle, J. Biology of three hammerhead sharks ( Eusphyra blochii, Sphyrna mokarran and S. lewini ) from Northern Australia. Mar. Freshw. Res. 40, 129 (1989). 51. White, W. T., Bartron, C. & Potter, I. C. Catch composition and reproductive biology of Sphyrna lewini (Griffith & Smith) (Carcharhiniformes, Sphyrnidae) in Indonesian waters. J. Fish Biol. 72, 1675– 1689 (2008). 52. Chen, C., Leu, T., Joung, S. & Lo, N. Age and Growth of the Scalloped Hammerhead, Sphyrna lewini, in Northeastern Taiwan Waters. Pacific Sci. 44, 156–170 (1990). 53. Anislado-Tolentino, V. & Robinson-Mendoza, C. Age and growth for the scalloped hammerhead shark, Sphyrna lewini (Griffith and Smith, 1834) along the Central Pacific Coast of Mexico. Ciencias Mar. 27, 501–520 (2001). 54. Bejarano-Alvarez, M., Galvan-Magana, F. & Ochoa-Baez, R. I. Reproductive biology of the scalloped hammerhead shark Sphyrna lewini (Chondrichthyes: Sphyrnidae) off south-west Mexico. Aqua Int. J. Ichthyol. 17, 11 (2011). 55. Hazin, F., Fischer, A. & Broadhurst, M. Aspects of reproductive biology of the scalloped hammerhead shark, Sphyrna lewini, off northeastern Brazil. Environ. Biol. Fishes 61, 151–159 (2001). 56. de Bruyn, P., Dudley, S., Cliff, G. & Smale, M. Sharks caught in the protective gill nets off KwaZulu-Natal, South Africa. 11. The scalloped hammerhead shark Sphyrna lewini (Griffith and Smith). African J. Mar. Sci. 27, 517–528 (2005). 57. Piercy, A. N., Carlson, J. K. & Passerotti, M. S. Age and growth of the great hammerhead shark, Sphyrna mokarran, in the north-western Atlantic Ocean and Gulf of Mexico. Mar. Freshw. Res. 61, 992– 998 (2010). 58. Cliff, G. & Dudley, S. F. J. Sharks caught in the protective gill nets off Natal, South Africa. 5. The Java shark Carcharhinus amboinensis (Müller & Henle). South African J. Mar. Sci. 11, 443–453 (1991). 59. Randall, J. E. Contribution to the biology of the whitetip reef Shark (Triaenodon obesus). Pacific Sci. 31, 143–163 (1977). 60. Schaller, P. Husbandry and reproduction of Whitetip reef sharks at Steinhart Aquarium , San Francisco. Int. Zoo Yearb. 232–240 (2006)

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Higher abundance of marine predators and changes in fishers’ behaviour following spatial protection within the world’s biggest shark fishery

Blacktip reef shark (Carcharhinus melanopterus) captured on baited remote underwater video, Misool

This chapter is published: Jaiteh V, Lindfield S, Mangubhai S, Warren C, Fitzpatrick B and Loneragan N (2016) Higher abundance of Marine Predators and changes in fishers’ behavior following spatial protection within the world’s biggest shark fishery. Frontiers in Marine Science 3: 1-15

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Chapter 5 | Spatial protection

Chapter 5

Higher abundance of marine predators and changes in fishers’ behaviour following spatial protection within the world’s biggest shark fishery

5.1 Abstract

Fisheries are complex social-ecological systems, where managers struggle to balance the socio-economic interests of fishing communities with the biology and ecology of fisheries species. Spatial closures are a popular measure to address conservation and fisheries management goals, including the protection of shark populations. However, very little research has been published on the effectiveness of shark-specific closures to protect sharks, or their impacts on fisher behavior. Situated within the global center of tropical marine biodiversity, Indonesia’s shark fishery contributes more to the international shark fin trade than any other nation. Here we evaluate the effect of shark-specific closures on sharks and other species of interest, as well as shark fishers’ responses to losing access to their former fishing grounds. We assessed shark diversity and abundance in an open access zone (OAZ) and two No-Take Zones (NTZs) of a Marine Protected Area within the recently established shark sanctuary in Raja Ampat, Indonesia, where sharks have high monetary value as a tourism attraction. Shark abundance was significantly higher in the privately managed NTZs than in the OAZ. Across all management zones, neither zone size, depth nor reef complexity explained variations in shark abundance, suggesting that governance is the main driver of successful shark conservation areas. These trends were also reflected in species targeted by small-scale reef fisheries, including snappers, emperor, groupers, tunas, mackerels, and large-bodied wrasse and parrotfish. Interviews with shark fishers who lost access to their primary fishing grounds when the shark sanctuary was

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established showed that while most fishers (88%) knew that sharks were protected in Raja Ampat, many were unsure about the purpose of the sanctuary. Few fishers felt that the agencies implementing fishing bans understood their livelihood needs. We found that shark fishers adapted to the loss of former fishing grounds by shifting fishing effort to other locations or diversifying their livelihoods, including illegal petrol transport. While conserving sharks for tourism can be effective, it may inadvertently result in displacing fishing effort to unprotected regions. We propose that effective shark conservation in Indonesia will need to combine strategic spatial protection with efforts to support livelihood security and diversification.

5.2 Introduction

Shark and ray populations have experienced widespread declines in recent years (Baum et al. 2003; Robbins et al. 2006; Ferretti et al. 2008; Ward-Paige et al. 2010; Worm et al. 2013). While the extent of these declines is debated (Burgess et al. 2005; Heupel et al. 2009; Braccini 2015), there is general consensus that they are primarily caused by elevated fishing mortality through targeted fisheries that supply shark and manta ray products, and bycatch in other fisheries (Friedlander and Demartini 2002; Dulvy et al. 2008; Davidson et al. 2016). Over the last decade, scientists and conservation practitioners have highlighted the urgent need for improved fisheries management to stem the large-scale exploitation of shark and ray species, many of which are critically important apex predators and valuable marine tourism assets (Heithaus et al. 2010; Gallagher and Hammerschlag 2011; Vianna et al. 2012; Dulvy et al. 2014a). In countries where a large part of the population has a high dependency on marine resources for livelihoods and protein, assessments and management of these fisheries are often hindered by the presence of extensive fleets of unregistered vessels and widespread unregulated small-scale fisheries, as well as a lack of enforcement of existing regulations on registered vessels (Blaber et al. 2009). Moreover, the livelihoods, wellbeing and likely responses of small-scale fishers are often insufficiently accounted for when management measures, such as spatial closures, are implemented (Christie 2004; West et al. 2006).

Spatial closures, such as multiple use marine protected areas (MPAs) and no-take marine reserves, are one fisheries management strategy that has been implemented to slow and reverse the effects of large-scale overfishing on shark populations (Ward-Paige et al. 2012). Shark protection is increasingly used as a justification for implementing MPAs or

128 Chapter 5 | Spatial protection expanding No-Take Zones (NTZs) within MPAs, and more recently for establishing areas where shark fishing is explicitly banned (Hoyt 2014; Gallagher et al. 2015). Known as shark sanctuaries or shark reserves (shark sanctuaries hereafter), they afford sharks blanket protection, often in a jurisdiction’s entire Exclusive Economic Zone (EEZ). Palau was the first nation to declare its EEZ a shark sanctuary in 2009, followed by the Marshall Islands, Federated States of Micronesia, French Polynesia, Cook Islands, the Bahamas, and New Caledonia. In many jurisdictions with shark sanctuaries, the contribution of shark fisheries to the local economy is outweighed by the income generated through marine tourism, to which sharks have become important assets (Vianna et al. 2012; Davidson et al. 2016).

The need – and struggle – to balance the socio-economic interests of fishing communities with the ecological goals of spatial protection is well discussed in the literature (Sumaila et al. 2000; Mascia et al. 2010; Pollnac et al. 2010; Ban et al. 2011). In terms of shark-specific closures, however, very little research has been published on their ecological impact on shark populations (White et al. 2015) and the socio-economic dependence and responses of fishers to these fishing ground closures. This may be due to the fact that many shark sanctuaries have been established where live sharks have more value than dead ones, and that research has focused largely on evaluating the economic benefits of shark protection for tourism (Brunnschweiler 2010; Clua et al. 2011; Vianna et al. 2011) rather than the potential impacts on fishers. However, if sanctuaries are implemented where they are arguably most needed, that is, in regions with significant shark fisheries, exploring potential effects of closures on fishers’ behavior is not only important to ensure the welfare of fishing communities, but also to increase the success of shark protection within the closure and beyond its boundaries.

Indonesia has consistently reported annual shark catches of approximately 100,000 tons since the year 2000 (FAO FishStatJ 2015). Although this is likely an underestimate of true catches, these numbers place Indonesia as the number one exporter of shark products in the world. In many ways, shark fishing is an optimal livelihood for fishers in remote parts of Indonesia as the valuable dried fins can be easily stockpiled in the absence of power and refrigerated transport (Momigliano et al. 2014). The shark fin industry is so lucrative that it has transformed several remote coastal communities in Eastern Indonesia from predominantly subsistence-based fishing villages to cash-based economies (Mangubhai et al. 2012). This departure from subsistence fishing makes it difficult for shark fishers to engage in alternative livelihoods, since there are few legal, marine-based alternatives offering similar financial profit (Whitcraft et al. 2014).

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The Raja Ampat regency in far Eastern Indonesia lies in the heart of the Coral Triangle, which encompasses the world’s most biodiverse coral reefs (Veron et al. 2009; Allen and Erdmann 2012). The richness of these reefs has attracted the attention of local and regional fishers as well as divers and conservation groups from around the world. In the early 2000s, as shark fishers from neighboring provinces increasingly focused their fishing efforts on Raja Ampat (V. Jaiteh, unpublished data), private tourism entrepreneurs, the provincial government and non-government organizations (NGOs) also began promoting Raja Ampat as a world-class dive tourism destination and invested significant efforts to protect the biodiversity of these reefs both for tourism and to support local Papuan fisheries. In 2006, a network of MPAs was established within Raja Ampat. In 2005 and 2010, the Misool Eco Resort (MER) in Southeast Misool MPA (hereafter ‘SE Misool MPA’, Fig 5.1) created two large NTZs to protect sharks and other fishery-targeted species through lease agreements with local communities (Table 5.1). Following an international petition led by MER and US-based NGO Shark Savers, The Nature Conservancy and Conservation International worked with the Raja Ampat regency to develop a decree that was passed by parliament in November 2012 and banned commercial and artisanal fishing for all sharks and mobulid rays throughout the regency (Table 5.1).

130 Chapter 5 | Spatial protection

Table 5.1. Summary of the types and characteristics of spatial closures included in this study. Indonesian names italicised. Further details in Mangubhai et al. (2012). Location Raja Ampat SE Misool Batbitim Daram Spatial closure type Shark sanctuary Marine Protected Area No-Take Zone No-Take Zone Geographic/political Regency/District (Kabupaten) 3 Sub-districts (Kecamatan) Island within Sub-district Island within Sub-district scale South East Main stakeholders Misool Eco Resort (MER), Shark Savers, The Communities, TNC, MER, Misool Baseftin, DKP MER, Misool Baseftin, community resource owners Nature Conservancy (TNC), Conservation International, Department of Fisheries and Marine Affairs (DKP) Governance DKP DKP and communities, supported by NGOs Private (Misool Eco Resort), in partnership with community resource owners Legal status* Regency law (Peraturan daerah) #9, Year 2012 Head of Regency laws (Peraturan Bupati) #66/2007 and Lease agreement with local communities #5/2009, Regency law #27/2008 Reinforced by Head of Regency laws (Peraturan Bupati) #66/2007 and #5/2009, Regency law #27/2008 Term of agreement No limit on term No limit on term, but management plan review 25 year lease 15 year lease scheduled every 5-10 years Size 45,000 km2 3,432 km2 425 km2 403 km2 Year established 2012 2006 2005 2010 Year fully implemented 2013 2012 2005 2010 Prohibited types of No harvesting of sharks and rays Multiple use, including NTZs All fishing and collecting of marine life with the fishing exception of two invertebrate species (see below). Permitted types of Fishing under a DKP permit Specified for each zone Trochus sp. and Turbo marmoratus may be collected fishing during Open Sasi only (2 weeks every 2 years) Other uses Fishing, mariculture, dive tourism, mining Fishing, mariculture, dive tourism Dive tourism Manner of Floating ranger patrols (with community Floating ranger patrols (with community Patrol rangers from local communities and ranger enforcement representatives, police and DKP) representatives, sub-district staff, police and DKP), stations in each NTZ (with community community patrol boats representatives, police, DKP) Sanctions Arrests, fines, prison terms depending on Local offenders (from within MPA): traditional court Depending on nature of offense: Verbal warnings, nature of offense (Adat) ruling. Outside fishers (depending on nature of education and outreach materials, prosecution. the offense): given verbal warnings, education and outreach materials. Serious offenders: arrested and prosecuted. Community None Portion of tourism fee Employment at MER, lease payments, English lessons compensation and dive training for patrol rangers

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The Raja Ampat shark sanctuary is unique because it is the only one in the Coral Triangle, and within Indonesia, the number one shark fishing nation in the world. We investigated the effects of shark-specific spatial closures on shark populations and on fishers’ perceptions and behaviors. Our main hypothesis was that appropriately sized and enforced spatial closures could mitigate against declines in shark populations in a region of intense fishing pressure. By identifying factors that best explain the success of the NTZs in SE Misool MPA in protecting sharks, our aim was to identify key ecological and social considerations that could assist with successful governance of the shark sanctuary. Three assumptions provided the foundation for our hypothesis: 1) that the value of sharks to dive tourism revenue acted as a strong incentive for the establishment and enforcement of shark sanctuaries; 2) that effective enforcement of protected sites would result in higher relative abundance of sharks compared to fished sites; and 3) that the inclusion of shark fisher perceptions and practices in our assessment would allow for a better understanding of the wider implications of spatial closures for shark fishing livelihoods.

5.3 Materials and Methods

5.3.1 Ethics Statement

This study was carried out under animal and human ethics permits approved by the Research Ethics and Integrity Committee within the Division of Research and Development at Murdoch University, Western Australia. All human participants gave written and/or oral (in case of inability to provide signature) informed consent to be interviewed. Prior to being interviewed, every respondent was informed of the purpose of the interview, the confidentiality of information provided, and the right to omit uncomfortable questions or withdraw from the interview at any stage.

5.3.2 Primary study sites

Misool (1°52’40.52”S, 130°06’52.38”E) is the southernmost island in the Raja Ampat regency of West Papua province (Figure 5.1). Situated on the eastern boundary of the Indonesian archipelago, this region experiences two main seasons; northeastern monsoon (or rainy season) between May and September, and the southwestern monsoon (dry season) between November and March (Mangubhai et al. 2012). Access to many of the

132 Chapter 5 | Spatial protection islands off the mainland is restricted or closed during the northeastern monsoon.

In 2006, the SE Misool MPA covering 3,432 km2 was established by local communities with technical support from The Nature Conservancy (TNC) and the

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endorsement of the Raja Ampat regency government (Table 5.1). Similar to the other six MPAs in the regency, the intention was to establish a multiple use zoning and management plan for SE Misool MPA.

A year earlier, in 2005, Misool Eco Resort (MER) had established a 425 km2 No- Take Zone (NTZ) around Batbitim island where the resort is located, and its surrounding waters (Table 5.1), following observations of shark and blast fishing and low numbers of sharks in the area (A. Miners, MER owner, pers comm.). A lease for the Babitim NTZ was negotiated with the communities traditionally fishing the reefs in the area, conferring management rights to MER for 25 years. Under the lease agreement, communities agreed to a no-harvesting rule, with the exception of controlled collection of commercially valuable trochus shells (Trochus spp) and green snails (Turbo marmoratus) down to free diving depths. These collections are conducted in accordance with sasi, an Eastern Indonesian system for managing natural resources whereby harvest is temporally and spatially limited (McLeod et al. 2009). In 2010, a second NTZ covering 403 km2 was established by MER around Daram island in the southeastern corner of SE Misool MPA, again through a lease agreement with the community that holds traditional access rights to Daram (Table 5.1). Similar to Babitim, the Daram NTZ is opened for two weeks every two years to allow local harvesting of permitted invertebrate species. The Batbitim and Daram NTZs are patrolled by Misool Baseftin, a local NGO founded by MER that employs local community members.

Fieldwork was conducted in SE Misool MPA from 25 April to 13 May 2012. We surveyed sites both within the existing NTZs, and control areas within the MPA that had no management in place at the time. Although the zoning plan has now been finalized and the MPA is divided into several no-take and traditional-use zones (where traditional fishing is permitted), we refer to the area outside of the Batbitim and Daram NTZs as an open access zone (OAZ) throughout this paper, as this reflects the management status of the area at the time of study.

Pulau Osi (3°01’22.04”S, 128°04’25.60”E) is a small (approx. 900 m x 450 m) sandy island 2 km off Seram in Maluku province (Fig 5.1). At the time of this study, 963 people lived in the community, with most families dependent on one or more types of small-scale fishing. The majority of Osi’s population descended from its original inhabitants who arrived by boat from Buton in southeast Sulawesi. Since the advent of shark fishing however, many a wife from every corner of the archipelago has been brought back to Osi, increasing the ethnic diversity of the exclusively Muslim community. In the early 1990s, Osi

134 Chapter 5 | Spatial protection fishers earned a reputation throughout the region as far-ranging shark fishers, their fishing grounds extending north to Halmahera in North Maluku, east to Biak off the east coast of Papua, west to Bali and south towards, and sometimes past, the Australian border. Around the turn of the millennium, they began focusing their main fishing grounds to the numerous small islands off Misool’s northern coast, where several Osi fishers met their wives and settled, creating family connections between Osi and northern Misool. To catch sharks, Osi fishers exclusively use multiple un-baited, bottom-set gillnets of 120 m length each and with a stretched mesh size of 19-23 cm, which are set at night and soaked for 10- 12 h before they are manually retrieved. Fishing trips average six weeks but range between two and eight weeks (V. Jaiteh, unpublished survey data). In this time, fishers cover distances of approximately 600 km for a roundtrip to Misool, up to 1000 km if they fish other fishing grounds in Raja Ampat, and over 2000 km if they fish in Halmahera province.

Socio-economic and fishery data were collected on Osi between 3 March and 31 August 2012. At that time, the majority of the community relied almost exclusively on income from shark fishing in Raja Ampat, particularly northern Misool. While this study was underway, a fishing boat from Osi was intercepted by a patrol boat in Wayag MPA in northern Raja Ampat, on its way from Misool to Halmahera after six weeks of fishing. Catch and gear were confiscated and the crew sent home with a warning; the shark sanctuary was not yet legally in force at the time. This incident provided an opportunity to examine the fishers’ perceptions of shark conservation and their responses to the first signs of enforcement.

5.3.3 Fishery-independent surveys

5.3.3.1 Experimental design

We used baited remote underwater video systems (BRUVs) as a fishery-independent survey method to assess the abundance and diversity of sharks and other coral reef species targeted by local fishers in the OAZ and the two NTZs within SE Misool MPA in Raja Ampat (Fig 5.1). BRUVs were deployed at 40 sites within the three management zones: 10 sites in Batbitim NTZ, 10 sites in Daram NTZ and 20 sites within the OAZ. Sites were selected to reflect the diversity of habitats while covering the spatial extent of each management zone. At each site, we deployed four BRUVs over a depth range of 1-34 m, with replicates spaced at least 500 m apart.

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5.3.3.2 Sampling technique

BRUVs were selected from a number of fishery-independent survey methods as they are more cost-effective than diver video surveys and provide greater statistical power to detect changes over space and time (Langlois et al. 2010). Furthermore, they have been shown to be an adequate sampling method for studying the relative abundance of sharks inside and outside MPAs (Bond et al. 2012; Goetze and Fullwood 2012; Rizzari et al. 2014). Given the logistical constraints on transport to and from SE Misool MPA, a compact BRUVs system was developed which could be carried, assembled, deployed and retrieved by one person (Fig 5.2a,b). We achieved this by constructing frames made from light acrylic to which two GoPro Hero 2 cameras were mounted at a 3° angle to each other. The legs of each frame consisted of plastic drainpipes that could be disassembled from the frame and used as a protective cover for the cameras during transport. BRUVs were deployed with six dive weights using 5 mm nylon rope attached to a swim float at the surface, and retrieved manually (Fig 5.2c). For each replicate, one kilogram of cut and crushed skipjack tuna (Katsuwonus pelamis) was placed in a bait bag that was made from plastic wire mesh and extended 1.2 m from the camera with plastic conduit pipe. In total, we deployed 160 BRUVs, each for a minimum of 45 minutes.

Figure 5.2. Different means of data collection used in this study. Top row – fishery- independent data collection: (A) deploying lightweight baited remote underwater video systems (BRUVs) with GoPro cameras; (B) BRUVs in situ; (C) Surface floats help to locate and retrieve BRUVs. Bottom row – fishery-dependent data collection: (D) Fishers from Osi island setting out for what was to be their last fishing trip to Raja Ampat; (E) shark catch from Misool, Raja Ampat; (F) dried shark fins from which tissue samples were taken to verify the fishers’ species identification of sharks they recorded for this study.

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1.1.1.1 Video analysis

Video footage was analyzed using EventMeasure software (Seager 2014). The maximum number (MaxN) of any one species seen at once during the recording period was used as a measure of relative abundance. As recording times varied between deployments (mean deployment time ± 1 SD = 54 min ± 8.2 min), we standardized the relative abundance to MaxN per hour, which is consistent with previous studies of shark abundance from BRUVs (e.g., Espinoza et al., 2014). Where possible, sharks were recorded to species level, sexed, and conservatively classified as juveniles if their total length was ~ 70 cm or less (Fig 5.3a,b,c). Other taxa of interest were also counted from BRUVs footage. This included reef fish that are targeted by small-scale reef fisheries such as snappers, emperor and groupers and two globally threatened species (humphead wrasse Cheilinus undulatus and bumphead parrotfish Bolbometapon muricatum), and species of importance to dive tourism (turtles, rays and moray eels) which were recorded to at least genus level (Table 5.2, Fig 5.3d,e,f).

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Table 5.2. Taxa recorded on baited remote underwater video stations during 160 deployments (depl.) within the Southeast Misool Marine Protected Area, Raja Ampat. The number of species identified within each genus is given in brackets. OAZ = Open Access Zone (n=80 depl.); NTZ 1 = Batbitim No-Take Zone (n= 40 depl.); NTZ 2 = Daram No-Take Zone (n=40 depl.). Family Genus Sum of MaxN Category Recorded in (# species) OAZ NTZ 1 NTZ 2 Carangidae Carangoides (3) 123 Reef fish ✔ ✕ ✔ Caranx (2) 92 Reef fish ✔ ✔ ✔ Scomberoides (1) 3 Reef fish ✔ ✕ ✕ Carcharhinidae Carcharhinus (2) 48 Shark ✔ ✔ ✔ Triaenodon (1) 2 Shark ✔ ✔ ✕ Cheloniidae Chelonia (1) 22 Turtle ✔ ✔ ✔ Eretmochelys (1) 2 Turtle ✕ ✔ ✕ Dasyatidae Neotrygon (1) 2 Ray ✔ ✕ ✔ Labridae Cheilinus (1) 53 Reef fish ✔ ✔ ✔ Lethrinidae Lethrinus (9) 92 Reef fish ✔ ✔ ✔ Lutjanidae Lutjanus (10) 425 Reef fish ✔ ✔ ✔ Muraenidae Gymnothorax (2) 40 Reef fish ✔ ✔ ✔ Myliobatidae Aetobatus (1) 1 Ray ✕ ✕ ✔ Scaridae Bolbometapon (1) 28 Reef fish ✔ ✔ ✔ Scombridae Gymnosarda (1) 3 Reef fish ✔ ✕ ✕ Scomberomorus (1) 5 Reef fish ✔ ✕ ✔ Epinephelidae Aethaloperca (1) 48 Reef fish ✔ ✔ ✔ Anyperodon (1) 2 Reef fish ✔ ✕ ✕ Cephalopholis (5) 224 Reef fish ✔ ✔ ✔ Cromileptes (1) 2 Reef fish ✕ ✔ ✕ Epinephelus (4) 30 Reef fish ✔ ✔ ✔ Gracila (1) 2 Reef fish ✔ ✔ ✕ Plectropomus (5) 67 Reef fish ✔ ✔ ✔ Variola (1) 2 Reef fish ✕ ✔ ✔ Sphyraenidae Sphyraena (1) 7 Reef fish ✕ ✔ ✔ Total 1327

Figure 5.3. Images captured on baited remote underwater video systems. Top row – sharks: (A) juvenile blacktip reef sharks Carcharhinus melanopterus in a shallow bay in Daram No-Take Zone (NTZ); (B) presumably pregnant C. melanopterus, Daram NTZ; (C) a group of grey reef sharks Carcharhinus amblyrhynchos investigate the bait bag in Batbitim NTZ. Bottom row - species of high conservation or tourism value: (D) hawksbill turtle Eretmochelys imbricata feeding on bait, Batbitim NTZ; (E) bluespotted stingray Neotrygon kuhlii feeding on bait, Open Access Zone; (F) moray eel Gymnothorax javanicus guarding the bait bag, Batbitim NTZ.

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Habitat metrics for each BRUV replicate were defined by grading measures of the structural complexity, reef slope and the benthic cover of five habitat types; live coral, macroalgae, turf algae, crustose coralline algae (CCA) and unconsolidated sediment. These measures were visually estimated from the imagery of the video cameras. Estimates of structural complexity followed those used by Wilson et al. (2007) where 0 = no vertical relief, 1 = low and sparse relief, 2 = low but widespread relief, 3 = moderately complex, 4 = very complex with numerous fissures and caves, 5 = exceptionally complex with numerous caves and overhangs. Reef slope was also estimated on a 6-point scale from flat to vertical wall. Benthic cover for the 5 habitat types were graded where 0 = trace (0%), 1 = sparse (1-10%), 2 = low (10-25%), 3 = medium (25-50%), 4 = dense (50-75%), 5 = very dense (>75%).

1.1.1.2 Statistical analysis

To test the hypothesis that the abundance of sharks and fishery targeted reef fish differed between management zones (i.e., NTZs, OAZ), we used univariate permutational analysis of variance (PERMANOVA) on the factor Management area (fixed effect with three levels – OAZ, Batbitim NTZ and Daram NTZ), while including Site (random effect nested within Management area) to account for spatial variation. To account for potential variation in habitat between management areas, we first performed a principal components analysis (PCA) on the seven habitat variables for all BRUVs replicates. This acted as a data reduction tool to determine gradients in habitat and reduce collinearity between the measured variables. The PCA summarised the habitat variation into three components (Principal component axes, PCA1, PCA2 and PCA3), which together explained 83% of the variance between BRUVs replicates. Abundance data were log (x+1) transformed and we included the three habitat components and the continuous factor depth (1-34 m) as covariates in the permutational ANOVAs (Table 5.3). Where differences were found between management areas, we conducted post-hoc pairwise t-tests and corrected the resulting P-values for multiple comparisons using the Bonferroni adjustment.

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Table 5.3. Permutational ANOVAs examining the relative abundance of sharks and targeted reef fish between management areas (No-Take Zones 1 and 2, Open Access Zone) and sites along with habitat co-variables (in italics). Post-hoc pairwise t-tests between management areas are shown below. Significant values (p<0.05) in bold. Main tests Factor df MS F P Sharks Depth 1 0.087 0.491 0.498 Habitat PC1 1 0.331 1.975 0.159 Habitat PC2 1 1.299 7.357 0.008 Habitat PC3 1 0.006 0.034 0.858 Management area 2 1.712 8.027 0.002 Site (Mgt area) 39 0.216 1.545 0.047 Residuals 114 0.14

Reef fish Depth 1 1.37 2.593 0.106 Habitat PC1 1 0.481 0.89 0.352 Habitat PC2 1 4.232 7.986 0.006 Habitat PC3 1 0.765 1.424 0.237 Management area 2 2.681 5.535 0.008 Site (Mgt area) 39 0.482 0.836 0.733 Residuals 114 0.576

Pairwise tests Group 1 Group 2 t P Sharks Batbitim NTZ Daram NTZ 0.976 0.346 Batbitim NTZ OAZ 5.803 0.000 Daram NTZ OAZ 2.209 0.006

Reef fish Batbitim NTZ Daram NTZ 0.999 0.326 Batbitim NTZ OAZ 2.417 0.020 Daram NTZ OAZ 3.719 0.001

To examine how groups of recorded taxa varied between samples, we performed a principal coordinate (PCO) analysis. Prior to the analysis we applied a fourth root transformation to the abundance data of each group and created a Bray–Curtis dissimilarity matrix between every pair of observations (Anderson and Willis 2003). Spearman rank correlations of |r| > 0.3 were used to show relationships between individual species and the PCO axes. All analyses were performed using the PERMANOVA+ add-on package for PRIMER v6 (Anderson et al. 2008).

5.3.4 Catch composition

During five months between March and August 2012, we studied the fishing practices and livelihoods of the community on Osi through biological data collection, participant observation and semi-structured interviews with community members (outlined

140 Chapter 5 | Spatial protection below). Fishers that set out on a fishing trip were given datasheets and asked to record the location of fishing grounds and the local species names of up to ten sharks caught per gillnet set (Fig 5.2d,e). To verify the local species names, we asked fishers to collect small (~5-10 mm) tissue samples from the undersides of dried pectoral fins of a subset of recorded sharks (Fig 5.2f). No financial reward was offered for data collection to ensure that participating fishers were interested in data collection itself. Three vessels contributed catch data; the first vessel had left for northern Misool in late January and returned six weeks later, shortly before the second vessel left Osi in mid-March to fish in northern Misool. The third and last vessel to leave Osi in that season was at sea for five weeks before it was intercepted by water police in Wayag (northern Raja Ampat) on 3 May 2012. Datasheets were returned from this trip but as the police confiscated the catch, no tissue samples were available.

Upon the fishers’ return, their species names were matched to scientifically recognized species using an identification guide (White et al. 2006b). Tissue samples were stored in a NaCl saturated solution containing 20% dimethyl sulphoxide and 0.25 M ethylenediaminetetraacetic acid. The samples were genetically barcoded in July-August 2014 (Jaiteh and Momigliano 2015) and incorporated into a larger study on the catch composition of shark fisheries in Eastern Indonesia (Jaiteh et al., unpublished data). The catch data presented here allow for a comparison with the species diversity recorded by the BRUVs in the same geographic region.

5.3.5 Fishing community surveys

Interviews with fishers were guided by a 125 question survey covering a broad range of topics related to shark fishing livelihoods, with 20 questions directly relevant to this study (Supplementary Table S5.1). Interviews with non-fishing community members were based on a sub-sample of 28 questions that focused on perceptions about sharks and the importance of shark fishing to the wider community. The questionnaire contained mostly closed questions that arose repeatedly in conversations with, and during observations of fishers and their work. The questionnaire was field tested on three active and two retired fishers before data were collected for this study.

Interviews were conducted during the last month of fieldwork in August 2012, when the researcher and community had established mutual trust through informal conversations, participation at community events, and collaborative data collection. The respondents comprised at least 30 active and 30 retired shark fishers, and 20 non-fishers.

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Active fishers were fishing in the current season, or had fished last season and were currently resting but with either no intention or no means of changing to a new income source. Retired fishers had stopped fishing for sharks and retired altogether, or had permanently switched to a different livelihood with no intention of returning to shark fishing irrespective of fluctuations in fin prices or other factors. Non-fishers were community members that held central positions in the community, such as cultural leaders, teachers, shop owners, traditional healers, and heads of community organizations such as the papalele (women who clean and sell fish on land). While all fishers were men, the non- fishers group comprised women. Together, these 80 respondents represented almost 10 percent of the population of Osi. Respondents were chosen randomly, according to availability and only one member of a household was interviewed. All of the potential respondents we approached agreed to be interviewed. They were informed of the intent of the research, their right to skip uncomfortable questions or withdraw from the interview at any stage, and that no names would be used in publications arising from the research. Interviews were conducted in Indonesian by the lead author and four assistants who were native speakers and had been given prior training to ensure consistency of methods. Additional information was gleaned from observations and informal conversations with groups and individuals during the five-month case study in Osi.

The interviews were later repeated with the same number and categories of respondents in two other shark fishing communities: Dobo in the Aru Archipelago of Maluku and Pepela on Rote island in East Nusa Tenggara province (Fig 5.1). Fishers from Dobo mainly fish around the Aru Islands and in the Arafura Sea towards the Papuan mainland and the Australian border. Pepelan fishers rarely travelled to Raja Ampat and their traditional fishing grounds are now part of Australian waters, where many have been arrested for illegally fishing outside of officially allocated boundaries. A subset of data from these latter two communities is presented here to complement the views and perceptions of Osi fishers with regards to the measures aimed at protecting sharks.

5.4 Results

5.4.1 BRUVs

From 160 BRUVs deployments, 50 individual sharks were recorded of which 48 (96%) were recorded within the two NTZs of the SE Misool MPA: 28 in Batbitim and 20

142 Chapter 5 | Spatial protection in Daram (Table 5.2). The average relative shark abundance (mean MaxN/hour) in Batbitim and Daram was 0.8 and 0.6, respectively, compared to 0.03 in the OAZ (Fig 5.4a). Three reef shark species were identified; grey reef (Carcharhinus amblyrhynchos, n = 21), blacktip reef (C. melanopterus, n= 26) and whitetip reef (Triaenodon obesus, n = 2). One T. obsesus was recorded in the Open Access Zone (OAZ), the other in Batbitim NTZ. While all juvenile sharks were recorded in Daram NTZ (n=7; 1 C. amblyrhynchos, 6 C. melanopterus), there was no significant difference in the abundance and percentage contribution of C. amblyrhynchos and C. melanopterus to the species assemblage between the two NTZs (Fig 5.4a).

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Figure 5.4. Relative abundance (mean MaxN per hour ±SE) of (A) shark species and life stages, and (B) fishery targeted reef fish families and species recorded in each of the three management areas surveyed in Southeast Misool Marine Protected Area. Juvenile sharks (hatched fields) were only recorded in the Daram No-Take Zone (NTZ).

The relative abundance of sharks was clearly greater within the NTZs compared to the OAZ in the SE Misool MPA (Fig 5.4a) and management area was highly significant in the PERMANOVA analysis (p < 0.01) after controlling for habitat and depth effects (Table 5.3). Of the habitat co-variables, reef slope (PC2) was significant with a trend for more sharks associated with a gentle reef slope. Pairwise tests revealed that shark

144 Chapter 5 | Spatial protection abundance within each of the NTZs differed significantly from the OAZ (p < 0.01), but not between the two NTZs (p = 0.346;Table 5.3).

The relative abundance of targeted reef fish followed the same trend as that of reef sharks, with greater numbers recorded in the NTZs compared to the OAZ (Fig 5.4b). Management zone was highly significant (p < 0.01) in the PERMANOVA, with no effect associated with the habitat and depth co-variables (Table 5.3). Fish abundance was significantly lower in the OAZ than the NTZs (p < 0.05), but did not differ significantly between the two NTZs (Table 5.3).

In general, the abundance of all recorded taxa of interest was positively correlated with most NTZ sites (to the right of Fig 5.5), with no group showing strong affinity for sites within the OAZ. Particularly the endangered humphead wrasse Cheilinus undulatus had a strong correlation in the direction of the NTZs. Reef shark (Carcharhinidae) abundance showed a similar correlation strength and direction as the abundance of other fishery targeted species (Fig 5.5).

Figure 5.5. Principal coordinate ordination (PCO) plot for the assemblage of all recorded taxa averaged to the site level. No-Take Zone (NTZ) sites are represented by green circles (Batbitim NTZ) and blue diamonds (Daram NTZ), Open Access sites by orange squares. Correlations of taxa towards sites are indicated by the length and direction of vectors.

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5.4.2 Comparison of BRUVs and catch data

Catch data and tissue samples were obtained from three separate fishing trips between March and April 2012, resulting in a total of 474 identified sharks and 173 tissue samples. Genetic analysis of the tissue samples showed a very high percentage of correct species identifications by fishers; over 95% of sharks were identified correctly from dried pelvic fins (V. Jaiteh, unpublished data). Inconsistencies occurred between some C. amblyrhynchos and silvertip C. albimarginatus sharks, for which one fisher used the same local name, and between the fossil shark Hemipristis elongata and Australian weasel shark Hemigaleus australiensis, because fishers do not distinguish between these two species. These consistent misidentifications were corrected in the recorded catch of the second and third vessel to determine total catch composition, which was calculated from 67 tissue samples from vessel 1, 152 sharks from vessel 2 and 255 sharks from vessel 3 (Fig 5.6).

Figure 5.6. Proportions of shark species captured on baited remote underwater video systems (BRUVs, light blue) and recorded by fishers in their catch (dark blue) in waters surrounding Misool island in Raja Ampat. Both assemblages comprised mainly grey reef (Carcharhinus amblyrhynchos), whitetip reef (Triaenodon obesus) and blacktip reef (C. melanopterus) sharks.

The species compositions recorded on BRUVs (n=50) and by Osi fishers during their fishing trips to northern Misool (n=474) were both dominated by three reef- associated species; C. amblyrhynchos, T. obesus and C. melanopterus (Fig 5.6). While C. melanopterus dominated the species assemblage recorded on BRUVs (52%), C. amblyrhynchos

146 Chapter 5 | Spatial protection was the main species (67%) in the fishers’ catch. Triaenodon obesus made up 4% and 15% of the BRUVs and catch species composition, respectively. While the species assemblage recorded on the BRUVs consisted entirely of these three species, the fishers recorded five additional species – Rhynchobatus australiae (whitespotted guitarfish), C. albimarginatus, Hemipristis elongata, Sphyrna sp. (hammerhead shark) and Hemigaleus australiensis (Fig 5.6). Combined, these species made a much smaller contribution (7%) to the catch composition than the three species that also dominated the BRUVs assemblage.

5.4.3 Fisher interviews

While most fishers (88%) knew that shark fishing was banned in Raja Ampat, their perceptions of the purpose of spatial closures (commonly referred to as MPAs in the interviews) or fishing bans varied widely, including ‘protecting marine resources/sharks and rays/corals and turtles’, ‘to stop dynamite fishing’, and ‘for mariculture’. Only two respondents thought their purpose was to protect fishers’ livelihoods, and one suggested it was to reduce the income of local people. However, the most frequently stated purpose (48% respondents) was ‘improving tourism’:

I feel that in Raja Ampat they banned shark fishing because it’s a tourism region. Maybe if it is not banned and there are no more sharks, the tourists will say, ‘Where are the sharks? They are not here!’ If there are sharks there, it’s good.

So do you think the shark fishing ban in Raja Ampat is effective?

Yes.

Have you fished in Raja Ampat?

Yes. But not anymore.

(Active fisher, Osi, 08/2012)

Sixty-seven percent of respondents in Osi said that the ban on shark fishing in the Raja Ampat shark sanctuary had affected them. For most of those respondents (66%), this meant having less income, usually because they had to change fishing grounds to less productive areas (63%) which resulted in lower catches, and in a few cases resulted in higher fuel costs (5%). Some Osi fishers said that Raja Ampat had become a dangerous fishing ground because of the risk of getting caught, and rather than fishing for sharks

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elsewhere they preferred to start fishing for ikan biasa (small reef fish) in the vicinity of their island or look for an alternative to fishing. Through informal follow-up conversations in the year following the interviews, we found that fishers indeed adapted to the loss of former fishing grounds by diversifying their livelihoods, including coastal small-scale fishing and illegal petrol transport, while others simply redirected their shark fishing efforts to areas open to fishing, mostly in Halmahera to the north-west of Raja Ampat (Fig 5.1). In Dobo and Pepela, the proportion of fishers who had been affected by fishery closures or bans was much lower (21% and 41%, respectively).

The majority of fishers from all three sites did not feel that the people or organizations implementing shark protection understood the livelihood needs of shark fishers (70% across sites). Only 42% of active fishers expressed confidence in NGOs considering shark-fishing livelihoods, followed by retired fishers (50%) and non-fishers (75%). However, the respondents in Osi were the most optimistic, with 42% believing that their livelihood needs were understood, compared to 37% in Pepela and only 16% in Dobo. Almost 70% of the respondents in Osi thought that fishing bans and MPAs were effective, compared to 49% in Pepela and 29% in Dobo. The most frequently stated reason for their failure was fishers ignoring the closures (95%). Nevertheless, only 10% of all respondents in Osi, Pepela and Dobo said they would continue fishing if they were aware of a fishing ban or closure. Several fishers expressed a clash between an awareness of the value of live sharks to the ecosystem on one hand, and the need for a livelihood on the other hand:

Sharks are important too in the ocean. But I hope one day the government will say ‘now there are plenty of sharks, go and fish them again’.

Are you worried about sharks declining?

Yes, I feel sad. Because this is our livelihood and if they decline, so will our livelihoods. On the other hand, it’s clear that they are part of the ecosystem and sharks need to continue to be in the sea. It’s just that we have our livelihoods there too, so whether we want to or not, we have to fish them.

(Active fisher, Osi, 08/2012)

Although we expected older fishers, having seen more changes in shark populations, to show more concern for the health of the ecosystem, we found no significant difference between the average age of active fishers concerned about the environment (41.7 years)

148 Chapter 5 | Spatial protection and those not concerned (40.2 years). However, retired fishers generally appeared more concerned over the ecological consequences of declining shark numbers than active fishers:

Do you feel concern seeing sharks decline in the ocean?

Yes. Us humans have to think too: if we keep catching them, how do we think this can continue? They’ll eventually finish. That’s where my thinking comes from. Most of the sharks we catch have babies [are pregnant]. So we catch one but kill many. My concern comes from that.

(Retired fisher, Dobo, 11/2012)

The majority of respondents in Osi (83%) and the other two sites described sharks primarily as an important source of income and hence a financial benefit. All respondents expressed concern over declining shark populations (100% in Osi, 99% across sites), but while fishers were primarily concerned about the resulting declines in shark catch and/or loss of livelihoods (81% of active and 71% of retired fishers), almost half (49%) of all non- fishers were primarily worried about the loss of ecosystem function. When respondents from all categories were asked if they thought that sharks needed protection from fishing, approximately half agreed in each location (Osi: 53%; Pepela: 61%; Dobo: 48%). In relation to this question, several fishers pointed out that the need for a livelihood and the (perceived or real) inability to switch to an alternative can lead to displaced fishing effort if shark catches decline or if fishers are excluded from a fishing ground:

In 2001 I fished in Sorong, in 2002 in Tual and in 2003 I came here [to Dobo]. Us small-scale fishers move to where the conditions are good. If things get worse in a place, we go to a new place.

(Active fisher, Dobo, 12/2012)

5.5 Discussion

Our results clearly indicate a higher relative abundance of reef sharks in well-enforced large No-Take Zones (NTZs) compared to areas open to fishing. With equal sampling effort inside and outside the NTZs, 96% of all sharks were recorded within the two NTZs, which suggests that these no-fishing areas provide critical refuge for reef sharks. These findings are consistent with other studies of shark abundance, showing benefits to reef sharks within no-take marine reserves around the world (Bond et al. 2012; Goetze and Fullwood

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2012; Espinoza et al. 2014). Since both NTZs in SE Misool MPA were relatively young at the time of this study (7 and 2 years), we did not expect the magnitude of difference observed (21 and 28 times greater abundance inside NTZs than outside), which is vastly greater than the up to four-fold increases in reef shark numbers reported from 13 year old marine reserves studied by Goetze and Fullwood (2012) in Fiji and by Bond et al. (2012) in Belize. It is unlikely that shark numbers increased by that magnitude in the relatively short time the NTZs had been enforced, given the approximate population doubling times of the observed species (Smith et al. 1998). Furthermore, the relative abundance of sharks recorded within the NTZs (0.6 – 0.8 sharks per hour in Daram and Batbitim, respectively), is comparable to the values recorded using BRUVs in other unfished reserves, while it was almost an order of magnitude lower in the OAZ than in fished areas elsewhere (Goetze and Fullwood, 2012). However, given anecdotal reports indicating the virtual absence of sharks at diveable depths where the NTZs were later established (pers. comm. A. Miners, MER owner, and S. Heinrichs, Shark Savers), it is also unlikely that shark numbers were naturally higher in the NTZs to begin with. Rather, we suspect that shark numbers were similar throughout the area that was later divided into the NTZs and the OAZ. The observed magnitude of difference is likely due to continued fishing mortality in the OAZ reducing shark numbers to very low densities, while effective protection has provided refuge and increased prey availability for remaining sharks, both within the NTZs and from adjacent areas, and their offspring.

While we suspect that high historical and ongoing fishing mortality is the main reason for the low numbers of sharks outside the NTZs, the large sizes of the NTZs are likely a key factor for their effectiveness, being sufficiently large to protect the home ranges of reef sharks and their prey. Activity spaces for reef sharks have been calculated as 0.55 km2 (over days) to 12.08 km2 (over months) in area and around 4-8 km in length for C. melanopterus (Papastamatiou et al. 2009, 2010), an average of 4.2 km2 in area and 3.6 km in length for C. amblyrhynchos (McKibben and Nelson 1986), and home ranges of approximately 1 km2 or up to 5 km linear distance for T. obesus (Nelson and Johnson 1980; Whitney et al. 2012). These core areas of use correspond roughly to the boundary lengths of the NTZs, which suggests they are of sufficient size to provide important refuge areas to sharks (Green et al. 2014). Both NTZs are larger than many of the marine reserves where shark abundance has been assessed (Bond et al. 2012; Goetze and Fullwood 2012), and, combined with high levels of enforcement, satisfy key criteria for MPAs identified by Edgar et al. (2014), who observed an up to 14-fold increase in shark biomass in MPAs

150 Chapter 5 | Spatial protection compared to fished areas. Other authors have suggested that greater prey availability may also be a contributing indirect reason for differences in shark abundance inside and outside protected areas (Goetze and Fullwood 2012; Momigliano et al. 2015). In addition to harboring more sharks than the OAZ, the NTZs also had significantly more reef-fishery targeted species, some of which may represent or regulate prey species for reef sharks and hence provide a vital food source to sustain populations. While our results demonstrate significant spatial differences in shark abundance, it is unclear whether there is temporal variation in shark numbers. Follow-up studies to investigate how shark populations respond to protection over time would help clarify whether the observed differences in abundance reflect population recovery, or whether higher numbers are largely due to an aggregative effect and successful protection of sharks in the protected area.

We found no significant difference in total shark abundance between the two NTZs, despite Batbitim NTZ having been established five years earlier than Daram. Given the NTZs’ relatively recent establishment, this result is consistent with generation times of the shark species recorded in this study, which reach sexual maturity at around seven (T. obesus) to ten (C. melanopterus and C. amblyrhynchos) years of age (Robbins 2006; Chin et al. 2013). Daram had more small sharks than Batbitim, suggesting that its habitat with gentler reef slopes and shallow bays may provide shark nursery habitats that could play a beneficial role in the recovery of fishery-impacted shark populations. While our data are insufficient to establish the presence of nursery areas within the two NTZs, we recommend future studies to determine whether the NTZs or any areas within the OAZ fulfill the criteria for primary or secondary shark nurseries (Heupel et al. 2007) or other critical habitat for various life history stages of sharks.

Although pelagic BRUVs have been established as a valid fishery-independent method to capture representative samples of the species diversity compared to longline fishing (Santana-Garcon et al. 2014), we found the diversity of reef sharks recorded on BRUVs to be lower than the fishery-dependent data from fishers using gillnets in northern Misool (Fig 5.6). This suggests that, although both methods were deployed on coral reefs within a similar depth range (the majority of nets were set in 2-40 m depth), BRUVs may not capture the full suite of shark species present on coral reefs. The discrepancy in species diversity may be explained by the fact that BRUVs recorded during the day, when some shark species are less active than at night, when fishers set their nets (Speed et al. 2010, 2015; Bromhead et al. 2012). Reef sharks have been reported to undertake vertical diel migrations between depths, typically approaching shallower depths at dawn and dusk

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(Vianna et al. 2013), when video cameras do not capture sufficient light for clear footage. Alternatively, BRUVs may be biased towards species attracted to Katsuwonus pelamis or other bait, while gillnets also recruit sharks that are not bait-dependent, and those that are attracted to other species caught in the nets. Furthermore, the nets fishers used to catch sharks had longer soak times (approx. 12 h or overnight) than BRUVs and covered a larger area (95-120 m per net), and were thus more likely to capture sharks during foraging trips.

Fish species commonly targeted in tropical reef fisheries and other species valuable to diving tourism were measured as an alternative indicator of NTZ effectiveness. Indeed the well-enforced NTZs also provided benefits to these species, consistent with studies elsewhere (Edgar et al. 2014). In Raja Ampat, where many local communities engage in subsistence fishing, the likely spillover benefits (e.g., Russ and Alcala, 2011) of NTZs in SE Misool and other MPAs throughout the regency may provide important livelihood benefits to communities and garner local support for spatial closures as tools for biodiversity conservation and fisheries management, which should ultimately benefit both the tourism industry and local fisheries.

The success of the NTZs within SE Misool MPA suggests that innovative partnerships between the private sector and local communities, coupled with effective enforcement, resulted in greater numbers of sharks with direct benefits for dive tourism. The Batbitim and Daram NTZs were established directly as a lease arrangement between MER and the communities with traditional ownership rights over the islands and reefs. The governance arrangement is essentially a payment for ecosystem services (PES), where in return for protecting the islands and surrounding reefs, communities receive lease payments and employment at the resort or as rangers to patrol the NTZs. Because there are immediate tangible benefits to entering into PES arrangements, these NTZs were established more quickly than other NTZs in the larger MPA.

In contrast, the establishment of the SE Misool MPA and the development of its management and zoning plan required significant investment from NGOs and government in education and outreach, and the inclusion of communities in spatial planning (Mangubhai et al. 2015). The final zoning plan for SE Misool MPA explicitly included socioeconomic criteria and data, recognized community use and governance of resources, maximized equity and access to traditional fishing grounds, and addressed long-term food security and livelihoods of local communities (Mangubhai et al. 2015). This investment without direct financial benefits to communities resulted in a five year planning process, which far exceeded that of the two NTZs. The resulting delay in enforcement of other

152 Chapter 5 | Spatial protection

NTZs within the MPA is reflected in the significantly lower abundance of sharks outside of the Batbitim and Daram NTZs. This finding corresponds to the results of a recent BRUVs study in northern Raja Ampat, which found no significant difference in shark abundance inside and outside NTZs within the Penemu and Dampier Straits MPAs (Beer 2015). Both MPAs had only been enforced for 15 months at the time of Beer’s (2015) study. At 0.42 sharks/hour, the average relative shark abundance within these recently enforced NTZs was almost half that recorded in our study (0.8 and 0.6 sharks/hour in Batbitim and Daram, respectively). In light of these findings, our case study from SE Misool MPA demonstrates the important role the private sector can play in marine conservation, with quicker and more direct benefits to sharks and other species. Determining the long-term viability of the private-public partnership would be an important focus of future research, for example by documenting how local communities perceive the legitimacy and benefits of PES arrangements and tracking the distribution of payments through the communities.

The ability to effectively enforce any spatial closure is of crucial importance to its success (White et al. 2015). Enforcement and compliance may be compromised if biological concerns cannot be reconciled with the socio-economic needs of fishing communities (Hoyt 2014; Mangubhai et al. 2015). If fishers are not considered in the planning of a sanctuary, they might simply shift effort to other areas or species, or disregard closures altogether (Hoyt 2014). Arguably, the importance of effective enforcement increases with the number of fishers and scale of the associated fisheries, which in Indonesia are of global significance in terms of landings and exports (Blaber et al. 2009; Momigliano et al. 2014; Dharmadi et al. 2015). Reef shark populations around Misool island in Raja Ampat provide a valued asset for dive eco-tourism as well as important livelihoods for regional fishers from neighboring provinces. Since shark fishing was mainly done by outside fishers from Sulawesi, Seram and Halmahera (Varkey et al. 2010), compliance from local fishers with the NTZs was high (Muhajir et al. 2012). Conversely, enforcement at the regency level of the shark sanctuary resulted in a change in the behavior of regional fishers from Osi near Seram in the neighboring province of Maluku. A single warning to a shark fishing vessel from Osi and the subsequent confiscation of catch and gear from another vessel by Raja Ampat water police immediately led to a distinct shift in fishing grounds and a decrease in shark fishing by Osi fishers. At the time of our interviews, four months after the incident in Raja Ampat, 88% of fishers knew about the shark-fishing ban, even though the sanctuary was not yet legally in force at the time.

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After the confiscation of six weeks’ worth of catch from one of their vessels, all Osi fishers decided that continuing to fish in Raja Ampat was not worth the financial risk ‘because of the high operational costs’ (Active fisher, Osi, 08/2012). In addition to fuel, gear and food, operational costs included permits that the fishers bought from different levels of government as well as the villages whose reefs they fished. Having paid for what they understood to be legal permits to fish, several Osi fishers remained confident that their vessel was mistakenly apprehended. However, official sources confirmed that any permits obtained for shark fishing in Raja Ampat were invalid. When the fishers from Osi were asked how the fishing ban had affected them, 66% said that it resulted in less income since they were forced to fish in less productive fishing grounds, predominantly along the southeast coast of Halmahera. Informal follow-up conversations in the year following the interviews revealed that several fishers had adapted to the loss of former fishing grounds by diversifying or changing their livelihoods. Some fishers attempted to replace shark fishing with small-scale reef fishing from wooden canoes, while their shark fishing boats were parked on the beach and began to fall apart. Others began using their shark vessels to (illegally) transport and sell fuel to communities in Raja Ampat, where fuel shortages were quite common at the time. These self-initiated alternative livelihoods show that exclusion from fishing grounds does not necessarily result in a rise in illegal fishing, and that even relatively minor enforcement strategies such as confiscation of gear and catch – as opposed to imprisonment and fines, for example – can successfully discourage continued fishing.

However, the responses of shark fishers from Osi also show that spatial closures can have potentially far-reaching impacts on other shark populations as fishers shift their effort to other fishing grounds. The insights from this study suggest that although spatial closures can provide ecological benefits to marine life, they should be nested within a broader conservation strategy to provide fishers with incentives to leave the fishery, and livelihood options that are legal and sustainable. This is particularly important in terms of nation-wide shark conservation and fisheries management efforts, if displaced fishing effort or a shift towards other unsustainable livelihoods is to be prevented. The poverty and remoteness of most Indonesian fishing communities mean that they are severely disadvantaged in terms of access to public health services, education and markets. Reductions in income are likely to exacerbate these limitations on welfare, which points to the need for increased and better integrated efforts to protect and diversify fishers’ livelihoods alongside conservation initiatives to protect threatened

154 Chapter 5 | Spatial protection species. If fishers’ responses and needs are ignored, protection of certain species or ecosystems in one region may well lead to increased exploitation in another.

5.6 Acknowledgments

We gratefully acknowledge the generous support and assistance of Misool Eco Resort and field staff of TNC during fieldwork. We thank the fishing communities of Osi, Dobo and Pepela for their hospitality, help with data collection at sea and their willingness to share their perceptions on sensitive topics. A special thank you to Kate Fraser and Bertha Ronsumbre for their invaluable assistance and companionship in the field. Purwanto (TNC) in Sorong and Endang Jamal (Universitas Pattimura) in Ambon provided logistical advice and answered follow-up questions. Augy Syahailatua sponsored VFJ’s Indonesian research permits and provided accommodation in Ambon. Paolo Momigliano facilitated genetic analysis of tissue samples. This study was funded by a Prime Minister’s Australia-Asia Endeavour Award, a grant from the Karl Mayer Foundation in Switzerland and an Australian Postgraduate Award for PhD studies to VFJ. Data collection and analysis were conducted under animal ethics permits O2484/12 and human ethics permits 2012/010 from Murdoch University and Indonesian research permits 035/SIP/FRP/SM/I/2012 and 13/EXT/SIP/FRP/SM/I/2013 to VFJ, issued by RISTEK Indonesia.

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5.7 Supporting Information

Table S5.1. Interview questions and answers given, shown as proportions of respondents at each study site. Active and retired fishers were asked all questions, non-fishers only those marked with an asterisk. For most questions, more than one answer was possible. Question Osi Dobo Pepela All sites (%) (%) (%) (%) 4.11 Do you buy permits in any of your fishing grounds? Yes 94.9 88.9 9.3 66.5 No 5.1 11.1 90.7 33.5 4.12 What is your main reason for fishing there? A lot of sharks 84.8 64.1 73.3 73.8 Proximity to home 1.7 48.4 25 25.7 No permits needed 1.7 0 1.7 1.1 4.13 Who sells these permits? Provincial Fisheries Authority 26.2 12.3 0 - District Government 68.9 84.2 100 - Local government/Head of village 60.7 0 0 - 7.2 In your opinion, what is the role of sharks in the marine environment?* Top predators 32.4 50.6 19.5 34.3 Important for a healthy ecosystem/ocean 11.3 33.7 17.1 20.8 Not important 4.8 12.5 4.9 7.4 Don’t know 50.0 19.3 64.6 44.5 7.3 Do you believe that sharks are important for a healthy ocean?* Yes 32.3 77.1 55.1 55.4 No 67.7 22.9 44.9 44.6 Don’t know 66.2 22.9 43.6 43.7 7.4 Are you concerned that shark populations are diminishing?* Yes 100 100 98.3 99.5 No 0 0 1.7 0.6 7.5 If yes, what concerns you most? * Declining shark catch 54.7 31.8 22.4 35.6 Livelihood loss 73.6 68.1 70.7 70.6 Unhealthy ocean 22.6 21.7 15.5 20 7.6 In your opinion, what is the purpose of Marine Protected Areas and fishing bans, such as the shark and ray sanctuary in Raja Ampat? Protect sharks/rays 23.3 22.6 15.6 20.4 Protect local fishers’ livelihoods by keeping outsider 3.3 0 0 1.1 fishers out Improve tourism 48.3 17.7 0 21.5 Don’t know 18.3 64.5 73.4 52.7 7.7 In your opinion, are fishing bans and MPAs effective in stopping or reducing shark fishing?* Yes 69.4 28.6 48.5 48.3 Don’t know 30.6 67.5 50 49.8 7.8 If no, why not?* Fishers ignore closures 95.2 28.6 33.3 62.8 They do not work 4.8 57.1 53.3 30.2 Other 1.2 1.3 1.2 1.2

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7.9 Have you ever heard that sharks are protected in Australian waters? Yes 88.3 79.4 63.3 77.1 7.10 Have you fished Australian waters? Often 1.5 1.6 96.7 32.6 Sometimes 4.9 7.9 0 4.4 Only in the past 13.1 33.3 3.3 16.9 Never 83.6 57.1 0 47.3 7.11 Have you ever heard that there is a ban on shark fishing in Raja Ampat? Yes 87.7 29.5 6.6 40.2 7.12 Have you fished in Raja Ampat? Often 65.6 0 1.7 22.4 Sometimes 11.5 0 1.7 4.37 Only in the past 23.0 14.3 1.7 13.1 Never 3.3 85.5 95.0 61.2 7.13 Have either of these fishing restrictions or other fishery closures affected you in any way? Yes 67.2 21.1 40.7 43.1 7.14 If yes, how? Had to change fishing grounds 63.2 53.8 63.6 61.6 Less income 65.8 38.5 27.3 49.3 Higher fuel costs 5.3 7.7 0 4.1 Other 14.1 2.6 5.2 7.1 7.15 Do you and/or other fishers in this village generally adhere to fishing bans, or do you keep fishing anyway? Always adhere to bans and closures 65.5 72.2 76.8 71.4 Sometimes adhere to bans and closures 34.5 18.5 14.3 22.6 Keep fishing 10.3 9.3 10.7 10.1 7.16 How do people in this village/town generally perceive sharks?* Important source of income/livelihood (Active & Ex 82.5 73.8 41.8 66.1 fishers, Key Informants) Important source of income/livelihood (only Active 83.3 85.3 38.7 70 fishers) *KI scores highest in all sites Powerful 8.8 1.3 17.7 9.2 Dangerous 31.3 3.8 48.1 27.6 Like other fish 7.5 23.8 11.4 14.2 7.17 In your opinion, do sharks need protection from fishing?* Yes 52.6 48.1 60.9 53.6 No 47.4 51.9 39.1 46.4 7.18 In your opinion and experience, do the people or organizations that try to protect sharks understand the livelihood needs of shark fishers? Yes 41.5 16.4 36.7 29.9 No 58.5 83.6 63.3 70.1

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Chapter 6

The end of shark finning? Impacts of declining catches and fin demand on coastal community livelihoods

Sail boats (perahu lambo) in the harbour of Pepela

This chapter is published: Jaiteh V, Loneragan N and Warren C (2017) The end of shark finning? Impacts of declining catches and fin demand on coastal community livelihoods. Marine Policy 82: 224-233

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Chapter 6

The end of shark finning? Impacts of declining catches and fin demand on coastal community livelihoods

6.1 Abstract

For several decades, fishing sharks for their fins has provided important livelihoods for eastern Indonesian coastal communities that fish the Halmahera, Arafura and Timor Seas. Fishery and interview data collected in 2012-13 from three case studies on the islands of Seram, Aru and Rote were used to examine changes in shark fishers’ livelihoods over the preceding 20 years. While recent declines in catches and shark fin prices have had a substantial impact on fishers’ livelihoods, the fishery’s low visibility in some areas of its geographic range and its political complexity in general have meant that government and international development agencies have largely been unaware of this impact. Many respondents remembered the Asian Financial Crisis in 1997-98 and the turn of the millennium as a time when sharks were still abundant and shark fin prices high, but were concerned about the on-going fall of shark fin prices since March 2012. High-value species, particularly guitarfish, hammerhead and sandbar sharks were most affected, losing up to 40% of their pre-2012 value. These changes, combined with the loss of fishing grounds, few attractive options for alternative income and restrictive debt relationships with shark fin bosses, have led some fishers to resort to high-risk activities such as blast fishing, illegal transboundary fishing, and even people smuggling. This paper examines the multi-layered causes and consequences of fishers’ decision-making in response to adverse changes in their fishery, and explores options and obstacles to pursuing livelihoods that carry lower environmental, financial and personal risksShark fishing is often described as a relatively recent phenomenon, driven by a lucrative and booming market for shark fin that flourished with the expanding Asian upper classes during the last three decades. Yet humans have

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eaten sharks for thousand of years (Clarke 2014) and coastal communities have fished them since ancient times. In China, shark fins have been traded as a commodity since the Sung Dynasty (960-1279 AD) to make a prestigious soup historically reserved for royalty (Clarke 2004; Fabinyi 2011). China’s massive economic growth in the 1980s brought with it an attitude of ‘to get rich is glorious’ that resulted in a surge in the demand for shark fin, regarded as a fruit of prosperity (Eriksson and Clarke 2015). This transformed artisanal shark fisheries in source countries into commercial fisheries and gave rise to the contentious practice of shark finning, where a shark’s carcass is dumped back into the sea after its fins have been cut off (Fowler and Séret 2010). Today, fishing sharks for their fins is the main driver of global declines in their populations; declines which are unprecedented in the 350 million years during which sharks have evolved in diverse marine habitats, withstanding extreme ecological change and five mass extinction events (Heithaus et al. 2010).

6.2 Introduction

While the centre of the shark fin trade is in Hong Kong, its footprint extends across the globe, with suppliers that range from large industrial fishing operations to small-scale fishers who either target sharks directly, or retain them as bycatch (Dent and Clarke 2015). Indonesia ranks as the world’s largest shark producer, with a reported average annual production of over 106,000 tonnes between 2000-11, or 13% of world chondrychthian captures (FAO FishStatJ 2015). During the same period, global imports of shark fin to trade centres in China averaged an annual volume of 16,815 tonnes with a value of US$377.9 million per year (Dent and Clarke 2015). Indonesia’s shark fin exports averaged 1,235 tonnes with an average value of US$10 million per year, making it the third largest exporter of shark fins in terms of quantity and sixth largest in value (Dent and Clarke 2015). Beyond these numbers, information on Indonesia’s domestic shark fin production and trade is scarce. A study conducted in 2004 indicated that the majority of sharks are landed at fishing ports in Western and Central Indonesia, specifically Java, Bali, Lombok and Sulawesi (Southeast Asian Fisheries Development Center (SEAFDEC) 2006), where vessels that target sharks normally land whole carcasses (ACIAR 2006; Blaber et al. 2009). Other researchers regard the shark fishery largely as a product of prized bycatch by tuna longline vessels (Tull 2009; Fahmi and Dharmadi 2015), and there is no doubt that bycatch makes a significant contribution to Indonesia’s shark landings. However, an additional,

162 Chapter 6 | Livelihood impacts little known fishery extends throughout eastern Indonesia, comprising small-scale commercial fishers that target sharks, fin them at sea, then sell the dried fins as a high-value cash commodity in a region with few similarly profitable livelihood opportunities (Mangubhai et al. 2012; Momigliano et al. 2014).

Just as the rapidly rising demand for shark fin has had far-reaching implications by creating lucrative income opportunities in supply countries, these livelihoods are also vulnerable to market fluctuations. Recent reports suggest that shark fin prices and import volumes to Hong Kong dropped steeply in 2012 (Eriksson and Clarke 2015), for which a number of reasons have been proposed. These include campaigns aimed at reducing demand by raising awareness of the effects of finning on diminishing shark populations (Whitcraft et al. 2014); social dissent prompting a ban on shark fin soup at official banquets (Dent and Clarke 2015); concerns about food safety and fake shark fins leading to reduced demand (Fabinyi and Liu 2014); changes in custom commodity codes (where shark fins are labelled as shark meat) that disguise continued trade (Eriksson and Clarke 2015); and diminishing supplies following global declines in shark stocks (Eriksson and Clarke 2015). The last of these is in line with estimates of reduced fisheries production (Dent and Clarke 2015; Eriksson and Clarke 2015) and fishers’ observations of declining catches over the last decade (Jaiteh et al. 2017a). While the Chinese seafood market can largely withstand fluctuations by expanding its network of suppliers and shifting consumer preferences to other prized species, fishers’ livelihoods in source countries are likely to be more immediately affected.

Pulau Osi (hereafter Osi), Dobo and Pepela (Fig. 6.1) are three fishing communities in eastern Indonesia whose livelihoods have been shaped by the international shark fin trade in the last two to three decades (Stacey 2007; Fox 2009; Jaiteh et al. 2017a). Their fishing grounds represent three major sea basins in the region: the Halmahera-Seram Sea, the Arafura Sea and the Timor Sea. These three communities share some defining characteristics: their distance from the capital, Jakarta, places them at the geographic and economic periphery of the country; their connections to regional markets are often irregular; and their remoteness and economic constraints make shark fin an ideal product to trade, since it can be sun-dried, stored without the need for ice or freezers, and sold at a higher price than almost any other seafood product (Momigliano et al. 2014). It is in communities like these that the impact of both diminishing shark populations and major market fluctuations are most directly felt.

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Although several studies have examined the reciprocal effects of market dynamics, trade and consumer behaviour in China (Clarke 2004; Fabinyi 2011; Fabinyi and Liu 2014; Whitcraft et al. 2014; Eriksson and Clarke 2015), the consequences of these factors for shark fishing livelihoods in supply countries are largely unknown. This study examines how the market dynamics described above have affected the livelihoods of eastern Indonesian shark fishing communities. Specifically, it addresses whether the reported steep decline in shark fin imports to Hong Kong is paralleled in fishers’ catches, which serve as a proxy for the environmental impact of Chinese demand for luxury seafood in a source country. Next, this study reflects on how the fishery might change in the near future, considering in particular how ecological change, exclusion from fishing grounds and restrictive relationships with shark fin industry patrons (hereafter ‘bosses’, from the locally used term bos) act as drivers of fishers’ livelihood decisions. These decisions are then discussed regarding their impacts on domestic and transboundary governance of marine territories, livelihood security and resource sustainability.

6.3 Methods

6.3.1 Communities

During 13 months of field research between March 2012 and November 2013, the lead author collected data in the eastern Indonesian fishing communities of Osi, Dobo and Pepela. Data collection followed a transdisciplinary approach that involved participation in short fishing trips, observation, semi-structured interviews and informal conversations with fishers and other community members.

Pulau Osi is located 2 km off Seram Island in Maluku province (Fig. 6.1). In 2012, 963 people lived in the community, most of whom relied almost exclusively on income from shark fishing or less profitable small-scale fisheries. Osi’s fishers began commercial shark fishing in the early 1990s, with vast fishing grounds that encompassed Maluku and its neighbouring provinces and extended as far west as Bali and south into Australian waters. At the time of this study, they mainly fished around the islands of Raja Ampat in West Papua, which they regarded as a prime fishing ground for reef sharks (Fig. 6.1). In 2013, the regency of Raja Ampat was declared a shark sanctuary and shark fishing became punishable by law, displacing Osi fishers to less productive fishing grounds around Halmahera and the Seram Sea (Jaiteh et al. 2016).

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Dobo is a town of approximately 10,000 inhabitants on Wamar Island in the Aru Archipelago (Fig. 6.1). The biggest town in the regency of south-eastern Maluku, Dobo has been an important link in eastern Indonesia’s seafood trade for over 150 years; the naturalist Alfred Wallace, during his Dobo residence in 1857, described being offered shark fins by local traders (Wallace 2000). Dobo is home to both resident and seasonal fishers who work on shark fishing boats during the calmer weather of the western monsoon (October to March), and return to their home islands during the eastern monsoon (April to September). In 2010, 429 seasonal fishers worked in Aru (Badan Pusat Statistik Kabupaten Kepulauan Aru 2012), hailing from nearby and distant islands including Kei, various islands in southeast Sulawesi, Lombok, Java and Sumatra. At the time of this study, most vessels were equipped with GPS. Since several crews had previously been imprisoned for fishing in Australian waters, current fishing activities generally remain well within Indonesian territorial waters.

Pepela lies on the eastern tip of Indonesia’s southernmost island, Rote, in East Nusa Tenggara province (Fig. 6.1). The island’s arid climate largely restricts development options dependent on terrestrial resources, so most of Pepela’s ~600 households are essentially dependent on livelihoods derived from fishing and associated trades. For hundreds of years, fishers have sailed their sail boats from Pepela to the rich fishing grounds of the Timor Sea (Stacey 2007). Today they fish the reefs and oceanic atolls within an area of the Australian Exclusive Economic Zone known as the Memorandum of Understanding (MoU) Box (Fig. 6.1). The MoU Box was created in 1989, following the 1974 Memorandum of Understanding that recognised the fishers’ traditional fishing grounds in the Timor Sea. Access to the MoU Box is permitted under the condition that fishers exclusively use traditional non-motorised sailboats (Stacey 2007).

6.3.2 General data collection

Data were collected for at least three months in each community. Each stay was initially dedicated to becoming familiar with active shark fishers, who were asked to collect biological and fishery data during fishing trips. Datasheets were provided to the captain of each fishing vessel prior to a fishing trip. Information on the fishing practices of the three study sites was collected from a total of 31 vessels during 46 fishing trips (Table S6.2). For a detailed summary of fishing trips and the data collection protocol at sea, see (Jaiteh and Momigliano 2015) and (Jaiteh et al. 2016). Fishers in Pepela and Dobo, whose vessels were equipped with handheld GPS, recorded the start and end points of longline and gillnet sets.

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As fishers from Osi did not use GPS, small loggers (Trackstick Pro with external battery) were provided to three vessels for which start and end times of gillnet sets were recorded.

6.3.3 Interviews

Interviews were always conducted towards the end of each community stay to allow for more familiarity between the researcher and fishers and a better understanding of fishers’ practices. All interviews were conducted in Indonesian by the author (VJ) and local assistants, and guided by questions directed at fishing practices, trends in the catches of different shark species, fluctuations in fin price over the past 20 years, and livelihood perceptions (Table S6.1). In each site, the respondents comprised active and retired shark fishers, non-fishing community members and any bosses that agreed to be interviewed. Respondents were chosen opportunistically, under the condition that only one member of a household was interviewed. All approached respondents agreed to be interviewed, with the exception of one fisher in Pepela who was concerned that his identity could be used against him in an Australian court.

A total of 247 respondents were interviewed, comprising 186 fishers and 61 non- fishers, of which eight were bosses (five from Dobo and three from Pepela; Table S6.2). Respondents ranged in age from 19 to 81 years. The average age of active (n = 95) and retired fishers (n = 91) was 35 and 42 years respectively, and 48 years for non-fishers. The majority (63%) of respondents belonged to one of four ethnic groups – Butonese (36%), Rotenese (16%), Bugis (6%) and Bajo (5%); the remaining respondents represented 32 other ethnic groups (Table S6.2).

6.4 Results and Discussion

6.4.1 Fishing practices

From interviews with fishers and bosses, it appears that widespread shark finning is a relatively recent practice in eastern Indonesia, driven by the rising Chinese demand for shark fin since the late 1980s. Unlike shark fishers from Sumatra, Java, Bali and Lombok, who retain whole shark carcasses, fishers in eastern Indonesia tend to go to sea for longer trips, using smaller vessels that do not carry ice, and therefore fin sharks at sea, keeping only the highest-value parts. For both types of fishing boats involved in this study – perahu motor (motorised wooden boats) used in Osi and Dobo, and perahu lambo

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(wooden sail boats) in Pepela - fishing trips averaged a month in duration but could range between two weeks and two months depending on the weather, operational costs, distance to fishing grounds and fishing success (Table S6.2, see also (Fox and Sen 2002)). Perahu lambo from Pepela and perahu motor from Osi averaged seven to 15 m in length; perahu motor from Dobo were slightly longer at 10-17 m. None of the fishers interviewed in Pepela had recently undertaken a shark fishing voyage using a bodi; a small, motorised boat occasionally used to catch sharks outside of the MoU Box. Such trips were much shorter, usually only a few days in length, but many fishers trying their luck had been apprehended in Australian waters and now used their bodi boats to catch tuna to the South of Rote. Although the number of crew varied at all sites depending on trip length, funds and availability of crew, five crew were the norm in Osi, six in Pepela and seven to eight in Dobo. All Osi fishers and two Dobo vessels used unbaited, bottom-set gillnets to catch sharks, while most fishers from Dobo and all from Pepela used baited pelagic or demersal longlines. Of the 42 shark species recorded during their fishing trips (Jaiteh et al. 2017a), fishers at each site were asked to name the most frequently caught and most valuable sharks, which resulted in a list of 16 species (Table S6.3). For full details on gears, bait and fishing techniques used, see (Jaiteh et al. 2017a). Fishers from all three sites had been arrested for fishing in Australian waters, although such incidents were much more frequent for fishers from Pepela (Table S6.2). Fishers said that they were often arrested because they had not known their position at sea, so when GPS became available to them in 2006/07, fishers from Dobo and Pepela readily utilised them. Plotting the start positions of each gillnet or longline set revealed that Dobo fishers fished mostly between the Aru islands and Papua, while shark fishers from Pepela set most of their longlines around Browse Island inside the MoU Box (Fig. 6.1). Fishers from Osi generally fished north of Misool in Raja Ampat, West Papua.

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Figure 6.1. Map of case study sites in eastern Indonesia and their main fishing grounds (grey circles): Osi island off Seram with fishing grounds in Raja Ampat and Halmahera; Dobo in the Aru Archipelago, from where most fishing occurs between the Aru islands and Papua (Arafura Sea); and the village of Pepela on Rote Island, with fishing grounds in the MoU Box (Timor Sea). Red dots show fishing sets recorded by fishers using GPS (Dobo, Pepela) and by GPS tracker (Osi). Please refer to the online version for colour figures.

Except for three longline crews from Dobo, who specialised in deep-water sharks for shark liver oil, all fishers targeted sharks for their fins. Sharks were finned and most, or all, carcasses discarded at sea. However, fishers sometimes retained carcasses of certain species when the catch was poor, leaving space on board to dry strips of shark meat locally sold as dendeng. Fins and dendeng were dried on board the vessels; the fins usually on the boats’ roofs, the meat strips hung over wooden racks or poles. This preference for sharks’ fins over their meat is not necessarily permanent, however. Observations in western Indonesian shark and tuna fisheries indicate that continuing declines in shark catches and sizes could result in shark meat becoming more valuable than fins (pers. comm. G. Moreno, IOTC consultant). In interviews conducted in 2014, fishers indicated that even if shark fin held no value they would still catch sharks (G. Moreno, unpublished data). Even if the fin market should experience a prolonged significant decline, eastern Indonesian shark fishers with few viable livelihood alternatives will likely continue to fish sharks, keeping their meat either to be sold for economic gain or to cover their own protein needs. Given sharks’

168 Chapter 6 | Livelihood impacts varied ecological roles (Roff et al. 2016) and the extinction risk for global populations of sharks and rays (Dulvy et al. 2014a), reducing fishing pressure through incentives for sustainable livelihoods should be a high priority.

6.4.2 Changes in fin price and trade

Although most boat captains from Osi owned their vessels, most Dobo and Pepela captains did not own the boats they worked on. These fishers worked on vessels owned by bosses, who provided loans to cover the operational costs for fishing trips. In return, the crew had to sell their catch to their boss and had no say in the prices they were paid for fins. Bosses deducted operational costs and a percentage of the profits (~30%) for vessel maintenance, often with an interest rate. A few fishers claimed to have some negotiating power with their bosses, though this rarely amounted to more than a few cents per kilogram of fins. Perhaps owing to a lack of knowledge of the shark fin market, none of the fishers seemed particularly interested in what the fins were used for, though most suspected they were sold as medicine or for food.

I just get the fins, sell the fins, and take the money. That’s all I need to know.

(Active fisher, Pepela, 07/13).

Fishers’ perceptions of changes in fin price over the twenty-year period from 1992/93 to 2012/13 showed that prices had increased steadily and reached their peak in 2002/03, then dropped in early 2012 (Fig. 6.2). To standardise responses, fishers were asked to name the price of one kilogram of medium sized fins for each of the taxa that were regularly caught or had high value in that community (Table S6.3). Depending on the number of years a fisher had been fishing, he was asked if he could remember these fin prices at four time periods covering a twenty-year period prior to 2012/13. Time periods were chosen to coincide with events the fishers were likely to remember: in the early 1990s, before the Asian Economic Crisis; in 1997/98, during the Crisis; in 2002/03, at the peak of shark fishing and fin prices (previously identified as such by fishers in each community); and at the time of the interview, in 2012/13.

Fin price data were obtained from 94 respondents, resulting in 1816 records. From these price data, the average fin prices for five taxa (species or species groups) representing the main price classes were plotted, as well as the average across all species (Fig. 6.2). Since these records were derived from fishers’ memory, some variation between respondents,

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sites, species and time periods was anticipated and observed; however, the overall trend was consistent among fishers, sites and taxa, showing an increase in fin price until 2002/3 and a decrease for all taxa in 2012/13. It should be noted that the Indonesian Rupiah dropped significantly in value during the Asian Financial Crisis in 1997. Hence, although fin prices are shown to have increased steadily between the early 1990s and 1997/8, their actual value did not increase proportionally and may even have decreased temporarily in some taxa when converted to US$. However, this does not affect the interpretation of the main trend being reported, i.e. the decrease in fin price (and value) reported by fishers in 2012/13. Guitarfish and shovelnose rays were consistently the most valuable, whereas reef sharks (grey reef and whitetip reef) were the least valuable. Sandbar shark fins showed the greatest drop in value compared to all other fins (Fig. 6.2). Sandbar sharks and the guitarfish and shovelnose ray species caught here (Jaiteh et al. 2017a) are IUCN-listed as Vulnerable to extinction, and scalloped and great hammerheads are listed as Endangered (Camhi et al. 2009). Except for sandbar sharks, these species also declined in fishers’ catches over time (see section 3.3).

Figure 6.2. Trends in the prices of medium sized fins of five shark taxa that represent different price classes, and the average price across all assessed taxa (‘All Sharks’, n=16 taxa). Prices are averaged across respondents (n=94) and given in Indonesian Rupiah (IDR) per kilogram (kg) of dried export cut fins (±1SE). At the time of data collection, IDR 12,000 ≈ US$1.00. Please refer to the online version for colour figures.

Fishers first started noticing a drop in fin prices in early 2012, and prices remained lower than the post-millennium peak for most of the commonly caught and traded species

170 Chapter 6 | Livelihood impacts throughout the study. This fall in international shark fin prices is thought to have resulted from a combination of factors, including awareness campaigns targeting consumers in China; and increasing demand for live reef fish at Chinese banquets, where shark fin appears to have lost some of its popularity due to food safety scares and international campaigns concerning the consumption of shark fin (Fabinyi and Liu 2014). Eastern Indonesian fishers, however, did not know of these causes for price fluctuations and tended to suspect that their bosses lied to them, highlighting the fishers’ inability to access reliable market information. Interviews with eight bosses in Dobo and Pepela revealed however that they, too, were paid less for the fins they sent to higher-level traders in Kupang (for a Pepela-based boss) or Surabaya (bosses in Dobo and Pepela). While some bosses claimed ignorance regarding the reasons for this development, others suspected that ‘the people who eat shark fin are not interested in it anymore’. It was evident that most of the interviewed bosses were aware, at least to some extent, of international concerns over the shark fin trade, and that this awareness made them more cautious in answering questions. For example, they generally evaded questions regarding how much money they received for different fin types and who their own bosses or contacts in the main shark fin trading centres were. Nevertheless, the bosses’ more general answers suggest that a drastic reduction in fin price was felt throughout the Indonesian supply chain, and that bosses, like fishers, were concerned about the longer term consequences of this development for their financial security.

6.4.3 Catch trends

To address whether the supply end of the trade chain reflected the steep decrease in shark fin imports to Hong Kong in 2012, fishers were asked whether they had observed an increase, decrease or no change in the catches of the most common and/or valuable species (Table S6.3) during the last 10 years (~2003-13), or the previous 10-year period (~1993-2003). Most declines were observed in the recent time period, while few fishers noticed any change 10-20 years ago (Fig. 6.3). Only catches of hammerhead sharks (two species) had begun to decline as early as 20 years ago, while those of sandbar sharks were relatively stable over the 20 years (Fig. 6.3).

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Figure 6.3. Perceived changes in the abundance of five indicator taxa in shark fishers’ catches and all 16 taxa combined over a twenty-year period, from ~1993-2013. Bubble size represents percentage of respondents who stated that their catches of a given taxa increased, remained stable, or decreased in either or both time periods. Please refer to the online version for colour figures.

As an additional indicator of changes in catch composition, we asked fishers if they had noticed any general trends since they had first started fishing. There was a tendency for more experienced and retired fishers to report greater changes than their less experienced or actively fishing colleagues. Experienced fishers had spent more years in the fishery and were therefore in a position to observe greater changes, whereas retired fishers were probably less hesitant to describe these changes, knowing that their livelihood was not at risk. Nevertheless, the vast majority of fishers stated that over time, they caught fewer species, fewer big sharks, and more often caught less valuable species (Fig. 6.4). These results parallel the reported decline in shark fin imports to Hong Kong in 2012 and show

172 Chapter 6 | Livelihood impacts that the Chinese market for luxury seafood can have important environmental and social implications for the fish stocks and livelihoods of a source country. Fishery declines in source countries as a result of the seafood trade have also been reported for sea cucumbers in Indonesia, the Philippines, and other Pacific countries (Eriksson and Clarke 2015). Unlike shark fins, imports of sea cucumbers into Hong Kong largely have not mirrored their population declines. This is likely due to a rapid spatial expansion of the trade network, whereby sea cucumbers were imported from an additional 48 countries in 2011, compared to 1996 (Eriksson and Clarke 2015). Both shark fin and sea cucumbers are showing signs of serial depletion, leading to replacement both within their taxonomic groups, i.e. where low-value species replace higher-value ones in the market, and by other luxury seafood such as abalone, seahorse, lobster and live reef fish if the original product cannot meet the demand (Fabinyi and Liu 2014). In the case of Osi, Dobo and Pepela, shark catches appear to have diminished in both number and average size over time. A high proportion of smaller, immature sharks in the catch is not necessarily of concern, particularly in managed shark fisheries where the larger, breeding adults are protected from overfishing (Prince 2005). In eastern Indonesia however, fishers have traditionally targeted adult size classes for their higher-value fins (Jaiteh et al. 2017a). Fishers’ observations of increasingly smaller individuals in the catch thus suggest overexploitation of the breeding stock (Walker 1998).

Figure 6.4. Reported trends in the characteristics of shark catches over years of fishing experience (max = 53 years) by fishers from three eastern Indonesian communities, and percentage of respondents who gave each answer.

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A surge in scientific studies on the widespread declines in shark populations (Dulvy et al. 2008; Worm et al. 2013; Spaet and Berumen 2015; Davidson et al. 2016) and the economic value of live sharks and rays to tourism (Vianna et al. 2012; O’Malley et al. 2013) has inspired conservation interventions to stem the effects of heavy fishing pressure on sharks. The Indonesian government, in addition to declaring a national ban on manta ray fisheries, has implemented export bans in accordance with CITES listings of some shark species (Dharmadi et al. 2015). However, these bans were not felt in Osi, Dobo and Pepela, perhaps because exports were mainly controlled in Jakarta, and fins of these species could still be sold and exported through other international airports in the country. It is also possible that the financial appeal of the fin market overrides domestic fisheries laws and regulations, which tend to be poorly enforced due to the heavy costs of enforcement and pervasive local conflicts of interest. In any case, efforts to curb exports of endangered and protected species do not appear to have removed incentives for shark fishing in eastern Indonesia. Booth (Booth 2016) drew similar conclusions about the impacts of international trade route disruptions on the manta ray fishing community of Lamakera, eastern Indonesia, where a domestic market for manta meat provided sufficient incentives for continued local exploitation of mantas. Conversely, conservation interventions aimed at protecting sharks and rays for tourism, such as the 2013 Raja Ampat shark sanctuary, may protect sharks more directly, but can also have a more immediate detrimental impact on coastal livelihoods, for example by displacing fishers from their fishing grounds (Jaiteh et al. 2016).

6.4.4 Bosses, debt, imprisonment

The local shark fin trade was largely based on informal agreements, with no written contracts between fishers and bosses. Shark bosses or patrons were often wealthy in comparison to other community members and frequently in positions of power, for example as Kepala desa (head of village), or members of Pemerintah desa (village government), Adat (village council) or Tokoh agama (religious council).

In Osi, most captains owned their boat or were related to the boat owners, whom they did not regard as bosses. In Dobo and Pepela however, nearly all fishers were in debt to a boss at the time of research. Although informal, these agreements bound fishers into restrictive relationships that frequently provided some social security, e.g. in the form of loans given to fishers’ families, thereby creating dependency bonds that made it difficult for fishers to switch to another boss. In defining producer-trader relations in the Spermonde

174 Chapter 6 | Livelihood impacts archipelago, South Sulawesi, Glaser et al. (Glaser et al. 2015) describe a continuum of patronage relationships delineated on one end by more or less reciprocal social ties with a punggawa (patron), and on the other by the more narrowly commercial basis of the bos relation. Boss-fisher relations in the eastern Indonesian shark fishery were established along this continuum but tended to be more commercial and less social than the patron-fisher system common in the Spermonde fisheries (Glaser et al. 2015). Fishers frequently accrued debt as a result of declining catches leading to a high incidence of non-profitable fishing trips, or due to imprisonment and forfeiture of boats for illegal fishing in Australian waters (Stacey 2007), for which bosses held captains responsible. Pepelan captains were in the most dire situation, since both scenarios applied to them and many had been imprisoned repeatedly in Australia (Table S6.2). In all cases, the central problem was fishers’ need to borrow funds from a boss for the operational costs of fishing trips, which could amount to IDR 2-5 million (~US$170 to $420) depending on trip length, distance to fishing grounds and gear used. These funds were deducted at interest from a trip’s profits, along with the boss’s share of revenue and a fee for vessel maintenance, which was usually equal to the total amount paid to the crew. In the case of boat burning by Australian authorities, fishers had to carry the substantial costs of lost fishing gear (~IDR 30 million/US$2,000) (Fox and Sen 2002). By 2012-13, many fishers returned from their fishing trips with barely any or no profits after all deductions had been made, and often had to borrow money from their bosses to be able to feed their families. One boss in Pepela was said to beat his captains if they returned with a lousy catch, or if their boat had been apprehended and burnt in Australia. No fishers spoke amicably of their bosses, but unlike small-scale fishers in other parts of Indonesia (Ferse et al. 2012; Glaser et al. 2015), they did not have the option of shifting their working relations and debt to another boss.

As declining catches and fin prices resulted in dwindling profits, debt not only bound fishers into restrictive dependency relationships with their bosses, but often had far- reaching implications for decisions that affected their lives and those of their families (Fig. 6.5). Struggling to free themselves of debt, many fishers saw no solution but to engage in increasingly risky and ultimately illicit activities. As a first measure, they stayed at sea longer to catch more sharks. Often this only resulted in higher operational costs, which were rarely covered by an increase in catch (Fig. 6.5). Some bosses sent indebted crews to sea during the monsoon season, and some desperate crews went of their own accord (Fox and Sen 2002), accepting the risks of fishing in turbulent and unpredictable weather to make up for lost catches during the calmer months. This was particularly dangerous for Pepelan

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fishers whose sailboats were not allowed to carry motors, and several respondents had lost male family members at sea because they were unable to reach safety during a storm.

As a second measure to compensate for decreased catches, Osi and Dobo fishers sometimes used homemade fish bombs to blast reefs or mangrove areas before setting gillnets around the site to catch sharks that were attracted to the dead fish (Fig. 6.5). Many also reported travelling further to catch sharks in more productive fishing grounds. This saw Osi fishers leave their local fishing grounds around Seram for the biodiverse reefs of Raja Ampat, which was declared a shark sanctuary in 2012. When patrol rangers confiscated six weeks of catch and gear from an Osi boat in May 2012 (Julia 2012), the fishers shifted their fishing grounds to Halmahera, where sharks were less abundant. This led to a substantial decrease in shark fishing and a return to subsistence fishing, targeting reef fish and anchovies for consumption and local sale (Fig. 6.6). A few fishers trialled seaweed farming, while others repurposed their shark fishing boats to smuggle fuel from Maluku to southern Raja Ampat, where quotas often fell short of demand. All of these activities were perceived as ecologically and/or financially unsustainable, with fishers repeatedly voicing concern over the environmental damage and reduced income they produced.

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Figure 6.5. Flow chart showing how drivers of declining profits and increasing debt from shark fishing influence fishers’ decisions (particularly with regards to increased risk-taking and intensified exploitation to compensate for lost income) and examples of resulting governance challenges at domestic and international scales. Arrows showing relationships between drivers and decisions are simplified for clarity, i.e. do not show all possible combinations of cause and effect. MPA = Marine Protected Area; EEZ = Exclusive Economic Zone.

It should be noted that the decentralisation of governance in Indonesia since the fall of the Suharto regime in 1998 has had serious implications for both sustainability and local livelihoods of the country's small-scale fisheries. The transfer of significant authorities to regency level was meant to bring decision-making and pro-poor policy commitments more directly to ordinary people at grass-roots. The problem of capture of institutional authority and benefits by local elites has since become a prominent concern in both the development and conservation communities, however (Fox et al. 2005; Warren et al. 2016). The critical role of bosses in patron-client based social security provision, as well as the more exploitative aspects of elite capture and control, must be addressed in negotiating the nested accountabilities that decentralised multi-scale governance was supposed to offer (Kusumawati and Visser 2016). The current central government’s commitment to

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improving sustainable livelihoods for small-scale fishers has been accompanied by a crackdown on IUU practices, but often with unintended consequences for small-scale fishers whose locally specific needs, options and structural relations are too diverse to be addressed in one-size-fits-all policy templates and too far from the centre to be taken account of in any case. State policies and local practices on fisheries also have implications for international relations that suggest a more important role for aid and development policy, in particular for Australia.

For many fishers from Pepela and some from Dobo, travelling further resulted in illegal transboundary fishing within the Australian Exclusive Economic Zone (EEZ), where many perceived sharks to be bigger and more abundant (Fig. 6.5). The decision to fish across the border carries a high risk of being detected by Australian surveillance systems, and Pepelan fishers have a long history of arrests and boat burnings as part of charges against the Australian Fisheries Management Act (Stacey 2007). When they were interviewed, some Pepelan fishers had accumulated substantial debt from repeated arrests and subsequent court cases in Australia for fishing outside the MoU Box using sailboats, or for being in possession of an unlicensed motorised boat anywhere within Australian waters. Fishers from Dobo and Osi had also been arrested in Australia and linked their arrests to shark protection. However, sharks do not have blanket protection in Australia; rather, fishers’ arrests were the result of efforts to curb illegal fishing in the Australian Fishing Zone. Unlike the bosses of cyanide fishers in the Spermonde archipelago, who bribe relevant authorities to prevent prosecution of fishers using cyanide to catch live reef food fish (Radjawali 2011), shark fin bosses did not have the option of bribing Australian navy or fisheries authorities. Apart from providing GPS devices and encouraging fishers to comply with the MoU Box rules, there was little they could do to protect their fishers from apprehension. Interestingly, the experience of arrest deterred only a few fishers from catching sharks across the border, which points to fishers’ desperate debt situations and suggests that their claims of better catches within Australia’s coastal waters were genuine. Some scholars have insinuated that the nature of Australian prisons, with comfortable facilities, regular meals, free medical checks and the opportunity to earn gratuities while serving jail time, may mean that fishers consider a prison sentence attractive (Carnegie 2013; Missbach 2016). While respondents appreciated their treatment in Australian prisons, particularly the absence of physical violence, they decidedly rejected this claim. Many stressed that imprisonment was always a psychologically, if not physically, stressful experience.

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Fishers from Pepela regarded people smuggling (or ‘people moving’, a term used by Carnegie (Carnegie 2013) to distinguish fishers’ activities from those that involve human rights violations) as the only alternative income opportunity with comparable profits to those from shark fishing, thus holding the promise of repaying their debts (Fig. 6.5). Others have also described the crucial influence of economic considerations in fishers’ decision to undertake what many now know to be illegal work (McNevin et al. 2016; Missbach 2016). Having the skills to navigate and the vessels to transport people, over half of the interviewed fishers said they had taken asylum seekers to Australia, or contemplated doing so. Two routes were common: one across the Indian Ocean between Java and Christmas Island, the other across the Timor Sea departing Rote or Kupang to Ashmore Reef or Darwin. An older fisher from Pepela said:

Now many people in the community here are getting into people smuggling. Because their [other] work is not enough for them to cover living costs. These days, if we try to get IDR 10,000 [< US$1] per day, that’s difficult.

(Active fisher, Pepela, 07/13)

Fishers who admitted to having attempted or completed a smuggling trip recounted being given misleading information by the syndicate bosses who organised the trips or their local counterparts. Often they were told that although it was illegal for the refugees to seek asylum in Australia, it was not illegal for the fishers to skipper them across the border. Not surprisingly, nearly all of the fishers who reached Australian territory served prison terms, and some never received payment for their services. Compared to the exorbitant fares asylum seekers were charged for these trips – up to US$10,000 per person (Missbach and Sinanu 2011) - the fishers earned a meagre US$2,500 per trip as a skipper, or around US$1,500 as a crew member. Nevertheless, respondents considered this a large sum of money to be made in a relatively short time, carrying the potential to swiftly improve an indebted fisher’s livelihood options. Moreover, the risk of being caught leaving Indonesia was relatively small. Fishers who had taken refugees to Christmas Island described being escorted out of ports in Western Java by the navy, the maritime police, and customs; a claim supported by Missbach and Sinanu (Missbach and Sinanu 2011), who report on the involvement of corrupt Indonesian officials in facilitating illegal migration.

These examples illustrate that the Chinese luxury seafood market as well as conservation responses to it have far-reaching, international impacts, with fishers at

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their centre (Fig. 6.5). Fishers’ decisions in dealing with the consequences of declining fish stocks and fin prices redirect unfavourable socio-economic and environmental dynamics into significant challenges for domestic and bilateral governance. In Indonesia these challenges are further complicated by sometimes conflicting conservation and development agendas, the politics of decentralisation and the political economy of corruption. Australia and Indonesia, while geographically close, differ greatly in terms of their priorities and ability to manage their sovereign and shared marine spaces and natural resources, or to make substantial investments in border protection. This complicates matters of mutual importance, such as the management of the two EEZs and cooperation in curbing illegal, unregulated and unreported (IUU) fishing (Field et al. 2009). Bilateral agreements and treaties to crack down on people smuggling, while in some cases successful (Munro 2011; Missbach 2014), are further complicated by the fact that Australia is a signatory to the UN Refugee Convention, whereas Indonesia is not. Overall, these challenges in bilateral cooperation mean that there has been little coordinated effort to improve fishing livelihoods, and fishers must fend for themselves to – sometimes literally – keep their heads above water.

6.4.5 Livelihood futures

Twenty years ago, the lucrative nature of the shark fin trade lured many fishers into shark fishing, but interviews in 2012/13 indicated that the economic prospects associated with shark fishing had faded greatly. This was partly reflected in the declining numbers of shark fishing vessels in each homeport since the peak of the industry in 2002/03. For example, Dobo fishers recalled seeing well over 200 shark boats in 2005 to 2010, but towards the end of 2012 only 35 to 40 boats were in use because captains refused to take the risk of an unsuccessful fishing trip and accumulating more debt. A similar situation had developed in Pepela, where many abandoned shark fishing vessels were left to decay and only one of the four local bosses could maintain his fleet of 12 vessels. Even so, one of his captains had such difficulty finding crew for a fishing trip in 2013 that he hired orang gunung (farmers, lit. ‘mountain people’) who had never sailed. They were all seasick and more of a hindrance than a help. Despite this shortage of crewmembers, fishers did not gain more negotiating power in terms of shark fin prices or loans paid to them by their bosses.

Many fishers lamented the combined effects of declining fin prices and catches, and respondents often expressed the wish, but also inability, to pursue alternative livelihoods.

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Profitable, legal, long-term sources of income were perceived to be virtually non-existent, either because the land did not support them (i.e. agriculture), the infrastructure did not exist, or fishers did not have the necessary qualifications. Respondents frequently expressed hope for financial help from the Indonesian or Australian governments in developing more sustainable alternatives to what Missbach (Missbach 2016) describes as hyper-precarious livelihoods. The previous discussion illustrates that self-initiated livelihood alternatives can be as unsustainable as shark fishing itself. The most urgent challenge to address therefore is providing fishers with options to leave the fishery in pursuit of activities that carry lower environmental, personal and financial risks.

Options for legal and sustainable alternative livelihoods have been trialled in each study site. In Rote, an initially successful attempt at seaweed farming abruptly ended in 2009 with the Montara oil spill off north-western Australia (Nolan and Vincent 2013). The oil reached the shores of Rote and killed most of the seaweed around the island (Hogan 2012). Several shark fishers had begun to rely partly or completely on seaweed as a steadier, more predictable source of income that was also much safer than shark fishing. None of the affected fishers received any form of compensation for the impact of the oil spill; many returned to shark fishing. Although there was keen interest in growing seaweed again, the community lacked the necessary start-up funds. At the time of this study, fishers in Pepela’s Bajo community substituted some of their shark fishing with tuna fishing at a rumpon (fish aggregating device) near the Australian EEZ, which they could reach in a day by motorised boat:

Now we go to the rumpon. The operational costs to go there are IDR 700,000 at most. That’s better than shark fishing. Getting caught all the time, sharks are declining… I’m tired of shark fishing.

(Active fisher, Pepela, 07/2013)

Dobo had the lowest incidence of illegal or destructive livelihood alternatives, perhaps due to its distinct monsoon season during which shark fishing was not possible. As a result, fishers had established seasonal alternative income sources before the shark fishery lost some of its appeal. Some fishers collected flying fish roe from rumpons (Fig. 6.6), while seasonal workers returned to their home islands. Both Osi and Dobo had an interest in other target species – tuna or reef fish – which they could catch using shark boats. However, fishers usually lacked the funds, infrastructure or know-how to implement more reliable, safe and profitable livelihoods:

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I’d like to change to (catching) fresh fish. The problem is, I don’t know too well where to find them. Another problem is the ice –after ten days, whether we’ve caught anything or nothing, we’ll have to come back because the ice will have melted. But for sharks we don’t need any ice, we just keep going for a month or longer.

(Active fisher, Dobo, 2012)

Figure 6.6. Examples of self-initiated livelihood alternatives in eastern Indonesian shark fishing communities: (a) seaweed and anchovies for local sale drying on racks in Osi, Maluku province (photo credit S. Lindfield); (b) Bajo woman selling her husband’s tuna catch in Pepela, NTT province; (c) flying fish roe on sale at a fish market in Dobo, Maluku.

The remoteness and inadequate infrastructure of these communities often make them unsuitable for popular conservation and poverty alleviation initiatives, including various forms of alternative tourism (Chok et al. 2007). For example, the opportunities and risks of eco-tourism to provide alternative livelihood opportunities, especially in remote areas where other livelihood options are not immediately available, depend upon a regulatory and capacity building regime that is unlikely to be met by the favoured option of turning conservation area management over to private operators (Chok et al. 2007; Fox et al. 2009a; Vianna et al. 2012). Drastic and rapid changes to a community’s social structure and way of life can also have long-lasting, negative effects on local dynamics and economic autonomy, even if they are not initially met with resistance (Carnegie 2013). In contrast, livelihood enhancement opportunities that take account of social, economic and developmental factors shaping fishers’ decision-making, improve or add value to existing fishing practices, and capture local trade and social networks may yield more sustained improvements for fishers’ livelihoods (Radjawali 2011; Kusumawati and Visser 2016; McNevin et al. 2016). New certification schemes such as FairTrade

182 Chapter 6 | Livelihood impacts have an interest in supporting disadvantaged fishing communities in their transition to more sustainable livelihoods, for example by increasing the value of catches through traceability schemes (Duggan and Kochen 2016), and could be a viable option for all three communities discussed here. However, all of these potential development strategies require substantive long-term interventions from government at central and regional scales and from international donors collaborating with local community based NGOs. Where viable alternatives are available, many fishers in this study have proved willing and able to change practices and occupations. The challenge is to link efforts from global to local scales of governance to achieving the interdependent social, economic and environmental dimensions of sustainable fisheries development (Radjawali 2011; Glaser et al. 2015).

6.5 Conclusions

Fishing sharks for their fins has provided remote coastal communities in eastern Indonesia with important livelihoods that are intricately linked to the Chinese market for luxury seafood and are prone to reflect fluctuations therein. The 2012 drop in demand for shark fin was a particularly destabilising development, leading to significant changes in shark fishing livelihoods at the intersection of increasingly volatile environmental, socio- economic and political contexts. These contexts are expressed at local, national and international scales and include local patron-client dependencies, market driven declines in shark populations and corresponding conservation responses, the politics of decentralisation, and bilateral efforts to curb illegal transboundary fishing, people smuggling, and trade in protected species. Government and international agencies involved in sustainable fisheries development therefore must recognise the complex challenge of integrating the multiple scales at which these impacts operate and interact. Failure to do so can erode livelihood security, encourage illicit activities, and undermine efforts to support communities in the complex process of transitioning to more sustainable livelihoods. Indonesia’s current fisheries minister Susi Pudjiastuti has shown an unprecedented commitment to protecting domestic small-scale fishing livelihoods by curbing overfishing and IUU practices (Damuri 2015; Chapsos and Malcolm 2017). However, the diverse local contexts of the shark fisheries, their articulation with international trade routes and markets, and their distance from the nation’s capital limit the applicability of centrally orchestrated fisheries policies. In contrast, informing conservation and development efforts

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with an understanding of unique local contexts in relation to broader domestic and international governance is key to fostering sustainable environmental and social outcomes. Innovative seafood certification schemes could offer important steps toward sustainable livelihood development if their environmental protection and socio- economic objectives are linked and the substantial transaction costs managed and subsidised so that small-scale fishers benefit.

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6.6 Supporting Information

Table S6.1. Interview questions asked of active and retired fishers (all questions) and non-fishing community members (questions marked with an asterisk) in the three eastern Indonesian shark fishing homeports of Osi, Dobo and Pepela as part of this study. Answers usually fell within, but were not restricted to, the anticipated categories given. For most questions, more than one answer was possible. Questions 5.8 and 6.13 were asked about the 8-10 most common and most valuable taxa caught by fishers from each study site (Table S3). Questions marked with a # were only asked in Pepela.

1. Respondent profile 1.1 Respondent profile (Name, Age, Relationship to Head of Family, Ethnic Background, Educational Level, Main Occupation)

1.2 What is the main source of income for this family? i) Shark fishing ( ) ii) Other fishing ( ) ______iii) Trepang/lola ( ) iv) Mariculture ( ) v) Other ( ) ______

2. Importance of shark fishing to the village 2.1 How long has this village been shark fishing? ______years

2.2 In your opinion, what have been the main changes in shark fishing and fin trade in this village over time? i) Increase/decrease in shark fishing ii) Increase/decrease in shark numbers iii) Incr./decr. in fin prices iv) Other ______

2.3 What was the highest number of shark fishing boats the village has ever had? ______boats, Year ______

2.4 How many shark boats are there in the village now? ______boats

2.5 What was the highest number of shark fishers in the village? ______fishers, Year ______

2.6 How many shark fishers are there in the village now? ______fishers

2.7 Is shark fishing one of the main sources of income for this village now, or was it once? i) Now ( ) Since when? ______ii) In the past ( ) When?______iii) Never ( )

2.8 If it was once but is no longer, in your opinion what caused this? i) Declining fin prices ii) Declining shark numbers iii) Increasing fuel price iv) Inaccessible fishing grounds due to Marine Protected Areas (MPAs) or fishing bans iv) Other, more profitable livelihood v) Other ______

3. Fishing experience 3.1 When did you start fishing sharks? (Year or age) ______

3.2 If you have stopped fishing sharks, when did you stop? ______

3.3 Why did you start shark fishing? i) Family business ii) Economic prospects iii) Other ______

3.4 Who is/was the owner of the shark boat you work/ed on? What is/was their relation to you, if any?

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i) Father ii) Brother/cousin iii) Father/brother in-law iv) Unrelated community member v) Head of village/hamlet vi) Boss vii) Other ______

3.5 What is/was your task on the boat? i) Captain ii) Skipper iii) Deckhand iv) Shark processing v) Selling fins vi) Other ______

3.6 Do you always work on the same boat? If not, how many other boats do you regularly work on? 1 other boat 2 other boats 2-5 other boats > 5 other boats Same boss Different boss

4. Nature of the fishery 4.1 Do you a) own your boat ( ) b) rent your boat ( ) c) work for the boat owner ( ) ?

4.2 How many fishers work on your boat each trip? i) < 5 fishers ii) 5 iii) 6 iv) 7 v) 8 vi) 9-10 vii) < 10

4.3 What is the average total value of the catch from this boat per trip? i) < 5 juta ii) 5-10 juta iii) 10 – 15 juta iv) 20 juta v) 20-50 juta vi) > 50 juta ______

4.4 How are the profits from a fishing trip split among members of the crew? i) In thirds (1/3 to owner, 1/3 to crew, 1/3 for operational costs) ii) Half to crew, half for op. costs iii) Other ______iv) Don’t know

4.5 What proportion/percentage of the total value per trip is spent on a) Boat owner’s salary ______Rp. b) Fishers’ salary ______Rp. each c) Gear/boat repairs ______b) Fuel______d) Fishing permits______

4.6 What type of boat do you own/work on? i) Type______ii) Length______iii) Engine/s (# and type)______

4.7 Which of the following items are on your boat? (Circle) i) Water tank ii) Life raft iii) Generator iv) Solar panel/s v) Radio vi) GPS

4.8 How do you navigate? i) Map ii) Compass iii) GPS iv) From memory v) By the Stars

4.9 Which fishing grounds do you currently fish most frequently? i) Raja Ampat ii) Other West Papua (Kaimana/Merauke) iii) Papua (Biak/Manokwari/Jayapura) iv) Halmahera v) Seram/Ambon vi) Kei/Aru islands vii) Arafura Sea viii) Timor Sea ix) Northern Australia x) Sulawesi xi) NTT xii) NTB xiii) Bali/Java

4.10 What is your main reason for fishing there? i) High numbers of sharks ii) Proximity to home iii) No permits required iv) Other ______

4.11 # Have you ever been arrested in Australia? i) Yes, once ii) Yes, 1-5 times iii) Yes, 5-10 times iv) Yes, >10 times v) No/not yet

4.12 # Why were you arrested? i) Fished for shark outside of the MoU Box ii) Fished for shark inside the MoU Box using a motor iii) In transit outside of MoU Box with motor iv) I was wrongfully arrested v) Other______# How long were you held in detention or imprisoned?

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i) Detention 1 week – 1 month ii) Detention > 1 month iii) Imprisoned 1-6 months iv) Imprisoned 6 months – 1 year v) Imprisoned 1-3 year vi) Imprisoned 3-5 years vii) Imprisoned >5 years

4.13 # Was your boat burnt by the Australian government? i) Yes ii) No

4.14 # How did your family cope while you were in prison? i) They lived from savings/money I left behind ii) Got help from family iii) Got help from my boss iv) They didn’t get any help v) My wife remarried/my children had to leave school/my wife went home

4.15 # Did you have more debt when you came home than when you left? i) Yes ii) No, I brought money from Australia iii) No, ______

4.16 What are the three most valuable species you catch? i)______ii)______iii)______

4.17 What are the main fishing seasons, if any? Jan Feb Mar Apr May Jun Jul Aug Sept Oct Nov Dec

4.18 Why do you have different fishing seasons? i) Weather/waves ( ) ii) Abundance of sharks ( ) iii) Size of sharks ( ) iv) Other ( )______

4.19 How many fishing trips do you normally make in a season? ___ How many in a year? ______

4.20 Do you return shark carcasses to the sea, or do you keep the meat? Discard ( ) Keep ( )

4.21 Is there currently a demand for : i) shark meat ( ) ii) skin ( ) iii) teeth ( ) iv) other body parts ( )

4.22 Do you bring shark meat back to the village for local consumption? Often ( ) Sometimes ( ) In the past (year/s:______) Never ( )

4.23 What percentage of your shark catch is discarded? i) <10% ( ) ii) 10-30% ( ) iii) 30-50% ( ) iv) >50% ( )

4.24 What percentage of your total catch is discarded? i) <10% ( ) ii) 10-30% ( ) iii) 30-50% ( ) iv) >50% ( )

5. Changes in catch over time

5.1 What is the most common species you catch? ______What is the rarest?______

5.2 Has the number/size of sharks you caught increased/decreased over the time you have been fishing? a) Numbers inc./dec. ( ) b) Size inc./dec/ ( ) c) Both inc./dec. ( )

5.3 Has the species composition of your catches changed over the time you have been fishing? If yes, how? i) More species ii) Less species iii) More large sharks iv) Less large sharks v) Less valuable species (e.g. hiu lontar) vi) More valuable species (e.g. hiu lontar) v) Other ______

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5.4 In your opinion, has the number of (insert shark species; this Qn was asked about the 8-10 most common or valuable species caught at each site) in your catch increased, decreased, or not changed in the last: o 5-10 years i) Increased ii) No change iii) Decreased o 10-20 years i) Increased ii) No change iii) Decreased

5.5 Have you observed any other trends or changes in the catches of sharks in that timeframe?

6. Shark fin sale & trade 6.1 Who do you sell your fins to? i) Trader ii) Buyer iii) Middleman (from village) iv) Other

6.2 Is it always the same person, or do you sell to different traders? i) Always the same person ii) 2-3 different people iii) 3-5 different people iv) >5 different people

6.3 What factors determine who you sell the fins to? i) Distance from village/hamlet ii) Meeting them at sea iii) Price they offer to pay iv) Long-standing relationship v) Referral from other fishers vi) Other ______6.4 Do the traders come to your village or do you bring the fins to them? (Circle applicable answer)

6.5 How long have you been selling your fins to this trader/these traders? i) < 1 year ii) 1-5 years iii) 5-10 years iv) 10-20 years v) >20 years vi) Don’t know

6.6 Do you know who the buyer sells your fins to? i) Other middleman/buyer ii) A local trader iii) Boss in Dobo iv) Boss in Surabaya v) Other ______vi) Don’t know

6.7 Do you know where shark fins are consumed, and what they are used for? i) China ii) Singapore iii) Korea iv) Indonesia v) Shark fin soup vi) Don’t know

6.8 Which factors affect the price for each size class of fins? (Circle) i) Demand ii) Species iii) Size iv) Colour v) Dry weight vi) Other quality: ______

6.9 Are fin prices relatively stable over one year, or do you make a new agreement every time you sell fins? i) Stable over one year ii) Change every season iii) New agreement every time

6.10 Do you have any say in determining the price you are paid for your fins? Yes ( ) No ( )

6.11 Which of the species you catch has the most valuable fins? _____ Which the least? ______

6.12 How would you categorise fin sizes of the following species?

Size Class/Species Small Medium Large

Sp 1 cm cm cm

Sp 2 cm cm cm

Etc. cm cm cm

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6.13 What was the average price for a kg of medium-sized fins of (insert shark species; this Qn was asked about the 8-10 most common or valuable species caught at each site): o Before 1997/98 (~1992/3): ______In ‘97/’98: ______In 2002/3: ______Now: ______

7. Marine resource management and perception of sharks

7.1 Are you concerned that shark populations are diminishing? No ( ) Yes ( )

7.2 If yes, what concerns you most? Declining shark catch Livelihood loss Unhealthy ocean

7.3 Have you ever heard that sharks are protected in Australian waters? Yes ( ) No ( )

7.4 Have you fished in Australian waters? Often ( ) Sometimes ( ) Only in the past ( ) Never ( )

7.5 Have you ever heard that there is a shark fishing ban in Raja Ampat? Yes ( ) No ( )

7.6 Have you fished in Raja Ampat? Often ( ) Sometimes ( ) Only in the past ( ) Never ( )

7.7 Have either of these fishing bans or any other fishery closures affected you in any way? Yes ( ) No ( )

7.8 If yes, how? i) Had to change fishing grounds ii) Less income iii) Higher fuel costs iv) Other

7.9 Do you and/or other fishers in this village generally adhere to fishing bans, or do you keep fishing anyway? i) Always adhere to bans and closures ii) Sometimes adhere to bans and closures iii) Keep fishing

8. Future of shark fishing and alternative livelihoods 8.1 What percentage of your income is generated from shark fishing? i) 10-30% ii) 30-50% iii) 50-80% iv) 80-100%

8.2 Do you have other sources of income based on marine resources? i) Fish/lobster/trepang mariculture ii) Pearl farming iii) Seaweed farming iv) Wild capture trepang v) Other wild capture fishery (e.g. tuna) vi) Other ______

8.3 Do you have other sources of income not based on marine resources? Yes ( ) No ( )

8.4 If shark fishing is your only source of income: have you thought about a different source of income, e.g. a different fishery or mariculture, or a livelihood that is not based on marine resources? i) Different wild capture fishery ii) Mariculture iii) Non-marine livelihood No ( )

8.5 If yes, what has prevented you from commencing or trying it out? i) Lack of money ii) Lack of know-how iii) Unsuitable environment iv) Other ______

8.6 What would the greatest advantages of this livelihood be? i) More money ii) More time at home iii) Less dangerous iv) More regular/predictable income

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8.7 Has there been any form of government support, foreign aid or NGO involvement in this community with a specific focus on funding fishing activities, e.g. boats and gear, or the establishment of mariculture farms or other forms of alternative income? i) Yes, for fishing gear and boats ii) Yes, for mariculture iii) Alternative incomes iv) No external support

8.8 #Have you ever considered taking asylum seekers to Australia? i) Yes ii) Not yet iii) No

8.9 #What is/was your motivation for considering taking asylum seekers to Australia? i) To repay my debt with my boss ii) To pay my children’s school fees iii) Other ______

8.10 #Have you ever taken asylum seekers to Australia? i) Yes, once ii) Yes, more than once iii) Not yet iv) I don’t plan on taking asylum seekers to Australia

8.11 #How much were you paid when you took asylum seekers to Australia? i) <10 Million ii) 10-15 Million iii) 15-25 Million iv) >25 Million v) I never received the money I was promised

8.12 #Have you ever been imprisoned because you took asylum seekers to Australia? i) Detention <1 month ii) Detention 1 -3 month s iii) Detention > 3 months iv) Imprisoned 1-6 months v) Imprisoned 6 months – 1 year vi) Imprisoned 1-3 years vii) Imprisoned 3-5 years viii) Imprisoned >5 years

8.13 In your opinion, what is the future of shark fishing in Eastern Indonesia? i) Same as now ii) Less shark fishers iii) More shark fishers iv) Don’t know

8.14 If you believe that there will be less shark fishers in the future, what is the reason? i) Sharks are decreasing ii) Fuel price will increase iii) Fin price decreases iv) More MPAs and fishing bans with heavy penalties will mean less access to fishing grounds v) Other

8.15 How do you see your own future as a shark fisher? i) Will keep fishing no matter what –don’t want to do anything else ii) Will keep fishing – no other choice iii) Looking for alternative income iv) Don’t know

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Table S6.2. Summary data, questions, and responses of interviews conducted in the three eastern Indonesian case study sites Osi, Dobo and Pepela. Depending on the type of interview question, responses are summarised and presented by A) all sites and categories combined, B) respondent category, and C) site. For many questions, more than one answer was possible. HH = Household. Where not all of the 247 respondents were asked a particular question, or not all of them answered, the total number of respondents for that question is given in bold. A) Overview - all sites and categories combined Interview question Responses (all sites & categories combined) Community profile Total respondents 247 1.1 Total number of ethnic groups 36# (self-identified) Main ethnic groups (63% of respondents) • Buton 36% • Rote 16% • Bugis 6% • Bajo 5%

1.8 Respondents who had financial 180 of 181 difficulties in the last year 1.10 Respondents who had a bank 73 account 1.11 Respondents who could go to 136 of 240 hospital if needed

Importance of shark fishing to the village 2.8 Shark fishing is main source of 235 income for village • Now 76 • In the past 175 • Never 13 2.9 If no longer, why not? 180 • Fin price decreased 108 • Shark abundance 73 decreased • Fuel price increased 74 • Fishing grounds closed or 57 decreased • Better alternative 23 livelihoods

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B) Responses by respondent category Interview question Active (A) Retired (R) Non- Sum/Avg Fishers Site profiles 1.1 Total Respondents 95 91 61 247 • Male respondents 95 90 34 218 Female respondents 0 1 27 29 • - Of which bosses 8 (5 in Dobo, 3 in Pepela) • Children, all sites 223 263 112 598/3 per HH • Children Median 3/HH • Children Max 9/HH 1.1 Average age of respondents (years) 35 42 48 41 • Maximum age 79 74 81 - • Minimum age 19 27 21 - Fishing experience 3.1 Years of fishing experience 1-53 1-39 - 15 (A) / 12 (R) Nature of the fishery 4.1 Do you 186 • … own your boat 22 20 - 42 • …rent your boat 0 1 - 1 • …work for the boat owner 78 72 - 150

C) Responses by site Interview question Osi Dobo Pepela Sum/Avg Total Respondents 81 84 82 247 Fishing trips recorded during fieldwork 3 15 28 46 1.6 Earnings/month/household • < IDR 1 Million (≈ $100) 44 11 58 113 • 1 – 3 Million 36 46 17 99 • 3-5 Million 1 13 4 18 • > 5 Million 0 13 1 14 Importance of shark fishing to the village 2.1 Time village has been shark fishing 15-25 20-30 43 (years)* 2.2 Main changes in the fishery since its Decreased Decr. fin prices, Decr. fin beginning fishing, decr. prices, decr. abundance decr. abundance abundance 2.3 Highest number of boats ever in village* ~ 50 150-200 ~100 2.4 Number of boats in village now* 5 50-100 15 2.5 Highest number of shark fishers ever* ~350 500-1000 ~1000 2.6 Number of shark fishers now* 35 500 100 4.6 What type of boat do you work on? 222 • Wood or wood & fiberglass, 81 80 2 163 motorised • Wooden sailboat 0 0 59 59 4.23 How many fishing trips per year? 2-5 4-7 4-7 (most ~5 did 5-6) ---PEPELA ONLY--- 61 4.14 Ever been arrested in Australia? • Not yet 12

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• Once 10 • 2-5 times 29 • 6-10 times 9 • More than 10 times 1 4.15 Reason for being arrested? • Fished for shark outside MoU Box 31 (with/without motor) • Fished for shark inside MoU Box 3 using motorised boat • In transit (not fishing) outside MoU 1 Box using motor • Fished for shark inside and outside 10 MoU Box with motor • I was wrongfully arrested 2 • Other/Don’t want to say/Don’t 14 know why 4.17 Boat was burnt by the Australian 47 government 4.19 More debt upon return from Australia 44 People smuggling (Pepela only) 60 8.12 Considered taking asylum seekers to Australia • Yes 33 • Not yet 27 8.13 Reason for considering people 33 smuggling? • Repay debt with boss 16 • Pay my children’s school fees/other 7 necessities • Both of the above 10 8.14 Taken asylum seekers to Australia 35 • Yes 9 • Not yet 26 8.16 How long were you detained or 10 imprisoned for? • 1-3 months 6 • 6-12 months 1 • 1-3 years 3

# Ethnic groups respondents identified with: Alor, Alor-Rote, Ambon, Aru, Bajo, Banda, Bau-Bau, Bima, Bugis, Buton, Chinese, Dobo, Flores, Halmahera, Java, Kabaena, Kei Islands, Kendari, Kupang, Lamakera, Larat, Lombok, Madura, Madura-Rote, Makassar, Malaysia-Ambon, Nusa Tenggara Timur, Padang, Pepela, Puleang, Rote, Selayar, Seram, Solor, Sulawesi, Ternate

* For questions to which a wide range of answers was given, the median values are shown.

194 Chapter 6 | Livelihood impacts

Table S6.3. Scientific, English common and Indonesian local names of shark taxa that are high in value (marked *) and/or regularly caught in three eastern Indonesian fishing grounds Scientific name(s) Common name Local name Homeport

Triaenodon obesus Whitetip reef shark Hiu coklat, hiu batu Osi Hiu tujuh-tujuh Dobo Carcharhinus Grey reef shark Hiu lautan Osi amblyrhynchos Hiu tengiri Dobo Rhynchobatidae *Guitarfish (white-spotted Hiu lontar Osi, Pepela1 (Rhynchobatus guitarfish, smoothnose wedgefish) Hiu panro Dobo australiae, Rhynchobatus laevis) Rhinobatidae *Shovelnose rays (commonly the Hiu kikir Dobo (commonly giant shovelnose ray) Glaucostegus typus) Carcharhinus Blacktip reef shark Hiu meti Osi melanopterus Hiu rantikolo Dobo, Pepela Carcharhinus limbatus Common blacktip shark Hiu pesawat Osi Hiu rantikolo Dobo, Pepela Carcharhinus Silvertip shark Hiu ikan Osi albimarginatus Hiu laru Pepela Hemipristis elongata Fossil shark Hiu putih Osi, Dobo Carcharhinus plumbeus Sandbar shark Hiu putih Pepela Sphyrna mokarran Hammerhead sharks Hiu martil Osi, Dobo Sphyrna lewini Hiu bingko Pepela Carcharhinus Pigeye shark Hiu panda Dobo amboinensis Hiu antukang Pepela Carcharhinus falciformis Silky shark Hiu sila Pepela Negaprion acutidens Lemon shark Hiu balanse Pepela Galeocerdo cuvier Tiger shark Hiu mangali Pepela

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Chapter 7

General Conclusions and Recommendations

Fisher at sunset, Dobo

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Chapter 7 | Conclusions

Chapter 7

General Conclusions and Recommendations

7.1 Conclusions

Little is known about many of the world’s shark fisheries. Although recent years have seen a substantial increase in the number of published studies on various aspects of shark biology and conservation, the majority of these studies have come from countries without major shark fisheries. Meanwhile, the main shark fishing nations are almost devoid of scientific literature on the impacts of fishing on shark populations in their waters (Momigliano and Harcourt 2014). This thesis represents the first dedicated study of the eastern Indonesian shark fishery, a virtually data-less component of the world’s largest shark fishery. Using a transdisciplinary approach, I described the following five aspects of the fishery to identify opportunities and challenges for its management:

• An overview of the fishing practices, catch characteristics and socio-economic aspects of the fishery (Chapter 2); • The reliability and value of fisher-collected catch data in data-poor scenarios, as demonstrated in the range extension of the vulnerable fossil shark Hemipristis elongata (Chapter 3), as well as • The first sustainability assessment of the fishery, based on a combination of fisher data, historical information from interviews, and biological parameters from the literature (Chapter 4); • The effectiveness of spatial closures for shark conservation and their influence on shark fishers’ behaviour (Chapter 5); and • Major recent changes in shark fishing livelihoods as a result of local, regional and international trends and developments (Chapter 6).

The eastern Indonesian shark fishery shares key characteristics with many other small-scale fisheries: it is dynamic, data-poor and decentralised by the remoteness of its fishing grounds and homeports (Chapter 2). Often, shark fishing is also culturally

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embedded in the region, although major growth in the fishery’s economic value during the last three decades has blurred the boundaries between its cultural significance and its financial appeal. The catch composition and extent of the case studies’ fishing grounds suggest that the fishery is extensive, covering roughly 1/3 of the country’s Exclusive Economic Zone, and contributes significantly to Indonesia’s total elasmobranch production. Unfortunately, results from my research imply that eastern Indonesia’s shark landings are almost entirely unreported due to several distinct differences in the way sharks are processed and traded, compared to western Indonesia where catches can be documented more reliably at fish landing sites (White et al. 2014; Fahmi and Dharmadi 2015; Dharmadi et al. 2016). Indonesia is no exception in this regard; landings data compiled by the FAO, which maintains the only global database for elasmobranch landings, are known or suspected to be underreported by several shark fishing nations (Dent and Clarke 2015). The research presented in this thesis has provided several arguments that justify a closer examination of eastern Indonesia’s contribution to total national elasmobranch landings.

A fundamental question underlying this thesis concerned the reliability and usefulness of fisher-collected data for describing a fishery devoid of the types of data required for fisheries assessments and management. Previous studies have attested the benefits of involving resource users in data collection and monitoring, as well as incorporating fishers’ traditional knowledge in data-poor fishery assessments (Johannes 2000; Berkes 2004; Almany et al. 2010). In Chapter 2, based on data collected with and by fishers, I described several distinguishing features between the shark fishery in the eastern and western parts of Indonesia. These differences became apparent through the analysis of catch data collected by fishers from my case study sites and my own observations of their fishing practices, and comparison with published studies based on data from western Indonesia. Perhaps the most important difference is that in eastern Indonesia, shark fishers commonly target sharks and use gears specifically intended for shark fishing. Limitations in vessel space, access to ice and distance to fishing grounds typically result in most sharks being finned at sea, i.e. their carcasses discarded and not landed at fishing ports. The majority of shark fishing vessels are not registered, and due to their remoteness most shark fishing communities are beyond the focus of fisheries managers and researchers. I also found that the relative catches of fishers targeting sharks using gillnets, and those fishing on reefs, far exceeded those of non-reef and longline fishers. This is of interest for two reasons; first, most of the published literature on shark fisheries, including that from

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Indonesia, does not concern reef sharks; and second, it reflects findings from an analysis of global elasmobranch fisheries, which showed that a majority of sharks are caught in gillnets (Bonfil 2000). In comparison, shark fishers in western Indonesia (for the purposes of this thesis, this includes Lombok) tend to go on shorter fishing trips, often operate larger vessels, and have access to cold storage or ice, which allows them to retain whole carcasses. In Java and elsewhere in western Indonesia, sharks are more commonly caught as bycatch in tuna longline fisheries (Fahmi and Dharmadi 2015). In 2011, a study based on landing ports in western Indonesia estimated that 72% of the country’s shark landings are taken as bycatch, while only 28% are taken as target species (Zainuddin, 2011, cited in Dharmadi et al., 2016).

The two regions also differ in the value of shark meat and fins. In western Indonesia, the value of shark meat appears to often exceed that of the fins, probably because of the greater depletion of stocks in the west, which mean that fishers catch smaller sharks with fins of little value (G. Moreno, cited in Jaiteh et al., 2017). In the eastern Indonesian fishery, the value of fins – and to a far lesser extent, the liver oil - of targeted sharks drives the fishery, while shark meat that is retained towards the end of a trip is merely a convenient bonus to increase fishers’ profits. Another distinguishing feature between the western and eastern regions is their species composition. For example, silky sharks (Carcharhinus falciformis) made up the greatest catch proportion in the targeted fishery out of Lombok and blue sharks (Prionace glauca) dominated the bycatch of the tuna longline fishery (Fahmi and Dharmadi 2015; Sembiring et al. 2015), but neither species was recorded in the eastern Indonesian catch. There, other carcharhinids (the grey reef shark C. amblyrhynchos and the sandbar shark C. plumbeus) dominated catches from the Seram and Timor Seas, respectively, while deep-sea Centrophorus spp. and shovelnose rays (Rhynchobatidae) were most frequently caught in the Arafura Sea (Chapter 2 & Chapter 4). These differences in the characteristics of the fishery in different parts of its geographic range must be taken into account in management strategies to conserve and sustain shark populations. Clearly, conclusions drawn from western Indonesia do not accurately reflect the entire Indonesian shark fishery, and recommendations for management should be based on the local or at least regional context.

Indonesia is one of the most important source countries for internationally traded shark products and other seafood. Yet despite its high marine biodiversity, Indonesia’s documented elasmobranch species diversity is much lower than that recorded from the tropical waters of its southern neighbour Australia, which harbours the world’s highest

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known elasmobranch diversity (Last and Stevens 2009). Recent reports of previously unknown species occurrences in Indonesian waters suggest that this discrepancy may well be an artefact of Indonesia’s significantly reduced resources to study the shark species in its waters and the threats they face, highlighting another opportunity to develop fisher involvement in the generation of critical fisheries knowledge. In Chapter 3, I demonstrate another application of fishers’ data by reporting a range extension for the fossil shark Hemipristis elongata (Jaiteh and Momigliano 2015). This shark is fished throughout its range due to the value of its fins and meat, and is assessed as Vulnerable by the International Union for the Conservation of Nature (IUCN). Based on fishers’ catch data that were genetically verified via barcoding, I was able to show that this species, previously only known within Indonesia from the island of Java, has a much larger range that extends >2000 km to the country’s easternmost provinces, Papua and West Papua (Jaiteh and Momigliano 2015). This finding illustrates the serendipitous value of information that can be gained by involving fishers in the collection or interpretation of fishery data. In this case, the documented range extension of H. elongata has important implications for the conservation of this species and its listing on the IUCN Red List of species. It also demonstrates that there is yet more to be learned about the ranges of fishery-impacted species and their threats throughout the Indonesian archipelago.

Indonesia, like many other countries, struggles to collect and accurately report fishery data required for fisheries assessments and management (Moreno 2014). This includes temporal and spatial data on catch and effort, but also on the socio-economic characteristics of fisheries, which are increasingly incorporated in more holistic management approaches such as ecosystem-based management (Sievanen et al. 2012). The evaluation of the eastern Indonesian shark fishery developed in Chapter 4 demonstrates how unconventional data sources, including fisher knowledge, can be applied to a question of conservation interest and used to address gaps in knowledge that often impede the development of fisheries management plans. While the biological data and analyses presented in Chapter 4 have their limitations, these results, coupled with older fishers’ observations of historical declines in the fishery, indicate that the fishery is unsustainable for several of the exploited species, and highlight the need for focused research and active management in the region. In the absence of published, locally relevant information on the life histories of targeted species, the unconventional data sources used to evaluate the fishery produced several key findings. Of the 32 species with an IUCN status, 27 were Near Threatened, Vulnerable or Endangered. Two species, the Endangered

202 Chapter 7 | Conclusions scalloped and great hammerhead sharks (Sphyrna lewini and S. mokarran), were the 5th most numerous combined taxon in the fishers’ catch. A further five of the 10 most frequently caught taxa were listed as Vulnerable. These findings show that if given adequate training and instructions, even fishers with minimal formal education are capable of collecting data that can enable a rapid initial assessment of a data-poor fishery to determine its potential impact on targeted species, its management needs, and further research directions.

Chapter 4 also emphasises the value of fisher data for informing and developing management activities, including the development of a sound National Plan of Action (NPoA) for sharks. The current NPoA for Indonesian sharks provides broad directions for management and conservation efforts, but more detail is needed to make this an effective guide for action. For example, areas of greatest concern should be identified and measures to protect elasmobranchs in Indonesia based on locally relevant biological data from each area. Furthermore, management measures that are mapped to international agreements such as the CITES listings are difficult to enforce due to the multi-levelled complexities of controlling catches and trade of sharks across the full geographic extent of the archipelago. The two main shark conservation initiatives currently underway in Indonesia - the Raja Ampat shark sanctuary declared in 2012, and the nationwide ban on mobulid ray fisheries passed in 2013 - are based predominantly on the estimated economic value of live sharks and manta rays to the tourism industry. While these developments promote the protection of some species in certain parts of Indonesia, our results show that local data are likely to reveal vulnerable species that are not of international conservation concern, or whose economic value lies predominantly in the trade of their body parts. This emphasizes the importance of increased capacity for regional research to inform locally relevant management approaches.

One way of achieving greater regional capacity for research and management would be to develop toolkits and trainings for regionally based ‘barefoot ecologists’, a concept proposed by Prince (2003) that addresses the need for technical skills in community-based management approaches. Prince describes barefoot ecologists as ‘locally recruited, holistic ethno-socio-quantitative fisheries ecologists’ who are ‘pragmatic generalists, skilled in the multiple disciplines required to work effectively in […] diverse communities’ and whose job it is to ‘motivate fishers to research, monitor and manage their own localised resources’. This approach of training and employing

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low-cost generalist ecologists, equipped with the tools and knowledge of data-poor and data-less management, offers a way of decentralising fisheries management by building local capacity for self-governance. Even though threatened shark species may require management at the national level, applying the concept of barefoot ecologists to improve data collection and reporting at local and regional levels could be a cost- effective solution to the largely inefficient systems currently used by Indonesia’s centralised fisheries agencies and port authorities (Moreno 2014). It is also likely to result in new insights such as those presented in this thesis, which will be invaluable for informing management that is appropriate for the local context.

Global efforts to stem the decline in shark populations include fisheries regulations, finning bans, trade restrictions, and spatial closures such as shark sanctuaries, where some (e.g. only commercial) or all (including artisanal) types of shark fishing are prohibited. Following the finding that the eastern Indonesian shark fishery is likely unsustainable (Chapter 4), I explored the effectiveness of spatial closures as a means of protecting sharks from fishing mortality in Raja Ampat, a popular destination for dive tourists and the main fishing grounds of my first case study site, Osi (Chapter 5, Jaiteh et al., 2016). Three main findings resulted from the study: first, that enforced no-take zones had significantly higher numbers of sharks than protected areas that were not enforced (and hence, essentially open to fishing); second, that the success of the no-take zones was best explained by effective governance through a successful private-public partnership between an eco-resort and local communities; and third, that exclusion from fishing grounds had profound impacts on the fishing behaviour and livelihood decisions of shark fishers – they were forced to fish elsewhere or seek alternative sources of income, which in some cases took the form of illegal activities such as petrol smuggling. Also noteworthy is the finding that more species were recorded in the catches of shark fishers from the area immediately adjacent to the no-take zones than were observed using the fishery-independent method, which further speaks to the value of fishers’ catch data. This study represented one of the first to investigate the effectiveness of explicitly shark-specific spatial closures and their impact on shark fishers, and clearly showed that effective governance of spatial closures can result in higher abundances of sharks.

A recent study found that scientists and environmental nongovernmental organisations (NGOs) have conflicting views on how sharks are best protected from over-exploitation: while NGOs prefer limit-based conservation policy tools such as

204 Chapter 7 | Conclusions total fishing bans in the form of spatial protection, scientists prefer target-based fisheries management tools such as fishing quotas and gear restrictions (Shiffman and Hammerschlag 2016). However, Indonesian shark fisheries are characterized by levels of uncertainty and complexity that conventional methods of fisheries assessment and management are not equipped to deal with. In particular, the lack of (compliance with) catch reporting requirements, inefficient institutional arrangements for data collection, and the resulting scarcity of catch data have been an enormous obstacle to species assessments and management strategies (Moreno 2014, Dharmadi 2007). The dependence of some fishers on sharks for their livelihoods and their inability, in many cases, to switch to alternative livelihoods, represent yet another hurdle for effective management (Fox et al. 2009). In light of these factors and the insights of the study presented in Chapter 5, I argue that the most promising avenue for effective shark conservation in Indonesia is a combination of effectively enforced spatial closures, target-based management approaches, implementation of international trade regulations, and efforts to support the diversification of fishers’ livelihoods (see also Chapter 6).

Ultimately, it is important to remember that fisheries management is a matter of managing humans, not fish. In Indonesia, the sheer numbers of fishers, especially those unaccounted for by any official logbooks or statistics, and their diverse values and needs make conventional management approaches ineffective (Johannes 1998; Ye and Gutierrez 2017). Indonesian fisheries managers, aware of the significance of fishing livelihoods to many rural communities, may be reluctant to implement management strategies for fear of causing livelihood loss. However, as I showed in Chapter 6, several factors are indicating not only a need for, but also the likelihood of successful shark fisheries management, particularly in combination with adequate support for livelihood diversification (Jaiteh et al. 2017b). Declining catches in all fishing grounds, a reduction in the demand for shark fin, the loss of access to prime fishing grounds and restrictive debt with shark fin bosses have greatly reduced the former appeal of shark fishing. Fishers who find themselves trapped in an increasingly unprofitable livelihood claimed to be willing to leave the fishery, either temporarily or permanently, but unable to do so due to financial or technical constraints. One of the most telling insights of this analysis was that livelihood diversification is already happening, without the stimulus of any fisheries management or community development interventions.

The question, therefore, is not so much whether fishers are prepared to leave the fishery, but what they are able to leave it for. In most cases, self-initiated alternatives were

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no more sustainable than shark fishing itself, and often involved activities that were illegal and involved high levels of personal risk or environmental damage. Although livelihood diversification should not be regarded as a one-stop solution to achieving sustainable use of natural resources (Torell et al. 2017), this situation represents a unique opportunity to approach fisheries management through directed research effort and livelihood development. The United Nations’ adoption of Sustainable Development Goal 14.4 with the specific objective of ending overfishing by the year 2020 as part of the 2030 Agenda for Sustainable Development provides a further incentive to tackle the challenging task of managing Indonesia’s shark fisheries. Meaningful management is unlikely to be achieved, however, if fisheries agencies continue to aim for complex stock assessments for single species and other ‘golden standards’ in fisheries management (Ye and Gutierrez 2017). Likewise, fisheries management interventions have a low chance of success unless they are developed in consultation with fishing communities and embedded in the local context.

It is now widely recognised that capturing the human dimension of fisheries is vital to the success of their management (Pitcher and Lam 2010; Gutiérrez et al. 2011). This is particularly true in the context of small-scale fisheries in developing countries, where studying the social aspects of pressing conservation issues is challenging, complex and yet integral to understanding the characteristics of effective approaches. Similarly, data-poor or data-less fishery settings benefit from a rethinking of conventional natural science approaches to data collection and interpretation, and greater inclusion of fishers in research, monitoring and management of natural resources (Berkes 2003; Prince 2003; Jentoft and Chuenpagdee 2009). This thesis demonstrates a transdisciplinary approach to describing shark fishing livelihoods through research on the ground. My findings largely support the claim that actively involving fishers in knowledge generation can accelerate the acquisition of vital fishery information and inform effective management. As such, this research contributes to academic discourse that is not limited to a certain geographic region or natural resource. My findings, though case specific in most instances, are nevertheless applicable for integrated approaches to fisheries evaluations and resource management in data-poor contexts where the social aspects of fisheries are tightly intertwined with their economic and ecological characteristics.

206 Chapter 7 | Conclusions

7.2 Recommendations

Based on the research reported in this thesis and my resulting perception of the main challenges and opportunities for managing the eastern Indonesian shark fishery, I make the following recommendations:

7.2.1 Challenges

1. Prioritise regional and local capacity building for management. The almost complete lack of data on the fishery is symptomatic of eastern Indonesia’s distance from centralised fisheries management bodies and reveals the inefficiency or absence of current data reporting systems. The fishery has no hope of even basic regulation unless regional and local capacity building for simplified, decentralised fishery evaluations and management is prioritised. This might be achieved through the use of generalist fisheries ecologists (‘barefoot ecologists’) trained in data-less methods, who may be sourced from, or work with, locally-based NGOs and district governments. For this approach to succeed, targeted training, sustained financial investment, robust local infrastructure and a support network of expert advisors will be indispensable.

2. Don’t let unattainable golden standards delay proactive management interventions. While aiming for the fisheries management standards set by Western developed countries is unfeasible and ineffective, much is to be gained from the realisation that data-poor or data-less fishery management yields, on average, far better outcomes than no management at all (Johannes 1998). For example, a belief in the need for resource-intensive assessment techniques may be partly responsible for a delay in immediately needed interventions for endangered species such as the great and scalloped hammerheads (Sphyrna mokarran and S. lewini), as well as broader fisheries management strategies. Those tasked with the unenviable job of managing Indonesia’s shark fisheries may find courage in the following piece of advice: “Here, the key management question should not be ‘what data do we need to make sound management decisions?’ but rather, ‘what are the best management decisions to make when such data are unobtainable?’ ’’(Johannes 1998).

3. Investigate non-conventional assessment and management approaches. Among the plethora of issues that impede an accurate assessment of Indonesia’s shark fishery are its multi-specific, multi-gear nature and apparent massive under-reporting where

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sharks or their parts are not landed at fishing ports. Conventional management based on sufficient fishery-, stock- and species-specific data cannot be implemented in time to prevent further species declines and local extinctions. Shark fishery scientists and managers in Indonesia must be supported and trained to implement alternative approaches to fisheries management at the provincial and national levels. At the district and community level, NGOs with a strong focus on social fairness and community involvement in marine resource management, such as the Indonesian Locally Managed Marine Areas Network (I-LMMA) and Masyarakat dan Perikanan Indonesia (MDPI), could play a valuable role in implementing such approaches.

4. Implement and regularly update the National Plan of Action (NPoA) for the Conservation and Management of Sharks. Indonesia’s first NPoA-Sharks (2010- 2015) did not offer a robust scientific basis for informing shark fisheries management. The new NPoA (2016-2020), while still focused on western Indonesia, contains recent scientific findings and clearer directions for management. The next step will be to implement the Plan and ensure that it is regularly updated with current information from research, landing data and trade statistics. Complementing the existing NPoA with emerging findings from other parts of Indonesia should also help to establish it as a key component of shark conservation, fishery management and biodiversity maintenance in Indonesia.

7.2.2 Opportunities

5. Improve the resolution and reporting of data that are already being collected. For example, species-specific reporting of shark landings can inform management needs, such as the identification of priority species for conservation. Although catch reporting at landing ports in western Indonesia is intended to be species-specific, two issues have been identified: 1) mis-identification of species, and 2) loss of data resolution through data aggregation at regency, provincial and central levels (Moreno 2011). These issues could be addressed relatively easily through 1) adequate in-situ training of fishery enumerators that includes species identification and addresses context-specific issues, and 2) maintaining species-specific data resolution throughout the reporting chain. Similarly, consistent use of custom commodity codes (e.g. dried fin, frozen fin, shark meat) would enable greater resolution of export records, thereby improving the usefulness of trade statistics for both in-country and global assessments (Dent and Clarke 2015).

208 Chapter 7 | Conclusions

6. Act now, based on the precautionary principle. Given the knowledge already available about the conservative life histories of many shark species and their low capacity for absorbing fishing mortality, focusing directly on reducing human impacts might be the most effective way of protecting Indonesia’s shark populations. Precautionary measures may be the only effective mitigation tools against the effects of several decades of overfishing.

7. Learn lessons from what works, but don’t look for silver bullets. In some regions, most notably Raja Ampat, tourism has already provided an impetus for shark conservation. Spatial protection of sharks, in conjunction with dive tourism, may work in other popular tourism spots, but is an inappropriate solution to overfishing in very remote rural communities that do not have the infrastructure or desire to become tourism attractions. Here, other approaches that are adapted to the local cultural, economic and ecological context are called for (see next point).

8. Approach shark management through various mechanisms. No-take zones and protected areas should be explored where suitable, alongside trade restrictions and enforcing trade regulations; target-based management (e.g. catch limits) based on quantitative information where this is feasible; support for livelihood diversification or alternatives; and data-poor/data-less assessment and management approaches.

9. Investigate sustained support for livelihood diversification or alternatives as an underexplored opportunity to promote fisheries management in the region. Such support should also form an integral part of shark conservation initiatives whenever a group of resource users will be impacted by the initiative(s). This requires effective communication between scientists, managers, tourism operators, NGOs and government agencies, as well as improved research capacity.

10. Welcome and foster opportunities for international collaborations to enhance institutional, management and research capacity in Indonesia. A number of fruitful collaborations between Indonesian and foreign government agencies or research institutions have already produced important findings for shark management and conservation (e.g. White et al., 2006; White and Dharmadi, 2007; Blaber et al., 2009; Arlyza et al., 2013; Sembiring et al., 2015). These partnerships have involved, among others, the Indonesian Institute of Science (Lembaga Ilmu Pengetahuan Indonesia, LIPI), the Research Center for Fisheries Management and Conservation at the Ministry for Marine Affairs and Fisheries (MMAF) in Jakarta, the Indonesian Biodiversity

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Research Center (IBRC), and various research organisations from Australia, the USA and France. These and other forms of collaborations, such as inter-country exchanges, have the potential to play an important role in further advancing shark fisheries management.

11. Recognise the opportunity for Indonesia to become a leader in proactive, data- poor shark fisheries management. Most shark fishing countries have inadequate or no management in place, and those that do, tend to be developed countries whose shark fisheries contribute minimally to global shark landings (with the exception of the USA). The decision by the Indonesian government in June 2017 to make all of its Vessel Monitoring System (VMS) data publicly available demonstrates the nation’s willingness to improve the transparency of its fisheries with bold, unprecedented initiatives.

12. Finally, listen to the most important informants – the fishers. Ironically, in fisheries management, species conservation and livelihood interventions, resource users are rarely made the most important informants. This explains, at least in part, why so few successful livelihood transitions have been documented, and why such interventions often do not result in the anticipated goals of improved livelihood and food security, reduced poverty, or the recovery of overharvested natural resources. The results of my research show that involving shark fishers in the documentation of their fishery is invaluable, effective and rewarding, and that there has never been a better time to consult and assist them in their transition to more economically and ecologically sustainable livelihoods.

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Appendix A Data collection

A.1 Fisher instructions for data collection

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Table A.1. At-sea shark measuring datasheet for gillnet fishers. Example from Dobo.

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Figure A.1. Illustrated instructions for longline fishers for data collection at sea.

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Appendix B Interview questionnaires

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B.1 Interview questionnaire for fishers – English (Pepela)

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B.2 Interview questionnaire for fishers – Bahasa Indonesia (Osi)

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