'Eyes looking back': from commercial fishing to strict vegan
STORIES: What makes someone go from a life of farming and commercial fishing to being a staunch vegan with a PETA membership? Phil Hatfield shares his story.
The deck shifted gently underfoot as the remnants of the previous week’s swell rolled in long blue-green waves under our hull. In the East, the sky was paling with the coming sunrise, however, the area where I stood had been bathed for long hours in the cold metallic glare of the halogen deck lights.
My left hand was numb from operating hydraulic levers for the winching gear and, during a brief pause in hauling, I stepped back for a few second’s respite, reaching my arms down to my knees in an attempt to stimulate some life back into them.
Movement at my feet caught my eye as a small brown crab, dazed from being plucked from the sea, wandered across the deck, bumping into the toe of my boot on its way past. Until recently, if he received any attention at all it would have been in the form of a quick kick back under the machinery to lie broken amongst the rest of the discarded bycatch. Today though, bending awkwardly with joints stiff from the cold, I picked him up gently by his delicate shell and placed him back in the sea.
For 15 years I worked in the commercial fishing industry, and my relationship with wild animals had long been a violent one.
During the course of my career, I moved across several different boats, crews and fishing methods but possibly the most destructive form of fishing I was ever involved with was dredging for shellfish. Large, powerful boats towing steel dredges - each several meters across and equipped with four-to-six-inch spikes like the teeth of a garden rake. Dredging annihilates everything on the ocean floor, and because the dredging vessels run over the same ground over and over again to ensure that no spots are missed, what is left is a barren, broken wasteland. Creatures buried in the silt are excavated and killed before they have a chance to escape: the technique destroys indiscriminately. I never worked on the larger Beam Trawlers (which employ similar methods) or aboard the super-massive factory ships which can measure their catch in tons-per-minute, but know plenty of people who have and heard the stories and staggering figures that go along with them.
As a child, I was raised in a farming and fishing community, and although my family did not own a farm themselves, I spent all my weekends out in the fields at friend’s farms being taken fishing, shooting or ferreting (the practice of placing ferrets into rabbit warrens to flush out the creatures inside) and accepted such practices as being completely normal and ethically sound.
We watched in fascination as farm animals were slaughtered and I often helped out in the farm’s small butchery when I became old enough to work.
We had had pets when we were children, but these were treated well - or at least better - a clear distinction being made between them and the cows, sheep and wild creatures that were to be found in the countryside. These ‘domestic’ animals were relatively invisible to me, and I was not overly bothered when they eventually passed away. Sentimentality over animals was definitely seen as a sign of weakness.
And of course, I ate meat. Tons of it. Steaks, chicken drumsticks, hams; cooked in every way imaginable for every occasion. I had some idea about what was ‘good’ meat - buying from local producers in the belief that the animal had had a better life - but often also just went with what was available.
I had always been a fan of the outdoors and although I fell into the fishing industry quite by accident, it suited me down to the ground. It is an industry that is fairly easy to progress in for hard workers and, depending on your morals, can be extremely lucrative. Unfortunately, it turns out that what is lucrative to humans is really bad for the animals involved. In a world that values huge quantities of a particular fish, the bycatch (everything else that is caught) is commercially worthless - and is treated as such.
At best a dolphin, crab, shark or any other non-targeted species could hope to be dumped back into the sea - usually after a good deal of time first in a net or dredge and then lying on the deck in whatever place they happen to be dumped. At worst, well, it varies boat-to-boat, but there are many boats carrying chainsaws and fishmeal grinders and men practising darker things still.
Never miss an article
Stay up-to-date with the weekly Surge newsletter to never miss an article, media production or investigation. We respect your privacy.
A scene that will always stay with me is of crew members cutting the fins off still living, but financially worthless, bycaught fish and experimenting how long they could keep them alive - for no other reason than entertainment. This horrific pastime is obviously not standard practice in the industry but serves as a good example that violent industries breed violent people.
I was never involved in such practices and was never sadistic nor cruel - everything went back over the side in the same condition that it came aboard in - although it would be incorrect to say I was not involved in the death of animals, as every targeted species that came aboard was kept and brought ashore to be sold.
For fifteen years this was my life, but my life as I knew it was about to change.
My partner and I had been living together for around 4 years when I finally agreed to her getting a pet. I had been opposed to the idea for a long time - pets were just extra work and, more importantly, got in the way of my work and would be something else to have to pay for. Nevertheless, my girlfriend at the time (now wife!) was set on getting an animal and so we agreed to get a cat.
She wanted to rescue a cat from the local shelter but I insisted we got one from a breeder saying “we don’t want a knackered one” - I believed animals to be commodities rather than family members.
My wife brought him home on a snowy night in late September. It took hours because of the traffic and I remember I was home from work and sitting in the living room when she carried in the plastic carry-case, setting it gently down on the floor and clicking open the clasp that held it shut.
A tiny, furry, grey kitten emerged, blinking in the relatively bright light of the room, stepping gingerly into a brand-new environment, eyes bright with inquisitiveness and nervousness.
As soon as he looked at me, I knew everything was going to change. Here was something completely helpless, relying on me for everything it needed. It wasn’t as if he could just be fed and watered and left in a pen as I had seen done with cows and sheep as a child, he would have to be stroked and loved and cared for and shown that he was safe, that he was part of the family.
I had agreed to pets on several conditions - the main one being that they would be kept in a closed room at night so that our sleep would not be disturbed.
That first night he slept on the bed between the two of us, right next to my head.
Over the next few days, I carried on with my normal life - working, fishing, eating the same diet as I had always done, but there was a problem: Every animal I saw, every creature dying on deck, every picture of pigs and cows at the supermarket, I began to see his eyes looking back at me. He was so obviously intelligent and interested in the world and his inquisitive eyes examined everything he looked at; I began to see that same intelligence and sentience in so many other creatures where before I had only seen profit or sport.
I could no longer leave creatures dying on deck; at every chance, I got I began to quietly release them back into the sea.
Within a week the idea of becoming vegetarian was taking shape in my mind and, without really knowing where to start, I tried to begin researching the topic. I instantly came up against reasons to keep eating meat - myths about soy and oestrogen levels and the like - which made things difficult, but thoughts of what it meant to each individual animal every time I chose plants over meat kept me focused on my new diet.
I was fortunate enough to stumble across the Netflix documentary The Game Changers which was such a big eye-opener for me and definitely helped to dispel a lot of the myths surrounding a plant-based diet. From there I began to discover more in-depth documentaries which focused on different aspects of fishing and agriculture.
Going vegan had never been an intention for me - even when I decided to stop eating meat - but within a few months (and a lot more research) it was blindingly obvious that it was the only way to ensure that the least amount of animals are harmed in my name. The change to veganism I found difficult - it was such a step away from what I was used to, but gradually, over the course of a few weeks, I began to make the switch.
Two and a half years on and I am a full - and very strict - vegan, a member of PETA and the League Against Cruel Sports and a donator to a wildlife Sanctuary. I was forced to keep my job for a little longer as I was tied to an unnegotiable contract, however as soon as I was able I left that career behind forever.
It is a scientific fact that humans can survive and thrive on a vegan diet - therefore it stands to reason that any consumption of animal products comes from a place of desiring (perceived) luxury and comfort. Is a brief, non-essential moment of consuming something I enjoy worth the life of another creature? It seems absolutely insane to me to believe that now.
I recently saw a Facebook meme of an Indian proverb, which said that when we die, we are required to pass over a narrow bridge to gain entry to the afterlife. Standing at the gate to the bridge are all the animals the traveller has ever interacted with, and they decide between them whether or not you are worthy of entry.
I don’t know if that story is true (or even a real proverb), but I hope that I have time enough left in this world for the making up that I plan to do.
Your support makes a huge difference to us. Supporting Surge with a monthly or one-off donation enables us to continue our work to end all animal oppression.
LATEST ARTICLES